Hyacinthe cursed in Tsingani, the gutteral syllable falling from his lips as he watched Xanthippe pleasure herself. "I have never been so jealous of a toy in my life," he groaned, hands balled into fists to keep them off his own flesh. "You are a good girl, cherie, you are..."

Such a good girl.

And yet, only a few minutes later, he was gently taking it away.