Ananya remained on her knees beside the armchair, mouth open, for the entire time it took Rajendra to finish his breakfast and the newspaper.

The position had become familiar in the worst way. Her knees ached against the hard floor. Her jaw trembled from being held open so long. Cool air from the air-conditioner moved across her bare breasts and the wet, sticky mess between her thighs. Cum continued to leak from her in slow, warm trails—thick white strands that slid down her inner thighs, gathered at the soft crease where thigh met ass, then dripped onto the rug with soft, irregular sounds. She could feel every drop leaving her. She did not close her legs. She did not wipe anything away. Outside the high windows the ordinary city continued—distant traffic, a scooter horn, someone’s voice calling out in the lane. Inside the locked house she knelt naked and used, waiting.