The denial clenched his mind, tight and controlling as the hand now closed around his cock, physically refusing his plea, underlining his words, his position of power. A part of Atticus liked it, the powerlessness, the forced obedience, the pleasurepain of holding back that pulsed in time with the raw burn and flares of bliss that was Master Ryan fucking him.<br/><br/>Another part got pissed off. He glared up at his Master, hating him for not giving him what he wanted. When the grip tightened, the glare crumpled and his eyes crushed shut, his cry louder than the last, his hands jerking against the belts as he instinctively tried to evade. Instead of settling after a moment like he had before, his struggles only intensified when he couldn’t free his hands.<br/><br/>He twisted and thrashed, fighting the binds, fighting Master Ryan above him, though his only free limb was one leg and his movements made the large shaft impaling him moved, flooding him with more pain, more pleasure. He yelled, his foot bracing against the bedding, his head tilting up in surrender.<br/>