I stayed on my knees between her legs.
The metal frame ticked under the shift of my weight. Hard white light sat on everything without mercy — the raw marks at her wrists, the dark hair dragged across the sheet, the full length of her body open from the unbound ankles up. Her arms stayed tied above her head. She had asked for that. The rest of her was free and already failing to hold still.
I looked.
Her breasts rose and fell in short uneven pulls, the nipples tight, the pale skin flushed high across her chest. The stomach hollowed with each held breath. Lower, the thighs trembling in small discontinuous waves. And between them, her pussy, bare, the outer lips swollen and parted, the inside of her a deep flushed purple-pink where the light reached. Wet enough that a thin shine coated the folds.
The entrance of her flexed once, open, closed, open again, as if the fire under her skin was working her from the inside out.
My father entered there before me.
