Damien had spent 20 hours in that damned bath room, chained up like a slave.
Sure, he had been obnoxious, calling her names and everything. But why shouldn't you call an evil witch an evil witch?
Admittedly, he hadn't known that she was a witch at that time - how could he possibly? -- but it turned out he was right. Right?
So it wasn't an insult. It was more like pointing out an objective fact.
She had told him that she would change him back, if he managed to stay in the bath room without touching his tits. If he did touch them, he would be Dementia forever.
He looked down at those two globes of lovely female flesh and sighed.
Only four hours to go...
This one is for Dementia.