Love, Hate, and Showers

He'd come into the bathroom, flipped the water off, and pulled me from the shower before I'd even had a chance to realize he was there. He dragged me into the room by my hair, ignoring how water trailed behind us. He took me from that tiled room back to the bedroom no matter how I sputtered and squeaked about the cold, using a swat to keep me moving when I fought.

He used his leverage to push my face into the bed as his hand rained the heavy slaps down on my naked ass.

I struggled and squealed with each blow. Trying to overcome the pain enough to fight the grip that held me exactly where he wanted was pointless. His fingers sat tangled deep in my thick strands. No matter how my torso twisted, that grip wouldn't yield.

The pace of the spanking ensured that I had no time to put together thoughts; their shambled pieces shattered with each burning swat that he rained down on me.

He knew it.

He didn't want me thinking. He wanted me to obey.

As my chest heaved with each breath, he gave me a moment. One only to sit in that burning misery before his voice gave a singular command. "Hands."

There was less than a second to decide. Was I going to play his game? Or did I want to go back to my shower? If I said no, he'd let me up and I could continue my soapy dreams. But then I wouldn't experience whatever it was he had planned.

I shivered; my hands crossed against my lower back, palms up.

My heart thundered in my ears when I felt the first loops tighten around one, then the other around my wrists and forearms. The ropes locked them in place, braced up the forearm and around the wrist. I thought he'd stop there.

Instead, he pressed them higher against my back until my elbows were out like featherless wings. The rope he tied them to pulled up my spine; he looped it around my neck and set the knot so that I could feel the barest pressure from my arms. The message was clear. They stayed or I suffered.

"Kneel, kitten."

The command whispered against my ear made me flinch. He'd hardly touched me, but the darkness to his tone set my heart beating faster as I registered the pet name he'd crowned me with. There wasn't going to be mercy tonight. This was not Anthony. This was Zeke.

Anthony loved me. Zeke consumed me.

That deeper tone always tightened my chest, set my heart thundering like a rabbit in the jaws of a wolf. The law sat heavy as the hands bound at my back. Obey or suffer. The more I fought, the deeper he'd force me to sink.

Whatever happened would happen; whether I fought him or not he'd have his satisfaction.

I sank from the bed to my knees, staring at the tiling as I felt the lump in my throat grow. He didn't leave me waiting, pulling out the thick leather collar that I feared and loved in one. But he didn't put it on my neck.

"Open."

When my lips parted, he set it between them. I closed, using my lips to avoid any teeth marks in that band.

His foot nudged my knees, pushing them wider until I spread as far as I could manage. He leaned down, lifting my chin so that I stared into his eyes. They were smoldering with lust at my helplessness, but far from kind.

He smirked at whatever he saw in mine as he ordered, "Stay."

And then he stepped around me, leaving me there, facing the bed with my collar in my mouth with my knees spread wide, just dripping the lingering water from my shower. The fan spun, brushing me with its cool air and making my skin raise goose flesh. Untouched, I felt all the more sensitive to the world around me as my body anticipated what would come next.

I could hear him open the dresser drawer, and then the closet.

What will he choose this time? The clamps? The cane? Or will it be the crop or leash? Pain or humiliation... what's he planning? My mind wandered to our last session; he'd used the binder clips to decorate the outline of my breasts and then whipped me until they'd been pulled off by the twisting dance of my body.

The session before that, he'd tied in the ring gag and used me as nothing but a hole for his pleasure. I gagged on his cock each thrust until he finally held me deep with no way to back off. Even as tears leaked from my eyes, he held down on him, and then he'd used the wand on my pussy until I passed out from my orgasms, in a mess of fluids on the bed.

I could feel the trails of water down my skin cooling, fading away as I waited there on my knees.

It was a love-hate relationship with the things he tore out from me. I hated the pain, the humiliation he worked me through. How they tore at my carefully concocted shell of safety. It was like being stripped to my soul and forced to wear it in all its depravity before him.

But that place of quiet inside my own head, the focus, and the small pleasure derived from his smile were candles in the darkness. His words of praise and the care he took to rebuild me each time soothed the pain away. I was addicted to how, in my hollowed-out state, I could feel that warmth in his smile and the two simple words he made me crave with intensity.

The drop of the black gym bag beside my legs made me jump.

Realizing my knees had crept slightly inward, I pushed them back out as my eyes flicked up to his frown. What felt like a leather tongue skimmed over the curve of my ass, down the length of my thigh, then slapped twice against my inner thighs. I winced and forced them wider still under his gaze.

Fuck. The look in his eyes told me I'd earned a punishment for my lack of attention. But the worst part was I knew he wouldn't let me take it right away. No, he'd work me over first and then use the punishment to drive home his point.

Tapping along that delicate flesh, he flicked it as he pleased to create red marks. If I moved, the next came harder. Quickly I learned to subsist with only soft whimpers and sharp intakes of air.

From my knees to an inch below my sex, that crop turned my thighs a dusted pink. My flesh jumped under each impact; those breaths came in raw sucked breaths. Not once, though, did my thighs dare move from their place even when he tormented places that were already raw.

When my thighs had been painted, he tapped it up over my torso to my breasts. There he tormented not only the pale globes but the peaked nipples with licks.

The drool leaked from the corner of my mouth; I didn't have words to beg with that collar in my mouth nor did I dare let it fall. So my deep breaths, my whines of discomfort, and the twitch of my body reacting to those stinging slaps begged for me. But on my chest I felt it with such intensity; my hands tugged on my bonds even as I tried to be still.

"Don't fight it, kitten. It's going to happen anyway. Embrace it," he guided. "Let it all out."

As the conductor, he kept the tempo of those flicks steady. They pressed at my mind, trying to break my stillness. My breasts turned the color of rose petals under his crop. Each touch of the tip made my skin flinch and tears leaked from my eyes. But I endured; I wanted that approval in his voice, in his gaze to stay.

He crouched beside me, stroking the water from my cheek.

"For your punishment, you'll take five, right to your cunt. The last will be hard," he warned as he traced the crop up and down my torso. "If you move, I'll tie you down and repeat the process with my cane. Understood?"

I nodded my head once to show I'd heard as I closed my eyes.

The brush of his fingers through my nether lips drew my attention to the aching wetness between my legs. Though he'd not touched me there, my honey coated my lower petals; my channel ached for his cock.

"Already dripping. It almost makes me think you like this," he stated as he rose.

I wanted to tell him that I didn't want this. That I hated the anticipation, the pain he gives me in spades when he's like this. But I didn't. I've been in his care too long not to recognize that this was exactly what I needed no matter how much I hated it. This was the darkness that I craved to surrender to in him. The raw, unbridled sessions stripped me of any defense I had and made me feel with such potency; there was no hiding my desires from Zeke.

"Breathe," he commanded.

As I pulled in a deep breath through my nose, he struck. Once, twice, three. He made me shriek around that leather strip as his strikes burned through that sensitive place. The strikes made my nerves light up as though I'd grabbed a hot plate from the oven with no way to let go. But then came the swelling throb that followed as my lower lips engorged with the rush of blood.

He let me marinate in that agony, sobbing and tense as a bowstring as he traced patterns over my throbbing breasts with the leather tip. The warmth pulsing through my skin made my wanton slit want to be filled all the more even as my mind begged silently for it to end. I stared hard into the tiles as I tried to slow my breath, tried to reach some sort of peace so that I could take the last two.

Capturing my chin, Zeke made me stare into his eyes. His fingers took the leather band from my mouth, and wrapped it around my neck, buckling it in place. "You've earned your collar," he said with a smirk and those words fortified my crumbling resolve.

"Two more, kitten. You'll take them. You'll thank me for them... and then I'm going to put you on fuck you senseless," he promised.

Though the words were crude, the pride behind them gave me a hint of strength. The light stroke of my cheek slowed those gasping breaths as I met his eyes. There wouldn't be mercy, but neither was he cruel.

He would hurt me. He would not harm me.

Shivering, I nodded into the grip of his fingers, meeting his eyes as I found my voice. "Yes, Master."

"Good girl. Now get your ass up on the edge of the bed and spread your legs wide. I want you to watch."

Pushing myself up, I lay on my back as he ordered, holding my legs as wide as I could with my feet still on the floor. He tapped that leather tongue softly on my reddened lips, waiting until my eyes flicked down to my pussy in confusion before he lashed it.

"Thank you, Master!"

The words broke with a shriek from my lips as that throbbing intensified and a new burn echoed through me.

My nipples were hard peaks, my slit a weeping mess of desire. He stroked the crop through my wetness as my hips squirmed in the mix of pleasure and pain. I hated it. I loathed it. But I needed more.

He raised the crop; my belly tightened with anticipation.... And then he brought it down right on my clit.

I couldn't stop my legs from jolting shut as my torso bowed up from the bed. I came in waves, my juices squirting from my cunt as my stinging thighs clapped together. The scream which left my lips hit new octaves of misery before dying out in sobs as I trembled against the bed with the aftershocks muddling up the good with the bad.

"Th-thank you, Master..."

His lips kissed mine, full and passionate as they drank my tears. I could feel the throbbing hardness between my legs. Then he kept his promise. Gathering my lower limbs, he pressed them up into my shoulders as he lined up that fat rod with my sex.

The press of it into my tight channel stole any complaints I had into a deep-throated moan.

He thrust slowly at first. But as my body began to grip around him in new throes of pleasure, the sawing of his body sped up. The slap of his hips to my pussy, the feel of being split by his cock drove me into a world dominated by sensation.

I reveled there, the marks of my body all but forgotten as he drove me over the edge again and again with that heady mixture. The sensations ran into each other; I knew no pain, just pure intensity. When the second orgasm shuddered through me, he forced me up into the third immediately as his fingers rubbed my abused clit.

There was no way to breathe as my body tensed up in that web of desire. He withdrew from my sex, and when I gave a groan of emptiness...and thrust hard into my ass so that I screamed through a fourth orgasm with my body locked tight around his throbbing member.

He came quickly inside me, holding himself speared deep into me as it spurted its seed. I had neither the will nor the ability to move as I came down from cumming. Set there, connected, we caught our breath. He withdrew from my ass slowly, turning me to my side. And when I was still, he took the scissors from the nightstand and sliced my bonds off my wrists.

He rubbed one arm from shoulder to fingertips, then the other. Then he removed my collar with a lingering soft kiss on my lips.

As that leather left my neck, I knew that the man standing before me was my lover. He cocooned me in the soft navy blanket and drew me in tight to his arms as he pressed a kiss to my forehead. There in my safe place, I slowly came back to some form of sentience.

"Ready to shower again, beautiful?" he murmured when my breathing had slowed and the trembles ceased.

"Not yet," I whispered, still a bit lost in the haze which had settled into my brain.

His thumb stroked over my cheek; his eyes stared at me. "Too sensitive?"

With a rueful smile, I nodded and buried back into that navy blanket's softness. His hand shifted, stroking my hair as he cradled me. I rode the mix of emotions slowly, from exhaustion to elation to overload in his arms. And when I was finally settled, he carefully helped me into the shower and washed me under the cool streams.