M'Gul grunted in pleasure as her caresses resumed touching around just so closely to his loins. Her sort was not trully used to have to... negotiate with those bound. Well, the minotaur would not simply submit on his own if he still had cards to play out of his massive hands. He was not meant to act as a slave, his bondage was one that prized his strenght and as such, filled his powerful chest with a sense of utter pride that would not be denied, or dismissed with an afterthought by the sort of slut that dwelt the Second of the Nine Hells. The damned incense-like scent that had filled the room had numbed a little of his inibitions, though. M'Gul would not simply stand about.<br/><br/><strong>"Well... You do look the part."</strong>, he grinned as he looked down on her. A terrible scratching need coursed through his frame as he wanted to clean an ear, but right now there were more important things to deal with. He felt her hands against his hide, against his furred, shaggy thighs. Both were powerful and thick, strong to keep balance of his heavy body.<strong>"...And... I would be most... eager to comply."</strong>, he huffed softly. She had a round and lovely figure, so... human-like. She wasn't deformed or warmed as most succubi - albeit the minotaur was aware of their shape-shifting skills. For a long moment he stood silent, looking down on her eyes, on the compromisin position she had taken right before him - a position that most souls would squirm to get free from, would undo themselves in tears not to have to suffer his pressing touch.<br/><br/>In that moment, he imagined it. How it would be. He imagined her freeing him, her touches against his loins, her tiny hands envelloping his bullhood and pumping up and down along and against it... his eyes closed for a moment as he thought himself mounting her, climbing upon the blonde lady's rear and piercing into the heart of her very being with his passion. The rut would be terrible. The feelings ought to be untaken - for even though M'Gul was an apex of virile masculinity, he had never been matched against a succubus. The idea of wantom pleasure coursing through his veins, of how much of his seed he would manage to fill and stuff her with - coupled with her pose...<br/><br/><strong>"...Why don't you then... release me? So we could... play?"</strong>, he grunted. It made him soar. The very thought of having her, her touch teaseful but never rubbing him made him start to slowly swell despite his wishes not to show any weakness. But perhaps it was the time to let it rise. She could end up noticing it for the strenghts rather than the flaws. The loincloth started to rise on it's own accord as the malehood underneath pressed up against it, in a steady swell.