Robyn’s lips parted as he was ordered to further humiliate himself in front of the man. It seemed to be pleasing him, though, and just so long as Robyn was pleasing him he was sure he’d remain more or less safe … Well, at least in the immediate future. The young man didn’t hesitate to drop down to his knees at Drayn’s command, but the first set of instructions clearly produced a bit of apprehension within him. He glanced down at his wounded hand. Three out of his five delicately shaped fingers were already beginning to swell and turn a rather beautiful shade of purple. If it wasn’t his flesh that was turning, Robyn might have even admired the hues of the bruise. He’d always found the natural colors that graced the human form to be beautiful: the soft greens, blues, and purples of a bruise, the faint pink of blush, the deep scarlet of blood. The colors that the human body could produce were vibrant and exciting, in his well-learned opinion. Seeing them on his own body, however, was more often than not an inopportune way to view them.<br/><br/>The boy quickly opted, upon consult from his dear friends, to switch out his hands. It’d hurt a fair bit less to stroke with broken and dislodged fingers than it would to press them into his rather tight body with them. The boy squeezed his eyes shut briefly as he carried out the task, and he let out a shaky breath as he reveled in the more or less pleasant set of reactions his body was offering to the stimulation. His eyes snapped open when Drayn’s voice once again graced his ears. He gazed intently up at the pretty man, and his lips parted at the question. He was quiet for a few moments, as though pondering how the man truly wished for him to respond. He did, in fact, which to procure the best possible outcome from the interaction.<br/><br/>“I do, Sir … I think you’re very beautiful. Certainly prettier than any I’ve ever been with before,” he whispered in response, flinching as a bit of ash dropped down onto his mottled cheeks. His gaze remained trained upwards onto his newest taker, however, and despite the harsh words that escaped Drayn’s mouth a smile spread across the little bird’s lips. It might have been unnerving, to watch the boy produce a smile even in such a compromising circumstance, but Drayn didn’t seem like to type to be easily shaken by such trivial things.<br/><br/>“Well, yes … I’d rather like that,” in spite of the terror that made his stomach roll, Robyn giggled softly at the idea, shaking his head and averting his gaze for only a few moments. He muttered something softly to himself, shaking his head a bit more as he lifted his eyes upwards yet again. “I don’t p-prefer the term gutter whore … But if you like it I’ll not protest. It’s not as though I truly deserve anything better. Shall we call Sir? Or perhaps you prefer to be referred to as Drayn? There could also another title you hold a fondness for, I suppose?”