In a luxurious mess of blankets.

As Griffith awakened in a gargantuan bed that was little more than a massive nest of blankets, he could breathe easier than he had before, rising with a grand yawn. He was comfortable and warm in this plush cocoon of bedding, but still sore. Were his wrists and pelvis not still aching, he might've assumed he dreamt all those rapes— he shuddered at the traumatic memories, and fought them out of his mind.

Adjusting his bleary eyes to the room, Griffith removed a few of his innumerable blankets and found something familiar… his penis, because he was still butt-naked.

Blushing, the forcibly-nude hunk covered his dangling sex with both hands, but, as he cast his harried gaze about the golden room surrounding him, he made an interesting discovery; unlike the rest of the Diamonds' quarters, this bedroom didn't have a fifty-foot ceiling—measuring instead about twelve—and there were no Gems in sight. He grappled with whether to keep his hands on his privates, but felt safe enough to leave himself bare, at least for the time being.

After a few minutes of not knowing how to occupy himself alone, and having a firm unwillingness to leave the empty room without clothes, Griffith began to exercise—to keep his sexy body in fighting shape—starting with push-ups. He was discomfited by how his cock touched the granite floor between every rep, but went through the motions regardless.

Beginning to feel comfortable with working out this way, the captive went for exercises that required more 'motion'. Which was a big mistake. In the middle of some truly graphic naked jumping jacks, Griffith heard a snicker. He whipped around at the noise, and saw Yellow Pearl standing at the room's threshold; smiling like she'd just won the lottery, and pointing her camera straight at the spaceman's jiggling privates.

Turning red and throwing his arms down for cover, Griffith asked his slender voyeur, "Pearl?! How long have you been there?!"

"Only for the best eight minutes I've had in forever." Said the leotard-clad woman, trying to bore her titillated gaze through the naked boy's hands, "I recorded it all too. Your weapon has such a pleasing bounce to it, but I might prefer your ass."

When she finally wolf-whistled at his enticing nudity, Griffith dove for the bed and wrapped one of its innumerable sheets around his waist; still blushing on account of the obvious outline his big cock left in the saffron linens— and Canary's continued leering at that same dick-print.

While he fumed in acute embarrassment, Griffith asked Pearl the only question that came to mind, "What are you doing here?"

Her ear-to ear beam faltering the slightest bit, Canary said…