Auction Ch. 07

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.

These were the moments when she truly reveled in her status as his slutslave, secure in the knowledge that her body pleased him so, that its delights captivated him.

And she might have been wrong, but it seemed that these occasions were occurring with greater frequency of late. Jen wondered on some level how Kami must feel about this, but not too much. She was greedy for the attention, just as she was greedy for the feeling of his tongue working itself against her anus.

She moaned with pleasure as he ran one strong hand up her thigh to rest on her vulva, his thumb firmly ensconced between her labia. Like every part of her pussy, her labia were bald, utterly devoid of hair thanks to her daily ministrations. She'd offered to wax, but he'd declined, telling her that he preferred her to shave; waxing, he said was reserved for special occasions. Frankly, she thought he made her shave because the very act of grooming herself like this reinforced her status as his slave.

Jen placed both hands against the wall and spread her legs further apart, the better to give him access to her inner treasures. His tongue never ceased its slow torment, pressing in against her sphincter, seeking entry, only to pull back with a series of light licks.

Her nipples were rock hard, a sure sign that an orgasm was coming. Wet curls hung down around her face, moving in exaggerated time to the way she tossed her head with pleasure.

His thumb never moved, so she began to move against it, working in time with this tongue, savoring the way his digit grazed against her swelling clitoris.

She was getting close.

Her breath began to come in ragged pants, and her lovely hips began to buck of their own volition. Her moans were loud now, unrestrained by any need to behave herself for him, by any need to perform so that she might be rewarded with the kiss of the whip. Now she was simply need, a creature of pure desire.

Somehow, he knew that, because suddenly he stood and pushed into her, the hard, thick length of him filling her so abruptly that she cried out with pleasure as an orgasm was torn from her body. As he filled her, she smiled at how well his cock fit her pussy.

Jen leaned against the wet tiled wall for support, her knees weak from the sensation. Her body heaved with pleasure.

It wasn't his size; she'd come to realize that. Truth be told, she'd been with enough men that she'd had others who could match his considerable girth and length. No, it was more like an eerie, if wonderful, sense of symmetry between their bodies.

Simply put, he fit her.

Every whorl, every fold, every groove of her seemed to have it corresponding part of him. The effect, when he was fully inside her, enveloped in her hot fastness to his utmost extent, was simply delirious. It made her body sing with pleasure each time he hit that final point of entry, like tumblers in a lock falling into place.

Ethan began to move in and out of her, purposefully denying her any relief from the powerful sensations coursing through her through his own actions. Time and again those corresponding pieces met, locked, and then parted, driving her ever back upwards towards a new orgasm.

The worst – and best – part of it all was that he seemed totally immune to this intoxicating coupling that they achieved. She'd tried to outlast him but never even came close. By the time he so much as broke a sweat she was usually begging for her orgasm ... for the third or fourth time.

As she clutched the tiled wall, her pussy throbbing with need and pleasure, the smell of their sex mingling with the hot mist of the shower, she wondered how did he knew how to manipulate her body like this? Where had he learned such things?

She didn't really care, not so long as she enjoyed his talents.

He moved within her slowly, deliberately, using his cock to stoke her inner fires, skirting the limits of her receding orgasm, denying her a break in the sensation whilst avoiding over stimulation.

She needed release again, but it was clear he wasn't going to give it to her. With one hand still on her vulva, his index finger now firmly atop her clit, and his other on her hip for support, he was well positioned to torment her like this for hours. And she knew he would, such activities delighted him. She knew that regardless of what her body craved, he would be perfectly happy to keep her in this post-orgasmic half-light for another hour, until she'd been reduced to a whimpering wreck, shivering with need.

Jen pushed back into him, shuddering and moaning as her pussy gripped his shaft. God, he felt wonderful. His finger tapped her clit three times, which made her see stars.

After the lesson – after seeing that woman stripped of her self-imposed pretensions and exposed as the sensual creature she really was – Jen needed to cum again. She needed to be stripped of her own will, to satiate her own terrible sexual hunger by exhausting herself on his cock. She needed to find her fugue, to find that state where her conscious mind collapsed and there was only need and desire; that state where her true hunger came free.

But here, now, with his cock buried to its hilt in her wet, throbbing pussy, her ears full of the sound of her own gasps and moans, his hands on her, guiding her around the sweet release of her own pleasure rather than to it, she knew that she could not achieve that fugue.

She knew, as her nipples ached and her body shivered with delight, that he was deliberately denying her her release.

That in this small way, without the whip and without the restraints, he showing her again that to live under his rule was to be her utterly his, that she had truly surrendered herself to him.

That he controlled her body in every way.

That even his rewards for good behavior would be used to further craft her into the slutslave he envisioned her becoming.

Jen smiled in relief, her body afire, resting her face against the cool tile.

There was only one thing left to do:

Beg.