Dar shouted out. Shocked first to find himself dropping. The rope released. Letting his body fall. Then realising. He saw the risk before it hit. Dropping. Legs splayed out. The tree trunk underneath. He was already crying out before he hit.
Pain smacked him up between the legs. His manliness punched. Pain rushed up from battered balls and raced out of his eyes. His head was thrown back up. Shock shook in every cell. Mouth thrown wide, the gasp escaped. Forced open by a heavy-throated hiss.
The tugging started again, yanking him back up. Dar realised but he was too taken with the pain and surprise. Teeth gritted, chin pressed to his chest. Jaw tight-clamped together. Hearing his cry ringing in his ears.
The bar spreading his leg apart again clacked against the underneath of the tree trunk. He swung. In position again. Back to the threat too soon. Too early for Dar to recover from his shock.
A pain that only a man could understand burned in his nuts. He swore down at the sorceress looking up into his face. Unconcerned. Impassive. Such pain was nothing to her.
“You sure of that?” She asked quietly. Almost silenced by the din of torture ringing in Dar’s head. “A gift that cannot be passed on …..?”
Dar was falling again before he had a chance to reply. “Pity.”
He didn’t register, anticipating .. in dread. Dropping. Legs splayed out. Smacking himself down onto the tree trunk. His manly jewels in direct firing line. His heavy-muscled body plummeting himself down. Going for the target. Dropping. Inexorably. Smacking himself in the balls. Pain inescapable. Unavoidably. The cry welling up before impact.