Shower

Steam and Reflections

The warm steam melts the wrinkles from my clothes as I stare into the mirror, fading out of view, inward, into a sanctuary of illicit allure. I close my eyes, basking in the steam, and reflect on the day's events. My focus, intense. My breath begins to catch, as if my anxiety has taken form, tightening its grip on my throat. My heart palpitates. My mind races. Yet a strange arousal stirs within, and the constriction is welcome. I unclothe, my mind numbed by anxious frights and curious appetite. I make my way to the shower; the cold bites at my feet; the steam wraps around me, but its warmth tempered by an unwelcome breeze. Everywhere, it seems, the chill flirts with me.

Punishing Purgation

Inhale. Left foot, lead.

The scorching water strikes my ankle, leaving a stinging bite.

Exhale.

Lured by the gaze of a breathtaking man, I step into his sanctuary, met with the comforting warmth but challenged by the sadism in his eyes.

Inhale. Right foot, next.

Blistering droplets cascade over me, journeying from shoulder to buttocks to heel, painting my skin with red trails of dilated capillaries.

Exhale.

Red trails turn to red lashes from a whip wielded with malice by one who loves pain. In a single breath's exchange, I knew not when, my wrists are bound high and taut. Gone are my familiar clothes, replaced by scant, backless leather briefs. Shackled by will, I hang vulnerable, chest against the wall. The rough-hewn texture chafes my chest, occasionally grazing my nipples with each subtle move. My Dungeon Master making his presence known with every breathtaking strike.

Inhale.

I dip my head back to wet my hair, but am careful to keep my front dry. Two pumps of shampoo will do, and I lather it through my hair. The fragrance in the air, almost as a cue of my lewd habit, has my flaccid penis gorging blood.

Exhale.

Approaching from behind, my Chastening Master revels in the pain I endure. His right arm wraps around for a close embrace, his fingertips landing on my left nipple. He pinches and twists with thumb-middle finger grip, flipping the top with his index finger. My nipples redden and harden from the assault, and a deep tissue sting settles in. He brings his left hand around into my already open mouth. He plays with my tongue, running his index and middle fingers along the side of my tongue, applying pressure in a scissor-like grasp. Running under my tongue, back toward the front, his fingers meet and he proceeds down to the back of my thro---

Inhale.

With a deep abdominal convulsion, I dry heave as my throat constricts around my fingers, and blood rushes to my head. The pain is quite real, as if my nerves have been awakened from their frozen slumber. I clear my throat of guttural fluid, spitting out the viscous saliva. Looking down, it's clear something else has awakened. With saliva still slick on my left hand, I fondle my scrotum. It has loosened in the heat, and I can't help but smell the the pungent, genital odor encompassing my hand. From the tub's edge, two pumps of balm, I palm.

Exhale.

Still chained, my freshly erect cock dangles, put adrift by untold fantasies, held adrift by anticipation. The slight downward angle like a dowsing rod, pointing to aquifers of semen ready for harvesting. Maintaining his position behind me, out of site, my Ferine Master, bulge in my ass, places a band clamp at base of my penis with the thumb and forefinger of his left hand. I can tell there's still a slight squish to my erect dick as I feel blood rush to my tip as he gently pulses his flesh ring. He lathers lubricant over my shaft, with the precision befitting a treasure. He then mirrors his left hand clamp with his right just in front of it. He loosens the clamps, moving the left clamp back, his pinky landing on my taint. Squeezing it tight, he thrust forward, simultaneously running the right clamp toward the tip. My pipe floods with blood and my tip swells. Each pump, one after the other, leaves my erection fuller, the tip pulsating with increased sensation.

Inhale.

I have assimilated with pain, I forget my day, and focus on my excitation. I open my outer gates to Sodom, letting the water through, and gently press on my rectum. An unfrequented erogenous zone: the resistance keeps me out, but my craving overcomes. My right hand reaches behind as my left moves down, both targeting maximum ecstasy. My left hand rubs my inner thighs and plays gently with my taint, occasionally pinching my scrotum. My right fingers press on the entrance locked tight, trying to penetrate with a slippery sludge: the shampoo down my back that made it to my crack and the lotion, whose oily viscosity, now emulsified with water, has morphed into a slick lubricant. When the hinges are finally greased, and the inner gate is breached, an opus begins between my balls and ass which makes my bulged dick tingle uncontrollably.

Exhale.

I feel the damp breath of my Voracious Master on my shoulder before he sinks his mouth into my neck. He makes his way down my back, with oral play that could devour every inch of my body. He approaches my Sodom gates, and as if they weren't there, plows his tongue deep into my ass. His teeth sink into my cheeks as his tongue probes deeper, knowing only approximately its target. With staggering haste, he has found my prostate. At each tongue's pulse, I'm left with an urge to piss which subsides with each sporadic beat, leaving me longer, harder, and thicker with each cycle.

Inhale?

"No." I obey, a total slave to these proceedings. I'm unchained, in my shower, yet under the control of my Untamed Master. With my left hand, I stroke my shaft, midway then to the base. Holding it in place, the skin is tight, and each stroke of my right is intensified. The pre-cum, pumped out with each spasm of my pelvic floor, rejuvenates my lube, making my tip incredible slick. Unable to breathe and edged to the brink, my mind just cannot get enough. White froth begins to form on my shaft, I'm not sure how much more I can take before CUM! As if timed to the instant with cruelty, my Draconian Master, in his lustful damnation, denies my climactic release. In my denial, my balls throb in pain, and I'm left on the cusp of anguish.

Inhale?!

My lungs are begging for their rights, but my zealous mind conquers. I want nothing more than for my balls to retract and to open their climactic gates. But as if it were a commandment from my Unyielding Master, my kegels reach new feats. A brief moan slips out, distinctively primal, emanating from a well of primitive rapture. The rhythm of each stroke getting faster and faster as my heart races and I'm deprived of oxygen. Each thrust increasing in vigor, as my wrists weaken as they tighten and the muscles in my arms strain. I rise on my toes, my right hand slamming into my left at the base sending shockwaves to my balls with each impact.

Inhale!

My lungs are granted their respite. Feet, arched. Muscles, tight. Twitching in solitary exploitation.

An Addict's Limerick

The stress of the day washes away,

replaced by some dopamine play.

Though brief is the glee,

in ecstasy I'll be,

anticipating tomorrow's fray.

Mundane

Guilt, shame, anxiety: none of which are in my heart. I'm deserving of sin, a labor worth today's struggles. As the cleaning fragrance fades from the thick steamy air, I am left with the fetid smell of the city water and biofilm on my shower tiles. With the best cum of my week, I return to the mundane life.

...to be continued.

Author's Note:

Dear Reader,

The journey you've undertaken with my words has not gone unnoticed. There's a certain intimacy in the act of reading, don't you think? I'd welcome your insights, your critiques, as we explore the depth of this connection.

Please rate and leave feedback so that I can improve my writing and thus improve your experience.

Stay hard my friends,

Augriffe Grant