The Shower

I was taking a leisurely shower at my favorite health club after getting the usual beating at badminton. I didn't mind, as the game was always fun no matter how badly I did, though most of that was due to my workout partner. My usual loss tended to be due to paying a bit more attention to how snugly his shorts rode his slim hips, rather than giving the birdie my full attention.

After losing three sets, spending an hour in the pool, and then another in the weight room, I finally crawled for the communal shower area. There were three in my area of the complex; men's, women's, and the unisex. Showering so freely was occasionally embarrassing, though titillating, and I was often singled out for attention and propositions. Particularly as I showered in a rather worn t-shirt.

Why was I in the unisex shower if I was that shy? Because my ex and his new love also frequented the gym, and I went out of my way to avoid them. I refused to change clubs, as they had followed me here, so took the simple step to avoid being seen by either in such a vulnerable fashion.

I was soaping my thighs when I heard the door, and flushed a little, knowing someone was getting a good look at my ass, as my shirt tended to ride up a bit at times. I did not turn my head, trying to ignore the other person, though it was always in the back of my mind, that anyone in this shower was likely interested in looking. I was watched often, by males and females, hence the shirt to preserve my modesty.

I stood back up in the hot spray, moving my hands up over my belly in lazy circles, feeling my neck muscles grow tight with the want to turn and look. Most people said hi, or something, making some noise to announce themselves. But there was just wet footsteps on the tile, seeming to move in my direction.

I was soaping my back, craning my reach to get that spot between my shoulder blades, when a male voice chuckled. "Need a hand?"

I grinned, dropping my arm and turning, finding Terry standing just out of the water's reach, delightfully sweaty and wearing nothing but those tight little shorts. If it had been anyone else, I would have said no, assuming they were up to something, though I should probably say no anyway. Instead, I handed over the soapy rag, giving him my back.

It probably wasn't the wisest thing to do, but I was rather surprised to see him in here, and the offer sounded too good. I usually spent my shower time trying to calm down after my workouts, physical as well as hormonal, and the idea of his hand even innocently close to my skin was very nice. I really should not have done it.

Terry put up his towel, and likely his shorts, before stepping a bit into the water, applying the rag to my shoulders in nice warm circles. I leaned a bit against his hands, one firmly holding me in position, and it reminded me hard of a scenario my Master had painted once. Any means of control reminded me of Master, and my status as his property.

It was why I should not spend so much time ogling Terry's slim bod, his short shorts. I had a long distance M/s relationship, mostly carried out online, and it pleased me greatly. It was bliss to have Master own and direct so much of my time, but I also missed the physical aspects. Which was honestly half of why I enjoyed my workouts with Terry. I admired his body, the bunch and pull of muscle, the gleam and scent of sweat on his skin, the sure way his hands moved the racket as though it was a part of his arm.

He was a sensual treat, my sole vice, and though I had confessed to Master my preoccupation with Terry's fine ass, I always felt naughty watching him. I was allowed to look, but it was still like being bad, something I needed to be punished for. That idea alone often made me wet, rushing home to confess any impure thoughts in e-mail and awaiting the spanking I was sometimes given.

Terry's hands moved down my back, sliding over my hips, soaping and rubbing, sending shivers up my spine. The shirt was thin, a comfort measure to keep me from feeling exposed, though it clung enough to not really hide anything. I was about to protest the dance with impropriety, when he moved to hug my back, proving he was indeed naked and very hard.

I gasped, my hips drawn against his erection, the hot flesh fitting the grove of my backside and moving, pushing against me, sliding in the soap. I moaned, closing my eyes to better enjoy the feeling, the closeness, before stepping a bit away. I shook my head, having to swallow before finding my voice.

"I appreciate the offer, Terry, but it's not a good idea."

He dangled the wash rag in front of me, moving his free hand down my right arm as I reached for it, sliding soap and heat that spread wetness between my thighs. It had been so long since I had been touched, even that slippery caress was a joy.

I was having a little trouble breathing, taking the rag, trying to get my brain back up from my crotch to finish my shower and run home to ask permission to come. I hadn't soaped my breasts, always left for last as it felt so nice, and set about it, using both hands in shameless fashion, my pussy twitching with the flood I could feel building, arching my back a bit in a manner that had to look inviting.

Terry moved up behind me again, his hands sliding down my arms, squeezing my hands and breasts. I moaned, drawn back against his smooth chest, biting my lip, my breath coming in pants. His left hand moved slowly down my body, trailing over my belly to cup the warmth between my legs.

I couldn't get enough air. That hand teased with its presence, so still, so hot, as promising of pleasure as the dick at my back, grinding against my ass, a slow hot slap that sounded so much like a spanking against my wet body.

I shook my head again, fighting to come up from the hazy place my body was so eager to go, opening my mouth to protest. His hand moved, sliding under the shirt, gliding thick fingers between my lower lips, churning the slickness that had nothing to do with soap. I whimpered, shaking, bucking involuntarily against his hand, writhing as he slid a finger inside me.

He held me against him, humping my ass, exploring my pussy, making a growling noise in my ear. I tried to think, looking for a way to explain, that I could not do this. I belonged to another, I did not have permission to stray, let alone come. I had to stop this.

I whimpered again, words failing me, as he moved down my body, kneeling behind my hips, one hand pushing my lightly against the wall. I put up my hands to catch my balance, dropping the rag, bracing myself against the wall, my ass thrust back by the position. I moaned, half seeing myself splayed before my Master, awaiting a paddling I so richly deserved. My pussy trembled, lust swelling my flesh, the imagined punishment firing the havoc Terry's fingers were wrecking between my legs.

He stood just long enough to adjust the shower angle, the water beating hard down my back, massaging my ass, rinsing me clean as Terry pushed the tail of my shirt up, baring my quivering cheeks. He was on his knees again, and I groaned as he buried his face in my nether region, his nose tickling the crack of my ass as his mouth joined his hand, his tongue lashing my dripping flesh. I bucked back against his face, grinding my pussy into him, as though I would eat his face with my sopping sex mouth. His fingers move higher, playing my slit while the other hand moved over my clit, rubbing and flicking my hot button, drawing moans and gasps from my parched throat.

The combined sensations threatened to spill over me in a release of carnal delights, and that helped clear my head. I did not have permission for this. I could not come without Master's permission. This rule had been driven into my head over the long months of our Internet affair, and no orgasm was worth his wrath at my betrayal in this way.

I pulled away as much as I could, bucking against his triple hold, and shook my head rapidly. "I can't. I can't do this."

Terry brought his face out of my crotch, his hands stilling but not leaving my tormented body. "I've seen you watching me, Rita, like I was a steak you wanted. I know you're enjoying this. You taste amazing."

I blushed, shaking my head, feeling dizzy. It was just too much, the attention, the attraction I had felt, the truth of his words. But I was held by a stronger truth. I was owned in all ways by my Master, my heart, mind, and body his property, and I did not have permission. A spanking would be in order for this indiscretion already, and that thought alone made me want to ride Terry's obliging lips, but I knew better. I might do something unthinkable and lose Master, not just his truth, but his authority in my life. No bout of sex, no matter how nice, was worth losing the most precious relationship I had ever had.

Terry had risen while I got my head back on, his dick hard and so hot as it dipped between my legs, sliding in the grove of my slick thighs to tease my lips in torturous fashion. Oh how easy, to raise up on my toes and move just a little, just enough to let him slip inside, to fill my hungering pussy with throbbing cock. I moaned, biting my lip, feeling the head of him as he leaned back, that glorious pressure between my lips, eager and ready to fuck me breathless.

I wanted it, oh damn how I wanted it. My body had been craving this for months, that missed fullness, that heady dance as male flesh tore into my delicate flower and pounded my needs as an animal. I almost did it, almost moved to accommodate him.

I stepped away, turning, my back to the wall, shaking my head. "I'm sorry, Terry. I do want you, love watching you, having you cream me on the court for my inattention, but I can't do this now." Probably ever.

I was saved from his reply as a crowd of jostling men entered the shower, joking and whistling at me as I smoothed my shirt down over my hips. I fled under a rain of catcalls, comments, and invitations. I dressed in record time, not bothering to dry off, or worried about the soap I had left in the shower. Terry would likely put it up for me, though I was not looking forward to seeing him next. I blushed the whole drive home, shifting in my seat around the ache of my clit.

I ran like a mad woman to my computer, signing on and typing the account up like a demon. I left nothing out, not one caress or pant, and sent it to my Master. I stripped, fetched my collar from my gym bag to fasten around my neck, and got down on my knees, staring up at the screen and waiting. My heart hammered, my pussy throbbed, desire a deep ache that made my clit sore from the need to release. I waited, clad only in my leather collar, and thought of my Master.

I knew I was in for a serious spanking, as soon as Master read and replied. I kept flicking little glances from the computer to the smooth wooden paddle Master had sent for my punishments. I smiled. This would certainly be a cheek warming I would never forget.