“Deep breaths for me,” Taren ordered.
Ian immediately complied.
Breathe in. He heard the little brush start. Breathe out. Sucking in air fast and hard through his nose gave him a rush. Breathe in. The bristles tickled a path from his nipple to his hip. Breathe, breathe, breathe
Arching off the bed, Ian’s half laugh, half shout was held back by the gag. The massager up his ass began turning slowly. Taren was relentless with the brush. It traveled over Ian’s belly, making his abs clench tight, across the flats of his feet until Ian thrashed and hiccupped from laughing. His nipples tried to bud within the confines of the clamps, his skin tightened down and his body lurched one way, then the other.