Bob Knight cries out every time the whip strikes his naked flesh, from his hairless pecs to uncut cock. “Why are you doing this?” he mutters to the man with the whip, after what must be his hundredth lash. The man, dressed in black, silent, hiding in the shadows, replies with another hundred lashes. He loves watching the young athlete squirm and thrash, his lean muscles quivering, his gorgeous cock bouncing, his mop of hair darkening with sweat. He finally stops and Bob moans as hands reach out from behind him and caress his body, then work his cock. “Oh fuck!” he says as his dick hardens. He’s whipped again, his erect cock lashed several times. Then, to his great surprise, he ejaculates a huge load of cum.