In his hands

A cold sweat ran through me, I felt my cock growing from my excitement, my ears alert to the slightest noise that would betray my master's presence. The silence and darkness were absolute.
Suddenly, without my having expected it, a pinch on my left nipple made me shudder, lifting my body like a spring; with his other hand he grabbed my other nipple forcefully—what wonderful pain, I had never experienced such pleasure because that pleasure was also pain, intense pain inflicted by my master.

My master smiled at my reaction and kissed me on the mouth, slipping in his tongue and his saliva as unexpectedly as before. My God! If I was crying, my master began to caress my chest, my belly, my thighs, and my cock delicately, even going so far as to kiss it; the pleasure I felt was incredible, never in the hands of man or woman had I experienced so much, and it was because I was in the hands of my owner, of my master, because I was captive in his hands and unable to offer any resistance. The caresses again gave way to punishment: he grabbed me by the balls and twisted them, making me howl in pain; we had agreed on a safeword, but I did not want to use it—I wanted to live the pain he inflicted on me. Shut up, little whore, he said then, we haven't even started. Then he ringed my testicles and locked my erect cock, purple from the strain of its turgidity, in a tiny metal cage, causing a strange pleasure by putting my huge hard cock into such a small compartment.