Her words might have been lessened to little more than a high pitched whine by the large red ball parting her lips, but the expression in her eyes and tone said it so clearly that the words weren't necessary anyway. This was one of those times where Quentin could see the Zoey he wanted shining through, past the Zoey he had.The two Zoeys were growing closer, and so he saw more of the pleading, desperate, depraved young bitch he wanted than he had scant days before. That glimpse made his smirk spread so that it echoed in his twinkling eyes, too, tempering his sternness - and indeed his arousal - with a sort of self-satisfied glee. "You filthy-fucking-<i>fiend</i>of a girl! Resistant to all but the fiercest, most perversed of fucks, and<i>then</i>you sing. And oh what noises you bring me, hm?" So pleased he was that he almost praised her; that would be the pleasure talking.<br/><br/>Quentin pulled the handle of his switch - which was broader and more like a solid cylinder of the same pale wood as the rest of it - down to push hard against Zoey's clit. He rolled his wrist in such a way that the semi-spherical end of the thing rolled around the nub of nerves, pushing it aside wherever it moved and chasing it, so that it was constantly under pressure. With her hips rolling under her own efforts and from the fierce thumps of him pushing up against her it made his task more difficult, and twice it slipped away from under her hood until he remembered to replace it and work it twice as hard to compensate her.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>