“Bend over.” he said. “Scrub the bathtub.”
So she bends over and starts scrubbing away. Behind her, he stands leaning over the vanity cabinet watching her every move like a hawk. Her naked nipples brush the cold metal tub causing her to inhale sharply as the electric pulse shivers all the way down to her pussy. Unconsciously, she adjusts her knees, spreading them wider. In doing so, pushes her already raised hips to arch further, exposing herself deeper to his watchful gaze. She hears him chuckled as the sound of ice cubes swirl around the glass in his hand. She blushed and thinks about moving her knees back closer but knows better. ‘Good girl!’ he praises, “Now don’t forget the corners.” At the sound of his voice, she doubles her effort, scrubbing vigorously enough to bring a mist of sweat to her excited skin. Her breasts continue to rub against the top and side of the tub, dragging them left to right and back again as she moves to clean entire the length of the tub. What in the past was a boring, monotonous chore has become so physically and mentally stimulating. She is lost in this sweet moment, almost forget herself and her surrounds, when the shock of the ice cube on her clit, sears her back to now. The electric intensity of the ice releases a soft whimper although she’s not sure from pain, pleasure or both. But before she has a chance to decide, he slips the wet cube all the way inside her vagina. She moans aloud, the strange sensation tormenting her blissfully. She feels both a burning like sensation from the ice and the heat of his long strong fingers, skillfully toying with her spot. Liquid runs fast down her thighs, a sweet cocktail mix of bourbon, melted ice and her own juices. She struggles to remain focused on the scrubbing but can barely remember which part she had yet to clean. “My little cunt,’ he whispers in her ear with a low growl, ‘you are so hot, the ice melts almost as soon as i put it in.” He reaches for the glass and fishes out another cube, rubbing it up and down the soft lips surrounding her clit before putting in her parted mouth. The heady taste of the cocktail is intoxicating.
He picks up the speed with his clever fingers, like a well practiced pianist in the midst of a passionate composition. She feels the build up of her orgasm and closes her eyes. Rolling her head back, she asks in a quiet whisper, “Please, Sir.” He leans in close against her and says, “Soon, my girl…be patient.” She thrusts her hips backwards to get closer, her pussy clenching tight around his fingers. She slams her palm to the wall of the shower wall above the bathtub, trying to gain a center of balance, her center. As she moves her other hand for more stability, it hits the shower lever quite by accident. Suddenly, cold droplets rain down on her head, shoulders and back. She feels the water running down across her body before dripping from the tips of her hair, chin and nipples. But she is not distracted by it. She really couldn’t give a damn—she is already soaking wet!
Texts © Tangled Thoughts, 2013
Image Source: Gildam