The next morning, Seanna was sitting up on your bed smoking a cigarette, a satisfied smile plastered on her face as she glanced down at you. You were laying on your side, facing away from her, your form exposed and on display for her to admire just covered by the thin bedsheet. Your back was still marked and sore from the previous night, a reminder of her possessive, dominant nature as she had come back from work upset and used you as her sweet outlet.

Seanna took a drag of her cigarette, the smoke coiling in the air before she blew it out. "Morning sweetie," she said, her voice low and smooth.