Pure silence. Pure, entrancing eyes. I don't say a single word in the room. If I open my mouth, it's only to echo your loss, it's because I'm getting off to what I'm doing to you. It's because my stomach ties up in mini orgasmic knots when I have this much control, it's because I love my job. O yeah, and it's also because there's two of me in the room. In your headphones, strapped to your head so you can't do anything, immobile-restraint-fetish boy. My words echo and fill your head. I whisper of denial, your helplessness, sweet nothings about the things I do to you. Think you could handle two of me? Se what this boy's reaction is, then judge.