Your victims.

Once upon a time, there was a guy that got eaten (by me). He was funny and charming, handsome as hell. But he couldn't keep his hands to himself. His eyes wandered and those appendages soon followed. Had a mind of their own, ya know? Couldn't control them or his urges. He had a lady. She was beautiful and sweet and kind, wouldn't hurt a fly. He kept his hands to her for a while, but they got bored. Wanted a challenge. Left her heartbroken over and over but she always forgave him when he begged so sweetly from his knees. He learned to keep one hand on her and the other could roam freely.
Where I'm from, if you can't keep your hands to yourself, you lose them. She became a dear friend to me, but he started barking up the wrong tree. (Mine.) I wouldn't stand for his wandering. Put him in his place. We all know a guy will just see that as a challenge. I took his wandering hand and cut it off. She loved the dinner I made her that night. Finger foods, of course. Turns out, he didn't like that much. One less hand, yet twice as much determination to get what he (shouldn't) want. I got the other hand in the end, but he was relentless.
His lady loved the feast I made her that weekend. Too bad he wasn't there to enjoy it as well.