LESSON FOR A MISBEHAVIOUR
Bound to the bed, I can't look away.
"You've been difficult," she says, sitting in a chair across the room—too far to reach, too close to ignore.
I’m breathless. Her fingers are going down. I want to be those fingers, please her but she says I can't today. My skin burns with the sound of her whimpers; I am shaking, scathing in my self-reproach, until I finally break: "I’m sorry. I won't break the rules again. Never again. I won't touch myself If you've denied it ever again!"
She smiles. She knows I mean it, but she shows no mercy. Her voice rises, her body trembles, and then—a shivering silence.
I’m speechless but she laughs. "I hope you remember the lesson."















