The distinct noise of my instant messenger alerted me, indicating an incoming message. I maximized the window, and saw his name blinking orange on the contact list to the left of the window. I opened our conversation, my eyes scanning down until his recent message was visible.
“What are you doing?”
“Masturbating.” I typed back, hesitating for several lengthy seconds before I made the decision to press send.
I watched the screen intently, the chat indicator signaled his message being typed, deleted, typed again and deleted one more time. I couldn’t help but feel the grin tug at the corner of my mouth. I wanted his attention, and now I had it for better or for worse. Again, the screen indicated that he was typing once again.
“Bad girl.” was all he wrote, and for a moment I expected him to come charging through my bedroom door to firmly discipline me. I frowned deeply as my forehead wrinkled unhappily, feeling disappointment settling in the center of my chest. It wasn’t like him not to respond to such a claim with some anger. Breaking his rules was not something he took lightly, in fact I faced fairly harsh discipline for doing so. He wasn’t reacting. It was frustrating.