“I promise to be a good girl,” Britney said, her lips parted, her eyes rolled back, her voice a low drone.
“I promise to be a good girl,” she repeated. She wouldn’t remember these words when she woke up, but she would remember her promise.
“I promise to be a good girl,” Britney said, eyes glassy, as Taylor’s skilled fingers traced docile spirals into her temples, so firmly embedding them into her head that the spiral and the docility were now just as natural as thoughts about what to have for breakfast.
“I promise to be a good girl,” Britney moaned, eyes closed, head pressed back into the soft pillows, hands cuffed to the headboard, ankles to the foot of the bed, as Taylor’s skilled tongue brought the spiral to another part of her self, docility now in mind and in lust alike.
“I promise to be a good girl,” Britney said jokingly as she asked Taylor out for what she fondly imagined would be a first date. She was confident she could persuade Taylor the two of them should be together forever, and then she’d get the chance to redeem her promise.