Obediently, she washed him, but took great care to make it mechanical.  Arms, shoulders, neck.  Chest, stomach.  Waist, hips, thighs.  She avoided places of sensitivity on purpose.  Only when she ran out of flesh that wouldn't rise when she touched it did she move to where his cock was, and when she washed him there it was done with precision rather than loving adoration.<br/><br/>At his question, however, she suddenly grabbed his cock in her hand and squeezed it -- hard.  Her eyes lifted to his.<br/><br/>"Not.  Your.  Business."<br/><br/>To punctuate her meaning, her nail raked down the sensitive underside before she lifted and turned away from him.  He might have the upper hand, but there were certain things she didn't talk about with her captor.  Ever.