She knew she wasn’t allowed to masturbate without his permission. And she knew he was making breakfast and he’d be back any second.
She didn’t often disobey just for the sake of being punished. But although she could still feel last night’s marks, his hand and his cane on her flesh, this morning’s fucking had been gentle, loving. That was good, but she wanted something different now.
She heard his steps in the corridor. She arched her ass.
She imagined him gasping. Happily: he loved the way she lay on her front, ass up, to wank. Then he’d remember he was supposed to be angry. Then the sound of his belt. Then he would be fast and loud, and hot and sweet, and there would be no more gentleness between them until they were both exhausted.