As he swept my hair up onto my head, softly rubbing, giving me a moments respite from the water pouring onto my face, a moment to breath, all I could do was cling to his shoulders and think, "This man is my fantasy."
I had spent what felt like ages on my knees in the tub, with one single stream of exceptionally hot water spilling from the shower head onto one knee.
The water had been cold at first, so painfully cold. I couldn't help eying the temperature adjustment, wondering if he knew just how hot it was going to get...
It had started as most of my time spent in the tub usually does--being placed somewhat reluctantly on my knees. His voice brooked no argument, his grip in my hair tolerating no resistance as he issued the simple command.
Living in a body that doesn't really belong to you is an interesting experience--sometimes it does as it is told on his request alone, against all that your mind tells it to; other times you have to make it obey his will.
So I sank into the humiliation that occurs sometimes when one's body and its functions are not really their own.
But he wasn't done...
"Play with yourself", he said, with a predatory glint in his eyes, as he claimed me like a wolf marks it's territory.
We both know he'll make me clean him with my tongue. I don't know that later I will be practically begging to suck his cock.
Play with myself I did, staying on my knees for what felt like forever.
The difference this time was in my dedication to maintaining the position. There's something about being made to wait, and stay until everything is shaking, when those minutes become forever. The tub is an unforgiving resting place...But he put me on my knees, where I'm watching that drizzle of too-hot water hit my knee, and shaking with cold. Feeling time stop.
There is only the moment and the only reason that moment exists, is because he can.
In that moment I exist only for him.
Maybe it's an hour, maybe it's a minute, maybe time doesn't matter. As long as I stay until he desires otherwise.
Leaning down, he lifted me up and growled, "Mine". He nudged my legs apart and slid his fingers slowly up my thighs. After all, he had instructed me to play with myself.
Then came the water. Oh God, the deliciously warm water, washing away the cold.
And he reached for my throat.
The look in his eyes acknowledged my slight panic as I shied away, and silently replied that this was happening regardless.
We both knew what was coming, we both knew there was nothing I could do to stop it, and we both knew that the liquid dripping down my legs wasn't all water. Because I'm dancing with danger, standing on the edge of that knife where my protector is my tormentor.
There's something about that moment
when the dangerously sweet and terrible torment is ended
just for a moment...
My head rests against his chest and I am so fucking grateful for the air I breath. I am consumed by the way his hands grip my body, hold me up, and pull me in, as he whispers in my ear, "Mine".
Before wrapping his fingers around my neck, and slowly moving my face back under the water. "Close your mouth", he says with a dangerous smile, and continues washing my hair.