A Sunshower

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Exercise and a cool-down are more fun than expected.
1.9k words
4.19
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Dedicated to my beloved Master JustaSCOUNDREL, who set me free forever with his collar and his love.

*

I cut through the water, beginning to feel the burning in my shoulders, my thighs, my lungs, knowing the warm bliss is not far behind. Counting my laps as the bright sun shimmers around me, my arms cooling slightly in the soft breeze each time they break the surface. The laps go by, one by one, 20, 40, until I reach my mile. I feel so good this morning that, despite the usual marks on my body, I am tempted to push further. But I know you will be back soon, and want to be ready for you. I push through one hard final lap and climb up the ladder, kneeling on the deck to pick up my towel.

I stretch in the warming sun, the breeze raising goose bumps over my skin. Checking the small clock on a nearby table, I see I have plenty of time before your return from town. I would so love to strip off my swimsuit and lie in the sun for a while, but I know there are workmen around, helping to restore our ramshackle castle, and you wouldn't like me showing myself to them; enough talk goes on already. I wonder what they would think of my marks, both temporary AND permanent. The thought makes me smile as I trace your brand on my hip.

I walk to the alcove by the pool and open the gate to another area we added on so I wouldn't have to drip through the halls to wash up in our room after a swim. As much I love our long soaks together I still prefer a shower, which you were so kind to give me. The area is fenced for privacy, with brightly flowered vines already twining in around it. There's no roof, since I love the sky here so much. The walls and floor are brightly tiled in watery shades of blue, with shelves for my soap and shampoo, and a wicker basket for towels. The light gauze dress I laid out before my swim softly flutters in the breeze.

I turn the water on, and the large showerhead trickles, then splashes to life. Quickly I peel off my suit, rinsing it carefully and setting it aside to dry on a rack. I step into the spray, stretching as the warmth soothes me. The water is so soft, collected in a rain barrel and heated by the sun. I reach for the shampoo and work it into my hair, smiling at how long it's grown, by your request.

Next I reach for the soap and slowly lather up, smiling at the rainbows the spray makes. I soap my face and plunge it into the stream, and jump as your arms wrap around me. Wiping the droplets quickly from my eyes I smile, leaning into you and tilting my head back for a kiss.

"You got back early, Sir," I giggle, as your strong hands stroke my soapy sides.

"I never left," you explain as you cup my breasts and pull me tighter against you. "I got involved with one of the plasterers, explaining how I wanted the repairs to be done in our bedroom. I saw you swimming as I got ready to leave, and decided not to go today."

I can feel your hardness against my ass and wriggle against you. I feel as well as hear you rumble with pleasure against me.

"Are you so quickly recovered from last night, slave?" you tease.

I'm suddenly glad for the warm water, which I hope will hide my blush. "Master, it seems where you are concerned, I'm almost always, foolishly, ready for more."

As if to test my theory, you trace my newest welts, scraping them lightly. I shiver but stand my ground momentarily, until you pinch one rather deep bruise on my ass, making me hiss and squirm, making you laugh in turn. You push me under the water and help to rinse my hair and skin, adding little pinches and squeezes here and there until I'm nearly breathless.

You walk me closer to the corner and push against my shoulder, turning me until you have my back firmly against the wall. "Hands," you order, and I hold them up in front of me. You surround both of my wrists with your fingers, and push them up until they're braced, over my head, against the wall. As you lean in to kiss me the water rushes over your face and you swat the showerhead away. I wisely hide my smile and swallow a giggle.

Again, you lean in to kiss me, starting with your tongue tracing my upper and lower lips. That always makes me shiver. "Slut," you whisper in my ear, nibbling along my neck and biting my collarbone. I moan softly in agreement. You kiss and lick your way along my shoulder then work your way over my left breast until you fasten on my nipple. Your free hand squeezes my right breast until your fingers find that nipple, and you begin a tantalizing tease of twisting and licking, nibbling and pulling until I'm groaning from the relentless attention.

I squirm, my arms beginning to tire, but you hold me firm. Your other hand leaves my breast to wander lower, caressing my hip, teasing my navel, back to my hip, down the outside of my thigh and across when you can travel downward no more. You rake the tender skin of my inner thighs with your nails. "Open," you command. I shift my weight back and forth until my legs are spread. You are in no hurry, I realize, as you stroke your fingers over my bare pussy lips, giving me quivers deep inside. You pull and twist my labia rings, making them jingle together when you release them. How I love that sound!

You catch the rings on your thumb fingertip and use them to open me wider, one finger free to begin questing for my clit. It's a quick search as the nubbin is already swelling and hoping for attention. You flick the ring through my hood, eliciting a soft "ohhhh" from me. Your fingers plunder my tender, slippery folds, and I hold my breath in hope. I try my best to stay very still, as you've instructed in the past. I may not move and try to gain the pleasure I need. I must make myself accept only what you choose to give me.

Your stiff finger plunges into me and I moan. "Good girl," you say approvingly. My legs quiver with the effort of keeping still. I'm rewarded with a slow, evil finger-fucking. You shift your weight slightly, reminding me of my captured wrists. The flick of your tongue on my nipple sends a shockwave to my clit, and my pussy begins to twitch and squeeze on its own.

I'm desperate to move, to shift my hips the tiniest bit, just to catch the side of your hand on my stiff button, certain that just one crucial touch will send me over the edge.

I whimper in frustration, and suddenly I am pulled away from the wall and bent over, water running up my nose until I turn my face, as you begin to spank me. The blows sting harder than usual, I suppose from the water, and make a terrible sound. The backs of my thighs begin to burn with the strain, and still you continue until I am yelping and begging and struggling to squirm away.

"Hands and knees" you snap, and I sink quickly to obey. You turn me sideways in the water, which continues to pour over us in a warm stream. You run your hands over my back and hips, and suddenly you plunge into me. I begin to move against you until, with another slap, you command me "Be still, slave, accept what I give you!"

Whimpering, I struggle to relax, barely controlling a startled jump as your hands slide over me, holding the soap. Up over my back and shoulders, over my arms and down my sides, then up to cup my breasts, passing the bar back and forth one nipple to the other. I moan softly as you flick my nipples with your nails and lightly slap my breasts, so aware of each touch and of your cock so thick and hard inside me. I shiver, involuntarily gripping you tight, earning a sharp squeeze of my nipples. I yelp and feel your cock jerk inside me. The hard tiles bite my knees, but somehow that just adds to the smoldering of my clit. The trickles of water over me become so intense; the feel, the heat of it, is so good.

I sigh with relief as you begin to move inside me. I struggle to keep still, but feel the tremors drawing me along. My cunt is so sensitive; I can feel every inch of you sliding in and out. A tiny part of me wonders how this feels for you; how you feel with me wrapped around you like this, rippling and quivering.

I feel you shifting and gaze over my shoulder as you bring yourself upright, pulling me along with you until your chest is pressed to my back. You slide your soapy hands along my ribs, down to my hips and in, deftly pulling my lips apart again and finding my clit. The path of your arm diverts the warm water, and I moan as the heat floods over me, struggling in that little coherent part that's left to finds the words for my need. "Please Master" I manage to moan.

"Shall I let you cum, slave?" you whisper, nibbling at my ear, my neck.

"Yes-s-s-s, please," I whimper. You squeeze my nipple and clit in tandem, making me scream and shudder. I'm barely able to wait for your grunted permission, writhing against you. Your arms wrap around me as you thrust into me, hard and harder. The sounds of your efforts give me shivers, and I can feel the next waves building, pressing myself back into you, rising and falling on my knees with you, rocking and grinding into me, against you. Our cries mingle in rhythm to our movements until you squeeze my breasts hard and roar your release. I can feel you explode inside me, and the feel of you sends me off again with a shriek, collapsing against you.

Breathless, we rest, your arms around me, as the warm water cascades over us. You slip away from me and I sigh with the loss. We help each other to our feet, and you help me to rinse away the soap and our mingled juices, smiling as you guide a flood of water over my pussy, making me squirm, but washing me clean. Weak-kneed, I lean against the wall as you shut off the water and hand me a towel. Realizing my state, you reach out and help to pat me dry, laughing at my feeble efforts to return the favor.

Somehow we manage to dry my hair. You slip my sundress over my head and upraised arms, and walk me outside to the lounge. You snuggle me for a while, talking to me and stroking me as I come back to myself. We both jump as a workman clears his throat behind us. You sit up, with my head in your lap, and speak with him briefly. I twist around to look at him, a dazed and stupid grin on my face, and he flushes and stammers as he backs away.

"Oh, my...Master, was I that loud?" I murmur in embarrassment.

"Yes, my sweet slave, I believe you were," you laugh.

"Well, you've always said you wanted to hear me tell the world of my pleasure...I suppose southern Spain is a start."

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AnonymousAnonymousalmost 12 years ago
Sweet connectedness

Your portrayal of the undercurrent of love is well done.

Sadly, most BDSM stories state the love but do not show it, if, indeed there is a connection at all. Lovely work with a nice twist at the end. Brauva!

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