There’s something about a gag that stirs you. Maybe it’s the helplessness of having the power of speech confiscated. Perhaps it’s gratitude for a break from the sound of your own voice. Mostly, you just enjoy the sensation of having your mouth filled. Jaws agape, drool spilling from the corners of your lips, wide-eyed and squirming with anticipation but unable to verbalise and thus free from any expectation of conversational input.
No talking means no pressure to say the right things. Having your mouth stuffed makes you keenly aware of how hungry your unfilled cunt feels by contrast. It’s subby joy; you have no choice but to be quiet now, and masochistic delight; your opinion is not needed here.
Be quiet or I’ll have to gag you, is not a threat, it’s an invitation. Bring it in.