'Where have I been caught?'
The scream lived inside her skull, tearing through the silence of her own mind with the jagged, desperate pitch of a woman who had walked into her own trap. Naro knelt on the wet tile, her heavy knees spread wide, the coarse bar of soap melting in her thick fingers. The steam rose around her, thick and hot, plastering her hair to her forehead and making her blouse cling to the heavy, dense weight of her tits.
His feet were pale and narrow before her, the toes long and untouched by labor. She scrubbed them with the cloth, her broad shoulders hunched, her eyes fixed on the floor because she was terrified to look up. But the shadow fell across her anyway. The thick, blunt, unmistakable shadow of his erect cock stretched over her bowed head, dark against the wet tile and her own heavy thighs, twitching slightly with each pulse of his heartbeat.
She gasped.
