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Huffing, bejita watched as Bulma pulled the strap-on out of his ass and then moved to her feet. "See, it's not so easy, is it?" she asked, while Bejita allowed his legs to settle upon the floor again and looked up towards the ceiling. He had already regretted speaking to his wife in such a way—she wasn't really accomplishing much by torturing him, he thought. He kept that thought to himself and moved to sit up, only for Bulma's foot to press against his foot and push him back down to the ground.
"What are you doing?" he asked, as Bulma unclasped the strap-on and pulled it down and off, then presented the tip of it to him.
"Clean it up," she told him, and the reddening of his cheeks that came alongside the instruction rivalled that of Bulma's anger earlier on, but still, he knew better than to not do as he was told. He leaned up and latched his lips onto the strap-on's tip, then sucked the taste of his own ass from it. It was degrading, disgusting, something that a Prince such as himself should never be forced to do, and yet he performed the task anyway, not even pausing to contemplate his regrets for another moment more.
Once he was done licking the strap-on clean, Bulma pushed it into his throat briefly for good measure. She held his mouth open with her hand and pushed until she felt him gag, then kept going for a moment longer before pulling it back, covered in his saliva. Bejita began to cough and reached up to cover his mouth, only for Bulma to reach down and pull his hands away.
