you’re using at home. It’s not nearly as delicious.” He gave her shoulder a playful nip. “Before you go home Sunday, I want to know what you use so that I can have this and your bathroom upstairs supplied with it.”
Catherine continued to hum and bask in the attention of his gentle scrubbing.
“Spread,” Sir directed when he reached Catherine’s legs. He washed the area, and moved down her legs before he had her turn and bend forward so he could make sure she received a thorough cleansing from behind as well. While Sir washed her, she knew he was inspecting her skin the best he could.
She kept herself trimmed, just not bare, but Catherine was sure he could detect the occasional pucker of pink skin beneath the wiry, ginger curls.
He let out a low hiss when he found a couple of the circular scars near her rectum – cigarette sized, and it was all Catherine could do not to cringe.
It hadn’t been consensual.
She had not enjoyed it.
However, it had been beyond her control at the time.
Catherine shuddered at the memory while Sir rinsed the suds from her body, placing tender kisses over the damaged skin as it was revealed. Daring to look down at him, she didn’t stop her hand from cupping his cheek when she discovered he was crying.
Was it for the suffering she had experienced? Could he care that much?
When Sir’s gaze traveled up Catherine’s body while he rested back on his haunches, she met it with gratitude for his kindness – rules be damned. A spanking was worth sharing this moment with him.
“Do you trust me?”
Catherine nodded, and Sir reached around her to retrieve the body wash. She watched while he squirted a dollop of the soap into his hand, and lathered it up before spreading it in an even coat over her mound.
He picked up the razor. “Is this okay?”
Her eyes darted from his eyes to the blade and back before she nodded.
To give him room to work, she assumed, Sir guided her foot up onto the edge of the tub. “Catherine, I want you to play with your nipples while I do this. Make them the center of your world right now.” He gave her a minute or two to get lost in the sensation she was giving herself, then he shaved her smooth, rinsed her, and kissed every scar.
“We need to talk,” Sir declared when he stepped from the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. “I’ve laid out clothes on the counter for you. Put your hair up in a towel, bring the hair brush, and meet me back in the playroom.”
Catherine trembled with the emotions that coursed through her. Could he get any more perfect? She wondered with mild amusement. Once her body had dried, she hung the towel up, and turned to look at herself in the mirror. When she ran her fingers over her smooth mound, stopping to finger a raised circle, it seemed to her the marks were less noticeable than she remembered, even under the bright light.
Moments later she’d slipped into the plain, white, cotton thong and bra that reminded her of the time her Da had taken her to buy her first bra. It had been a horrible embarrassment for both of them, but seeing that her mother had died in childbirth, neither of them had much option. She felt a slight pang of sorrow tug at her. She missed her Da.
The sound of Sir’s throat clearing coming from the playroom reminded her she was taking longer than she should so she set her mind straight and slipped into the pretty blue and green tartan plaid skirt. She grabbed the brush and hurried out to stand next to him.
Sir was once again in the corner chair, but naked this time. Since her eyes were downcast, she was able to see his thick length resting against his thigh. It twitched while he looked her over.
“Come. Kneel before me facing the mirrors.”
She got into position, and her head jerked back when he tugged the towel free. She could see her reflection; see the flush on her chest suggesting the blooming of her arousal. His next move surprised her.
Sir started to brush her hair.
That
Catherine continued to hum and bask in the attention of his gentle scrubbing.
“Spread,” Sir directed when he reached Catherine’s legs. He washed the area, and moved down her legs before he had her turn and bend forward so he could make sure she received a thorough cleansing from behind as well. While Sir washed her, she knew he was inspecting her skin the best he could.
She kept herself trimmed, just not bare, but Catherine was sure he could detect the occasional pucker of pink skin beneath the wiry, ginger curls.
He let out a low hiss when he found a couple of the circular scars near her rectum – cigarette sized, and it was all Catherine could do not to cringe.
It hadn’t been consensual.
She had not enjoyed it.
However, it had been beyond her control at the time.
Catherine shuddered at the memory while Sir rinsed the suds from her body, placing tender kisses over the damaged skin as it was revealed. Daring to look down at him, she didn’t stop her hand from cupping his cheek when she discovered he was crying.
Was it for the suffering she had experienced? Could he care that much?
When Sir’s gaze traveled up Catherine’s body while he rested back on his haunches, she met it with gratitude for his kindness – rules be damned. A spanking was worth sharing this moment with him.
“Do you trust me?”
Catherine nodded, and Sir reached around her to retrieve the body wash. She watched while he squirted a dollop of the soap into his hand, and lathered it up before spreading it in an even coat over her mound.
He picked up the razor. “Is this okay?”
Her eyes darted from his eyes to the blade and back before she nodded.
To give him room to work, she assumed, Sir guided her foot up onto the edge of the tub. “Catherine, I want you to play with your nipples while I do this. Make them the center of your world right now.” He gave her a minute or two to get lost in the sensation she was giving herself, then he shaved her smooth, rinsed her, and kissed every scar.
“We need to talk,” Sir declared when he stepped from the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. “I’ve laid out clothes on the counter for you. Put your hair up in a towel, bring the hair brush, and meet me back in the playroom.”
Catherine trembled with the emotions that coursed through her. Could he get any more perfect? She wondered with mild amusement. Once her body had dried, she hung the towel up, and turned to look at herself in the mirror. When she ran her fingers over her smooth mound, stopping to finger a raised circle, it seemed to her the marks were less noticeable than she remembered, even under the bright light.
Moments later she’d slipped into the plain, white, cotton thong and bra that reminded her of the time her Da had taken her to buy her first bra. It had been a horrible embarrassment for both of them, but seeing that her mother had died in childbirth, neither of them had much option. She felt a slight pang of sorrow tug at her. She missed her Da.
The sound of Sir’s throat clearing coming from the playroom reminded her she was taking longer than she should so she set her mind straight and slipped into the pretty blue and green tartan plaid skirt. She grabbed the brush and hurried out to stand next to him.
Sir was once again in the corner chair, but naked this time. Since her eyes were downcast, she was able to see his thick length resting against his thigh. It twitched while he looked her over.
“Come. Kneel before me facing the mirrors.”
She got into position, and her head jerked back when he tugged the towel free. She could see her reflection; see the flush on her chest suggesting the blooming of her arousal. His next move surprised her.
Sir started to brush her hair.
That
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