I can see how smug he is. How he watches me, eyes narrowed and nostrils flared. The movement of his hand. The bones of my wrists feel like they're grinding together.
"Please," I say. He won't. I feel a low tight satisfaction of my own when he comes. It's still because of me.
I look at him sitting in his chair when he's done. I moisten my own lips. "Thank you," I say, my voice low. I rub my wrists. My penis is still hanging outside of my trousers, and I tuck it away.
I look at him thoughtfully for a moment longer, then come and kneel down by his chair. I don't think it's a gesture of fealty, this time.
no subject
I can see how smug he is. How he watches me, eyes narrowed and nostrils flared. The movement of his hand. The bones of my wrists feel like they're grinding together.
"Please," I say. He won't. I feel a low tight satisfaction of my own when he comes. It's still because of me.
I look at him sitting in his chair when he's done. I moisten my own lips. "Thank you," I say, my voice low. I rub my wrists. My penis is still hanging outside of my trousers, and I tuck it away.
I look at him thoughtfully for a moment longer, then come and kneel down by his chair. I don't think it's a gesture of fealty, this time.