Julian kept his face turned toward the closed door for a long time after the exchange.
The cold draft moved through the chamber again, cool enough to raise faint gooseflesh on exposed skin. The low mechanical hum of the toys continued without variation. Every so often a soft, wet sound reached him—another slow drip from Kane's cock onto the sheets, or the faint shift of the weighted clamps when Mahir adjusted his breathing. Neither beastman spoke. Neither asked to be released. They simply endured the unfinished state Elara had left them in, the same way they had clearly endured it for years.
Julian's scoff still echoed faintly in his own ears.
*What can you expect from an animal?*
