Emily set out the washcloth before she got into the shower, and placed the razor and the scissors on top of it reverently. Laying out the tools had become a ritual, now, the months of repetition steadying Emily's mind into a meditative state even before she really started. She put the shaving gel next to the washcloth, and started the hot water running. Then she stepped into the stall.
As always, the warm water reminded Emily of her first time with Janelle. Not the first time they chatted online, or even the first time they spoke on the phone and Janelle's husky, whiskey-worn voice sent Emily spiraling down into her very first hypnotic trance, but the first time Emily flew to visit her in person. She remembered dragging herself off the plane, exhausted by the long flight and the multiple connections, and meeting Janelle down in the baggage claim with a weary smile on her face. The older woman took one look at her, and said, "What you need, little one, is a little tender loving care."
Even if it hadn't been a trigger, Emily would probably have sagged into Janelle's arms just as readily. Seeing Janelle felt more like coming home than coming home did; she'd spent so long online gazing into those dark brown eyes and letting go of her thoughts that she associated them with peace, safety and comfort automatically. She gave in to her exhaustion and sank into trance instantly, then allowed Janelle to lead her out to the car and bundle her into the passenger seat as easily as if the other woman had carried her.
And when they got back to Janelle's studio, Janelle led her right back to the bathroom, peeling off Emily's travel-worn clothes and stroking Emily's body with her strong, callused hands until Emily was giddy with pleasure. Then Janelle pulled her faded pink T-shirt up over her head, her braids making gentle clacking noises as they swung back down against the dark mahogany skin of her back, and shimmied her dark red skirt off with a few shakes of her hips. Emily couldn't help noticing that Janelle wasn't wearing any panties. She gazed into the lush tangles of Janelle's pubic hair with undisguised fascination.
Before Emily's foggy mind could realize it, Janelle was drawing her into the massive shower stall, taking her by the hands and leading her along while her eyes remained locked onto Janelle's beautiful mound. So many times, she'd fantasized about kneeling in front of Janelle, inhaling her scent, nuzzling the soft thatch of downy hair, and to see it right here brought back all those memories at once. She barely even noticed the warm water sluicing down her skin.
But she noticed when Janelle turned her around and stepped into her, the older woman's small breasts pressing into Emily's back as those practiced, strong, stoneworker's hands found Emily's nipples. She couldn't stop noticing the way that the dark skin of Janelle's fingers contrasted beautifully with her pale body as Janelle worked the soft flesh of her tits, finding just the right spots to tease with the skill of an experienced lover. She couldn't help the way her legs spread as Janelle caressed her way down to Emily's smooth, slick labia. She couldn't resist gasping and moaning as her head fell back against Janelle's shoulder and her eyes drifted lazily shut from the overwhelming pleasure of it all.
Emily's hands were much softer than her Mistress's rough fingers. But every time she masturbated in the shower, Emily pictured Janelle touching her.
Finally, her knees a little bit wobbly from pleasure, Emily finished cleaning herself off and stepped out of the shower. The room was thick with steamy, humid air, and not for the first time Emily was grateful that her apartment had a tankless water heater. It meant that she could spend as long as she wanted in the shower, pushing her fingers in and out of her slippery cunt and whimpering out Janelle's name as she came, and still have time for the ritual. Her favorite ritual, now.
She went to the sink and turned on the hot water, letting it get as warm as she could stand before she slid the washcloth out from under the razor and scissors and got it soaking wet. She moved the tools to the corner of the sink, next to the toilet, and turned the faucet off. Only then did she sit down on the toilet with her legs spread wide.
She looked down at her pubic mound, thinking back to the way Janelle had teased it with her fingers as they lay together on Janelle's old mattress. Janelle was lying on her side, her head down near Emily's waist, her eyes glittering with excitement as she ran her thumb across the smooth skin and massaged the slick fluids glistening on Emily's labia all over until Emily's vulva practically gleamed.
Emily panted with arousal, then and now, remembering the helpless anticipation in her heavy limbs as she gazed at the thick, curly tangle of hair veiling Janelle's pussy lips from her view. She was just waiting for the moment when Janelle would straddle her face, giving her the chance to worship Janelle's clit with her tongue the way she'd ached to do for so many months...but the other woman seemed perfectly content to play with Emily's sleepy, hypnotized body like she was a favorite toy.
Now, of course, Emily's bush looked a lot more like Janelle's. Her mound was covered with a jungle of fiery red pubic hair, still wet with the moisture from the shower and from Emily's climax. Tiny little droplets clung to each little twist, and as Emily's fingers brushed through them she could feel them giving up some of that wetness. Her fingers drifted lower, dancing lightly against her labia, and she knew that she was making herself damp all over again.
She put the washcloth against her skin, hissing out a gasp of shock as the hot fabric seeped warmth all through her cunt. It felt almost too hot at first, but after a moment her body became used to the heat and everything became deliciously, sensuously warm down there. Emily found herself rhythmically massaging herself through the terry cloth, sighing in bliss at the warmth and the pressure on her clit.
It was always so easy to take her time with this part of the ritual. Emily sat back as best she could, her head lolling against the wall as she closed her eyes and gave in to a reverie of Janelle, telling her how beautiful her body was as she slowly slid two fingers in and out of Emily's pussy. "You have such a pretty clitty, little one," she heard in her mind, the words etched into her memory by months of furious masturbation. "You're so gorgeous lying there like that. You don't need to do anything at all to be perfect for me."
Emily grunted in pleasure as the mental image wrung another orgasm out of her. She felt her juices gush into the washcloth, saturating it even further as she held it close to her skin. That week with Janelle took their relationship to a whole other level-not physically closer, she lamented, thinking about the two years of grad school she still had remaining, but she felt so much more profoundly submissive to Janelle now than she ever had. The loving grip of Janelle's hypnosis seemed even stronger now, impossible to resist, and Emily lived for the little moments each day when she could show her devotion to her Mistress.
