Lorelei’s POV
I lowered myself into the chair across from him, legs pressed tightly together. My soaked panties clung obscenely to my swollen lips.
Mr. Sinclair leaned back in his leather chair, completely at ease, his piercing blue eyes fixed on me. Every ounce of his composure reminded me that I was completely at his mercy.
“First,” he began, “you’ll send me a photo every morning of what you plan to wear. I’ll approve it. No exceptions. I want to know exactly how my black goddess is dressing for me each day.”
He continued without pausing, each new rule leaving me with a little less room to argue.
“Second, when I message you ‘wetness check,’ you will go to the nearest bathroom, spread your legs, and send me a picture of that pretty p***y. Fingers spreading it open. I want to see how
