I woke up smelling like them.
Dried c*m pulled tight across my t**s when I sat up. It had cracked white in the crease under my left breast and flaked onto the sheet when I moved. Between my thighs it was worse — Vincent’s load had leaked while I slept and dried sticky along the fat of my inner thigh, a crusted trail from my cunt to halfway down to my knee. My face still felt tight where Roman had finished on it. I didn’t wash any of it off.
Vincent had told me not to.
The staff kitchen was already warm when I got there at six. I put on the same short uniform dress from last night because it was the only clean one I had that still fit over my ass. No panties. No bra. My t**s sat heavy and bare under the fabric, n*****s dragging against cheap cotton every time I reached for a pan. The dri
