Pale, muscled Adam Herst is shackled to a St. Andrew’s cross. Race Cooper is the interrogator, brandishing a leather crop and demanding to know Adam’s Safeword. A barebulb hangs from the ceiling, casting long shadows as Race leans in and gently kisses Adam. The old adage, try a little tenderness, fails and Race becomes more menacing, flicking the crop across the tips of Adam’s hardened nipples and on the inside of his thighs. Adam cries out, but alternating kisses and slaps only prolong his stubborn refusal. Race’s hand disappears behind Adam; whatever it’s doing makes Adam lift up on his toes. Adam’s biceps bulge as he pulls on the restraints. Race leans over and bites his pecs and licks his armpits, continuing to apply the whip until Adam gives up the word. Race releases him and begins to play with Adam’s hole. He slaps it, spreads the cheeks, tests its tightness with a finger, licks it. Race sheds his clothes and fucks Adam. He dri ves his cock into Adam’s hole, slamming while he strokes Adam’s cock until they explode in a simultaneous crossfire of cum.
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