Naboo watched the images on the makeshift screen enthralled. He supposed this was why he had had the cameras installed. To appease the others. They liked to watch.
The Head Shaman was sitting next to him, wanking furiously, eyes fixed on the screen. Naboo watched him. Tony Harrison had long since stopped writhing about and was staying still with his eyes rolled back, looking more out of it than usual.
Bollo had wandered off somewhere in disgust. Naboo wondered if this was wrong. To show them all Vince and Howard, to let them do this over them, to try and do this himself. Was it wrong to try and feel this way?
Naboo couldn't feel sexual stimulation. He tried, but he couldn't do it. He had no idea if he was meant to find people he knew so well arousing. Or if it was exploitative and unnatural. If he could just feel something, maybe he would know.
One of the women present was on her knees with her dress hitched up and her hands planted firmly between her legs. Watching her, Naboo mimicked her position, lifted his robe and pressed his fingers into the skin between his thighs. He pressed. Pressure felt good. But pressure felt good anywhere if you did it right. Was this the right kind of pressure? Did it feel the right kind of good? He watched the woman rock back and forth on her fingers and he did the same. It felt good. But was it the right kind of good? Was it right to feel this way at all?
Naboo just didn't know.