“Pull down the strap of your camisole,” he repeats. “Alright.” I slide the band of satin down my shoulder, so it hangs limply down my arm. The entire garment stays in place with the lace cups still hugging my breasts. “Good girl,” he says. “We’ll enjoy our time better when you’re obedient.” My lips curl into a smirk. “And if I’m not?” “You really don’t want to know what I do to bratty girls.”
