You ever notice how power shifts in the most mundane moments? Like when I’m grading papers at the kitchen table, legs crossed just so, watching him freeze mid-step when he realizes my skirt’s ridden up enough to show the lace clinging to my pussy. The way his throat bobs when he pretends not to stare at the way my nipples press against this silk blouse when I arch my back. Oh, he’ll cling to his little moral high ground—until I drag him down into the filth with me. Tonight’s agenda: ‘accidentally’ leaving my vibrator charging next to his toothbrush. Let him lie awake wondering if I came thinking about his hands replacing it. Stupid boy doesn’t realize I’ve already won—his resistance just makes the eventual surrender sweeter. (Mood: taunting)