Well, certainly. He was a 'guest' here. An unwilling one, but did anyone ever walked the Nine Hells out on a whim? Had anyone ever wanted, no, better, craved to be cursed to an eternity of all sorts of torment? The creature struggled a little more upon it's chains, taking some time to think. Should he act the part? M'Gul was a minotaur, yes, a creature whose visage was most foul, but that did not mean he was completely the beast he seemed to be. No, the minotaur was no overseer because he was dull as a door knob.<br/><br/>So that could be the way to have her acting more... freely around him. If he was unable to think - or better, if this demoness ignored that M'Gul wasn't ignorant of her words at all, well, all the best for him. It would make her careless. Maybe even reckless when speaking around him. He could end up overhearing more. Of what she meant to do with him. To do to him. Of what sort of future he could expect on this whore's hands. It was certainly not meant to be pleasant at all, but he could endure some pain. Some constraints. The chains were not quite unconfortable as they were chaffing. Hot to the touch, yet, but so was his fur. Maybe he had overstepped some line, some boundary? He could not remember if he did. The rules were simple. Save the best to the next. However, in a world ruled by devils and demons, such as himself, selfishness meant that the souls that fought or resisted would end up being passed around more than those that simply complied to the abuse. The last one such creature he had was a troublemaker. A feminine-shaped soul. A woman in her lifetime.<br/><br/>Such a complete bitch.<br/><br/>His mind started to work anew as the little demoness aproached him. She was short, and yet, he felt her presence filling up the room in a way only his used to do. She was coming closer, so he growled like a distrustful animal, his nose flaring, his eyes glimmering with both hatred, lust, and a little tingue of fear to make things more interesting. He stretched the chains as he took his arms wide, letting their magic work and strain against his powerful muscles - showing her how mighty he was created to be, supposed to be. Minotaurs were bred within the layers of Hell, usually from other minotaurs and poor females, cursed into some of the most wicked ways. Their bondage was eternal - to be mated repeatedly until their taskmasters noticed their misshapen, swollen bellies where minotaur young grew. It would ravage their wombs terribly, but when the birthing was done, their shape would be reformed and the rapes would start anew.<br/><br/>A huge margin of minotaurs were male. There were very, very few females wandering around the Abyss, so few and scattered between each other that most of the minotaurs themselves knew nothing about it, thinking their kind one all-male race. Not so. M'Gul knew it. There was a called 'queen' down the Fourth Layer. He had seen her. All creatures like him had a bestial and severe sexual appetite given their virility. Hell, this little demoness that now stared at him could notice without too much staring that even though a loingcloth covered his maleness, his heavy, fuzzy balls were on display behind them - tennis-ball sized, and shaped large to hold as much as of the corrupted, wicked seed as it was possible to deliver fel young into poor women.<br/><br/>A wicked thought crossed his mind. Should he ever manage to catch this little bitch, he would do it to her. Give her the gift. Let her cross the torments of an unwanted child growing on her belly, a beast such as himself. Pasiphae, the Queen of Krete, had once fallen for a Bull. That was how the tale started. The reports of how painful it was to breastfeed a minotaur were ample and scarce all at once. He grunted again as she came closer, his eyes glueing upon her bosom in order to let her thing his drive was taking him almost to the point of bursting... which happened, but M'Gul wasn't that loaded up.