Elara moved to Mahir next. She adjusted the hook a fraction higher, turned the new egg inside him to the same climbing pattern, and watched the suspended beastman shake through a dry, frustrated climax he could not complete because of the rod. His muffled cries filled the chamber. The weights on his chest swung wildly. When it was over he hung limp in the ropes, cock still hard, face flushed dark with more than exertion.
Julian tilted his head.
"He's still hard. Even after that. You trained them well."
Mahir's eyes squeezed shut. The embarrassment was sharp enough to feel like a second layer of restraint.
Elara glanced once at Julian—registering the open arousal in his posture, the way his own cock strained against his trousers, the bright, unashamed interest in his eyes—then returned her attention to the two Vanguards.
She left both toys running at a low, constant level.
