Part The Seventh – Shower
She really couldn't believe it. After all this time – after nearly four months here at Ethan's home – she was still nervous at the thought of him coming to see her. Was that how it was supposed to be? Was it natural for her to have a serious case of butterflies? To be both giddy and fearful with the knowledge that he was coming to see her?
As she walked along the richly decorated hallway to her room, Jen wasn't sure. All she knew was that at the end of Erin's first lesson, Ethan had dismissed his two slutslaves from their kneeling observations, and, as she'd stood to leave, he'd had caught her arm to hold her there. Idly reaching out to roll one of her pert nipples between his fingers, he'd leaned in and whispered "I'll see you shortly." before letting her go with a gentle smack on the ass.
His remark hadn't gone unnoticed.
Jen had seen the look on Kami's face as the redhead closed the door to her own quarters, a mixture of envy and hurt made all the more striking by the narrow frame of her closing door. She knew that her answers had been the ones Master Ethan had sought, that she'd pleased him with her candor in response to his lesson. It wasn't her fault he hadn't called on Kami.
At to Erin, the little brunette was nowhere to be seen, though she was probably still in the teaching cell behind her. Jen assumed her husband was probably having his way with her even now. The couple had a suite on the eastern wing on the mansion, one that gave them a measure of privacy. It was only right, she thought, he'd be so instrumental in driving home Ethan's teachings; surely he must want to take what was his. She smiled to herself, imaging the man moving against the exhausted form of his wife, wracked with his own lusts, driving out his need into her lovely frame, until he too collapsed, spent.
But would Master Ethan also take Erin, she wondered as she strode into her own chamber. Checking to see that her bed was made, she headed for the bathroom. Would he assume that her body was his by right of dominion? Was that part of the conditions her husband had set; that he alone would have mastery of his wife's body?
Or would Ethan's will eclipse the sanctity of their union? His beautiful cock had certainly told of his desire for the newest pupil, but Jen didn't know how that desire would translate into action. Everything in this house was his, why should this newcomer be any different? Had she come alone, she certainly would have become his slutslave. The presence of her husband was an unknown factor.
Maybe, she thought as she set out a fresh towel, her husband would present his wife to Master Ethan as a gift, as thanks for helping to begin her reorientation toward a more genuinely submissive path.
She stepped into the glass shower and under the hot spray, reveling in the sheets of warm water that coursed down her skin.
In any event, it was not for her to know. She had her own training to attend to, and years of bound servitude left to fulfill. Better to concentrate on being the best slutslave she could than to worry about this latest addition to the household.
Jen let the water wash over her face, pondering her servitude, marveling as she did every now and again these days, how her whole life had changed, how she'd come to find fulfillment not through professional achievement or material gain, but by surrendering everything to another. She understood now that she cared deeply about him, that she always had, but it was more than that. Their shared history was an added bonus, but she was certain that she could have achieved this release with another master, were he as skilled as Ethan.
Reaching out, she began to wash her hair, working the shampoo into a rich, foamy lather amidst her curls. She closed her eyes and began to hum to herself, an old tune she'd had stuck in her head since she was in college. It helped her to lose herself, to just relax and let go. Here, now, it was just her and the water, nothing more.
The freedom he gave her was what amazed her so. After years of frustrated relationships, to have exactly what she'd always wanted suddenly thrust upon her was a terrible and wonderful thing. It scared her at first – scared her a lot – but as the weeks had settled into a routine marked by periods of both dizzying passion and quiet reflection, she'd come to realize that she was actually happy to be here.
It made her wonder whether she'd known on some level that the debt relief agency had involved something more sinister than a simple contract. Whether she'd know what this would entail and so had deliberately set herself on that path.
Long minutes passed as she stood under the spray, her fair skin growing red from the heat. She rinsed her hair and washed herself, carefully cleaning every part of her body. It was his now, of course, and he insisted that she treat his property with the utmost care.
The noise of the shower was loud in her ears. So loud she almost missed the sound of the bathroom door opening.
Almost, but not quite.
She kept her eyes closed. Who would it be? Would it be Kami, come to punish her for the opportunities she'd been given? Or would it be Ethan, come to treat her to his favors?
Jen leaned forward and placed one hand against the wall. She spread her legs slightly, the better to parade her treasures for her unseen admirer.
The glass door swung open with the smallest click, and then closed again. Strong hands began to caress her body, rubbing scented moisturizing body lotion across the length and breadth of her shape. Every part of her was suddenly afire in the wake of his roving hands.
Instantly she was wet, a heat wholly unrelated to the water flooding into her loins.
It was him! she realized.
She knew his touch.
She craved it.
Jen pushed her ass back slightly, and was rewarded – much to her titillating surprise – by a light stroke of his tongue against her tight bud. She shuddered with delight; he had to be kneeling behind her.
"I've missed you," she murmured into the spray. From behind and below, he chuckled softly, making light of her yearnings.
But it was true; since arriving at this place, she'd come to hunger for those quiet moments when it was just the two of them, when their bodies merged into one passionate form, moving against each other until they achieved the sweet release of the little death.
The whip and the restraints were all well and fine, but it was moments like this, moments of actual, genuine intimacy, that pleased her most.
