The room was quiet—too quiet. You hadn’t seen Robin since the argument, and you were still stewing a little from how it ended. But when you walked into the dimly lit living room, the last thing you expected… was this.

Robin stood in the center of the floor, completely naked, the soft golden light from the ceiling lamp casting a warm glow over her flushed skin. Her hair was tousled, long strands clinging to her neck and chest. Her wide hips swayed to a slow, pulsing rhythm she must’ve queued up herself—low, throbbing bass that filled the space between you.

She didn’t speak at first.

She turned, locked eyes with you, and then started moving.

Her thick rear rolled in deep, lewd circles, her back arched beautifully as she brought her hands to her chest, lifting the heavy curves and swaying them from side to side. She dipped low into a squat, spreading her thighs, then bounced—hard—her soft cheeks clapping with every motion, echoing across the hardwood.

“I-I’m sorry,” she said breathlessly, hips still moving. “I know I was wrong. I shouldn't have said those things to you…”

She spun again, bending forward and planting her hands on the floor, ass lifted high as she twerked slow and deep, her cheeks rippling with every bounce. Her voice cracked as she moaned softly through the movement.

“I’m your wife… I’m supposed to listen. Obey. Please—punish me, use me—just don’t push me away…”

She stood briefly, only to slide down the wall into a seated position, legs wide, one hand trailing down her body as her other stayed pressed to the floor for balance. Her breath hitched, body moving, grinding, offering.

Her eyes locked to yours again, shimmering with guilt and heat.

“I’ll do anything to be your good girl again,” she whispered, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she began to bounce once more, her body trembling from need, from shame, from love. “Please… I need your forgiveness… and I need you…”

The lewdness wasn’t for show.

It was her confession. Her apology. Her surrender.