If Brandon had any opinion on Madison's performance, he kept it strictly to himself.  Of course, the ball gag had a large part to do with that, but even if he<em>could</em>say anything, he wouldn't.  As a sub, it was simply not his place to do so.<br/><br/>Nevertheless, from his point of view, she certainly seemed to have the mindset down, even if her technique needed fine-tuning.  In his experience,  BDSM was as much about trust as it was about control -- trust that the Dom knew her sub's limits and preferences, that she wouldn't hurt him beyond his ability to take it;  in return, the Dom trusted her sub to know her own likes and habits, and cater to them accordingly.<br/><br/>His testicles ached.  Not only were they swollen and purple from the severely binding restraints, but the sting from the blow was still fading.  He took a few deep breaths (through his nose, of course), and concentrated on ignoring the slowly retreating nausea.<br/><br/>Then--WHACK! she hit him again, causing him to wince and spasm, although to his credit, he did not make a sound.  He only sucked hard on the ball, his nostrils flaring wider.  Even as the pain flared, he listened to her rebuke and obeyed it, straightening his back as best he could. She hit him again: WHACK! The nauseous feeling redoubled, but it wasn't anything he couldn't endure.  Fortunately, his years of experience had built up a high tolerance for pain.<br/><br/>And then he felt his Mistress' fingers caress his backside, and it made it all worthwhile.  Determined to put on a good show for Madison and the other Mistresses, he arched his back, hands still, legs spread.  The blow on the back of his balls called him to close his eyes until the stars went away, but he did his utmost best not to move.  "Yeff, Miftreff," he answered, in response to Mika's question.