“Hands behind your back, shoulders straight.” Her order warms the slope of my shoulder as I stand and stare at the mirror in front of me. See myself naked, hard, obeying the orders of the woman behind me.
The one who owns my pleasure. Who has the right to mark me with the bruises on my thighs and the red lines still striping my upper back.
The one who’s forbidden me to touch for days now.
I want to writhe, kneel for her and beg, but I know better. She won’t take kindly to...