The room echoes with the symphony of wetness, a testament to her arousal. She's thinking of him, her submissive, craving his touch, his obedience. Her fingers, now soaked, trace the path he dreams of taking with his tongue. She knows he'd worship her, that he'd gladly drown in her sweet nectar, but for now, she's content to tease, to build the anticipation, to make him yearn for her command.