<span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;">Jereil Doreit...!</span><br/>Jereil's excitement only heightened as his wrists were grabbed and pinned, making him unable to stop the look of near horror that struck his face when he was told he wouldn't be fucked.  He was painfully hard, at this point -- past the point of no return -- and the prospect of missing such an opportunity as Edouard was one of Jereil's nightmares.<br/><br/>At least, to his visible relief, he could still earn it.<br/><br/>He realized what Edouard was looking for after a moment, craving much the same object.  He jerked his head toward a well-loved leather strap with an iron buckle, just the right size and width for his wrists; it even came with a ring on one side to hook on the headboard's curved iron peg.  The strap had been draped over the footboard, alongside two similar straps for ankles and a thick collar.  Jereil was clearly no stranger to degradation, at the very least.<br/><br/><hr/><hr/><div align="center">tagging -- Edouard<br/>location -- his bedroom</div>