Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 76329 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76329 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
I stood with my eyes closed, letting the water stream down my face, mixing with tears I hadn’t realized I was still shedding. Pierre’s touch was reverent as he cleaned me, his fingers tracing the curves of my body with something that felt like worship. The tenderness in his ministrations contrasted so sharply with the dominance he’d displayed earlier that I felt disoriented, caught between worlds.
As his hands moved over me, something shifted in my chest—a recognition, a certainty that bloomed with frightening clarity. I loved him. The realization struck me with the force of a physical blow, leaving me breathless. It was absurd, impossible. I barely knew this man who had bought my virginity, who had whipped me, who had just taken my final innocence with calculated precision. Yet the feeling persisted, undeniable and terrifying in its intensity.
I loved the contradictions in him—the ruthlessness and the tenderness, the crudeness and the sophistication. I loved how he saw through my defenses to the person beneath, how he understood needs I couldn’t articulate even to myself. The knowledge humbled and horrified me in equal measure.
Without conscious thought, I sank to my knees on the shower floor, the water streaming over my upturned face. Pierre looked down at me, surprise flickering across his handsome features. I reached for the washcloth hanging on the nearby hook, working soap into it with trembling fingers.
My hands moved of their own accord, gently cleaning his manhood—the same instrument that had claimed every part of me, that had stretched and filled and transformed me. I handled it with reverence, noting how it stirred under my attentions despite his recent release. My fingers traced the thick veins, the smooth head, the heavy weight of his testicles, cleaning away the evidence of our coupling with careful devotion.
Pierre’s breathing changed as I worked, becoming deeper, more measured. I looked up through the water cascading between us and saw his cock beginning to harden again, responding to my touch with a will of its own. The sight awakened something primal within me—a desire to please, to serve, to worship this man who had awakened me to my true nature.
“May I take your beautiful cock in my mouth, Monsieur?” I asked, my voice barely audible above the rush of water, yet steady with certainty.
Pierre’s eyes darkened as he looked down at me, his expression a mixture of surprise and pleasure. He reached out to stroke my wet hair back from my face, his touch gentle but possessive.
“Oui, ma petite,” he replied simply, his voice husky with renewed desire.
With reverent care, I took him into my mouth, savoring the taste and feel of his enormous, quickly stiffening penis against my tongue. Even with what he’d done to me—no, I realized with a blush, because of it—I wanted to worship him, to show him with my body what I couldn’t yet express in words. I ran my tongue along the underside of his shaft, feeling him grow harder and harder between my lips.
The warm water cascaded down my back as I took him deeper, marveling at how quickly he had recovered. His hands tangled in my wet hair, not forcing me, but guiding gently, showing me what pleased him most. I hollowed my cheeks, sucking firmly as I moved my head back and forth, my hands caressing what wouldn’t fit in my mouth.
“That’s perfect,” Pierre murmured, his voice tight with restraint. “You’re a natural at pleasing your master.”
His words sent a shiver of pleasure through me. I did my best, trying to use everything I’d learned from our previous encounters to bring him pleasure. I wanted to taste him, to feel him lose control because of me, to complete the circle of possession.
Pierre’s breathing grew heavier, his thighs tensing beneath my palms. Just when I thought he might climax, he placed his hands on my shoulders.
“I won’t come now,” he said, his voice strained, but controlled. “But you may play with my cock as long as you like.”
I looked up at him through water-spiked lashes, surprised by his restraint and generosity. The permission to explore him at my own pace felt like a precious gift. I continued my ministrations, no longer racing toward a conclusion, but savoring the journey. I explored every ridge and vein with my tongue, learning what made his breath catch, what made his fingers tighten in my hair.
Time seemed to slow in the steamy cocoon of the shower. I lost myself in the act of pleasuring him, finding an unexpected peace in my submission. This wasn’t about my release or even his—it was about connection, about acknowledging the bond he had forged between us through the crucible of the past twenty-four hours.
After a few minutes of this reverent exploration, Pierre gently eased me away from his still-hard cock. His hands slid under my arms, lifting me to my feet with effortless strength. Once I stood before him, he pulled me against his chest, holding me tenderly as the water continued to rain down upon us.