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His tongue now, flat against the silky fabric. Gaaawwwwwwd, that’s good. Little laps of his tongue, like a puppy on Quaaludes. Like he remembers wha... he’s doing but as if we’re divorced or something. Like he doesn’t still own this. I want to stay quiet. I don’t want him to know he’s getting to me. But good God damn. ‘Eat me. You motherfucker.’ He holds his tongue flat against me, with pressure and stillness and, and he just stops. ‘I’m sorry. Please?’ I feel the weight shift on the bed, his. I have to be honest. That did calm me down somewhat but I had to go to work and I was stuck there until seven that night. I’d been fed in the canteen so went straight up for a shower. I’d just dressed when there was a knock and the man said there was a basket of consumables. When I opened the door the woman was there with a basket of soap and shampoos. Seeing her I felt a twinge and let her in. “Let’s have a look at your tits.” I said, even then half expecting a shocked cry from her. Instead. More

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