...ut in pain. "Wrong answer. Madame Cuervo."
Slash! Another three scratch marks, another outcry. He obviously was new to this whole dominatrix thing. "Madame Cuervo," she repeated. She slashed him across his ripped chest again.
"Ow! Madame Cuervo! Madame Cuervo!" he yelled in agony and… was that sensuality she detected?
"Yes?" she asked, folding her arms, her gloves making leathery squeaks.
"…Please stop hitting me. I don't like sadomasochism," he gasped.
"Neither do I. No, what I like is power. Little Frida gave me plenty of that. But I know why you won't. You're El Tigre, and nobody gives orders to El Tigre, right?"
He didn't answer. He seemed to be afraid of talking out of turn. Perfect.
"I want to show you something," she said, taking some photographs off the table. "I just took these." She held them to his face.
They were of her, naked and dripping wet. He knew his erection must have doubled in size. She must have taken these when she came out of the shower. He tried not to stare at them, but… it was really hard, okay?
"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get myself hot again. Taking a cold shower just to get my nipples to pop out really cooled me off from my visit with Frida. So if you don't mind…" She picked up a small electrical appliance of the table.
"W-what's that?" he asked.
"Don't you recognize a vibrator when you see one?"