by Jaye Peaches
“You need a good cleaning, don’t you, Mausi?”
I nodded, unable to form words.
“Why? What makes me want to give you a deep cleanse?” He switched off the shower, the noise of the powerful pump ceasing.
I wrapped my arms about my body, trying to cover myself. “I’m…a dirty girl?” I squeaked.
“Very dirty,” he growled.
My pulse shot into the stratosphere. He picked up the bottle of white moisturizing crème, one of those types with an incorporated hook for hanging upside down.
“Stand up straight and move those arms.” He flicked the cap open.
I complied, dropping my arms to my side and shuffling toward him. He aimed the container at my chest and squeezed. White liquid shot out, landing just above my breasts. It trickled down my cleavage, forming a gloopy trail. He re-hung the bottle and flexed his fingers.
He smeared the gel around my boobs. The cleanser frothed into a creamy lather, turning my breasts alabaster, as if he’d transformed them into marble. It tickled a bit. I wriggled, twisting my hips about as he massaged with his fingers. My nipples stuck out, forming purple pebbles in a sea of crème.
I’d backed against the glazing. Bumping into the cool glass, I yelped. With me sandwiched there, he worked his knuckles into my tender flesh, making me moan. It didn’t hurt, but it was close to the edge of pain.
He didn’t look at his hands. Instead, he fixed on my eyes. Whenever I opened mine, he was there, staring at me intently. When he seized my soaped breasts in his large palms, he lifted them, forcing me to stand on tiptoes and slide up the glass wall. I stretched my arms up, hoping to find something to cling onto, but there was nothing.
A rich stream of adrenaline coursed through my bloodstream, pumping excitement into every nerve ending, making my heart race and my belly fizz. “Please,” I implored.
He smirked his special ‘Stefan in control, do as I say’ expression.
“Damn you!” I screeched.
He let go of my breasts, and I slithered down.
“I haven’t finished yet.” He opened the bottle again and squirted a liberal amount of liquid into the palm of his hand. “Turn around, hands above your head, flat to the glass.”
I obeyed. I didn’t even hesitate. His voice etched its instructions on my mind and my limbs automatically did as he asked. I spread my fingers wide, pressing them onto the cold, smooth surface, and faced the glass with mounting trepidation.
“Legs apart.”
I slid my feet across the shower trap.
“Wider, and stick your bottom out.”
Oh my, my legs stood nearly two feet apart and I jutted my pelvis toward him, bending slightly. He started with my ass, alternating between kneading firmly and stroking. I pictured the same white foam covering my globes. I purred at the image—sexy girl with her pussy alive and keenly awaiting his arrival. What a great feeling, to be attractive to another and desired.
My stance had spread my butt cheeks, parting them and opening up my pussy. The vulnerability intensified into a perversely delightful outcome. He could do what he wanted with me trapped in the corner of a shower cubicle and with no escape route. The idea didn’t scare me—it thrilled me. Another rush of adrenaline shot across my belly.
He traced a finger down my crack, circling my anus I jumped up on tiptoes and squirmed. Stefan chuckled. “So tempting, this hole.”
He poked the tip of his finger in briefly, rimming me sufficiently to make me tense up. I pressed my hot body against the icy glass. A cheek, my breasts and palms all sought out a cool, calming respite.
He withdrew and squirted more gel on his hands. “Now, turn around slowly. Hands still above your head and legs wide.”
I shuffled around, catching a glance of his fully erect cock, a mammoth creation beckoning to me. My eyes must have widened or some other expression of amazement crossed my face, because Stefan grinned from ear to ear.
“You can feed on me soon, Mausi. Patience.”
Feed on him? Dear God, I wanted to devour him.
I squeezed my eyes shut, dismissing the vision of temptation, and waited for him to perform his lathering act once again. He began with my mound, rotating his fingers before heading south. Around my sex lips, he traveled, pinching my folds as he went. He rubbed up and down, fingering my slit. I gyrated my hips, struggling to keep in position, and the temptation to snap my legs together grew stronger. His other hand gripped my waist, holding me in place.
The soapy layer buffering us had turned my vulva into a supersensitive arena of tissue. I felt smooth, buttery—I struggled to describe the sensation he created. The way his roving hand slid about added to the effect.
My clitoris held out. Somehow, I dug down and fought back the sensation of imminent orgasm. Stefan was the master of edging, keeping me on the brink of a stupendous climax. Just as I thought I could no longer hold back, he removed his hand.
I staggered on wobbly legs.
“Time for a rinse,” he murmured.
I lifted my head expectantly toward the monsoon showerhead, waiting for the spray to erupt.
Stefan chuckled. “I think, Mausi, you’ve forgotten this is a punishment fuck.”
I went rigid, snapping my body to attention. He unhooked the smaller showerhead, which delivered a high-pressure flow of water. He twisted a knob, redirecting the water supply, and pointed the head at the plughole.
I breathed a sigh of relief as the water came out in a wide spray, not exactly a pressure washer. He aimed the head just above my breasts and rinsed off the suds.
“Nice?” he asked.
“Mmm. Lovely.” The temperature was perfectly judged and my chest glowed with the heat. He trailed the water about my shoulders and down my belly. Nothing harsh about his actions. If anything they tickled and soothed—how exactly was this a punishment?
He twizzled his finger in the air, indicating that I should spin again, and I eagerly did, leaning against the glass. However, no water landed on my back. I glanced over my shoulder and watched as he rotated the head of the shower, turning it slowly. Each little notch of movement altered the nature of the spray. It went from wide angle with a low pressure to a tighter angle. The water shot out under high pressure, forming a spout, which bounced off the wall by my head, splashing back into my face.
My eyes widened. “Stefan—”
“Mausi,” he warned. “A dirty girl needs to be meticulously cleaned out.”
I screwed my eyes shut and flattened my chest against the glass, crushing my breasts. No escape. What had been an exciting sensation morphed into exhilaration. Was there no depths to the man’s depravity?
The jet hit my back between my shoulder blades. It actually felt brilliant. He created this deep massaging effect as he rotated it over my upper back. I rested my head on an arm, enjoying the pulverizing motion and the way it pummeled my tense muscles. It reminded me of a thunderstorm and torrential rain. How each droplet hits the skin hard, almost like hailstones. It bordered on the painful, but was bearable.
“Now, bend a little, take your fingers and spread those arse cheeks.”
“Please, Stefan. Be gentle with your little mouse,” I implored.
The shower pump whirred in the background and water splashed about us. My hair had tumbled across my face, hiding me, and he drew back the wet strands. Standing close—close enough for me to feel his cock against the small of my back—he spoke into my ear. “Does Mausi want to stop?”
I shook my head frantically.
“Say it!”
“Please… Don’t stop.” I exhaled deeply.
“That’s better. Nice deep breaths.” He stepped back, giving me space to bend slightly.
I reached behind, curving my fingertips into my cleft, and suffered the indignity of spreading my cheeks for him. The jet of water landed just below my tail bone. I jolted, knocking my head on the glass. I held my breath as he lowered the flow over my anus. It hit my puckered entrance, which held fast, but the ski
n around it erupted with sensory overload as the force of the water continued to burrow into my flesh. The hot water prickled and gushed between my legs, forming a waterfall.
Did it hurt? No pain registered in my mind. It panicked me and I fought with the desire to jump up and cover my bottom. The water moved up and down my crevice, massaging my taut anus as it went. After a few seconds, Stefan redirected the spray to the floor and I exhaled. I’d not breathed once throughout my erotic ordeal.
“Turn back. Hands above your head and legs wide.”
I pivoted for what must be his final act of cleansing. His instructions gave me no doubts as to his intention, but to my relief, he turned down the setting a notch. The pressure washer effect lessened, but it was still a substantial spout of water. I’d thought I had reached a plateau of nervous energy, but the sight of that showerhead took it up a level.
He gave me a wink. “You’re going love this,” he asserted.
The jet hit my mound. The bony nub held firm, absorbing the power, and I settled my nerves. Not too bad.
He pivoted his wrist, turning the showerhead from a down angle to an upward one. A fountain of water shot up. He lowered it then moved it closer to my exposed sex. I writhed, twisted and tried to knock my knees together. Stefan ignored my physical ambiguity and aimed the head in a precise manner.
“Yes, yes!” I screeched in a high-pitched squeal of shock. The powerful stream of water lifted the hood of my clitoris and struck the little bud directly. My legs shook and my knees began to buckle, the effect on me was immediate. “I want to come,” I gasped, struggling to breathe.
Stefan stretched out his other hand and brought it under my chin, clasping me around the neck. He didn’t squeeze or pinch, merely kept my head up. It forced me to look into his eyes.
“Oh, you’re going to come—gush, I should think,” he quipped.
My legs gave out with violent trembles. I started to sink in the corner of the shower, sliding my back down the wall until I ended up squatting. His hand about my neck came with me, maintaining my upright posture. I kept my knees parted, allowing him to continue his watery punishment of my pussy. He crouched opposite me and I stared into his eyes, keeping him the epicenter of my attention. It worked. Seeing his glowing pink cheeks and curvy lips confirmed my suspicions—he was enjoying this as much as I was.
My bottom crashed onto the edge of the shower trap and my legs flopped. My clitoris edged again, tipping me onto a plateau of expectation. Any second now, I was going to…
The contractions sent me into a spiral of ferocious spasms. My clitoris throbbed painfully with each wave, and I found the strength to knock the showerhead away. I didn’t need it. My own rollercoaster effect had taken over. Stefan dropped the head on the ceramic surface and held me steady as the orgasm consumed me. A long orgasm of such an intensity, I thought I might black out.
I came to my senses, opening my eyes.
“Breathe, Callie,” his voice boomed at me.
I sucked in a lungful of air, working my ribs and diaphragm. I shuttered my legs together, comforting my sex with a tremulous hand, and gasped. “Oh my God,” I panted. “That was amazing.”
Stefan rose up and right there, before my awaking eyes—his splendid cock. He switched off the showerhead, which had been dancing independently around the cubicle. The noise abated and all I could hear was our breathing and the drips of water tumbling off our bodies.
I scrambled onto my knees, managing to hold my legs steady, and came to rest directly in front of his erection. I stuck out my tongue and licked it, from balls to tip in one glorious lashing.
Stefan grabbed a handful of my hair and fisted it behind my head. I got the message. Teasing him was out of the question. He had promised to feed me and he did. I devoured his cock as deeply as I could tolerate. The head tickled the back of my throat as I sucked. He swayed. Between the two of us, there was little solid foundation to keep us upright.
A frenzy of lust overcame me. Usually, after an orgasm, I became sleepy. This orgasm reinvigorated me, brought me alive with energy. My feverish state made my inhibitions vanish. I consumed him. The stiff shaft filled my mouth and I bobbed my head up and down.
Stefan tugged my hair. I ignored it. He repeated his action, stinging my scalp. “Enough.”
I lifted my head, gasping for air. “Am I not…pleasing you?”
He swiftly crouched and planted a hard kiss on my numb lips. “Yes, oh yes, but I don’t want to come in your mouth.”
He helped me up then opened the shower door, and a cool blast of air hit my skin. I shivered. He offered me no towel. Instead, he propelled me out of the bathroom and into the spacious bedroom. With little decorum, he scooped me up under my bottom, lifting me higher, and dropped my ass on the bed. Then with a shove, he pushed me onto my back, leaving my legs dangling over the side.
“We’ll make the bed wet,” I pointed out.
He stood over me and grinned. “I’m damn sure we’re going to make this bed feel wet.”
Oh, hell! He’d only just begun. The eager expression on his face said it all. The night was young—our last night before I returned to England—and Stefan wanted to leave a lasting impression.
He hooked my legs up over his arms, folding me backward, and leaned over, poised to penetrate my open pussy. With his hands planted on either side of my head, he pinned me, pressing me down. He nudged the tip of his cock in my entrance, tinkering with its rim. I scrunched the bedcover into balls with my fisting fingers and splayed myself as wide as I could tolerate.
He thrust with a mighty swoop of his hips. The head of his cock rammed into my pussy with no give. I wanted to arch my back, to angle my pelvis to meet his pounding thrusts, but his arms pinned me in place, capturing me in an embrace. I thrashed my head from side to side, muttering sounds in combination with his enthusiastic grunts.
All sense of decorum left me. I cursed, crying out expletives and, unable to cope with visual stimuli, I kept my eyes shut. My nervous system focused on one activity, the bundle of nerves at the apex of my thighs, which fired off waves of contractions, clenching my pussy tightly about him. I don’t how I managed to keep going and absorb my orgasm. Another intense one, which rippled on and on.
Stefan stilled. I opened my eyes to see a strange expression of relief cross his face as he juddered. Each thrust delivered a spurt of his hot cum and he accompanied it with a long, breathless groan.
I didn’t want his weight to flop on me. My groined ached and couldn’t take the strenuous position for one more second. I thumped his chest, shaking him out of his post-orgasmic reverie. With a shove of my palms, he got the message and slumped to one side, panting and moaning.
That was when I drifted off, having dragged my body across the bed to find a pillow to rest my head on. I didn’t care that I had wet hair. Stefan moved too. Heaving his body behind me, he spooned me, fitting us together like two jigsaw pieces. I sighed, a long exhale of satisfaction.
Below, my pussy throbbed, sore and well used. I didn’t mind in the slightest.
* * * *
The next time I stirred, it was in the middle of the night. Pitch-blackness greeted me. I guessed that Stefan had covered me. He generally woke and ensured that I was comfortable in my stupor. He’d even placed a towel under my head. The damp fibers brushed my cheek. With a tug, I removed it and dropped it by the side of the bed. The cotton fabric of my pillow felt smooth and warm.
“All right?” he murmured in the darkness.
“Yes.” I flopped onto my back, reached out and found his thigh with my hand. I gave it a squeeze.
“I woke earlier. Went to check on Dad. You’ve been out of it,” he whispered.
“Fuck, it’s dark,” I blurted with a giggle. With no streetlights outside or shining moon, the room smothered me with a heavy layer of blackness. “I miss the amber glow of the city lights.” I smacked my dry lips together.
“There’s water on the bedside,” he said.
“Oh, thanks.�
�� Finding it was a challenge. I really didn’t want to dazzle my eyes by switching on a light. I fumbled about, searching with my fingertips until I found the tumbler. I gulped down the tepid water in one go.
Lying on my side, I snuggled against Stefan, draped my arm over his chest and kissed his shoulder with my moistened lips. I stroked the soft hairs about his breastbone, purring to myself with contentment. I felt neither sleepy nor fully awake. Whatever dreams I’d been having quickly vacated my mind, leaving me unsure what to think about. Stefan’s chest rose and fell rhythmically—a hypnotic sensation—and it entranced me.
Stefan sighed. “You bewitch me,” he said.
I startled. I thought he’d gone back to sleep. “In a nice way?”
“In a beguiling kind of way.”
I smirked in the darkness. “Funny, I was just thinking how mesmerizing you can be to me. The way your body enthralls me. I’m captivated.”
“Not a bad thing, is it?” He touched my thigh, a caress of his fingertips.
“No. Sex with you is magical. Off the scale. You never cease to surprise me, which I like.” I spiraled a hair about my finger and tugged.
“Ouch!” he snapped.
“Wuss,” I teased. I released his trapped tuft. “Will you always be like…what you are in bed? With sex, I mean?”
“Dominant?”
“Yes, I suppose that is what I mean. Controlling, alpha-male type thing.”
He laughed. “Yes. It comes naturally.”
“Like a switch?”
“Switch? I don’t switch, Mausi. I think I hold my dominance in check when it’s not appropriate. A suppressed response. With Mum, when she had her unfortunate affair, it was tough, not stepping in and insisting she break up. Hans did, though, quite harshly. We’re quite alike, more than I care to think. Probably why we don’t get on. They say opposites attract.”
“Are we opposites? Am I indecisive or weak?”
“Weak!” he exclaimed. He patted my hand with his own. “No. You stand up for yourself. Having submissive qualities doesn’t weaken you. We complement each other. However, you can be a tad impulsive, maybe, which might get you into trouble. Having opinions, expressing them, I say go for it.”