Page 49 of His to Enjoy
“Come,” he commanded, his voice rough with his own approaching climax. “Come with my cock in your ass, you perfect little slut.”
The permission unleashed something violent inside me. My orgasm crashed through me like a tidal wave, my whole body convulsing.
“Master…” I screamed, “sir… oh… please… please, come…”
I felt him thrust deep one final time, burying himself completely as he filled me with his release. The sensation of his hot seed flooding my punished bottom sent me into another climax before the first had even finished.
We stayed frozen like that for a long moment, both of us gasping for breath. When he finally withdrew, I whimpered at the loss, at the strange emptiness. I could feel myself gaping open, unable to close, his seed beginning to leak from my thoroughly used bottom. The humiliation of it should have horrified me. Instead, I felt a deep sense of satisfaction, of rightness.
Scott moved to lie beside me on the bed, pulling me against his chest. His arms wrapped around me with surprising gentleness after such brutal use. I pressed my face into his neck, breathing in his scent, feeling safer than I’d ever felt in my life.
“Grace,” he murmured against my hair, and there was something different in his voice now. Something softer, more vulnerable. “You did so well. So perfectly.”
I lifted my head to look at him, searching his face. What I saw there made my chest tighten with an emotion I wasn’t ready to name. His usual controlled expression had softened into something almost tender. It only lasted a moment, though, as if Scott felt he had revealed too much, too soon.
“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he said. Before I understood what he was doing, he had gotten out of bed and scooped me up into his arms as if I were made of feathers.
Scott carried me to his massive bathroom, my arms looped around his neck, my face still pressed against his chest. Every step made me aware of how thoroughly he’d used me—my whipped pussy throbbing with each movement, my bottom feeling impossibly empty and sore. I could feel his seed leaking from me, trailing down my thigh, and the mortification of it made me bury my face deeper against his skin.
He set me down gently in the shower, keeping one steadying hand on my waist as he turned on the water. The spray was perfectly warm, and I sighed as it cascaded over my exhausted body. Scott stepped in behind me, his hands surprisingly tender as he began washing me with expensive body wash that smelled like sandalwood and musk.
“Spread your legs,” he murmured, his tone gentle but still commanding.
I obeyed immediately, whimpering as his soapy fingers cleaned between my thighs with careful attention. He washed away the evidence of my arousal, of his use, his touch efficient but also so intimate that my blush redoubled. When his fingers brushed over my still-swollen clit, I gasped and grabbed his forearm for support.
“Still so sensitive,” he observed, a note of satisfaction in his voice. “You’ll feel this for days, Grace. Every time you sit, every time you move, you’ll remember tonight.”
“Yes, sir,” I whispered, though the thought made my stomach flutter with a confusing mix of dread and anticipation.
He turned me around to wash my back, and I felt his fingers pause at my bottom. Without warning, he spread my cheeks, and I felt the warm water rinse away the last traces of his seed. The intimacy of it, the casual ownership of even this most private moment, made my eyes well with fresh tears.
“Shh,” he soothed, pulling me back against his chest. “You’re doing so well. My perfect girl.”
The praise undid something in me, and I found myself crying in earnest—not from pain or humiliation, but from the overwhelming intensity of everything that had happened. Scottheld me there under the warm spray, his arms tight around me, letting me sob against him without judgment or impatience.
When my tears finally subsided, he washed my hair with the same gentle thoroughness, his fingers massaging my scalp until I practically purred. It was such a contrast to the brutal fucking he’d just given me that I couldn’t quite reconcile the two versions of him—the demanding master who’d whipped my pussy and the tender man now treating me like something precious.
Then I felt something in him change, and to my mingled dismay and helpless pride, I saw that his enormous cock had begun to rise and thicken. My master found me pleasing, and I would have to obey him, I knew, whatever the cost to my comfort.
I reached for the body wash with trembling fingers, squeezing some into my palm. My eyes stayed fixed on Scott’s hardening length as I worked the soap into a lather in my hands.
“May I… may I wash you, sir?” I asked, my voice barely audible over the shower spray.
“Go ahead,” he said, his eyes darkening as he watched me.
I started with his chest, my soapy hands gliding over the firm muscles, but my gaze kept drifting lower to his now fully erect cock. The sight of it, knowing it had just been buried deep in my bottom, made my pussy clench despite how sore I was. My hands moved down his rock-hard abs, and when I finally wrapped my fingers around his shaft, he groaned softly.
“Please,” I whispered, looking up at him through the water droplets clinging to my lashes. “Please, sir, may I… may I suck it after I wash it? I need to taste you. I need to show you how grateful I am.”
His hand came up to cup my face, thumb tracing my lower lip. “You want to worship the cock that fucked your ass? What a good girl.”
“Yes,” I breathed, already starting to sink to my knees. “Please, sir. Let me clean you and then please you. Let me show you I’m your good girl.”
“Then do it,” he commanded, his voice rough.
I dropped to my knees on the shower floor, the tiles hard against my skin. With the washcloth I cleaned the huge, rigid shaft as its owner’s breathing grew shallower and more audible, the sign of my master’s pleasure. The water cascaded over us both as I leaned forward, placing reverent kisses along his hardened tool before taking it into my mouth. The taste was clean, but the knowledge of where Scott had fucked me last made my cheeks burn nonetheless. I took him deeper, using everything he’d taught me about pleasuring him with my mouth.
“Christ, Grace,” he groaned, his hand tangling in my wet hair. “Look at you. So eager, so sweet.”
