“To be fair, I hadn’t seen your shower.” I laughed, glancing around the room we were standing in. There were numerous crisscrossing showerheads, benches, shower wands, and it could even turn into a steam room.

He adjusted the shower streams and guided me over to a seat where warm water cascaded over my shoulders and back without getting in my eyes.

“When do I get to take this off, my lady?” He glanced down.

“Earn your freedom,” I purred, feeling every inch an Amazonian Queen.

He sank to his knees before me, draping my legs up and over his massive shoulders and taking the toy from my hand. I was surprised when he stroked his tongue across me, lapping hungrily despite the water that was getting in his face.

“Don’t drown,” I breathed, gasping at how good it felt. “I’m not explaining that one to the tabloids.”

“It’d be worth it,” he growled, redoubling his efforts.

This man, this magnificent man. He was my every fantasy brought to life. He was single-mindedly focused on my pleasure despite the pain he was likely having to work through to bring it about. He was enduring it for me, and goddamn did that turn me on.

I whimpered helplessly, gripping the handle on the wall and digging my heels into his back to stay balanced. My vision blackened at the edges because I forgot to breathe, caught up in the exquisite torment of the wave of pleasure that engulfed my senses.

I sat there panting, still gripping the handle, unable to form any thoughts beyond holy shit, holy fucking shit that was good.

He laughed darkly, so I must’ve said it aloud. Damn. As though his ego needed a boost.

He rocked back on his heels, standing up with his eyes closed, breathing deeply. He commanded in a strained voice, “Take it off. Now.”

I quickly unlocked the metal cage and reached forward to take him in my mouth, but he pushed me back onto the bench. He stroked himself, muscles tensing as he rapidly pumped his hand. I arched my back in offering and he made a delicious mess, marking his territory in the most fundamental way.

As though to further illustrate his claim to me, he pulled me up from the bench and wrapped his arms around me, my back pressed against his chest. He adjusted the water so it was running over both of us, then reached for soap and gently cleaned up the mess he’d made without letting me out of his embrace.

I’d been a pro domme for years, and no one had ever made me feel this worshipped, like he cherished me completely. He was going to ruin me if I wasn’t careful.

“Christ, woman…” He kissed me, sounding growly. “You have some kind of fetish for teasing me.”

I laughed. “It’s part of proving yourself worthy. I definitely get off on it. You seem to hate it, though…”

“Never stop. It’s torture, but it’s exhilarating. It makes me feel…I don’t know. Something. I don’t know how to explain it.”