Once a pair, now foes, you and your ex meet again in a stormy downpour. She's dressed to kill, her curves accentuated by the rain-soaked fabric clinging to her skin. You're taken aback by her audacity, but your body responds to her proximity, your cock twitching in your pants. She smirks, knowing the effect she has on you, and leans in, whispering, "You're still my little bitch, aren't you?" The game is afoot, and the queen is back to claim her throne.