imagine finding him clinging to life in an abandoned warehouse, naked and tied down to a chair, barely conscious, as his half-lidded eyes are hazy and distant while his cut, somewhat puffy lip is bright and all you can see, and the bruises you can see paint him a pollock of purples, blues, and blacks, while his hands hang limp with crooked fingers and his legs are set, forcibly spread so as to show his tainted crotch and gaped, dildo-filled asshole, all the while his knees are still a bright, sore red, matching the still-visible hand mark on his throat, not distracting you at all from the fact that his feet, his toes even are uncomfortably, forcibly bent and splayed, making you thankful that his body isn't littered with cuts and gashes exposed to the still, rank air of the warehouse.
