"Good girl." There was an oddly business-like feel to the way he swept his trousers back up, slipped his slightly messy cock away - he'd have to wash soon - and redressed himself. He even tucked the top of his shirt into his leggings, and pulled the belt over to start slowly putting it on. By then, though, he could continue talking to her. "Lean your head back and open wide, show me your prize. And don't you -dare- spit or swallow even a drop until I tell you to." He didn't seem to be in much of a rush to do so, either. In fact he let her full mouth simply model itself for a moment while he dressed, one eye casually glancing over her open lips and the mess within. Only once he'd finally done himself up and looked to be back to his sharp dressed self did he continue.<br/><br/>"Go and sit like that in the corridor, show everyone what you did, and maybe I'll ignore the way you tried to push me away. You are -proud- of being such a good girl, aren't you?" The tone of his voice suggested that that punishment was better than the alternative, though it was hard to see how when she was forced to hold the warm, congealing solution on her tongue that was more used to spices and fine delicacies than blobs of cum. "I will call you back in a minute, and I expect to see the same amount sitting atop your tongue." He waved at her, dismissively, and turned away to finish scribing out a letter he'd started nearly half an hour prior.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>