The degradation evolved into performance art.
Riley sat at the dining table, her mother's chicken picc cooling on her plate, her body humming with secret violation.
Beneath her sundress — Sloane's selection, thin cotton, no underwear — Sloane's fingers moved inside her with devastating precision, hidden by the tablecloth, by proximity, and by the absolute audacity of the act.
“I called the dean today, Riley… and they agreed to discuss about reinstatement,” her mother said, reaching for wine.
"For real?” Riley managed, her voice barely strained, her thighs trembling as Sloane's thumb circled her c**t under the table. "Fine then.”
Sloane's expression remained impeccable — cool, attentive, the perfect daughter. But her fingers curled deeper, hitting the spot that made Riley's vision spo
