[There's a — gasp, inhaled a little too quick, in the moment before he is shoved over the edge of the bed beholden to the strength in Cy's grasp. Reflex has him catching his weight on hand and knees, and the rug absorbs some of the blow but not all of it, blunt impact a dull vibration through his body down to the humbler with an aching snag of taut skin that almost makes him cry out. Almost. He puts his face down against the rug instead, composing himself, swallowing the pain. Taking it.]

I don't need to guess. [The words are bitten through his teeth, chewed and spat out — hardly able to recover his balance before the leash yanks him up, forced in a forward tilt.] That is what it's all for, isn't it? Your depraved lust. I should have known not to expect better.

[He can't let it show that he fears any of this, but — there is a glimmer of it at the mention of his men. A fracture in the steely discipline, because someone like Sasuke would care more for the lives of others than himself, and he would feel that burden on his shoulders, faced by the enemy's capture. Even proud, even on his knees suffering this shame and humiliation, he would sacrifice himself if necessary.]

And? I do this, you'll let them live?