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d a hard place. She didn’t want to cede control, but she didn’t want to provoke his assholeness more. He knew she wouldn’t risk pissing in the car.
“I hope you’re right about this,” she grumbled ruefully as she undid the button of her shorts. She pushed a hand down between those delicious thighs of hers.
Closing his eyes for a second, he imagined her hand at her snatch. Maybe he would take his shaver to her down there. Just to mark her further as his.
“What are you doing?”
“What do you think I’m doing?” she spat.
“I want to see what you’re doing, but since I’ve got to keep my eyes on the road, you’re going to have to tell me.”
She gave him a “you’re such an asshole” look.
“I’m touching myself,” she said through gritted teeth.
“Where?”
“Where do you think?”
He slowed the car.
Getting the message, she replied, “I’m touching my clit.”
“With what?”
She rolled her eyes.
“Warning number one: don’t be impertinent with your Master. When I tell you to do something, do it and enjoy it. If I have to give you a second warning, there will be consequences you won’t enjoy so much—at least not at first.”
“I’m touching myself with my fingers. Satisfied?”
“Which fingers?”
“Pointer and middle finger. Mostly the pointer finger.”
“And what is it mostly doing?”
“I’m rubbing it up and down my clit.”
His imagination gave him a nice visual of what she described. “How does it feel?”
“Awkward.”
“I don’t think your clit has emotion. How does it feel physically?”
“It feels like it’s being stroked by a finger.”
“How did it feel this morning?”
She didn’t answer right away.
“It felt good, didn’t it?” he prodded “I want you to feel that again. Your body wants it. You want it. You deserve to feel good.”
His words had lulled her eyes closed, and her body slouched in the seat. He could see her hand moving inside her shorts. Unlike her unzipped shorts, the crotch of his pants pressed tightly against him.
“What do you imagine when you masturbate alone at home?”
“Different things.”
