keep her then you get her out of this hell hole and into that fancy ass house of yours. If you hurt her—ever—and it isn’t consensual, I’ll tear you apart with my bare fucking hands. I mean it. Get her out of here tonight and go shopping for her, mother fucker, and feed her right…and sign my fucking papers. I’ll be by to get them tomorrow.
I look down and the woman is backed into the corner with a huge smile on her face. Go fucking figure.
I look at the guys and shake my head, “Looks like our work here is done.”
“Yep,” they all agree. “Looks like the guy is more like us than you realized,” Miller chimes in.
He’s right; we’re all fucking crazy…
Epilogue
Suited slave…The shower
My mornings are that of a business woman. I wake up and my mind is on the business at hand.
You see… it is not only the business at hand, but it is the suit I wear into my job as an office executive—the suit of armor I will don for the day, in the form of my clothing.
It is very important I am dressed in the right clothing and am in the right frame of mind as I go into work each day.
I was in the shower, basically doing what I refer to as “Getting my game face on.”
I jumped, as my Master opened the sliding shower door. I instinctively moved to the back of the shower, deferring to his preeminence. I give him first place under the shower so that the water might pour down on his body first.
“I want my body washed, slave, from top to bottom.”
He grabbed a handful hair and glared into my face, studying it as he did so. Everything in me wanted to look away, he intimidated me.
“Don’t you dare look away from me, slave!”
“Yes, Master.” I could tell that my breathing was becoming labored already.
He pulled me in to his mouth and whispered in my ear, “If I know my slave, you’re already getting wet due to my presence.”
I gulped and he only chuckled.
“I said, slave, I want my body washed from the top of my head to the soles of my feet!”
My hands trembled as I reached for the soap and a loofah.
He pulled me right into his face glaring, “No loofah!”
“I want my slave’s hands washing her Master’s body!”
Many times Master will only use a word or two when giving a command. I know exactly what he wants.
“My hair first!”
“Yes, Master.”
Once again, I caught my hands trembling as I reached for the shampoo of his liking, squirting it into my hands.
I began to rub my hands through his hair as he held his head under the water and back to prevent the soap from getting into his eyes.
Everything about this man touches me in a way that I have never been touched before. The hold that he has over me is like nothing that I have ever experienced. Everything, everything, everything, his voice, his eyes, his commands—I have never in my life experienced the desire to serve any man but him. No man, but my Master!
He watched and monitored every detail of what I did, how I did it, and the expression that I held on my face while I was doing it.
I squirted the body wash into my hands and lathered it through the hair on his chest. He raised his arms and my hands ran into the pits of them, avoiding the temptation to tickle him. The straight line of his mouth and the seriousness in his face told me that he was not in the mood for play.
His eyes bore into me, “On your knees!”
I could feel the juices seeping down my inner thigh and, as if reading my mind, he spoke, “My little slave does get wet for me, doesn’t she?”
I eyed him adoringly as I began to wash his lower stomach and groin. I love the hair on his lower abdomen that works its way down into his groin. I became mesmerized, running my hands through it and making little peaks with the soap suds.
“You are getting distracted. I suggest that you do as I said and wash my body from head to toe!”
“I’m sorry, Master,” I mumbled.
I began to run my soapy hands over his groin and up and down his shaft.
“What
I look down and the woman is backed into the corner with a huge smile on her face. Go fucking figure.
I look at the guys and shake my head, “Looks like our work here is done.”
“Yep,” they all agree. “Looks like the guy is more like us than you realized,” Miller chimes in.
He’s right; we’re all fucking crazy…
Epilogue
Suited slave…The shower
My mornings are that of a business woman. I wake up and my mind is on the business at hand.
You see… it is not only the business at hand, but it is the suit I wear into my job as an office executive—the suit of armor I will don for the day, in the form of my clothing.
It is very important I am dressed in the right clothing and am in the right frame of mind as I go into work each day.
I was in the shower, basically doing what I refer to as “Getting my game face on.”
I jumped, as my Master opened the sliding shower door. I instinctively moved to the back of the shower, deferring to his preeminence. I give him first place under the shower so that the water might pour down on his body first.
“I want my body washed, slave, from top to bottom.”
He grabbed a handful hair and glared into my face, studying it as he did so. Everything in me wanted to look away, he intimidated me.
“Don’t you dare look away from me, slave!”
“Yes, Master.” I could tell that my breathing was becoming labored already.
He pulled me in to his mouth and whispered in my ear, “If I know my slave, you’re already getting wet due to my presence.”
I gulped and he only chuckled.
“I said, slave, I want my body washed from the top of my head to the soles of my feet!”
My hands trembled as I reached for the soap and a loofah.
He pulled me right into his face glaring, “No loofah!”
“I want my slave’s hands washing her Master’s body!”
Many times Master will only use a word or two when giving a command. I know exactly what he wants.
“My hair first!”
“Yes, Master.”
Once again, I caught my hands trembling as I reached for the shampoo of his liking, squirting it into my hands.
I began to rub my hands through his hair as he held his head under the water and back to prevent the soap from getting into his eyes.
Everything about this man touches me in a way that I have never been touched before. The hold that he has over me is like nothing that I have ever experienced. Everything, everything, everything, his voice, his eyes, his commands—I have never in my life experienced the desire to serve any man but him. No man, but my Master!
He watched and monitored every detail of what I did, how I did it, and the expression that I held on my face while I was doing it.
I squirted the body wash into my hands and lathered it through the hair on his chest. He raised his arms and my hands ran into the pits of them, avoiding the temptation to tickle him. The straight line of his mouth and the seriousness in his face told me that he was not in the mood for play.
His eyes bore into me, “On your knees!”
I could feel the juices seeping down my inner thigh and, as if reading my mind, he spoke, “My little slave does get wet for me, doesn’t she?”
I eyed him adoringly as I began to wash his lower stomach and groin. I love the hair on his lower abdomen that works its way down into his groin. I became mesmerized, running my hands through it and making little peaks with the soap suds.
“You are getting distracted. I suggest that you do as I said and wash my body from head to toe!”
“I’m sorry, Master,” I mumbled.
I began to run my soapy hands over his groin and up and down his shaft.
“What
Similar Books
