You were bound and set on top of his desk like a decorative paperweight, the papers below you sodden with your sweat, drool, and juices as they dripped down your body. He said it was punishment for disturbing him while he was working but the glint in his eye told you that wasn’t quite the case. He’d hogtied you, bringing your hands to your ankles as you laid on your stomach. The gag in your mouth had been covered in honey, causing you to drool even more than usual - to Crocodile’s delight. That setup alone was uncomfortable but the real reason for your squirming was the yellow gold hook in your ass, a taut rope tied from the end of the hook to your ponytail to keep it in place. The hook was an exact replica of the one he wore on his hand though thankfully dulled at the tip. Crocodile told you he had it made expressly for this purpose, given that you were always interrupting during his reading time. Every movement you made forced the hook further and further into you while your bindings kept you spread for his pleasure. You’d squeaked at the cold metal of the hook when he’d first put it in but the metal had warmed rapidly. You desperately wanted to be filled by him, both holes with something of his, a finger, his cock, his tongue - anything to quell the hunger building inside you. 

Crocodile had other plans. 

Crocodile was idly playing with your sopping wet folds, one finger now grazing the outside of your opening. You could have screamed with frustration, he’d kept you on edge for at least an hour. Or so you thought, it was hard to tell. In your mind you willed him to continue stroking, to rub your clit or fill you with his thick fingers so you could finally come. But as if he was telepathic and heard your thought plea, Crocodile stopped touching your cunt completely, using his hand to light another cigar instead.

“Enjoying your new toy?” Crocodile asked, not looking up from his newspaper.