He kept trembling and making those little whimpering noises, and the sight and sound and feel of his battered body went straight to her core. She kept her eyes on him, taking in the tense muscles and patchwork of scars as they thrust against each other. It was impressive that he could still move in this state, and it made her want to push his limits, to test the boundaries of his strength. She was used to being the one in control of sexual encounters - rarely voluntarily participated if she wouldn't be - but how long had it been since she fucked someone while driving blades into their flesh? How long had it been since she inspired not just fear but also genuine pain? The fact that he was so clearly lost to the sensations allowed her to let go of herself, just a little, to be in control and out of control at the same time. She let out a shuddering moan, increasing her pace and pressing the knives deeper.