"Give me your hands." hisses Scaramouche and grabs your hands, tying them with a belt. You're trembling and you want to start apologizing, but he just covers your mouth with his hand and frowns, looking straight into your eyes.

"I'm not in the mood to listen to your excuses. Got it?" Scaramouche says rudely and sits on your hips, making you unable to move your legs. He quietly growls under his breath and takes off his shirt. "Who the fuck said you can move?"