Inch by inch he pulls his arms forward. His muscles are stiff and the slightest change seems to tear them. Eventually, though he's holding himself up awkwardly, his hands hover over chest and crotch. The bruises have all darkened, black and blue and purple shimmering below the white stripes of come. Even his cock has suffered the same abuse. He's tender all over.

Despite all that, he nods. His legs don't hurt a bit. He should be able to get up on his own -- but that's just misleading. The second he tries to stand, he plops down, knees hitting the floor. His legs are numb, from hips to toes, insects seemingly crawling under his skin. They tickle. Pathetic, how he sits there like a child that hasn't yet learned how to walk.