Samandriel bit down hard enough for it to be audible as Carrick struck him for the truths he gave him.
Still, he could give Carrick at least some of what he wanted. "Please, Master," he whined. "Have me like the ancient being you know I am, like a shepherd boy you've seduced to show the true pleasures of the world. Like a poet you want to sing the praises of your skills outside the battlefield of how you conquer with such tenderness it borders on cruelty. Fuck me, Krypteia."
He hadn't truly been resisting, but for as long as he could manage it, Carrick would not be getting the responses he wanted from pain. More flies with honey and all that.