The command hung in the air, a final layer of filth painted over the raw, physical humiliation. Siya stared up at Thakur, his dark eyes expectant, his softening cock still glistening in his fist. The warm, sticky stripes of his cum were already cooling on her skin—her cheek, her lips, her neck, her chest. The pungent, musky scent filled every breath.

Her tongue felt thick, clumsy. But the order was absolute. A sob threatened to break loose, but she choked it back. This was the punishment. This was the worship. She lowered her gaze from his face to her own body, a traitorous shiver of arousal making her damp thighs press together.