I walked in at 4:58 and locked the door behind me.
Clothes off in the kitchen. Folded on the counter. Then I bent slightly, reached back, and pushed two fingers into myself right there on the tile. I was already swollen and slick from the drive over, yesterday’s load still clinging deep. I f****d them in and out a few times, then left them buried and knelt, knees spread, free hand behind my back, exactly like he’d ordered.
The stretch and the wait made my c**t throb. Every small shift moved my fingers. By the time the door opened at 5:11 I was dripping around them onto the floor, breathing uneven, desperate not to come before he allowed it.
Caleb stepped in, locked the door, and stopped when he saw the fingers sunk in me. His mouth curved.
“Obedient. And soaked already. Pull them out.
