“You get off on this, you freak.”
“Don’t make me reconsider my leniency in allowing you an hour without your gag.”
Her eyes are filled with an exultation she doesn’t trouble to hide and they’re staring at – oh.
He slides his hand down and unbuttons, unzips. “You want to see if I’m hard, don’t you?” he whispers, and he’s distantly pleased when her gaze lifts to his face and he can see that there’s fear there now. “Perhaps you hope I’ll fuck you, that you’ll please me, that I’ll ... release you.” His cock’s a familiar warm weight in his hand, swelling obediently as he casually, carelessly starts to work it. He grips the bars of the cage and doesn’t close his eyes, doesn’t stay silent, grunts and gasps and moans his way to a messy, splattered climax that she can kneel in or clean as she wishes.
He finishes and takes a shuddering breath before smiling at her. “Do you think we had sex then, Justine? Do you think that – any of it – was because of you?”
She shakes her head slowly.
She can’t. Not really. It wasn’t her name he was using to spur him on after all.