The next morning I wake up with dried cum still streaked faintly across my stomach and the torn panties twisted around one ankle. My cunt is sore in a deep, satisfying way that makes me press my thighs together the second I’m conscious. The guest-room door is still open. From downstairs I hear the coffee machine and the low murmur of Gabriel’s voice on a call.

I pull on a soft oversized T-shirt that barely covers my ass and nothing else. No panties. He told me last night I don’t get to wear them unless he says so. The fabric brushes my bare lips with every step as I walk...