"Please." Sugar, who had spent the last hour refusing to beg, was begging. "Please. We just came back. We just— tonight has already been—"
"He's a pervert," Nano sobbed, and the word carried no heat — just the exhausted, frightened truth of a woman who knew exactly what kind of pervert and was afraid of it. "He's always been— he trained our bodies and he doesn't care— he doesn't care that we can't walk—"
Sugar's eyes were red. "Please. Please I'm asking you. Not yet. Not tonight. Give us one night—"
Both of them.
Arms reaching forward.
Gripping his forearms.
Their tear-wet faces upturned. Their swollen lips forming the same plea. Their bodies — still leaking, still marked, nipples still stiff, thighs still trembling — arranged in the supplication of two women who had betrayed him and been reclaimed and were now genuinely, bodily afraid of what came next.
He looked at them.
At both their faces.
At the desperation there.
He chuckled.
