I stripped off what was left of my clothing, seeing how rumpled and dishevelled I looked after he had used me. Still, when I looked in the bathroom mirror, I noticed a healthy-looking blush on my cheeks. It would be hard to convince anyone that I hadn’t enjoyed the rough treatment he’d given me, because truthfully, I had.
I started the shower, and then decided to use the toilet while the water warmed. When I finished, I decided not to flush it right away, because it would affect the temperature of the water. I figured I could flush it when I got out of the shower, and I really wanted to clean up.
I glanced around to see if there was something I could use to pin my hair out of the way while I washed. Snatching a comb off of the counter, I scooped my hair up and stuck the comb in it to fix it out of my face while I scrubbed the sweat of our encounter off of my body. I stepped into the shower, and began lathering my body, beginning with my neck and working my way down, being careful not to touch the come he’d left on my face. I smiled a little to myself thinking about it, he had marked me as if I was nothing more than his territory, his property. I wanted to touch it, and stopped myself when my hand was halfway to my face. No, I had best not do that, he’d told me not to. Knowing how harshly he’d punished me for wearing panties, I didn’t want to anger him again. If I pleased him, he might allow me to come the next time he played with me.
I continued to wash myself, moving down from my neck and over my breasts. As I soaped my skin, I noticed marks he’d left from his fingers when he’d gripped me so hard. My nipples hardened thinking of it, and I decided to hurry up the shower and go back to him. It would not do to take too long, now that I thought about it. I remembered that he’d told me I couldn’t touch myself while I belonged to him, and found myself trying to decide if that included washing my pussy and ass for him. I would have to touch them in order to wash properly, and he’d told me to clean up. I bit my lip, aware of the contradiction. Either way, I was liable to be in trouble. If I was clean when he examined me, he’d know I touched myself. If I didn‘t wash completely, he would punish me for disobeying his command to clean up. I trembled a little, anticipating what he might do to me.
I decided that since he’d commanded me to clean up, I would wash everything properly. He would know that I had to do it in order to follow his orders, and he’d probably want his toy clean and ready for him to use. I worked up a good lather in my hands, then washed the intimate parts he’d so abused. The soap stung a little after the aggressive attention I had just received, but I continued in spite of the stinging. I even enjoyed it a little, remembering the way he’d just shoved himself roughly in me.
I rinsed off all the lather, and got out of the shower. I took a towel off of the rack and dried my wet skin off. I sat on the toilet seat to dry off my legs and feet more thoroughly, and remembered that I had to flush it still. I pulled the lever and returned to drying myself off.
I was just taking the comb out of my hair and letting it down when the door swung open abruptly.
Immediately, my heart sank in fear. He was angry, I could see it in his face. His eyes looked so cold, and I could swear he could see right through me. My stomach clenched and I trembled as he came into the room and grabbed me by the wrist. He yanked me off of the toilet and forced me to stand up.
“Sir, I’m sorry!” I blurted out. I didn’t know exactly what it was I had done wrong, but I knew I had to have done something. I thought he seemed inordinately angry- was all this because I had touched myself in order to wash? “I was only trying to do what you told me!”
He grabbed my other wrist and held them both in one hand, then silenced me by slapping my face. It stung worse, because the skin was still wet from his come. He glared at me angrily and told me to be silent. I swallowed and bit my lip. My heart was beating like a rabbit’s. I knew that there would be no sense in trying to defend my actions, it would only make him more angry.
Holding my wrists together in one hand, I saw him glance around the room. His gaze rested on the bathrobe hanging on the back of the door, and he dragged me behind him as he stepped over to it. He pulled the belt off of the robe, yanking it roughly through the loops. The robe fell on the floor, but he didn’t seem to notice. He yanked me behind him back towards the bathtub and pulled my wrists up above my head. With his other hand, he began to tie them together and lash them to the shower curtain bar. I was standing naked on the cold tile, hands above my head, my skin still damp and my ass still aching from him, and I was getting cold. I struggled a little, and my motions shook the curtain rod. I stopped immediately, and he said “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. If you pull that off the wall, I’ll make you very sorry.”
He stood back to look at me, and smiled, satisfied that I couldn’t (or wouldn’t) move very much. He grabbed one nipple, and pulled it hard, lifting the entire breast with it. My breasts are quite large, and it hurt a great deal for that much weight to be supported by the little nipple he held in his fingers. I moaned and squirmed, and he chuckled. He dropped the nipple, only to grab the other one and do the same.
“I like you tied standing with your arms up like that, it makes your tits stand out straight in front of you quite nicely. Easier to play with.”
He slapped them hard, first one with his palm, then back of the hand across the other. I gasped, and squirmed, and he grabbed the nipples again, one in each hand. He pulled towards him, and I had no choice but to lean in as far as I was able with the restraints I had. He took his belt off again, the same belt he had whipped me with earlier. I felt a surge of desire between my legs at the sight of it. He brought it hard across my breasts, making me yelp with pain. He did it again and again, I don’t know how many times. It occurred to me briefly that I was fortunate he hadn‘t asked me to count the strokes this time, because I was too excited to pay attention. It hurt so much, and I felt so exposed, but I wanted him so bad. Every time the leather went across my nipples, I felt a twinge in my clit.
