You've done well, Wriothesley. So, so well. [He praises, caressing the fingers of his free hand gently down Wriothesley's chest in direct contrast to the hard, quick thrusts and firm strokes that haven't slowed in the least bit.

He spares the quickest of glances toward the portrait. Judging by the half-lidded, blissful look on the portrait's face as it watches, Neuvillette believes it's safe to assume they've completed its request. Good.]

You've taken your punishment beautifully, Wriothesley. You're free to do as you wish. [He pauses the hand on Wriothesley's cock for the briefest of moments so he can lean forward and kiss him, sucking on his lower lip as the hydro tentacle pushes in deep and undulates, pulsing while staying buried deep inside him, pushing over and over again against the spots that seem to make Wriothesley moan and writhe the most. Straightening, he resumes stroking him, eager to draw out his climax.]