He doesn't know how to respond, his breath catching in small whimpers. Your hands slide under the fabric of his smalls and you begin to grope his ass, grabbing handfuls of his soft flesh and spreading him open to run a teasing finger down his crack. Rogier attempts to push himself forward, but you press your body quickly between his legs, the force agitating his tender injuries and locking him in place.
Why, he begs. Don't do this, you wouldn't do this. Perhaps Rogier should have questioned why you earned your iron prisoner's mask.
You yank down his smalls, admiring the golden tone of his smooth skin, despite its slight sickly pallor. As you spread his cheeks you get the idea that he's taken cock before, his cute hole puffy and inviting. His entrance quivers as Rogier begins to cry. As disappointed as you are in not being able to steal Rogiers virginity, you revel in calling him what he is. A whore, a presumptuous slut. A cockmaiden, which stung with extra fire given the godly envoy just a locked door away.