Dwelling in Desire Ch. 12

With that, he collected me from the sofa and steered me up the stairs. I laughed as he unceremoniously grabbed our discarded clothes from last night and led me down the hallway to dump them in the washer, careless of the hazardous combination of lights and darks.

They were my junky clothes, so I wasn't concerned for my own sake, but his clothes were much finer. It made me wonder if he washed all his clothes with such negligence, or if it was just a special occasion. Either way, I felt special as he dragged me back through his bedroom and into the master bath.

"Check this out," Curt smirked proudly as he turned the lever, activating the showerhead.

"Running water. Very nice," I returned with a smirk.

Curt grinned even wider as he turned a second nozzle, and immediately the glass enclosure clouded up with the steam from several additional jets.

It was hard to conceal my look of awe. I'd heard of these high-end showers with several showerheads, dreamt of one day designing one, but had never actually seen one in use.

"Okay, so maybe I'm impressed," I rolled my eyes.

"Good," Curt replied smugly, before his expression turned dark with mischief.

"Take off the robe."

His tone sent shivers down my spine. It was soft, almost nonchalant, but with a threatening edge, making me bite my lip instantly in reaction. What was happening? Why was his manner so different all of the sudden? And why did it make me want to fall to my knees in worship?

I looked down at the floor shyly, and obeyed him, removing the robe and handing it to him before he tossed it aggressively to the floor, making me flinch in surprise.

"Come here."

Rapt with anticipation, I stepped closer to him, throbbing between my legs from that look of hunger that so fascinated me.

"Undress me."

On that I didn't hesitate. I lifted the soft tee shirt up, grazing his warm firm abs as I did so. I observed the dark hair coating his broad chest, and finally his deliciously sculpted shoulders.

As I removed the shirt, I noticed a faded tattoo of a cross on the inside of his bicep.

"My pants, Bethany," Curt prompted me, sensing my distraction.

I nodded, and slipped my fingers inside his waistband. Curt's waistline hardly called for elastic, but I was grateful for it today, as it expedited the process of disrobing him. The man simply exuded sex, and my mouth watered instinctively.

I wanted to...put my mouth on him. In some way. Any way.

What on earth had happened to me?

Curt. That's what happened to you Beth. Curt.

Kneeling before him now, I cowered at the intimidating protrusion. I glanced hesitantly into his amused eyes before proceeding to pull his underwear down, maneuvering as necessary to avoid bending him. When Curt sucked air through his teeth, I thought that perhaps I had scratched him, but his wolfish grin betrayed no discomfort as he stepped free of his boxers.

And there it was again, hovering in the air like a big monstrous lollipop.

Would he ask me to... lick him, or suck him, or something? What kind of a slut was I that I would even consider such a thing?

Apparently not even sex god Curt had such perverse notions, for he simply smiled and helped me up.

Nodding to the shower, Curt entered after me, chuckling as I moaned from the blissfully hot water now blasting me from all angles.

What extravagance!

I'd always been taught to keep my showers economical. The briefer the better, the less hot water the better. But I could tell that Curt had no intention of making this brief. He was a master of seduction. And I was letting him seduce me.

Perhaps I was being stupid, or naïve. But in Curt I saw no reason to mistrust. Despite the undeniable lust that permeated the air whenever he was around, his hungry, bordering on cruel looks that sent tremors through me, I sensed an enduring gentleness in him. A tenderness. A capacity to love.

I wanted his love.

But he was a guy. Guys didn't profess love easily, or quickly for that matter. I didn't need experience to know that. It was one of life's clichés.

Maybe someday. Someday, if I pleased him enough, maybe he would love me, and tell me that he loved me. Did I love him?

My heart screamed 'yes', but I knew it was stupid. I knew nothing about Curt. Well, not much anyway. But I would work on that.

"What do you think?" came a deep voice.

I turned to him, and smiled broadly.

"It's amazing. So luxurious!"

Curt afforded me another smug look before turning to grab the bar of soap.

"Have you ever been washed by a man Bethany?"

I shivered from his words, despite the hot water hitting us in droves. It was a laughably pointless question, but I answered anyway.

"Not in decades Sir."

"Sir?" Curt raised an eyebrow.

Why did you just call him Sir?

"Umm, sorry Curt...I don't know why I said that," I stammered, embarrassed. "It just felt right, I guess."

"Well if it feels right, then it can't be that wrong can it?" Curt smiled.

Shaking my head, I didn't bother going into the many ways that feeling right can be extremely wrong. Though I had bible verses aplenty running through my mind, I just couldn't bring myself to spoil the moment. Not with him.

"You may call me Sir when it feels right Bethany. It's part of a practice called submission, and you honor me with it," Curt explained.

I looked inquisitively into his eyes, and was taken aback by his suddenly guarded expression.

"Do you know about submission? And domination?" Curt asked seriously.

"I've read a little about it," I confessed. "I thought it sounded silly, and demeaning. But here with you Curt...I feel it."

My words made no sense. My thoughts made no sense. I just hoped that he would understand.

"I feel it with you too Bethany," Curt replied softly as he stepped closer to me. "I've wanted to dominate you, for a long time. You've sensed this, I'm sure."

I nodded shyly.

"Would you like to submit to me Bethany? I'm a demanding guy, but we can take it slow."

I could feel my juices now, escaping not so slowly from me. I licked my lips.

"Yes Curt...yes Sir."

Curt smiled in quiet approval.

"Here," he handed me the soap. "Wash me."

How could a command sound so gentle and unyielding at the same time?

I could feel the redness blooming in my cheeks as I accepted the bar of soap and began to massage it over his wet skin. His shoulders, his back, his...everything.

"Now my front Bethany."

Ooh, how I'd missed him calling me that. In that sexy, husky tone of voice.

I bit my lip as I circled to face him, confronted again by his demon shaft, fully erect. It was red, the veins angry and pronounced. Demanding even in silence.

"Keep going sweetheart. He doesn't bite," Curt encouraged, his eyes dancing in amusement.

In theory, the idea of washing his dick was tantalizingly erotic. In practice, well, I was timid to say the least. It was so, angry looking. So hot, and apparently very sensitive, if last night had been any indication.

But I looked at Curt, and saw his expression now stern, as if his patience with me was waning. This must be the challenge in submitting. Pushing past my hang-ups. Obeying him, even if the task was uncomfortable or scary.

To hell with it.

Abruptly, I applied a handful of suds to his groin before stroking him firmly.

"Oh Jesus!" Curt gasped.

"Does that hurt, Sir?"

"God no baby, you just surprised the hell out of me!" he laughed.

I frowned at the sudden change in mood, irritated that I couldn't even do this right.

"It's okay Beth, keep going. Just ease up a little, so I don't embarrass myself."

"Embarrass yourself?"

"Yeah, I mean, I don't want to come all over you or anything," Curt laughed, then grimaced. "Well okay, I guess that's a lie. But right now you're washing me, and I don't want to distract you from your task."

I blinked in shock. He wanted to come all over me? Good lord. I was almost too stunned to form an opinion on whether I found the idea disgusting, or intensely erotic. Or both?

"Wash me Bethany. Now," Curt ordered sternly. Back to business.

I was grateful. As long as I didn't think too hard about what I was doing, I could proceed without blushing to my ears. Maybe.

Swallowing, I continued to lather him, in a considerably gentler fashion of course. It probably would have been easier to focus, if not for the light groans and gasps escaping him every now and then. It seemed as if the gentler I was, the more noise he made.

When at last I'd completed work on Curt's feet, he helped me up and handed me the shampoo.

This was surprisingly more awkward than washing his manhood. Curt refused to lean down for me, so I had to move up against him, my body flush with his as I began to lather his hair on tiptoe. I had nowhere to look but into his face. His eyes.

They sparkled with mischief as I struggled with the naughtiness of our position. The more I massaged his scalp, the more my breasts pressed into him, deliciously abraded by his chest hair. The more his cock pressed insistently against my stomach. The more my pussy tingled in recollection of his grunts as he thrust into me last night.

I was growing dizzy when I felt his warm hands circle my waist, holding me steady. The way his thumbs stroked softly along the underside of my ribcage, so tenderly, had me totally enthralled. Ready to give myself to him, all over again.

I felt him twitch against me as I finished, and licked my lips in anticipation.

"Good girl," he whispered in my ear before dunking his head under the spray.

The sight of water and suds cascading down his strong back had me in a tizzy, unsure what to do. Would he reciprocate? Would it be as excruciatingly sexy?

I didn't have to wait long to find out. Curt took the reigns again, washing me while I stood there and tried my best not to pant, or groan, or mew like a cat. But when he squeezed a dollop of shampoo from the bottle and began to massage my scalp, it was an exercise in futility to stay quiet.

The man was gifted. His hands. They were so strong, and warm, and skilled. He was just firm enough. Just gentle enough. Just freaking fantastic.

I was devastated as Curt brought me under the large showerhead to rinse. But the way he pulled me to him afterward, the warmth of his body, the scent of him, it made everything go away. Everything was perfect. He was perfect. Life was perfect, as long as I could be with him.

"So...did you submit to me?" I asked.

Curt cocked his head in question.

"I washed you. And then you turned around and did the same thing," I explained. "Did you submit to me?"

Curt chuckled, "No darlin, I didn't submit to you. I was simply caring for you. Do not confuse the term submission with servitude."

Curt paused a moment.

"Do you recall the other night, when I...commanded you, to stay?"

I nodded. Of course I did. He'd stripped me of all resistance with that tone. I could still hear his firmly issued command in my mind.

"I ordered you to stay, to relax, and rest, because I believed it was in your best interest. I was caring for you, as a Dominant cares for his submissive."

As a man cares for his wife.

I couldn't help the fleeting thought.

I looked into Curt's eyes as the water continued to run warm, somehow. Things were becoming clear.

He was serious. He wanted to take care of me. So what exactly was he getting out of this arrangement?

"Sometimes though," Curt continued, "I may command you to do something that is in my best interest. Something that that gives me pleasure. That is why submission is a gift. Do you understand?"

"Yes Sir, I think so," I nodded. His words were so powerful, and yet so gentle.

"What happens if I don't do what you say?" I asked, not sure if I wanted to know, but needing to fully understand what I was signing up for.

Curt looked conflicted, like he was afraid I would run away if he told me.

"I'm a believer in discipline."

Discipline. Why did my insides just flutter?

"Knowing what I know about you Bethany, I doubt that you will consciously disobey me. Unless of course, you want to be punished."

"Knowing what you know about me?" I frowned.

What'd he mean by that?

"You are naturally submissive Bethany. It's one of the reasons I pursued you. Natural submissives are very rare. You give because you want to give, not because it's required of you. You are genuine, and honest, and kind. I love that about you."

A thrill ran through me like an electric shock as that word escaped his lips. The magnitude of that word, along with the intensity of his eyes proved too much to handle, and I bashfully turned my attention to our wet feet.

"I want to give to you, Curt. I would have given you anything."

"Anything?" he raised an eyebrow.

I thought back to that first day in his closet, discovering his...sex toys. Because there was really no more apt term in my vocabulary for it.

I closed my eyes, visualizing again what I had seen. The whip.

The whip stuck out in my mind. It was the one thing I couldn't wrap my head around.

Why have such an instrument of pain among so many obvious instruments of pleasure? Did he hit his women with it to punish them? Why had it been sitting on top, as if it were used with more frequency than the items below?

I imagined Curt standing over me, holding his whip. Commanding me to turn over, and receive my punishment. I pictured his face.

And it turned. Me. On.

"Bethany?"

Oops. He asked you a question, stupid.

"Yes, anything," I whispered. "I think."

Curt nodded, "It's best not to make promises you can't keep."

"I can promise that I want to give you everything Curt. I want to. And I'll try," I said determinedly.

"I know sweetheart," he said warmly. "And I don't want to hurt you. Do you remember my promise to you last night? If you ask me to stop, I will. And you promised me you would tell me if it ever became too much. Remember?"

I nodded.

So that's what he'd meant. He'd been trying to prepare me. To protect me.

It still hurt my brain to try and imagine things that Curt could do to me that I would dislike. Other than dump me. We were less than a day into our relationship, and it was already an idea too horrible to bear.

As I reached for him on impulse, I caught a glimpse of my fingers.

"I'm all pruny Curt," I whined, scrunching my nose in distaste.

"You're all beautiful," Curt corrected, taking my hand and sucking a finger into his mouth. "And all mine."

Shivering, I nodded in agreement.

"Let's dry off," he growled.

---

After I took my time drying him, Curt again returned the favor all too quickly. It was as if he was immune to the fact that he was more or less frisking my lady parts. It almost annoyed me. Why should I be the only one to gawk? To adore?

But my annoyance with him was short lived as Curt retrieved his robe from the floor and abruptly wrapped me in it. He did so with a look of determination, like he was claiming me, marking me as his, and would hurt anyone who threatened to remove it. Unless of course, he desired to remove it.

He was wrapping me, in him. The metaphor was painfully obvious, but I couldn't have cared less. The hunger in his eyes. The dominance. The promise. I would run around all day in his robe if it made him happy. I loved it. The heaviness of it, the smell of him, the darkness. It all represented the hotness of Curt, and I tingled in anticipation of when he would touch me next.

"Why are you blushing Bethany?" Curt whispered. "What are you thinking?"

The man would not give an inch.

Just be honest Beth. What will it hurt?

"I was thinking that I like wearing your robe Sir. I like being wrapped up in you."

"And I in you," Curt chuckled.

I shook my head at his naughty joke.

"Speaking of which," he continued, "Perhaps I should get dressed before I decide to wrap myself in nothing but you, again."

Sweet heavens, did this man have a way with dirty talk.

He had me juicing liberally at the reminder of our two couplings. There'd been nothing to bar the way when he'd had his release last night. And God help me, I wanted it again.

Truth be told, Curt was just so damn sexy I would happily have had ten of his babies. At least that was how I felt right here, right now.

It was stupid. Immature. Idiotic. Infatuation.

Does it really take so little to corrupt me? One night?

Not one night Beth. You've been smitten with him since the day he opened that front door. The tape measure. The pizza. The wedding...

"What do you think Beth?" Curt drawled, pulling me to him and whispering sultrily in my ear. "Should I get dressed?"

Through the robe, I could feel his hardness. The hardness I'd been trying to ignore since I undressed him this morning.

"You should," I murmured stupidly, letting him run his hands over me through the robe. "I'll just go move our stuff to the dryer..."

"Mmmm, such a good girl," Curt growled in my ear before grabbing my ass and pulling me roughly against him.

"Such a fucking good girl."

One of his hands snuck upward to fist in my hair, making me squeak and gasp in surprise.

"Bethany," he whispered into my neck, sending goosebumps all over me.

I whimpered as I felt a more insistent tug on my hair, his mouth opening over my neck, the heat of his breath, the wetness of his tongue for the briefest moment.

Teeth.

I nearly convulsed at the ever so slight graze.

And suddenly, I was struggling to keep myself upright.

Curt had backed away, that look etched on his face.

Angry. Animal. Lust.

"Go," he rasped.

I went.

---

So. It was out there.

I'd told her I wanted to dominate her. I'd explained some basics. And she hadn't run away screaming.

Yet. Yet, fucker.

I knew I needed to tread softly. This could so easily turn into the worst mistake of my life. If I lost her...

I recalled staring down at her beautiful hair as she dried me, struggling not to laugh at how carefully she handled me, how innocent her face was, even as she openly gawked.

And when she'd dried my back, dear God. The way she'd worshipfully patted at me with the towel. So gently, as if she didn't want to risk marring me in any way. Slowly, reverently, adoringly. It was the most excruciating tease. Especially when she'd lingered over my ass.

Jesus.

I'd felt her breath on my ass cheeks and it made me clench my fists, yearning for her tongue. It wasn't something I'd ever commanded any of my subs to do, but with her...

Ahh hell, anything with her. Any touch from her. And I was done.

I quickly threw on some weekend clothes and strode to my newly completed home office.

It was the shit. I'd have called it glorious, but I'd already assigned that title to Bethany's tits. Nothing else would be worthy.

I couldn't help a smug grin as I dialed Joe on my new office phone. Typically, I didn't make much use of the land-line, but it was a special occasion.

"Happy Saturday fucker. To what do I owe the pleasure?" Joe teased.

"Bethany."

Silence.

"Bethany...?" Joe prompted.

"We're together now."

"Together?"

"She finished the project yesterday. We kissed. And now we're together."

I saw no reason to elaborate.

"Kissed, huh?" Joe laughed. "Well I'm glad to hear that Curt. No one deserves it more."

Or less.

"Thanks. So listen," I continued, "I'm taking the week off. Bethany and I need some time to be together."