Shower

As I entered the gym, he made me stand up.

• Come on, let's take a shower together. You really need it, and I have a couple of things to take care of.

Strangely, showering in his arms made me tremble with desire, despite the shame and pain that still gnawed at me. His hands, so rough just moments before, slid over my skin covered in dried mud, the hot water cascading in murky streams between us.

"Wash me," he ordered.

His voice was low, almost a whisper, but the order resonated like a whip crack. My trembling fingers rose, tracing furrows in the dried mud on his chest. The hot water washed away the dirt in brownish strands, washing his skin beneath my palms. Each movement was slow, hesitant, as if I were afraid of triggering his anger again.

He ran his hands over my body, my breasts through my hair. I shivered. His gaze was filled with so much emotion. I no longer knew what to think of Virgil, but he knew how to awaken desire in me.

His fingers dug into my wet hair, pulling me against him until our breaths mingled under the hot stream of water. The acrid smell of soap stung my nostrils as he scrubbed with calculated brutality along my spine, as if he wanted to erase something other than dirt.

"Lower," he growled, guiding my hand down his taut stomach.

I felt his body pulsing against mine, and his erection was so impressive, yet not fully erect. With my hand, I began to wash him or masturbate him; the difference was barely noticeable.

• Hmm, yes, you know how to use your mouth now.

My mouth closed around him, the hot water flowing between our steamy bodies. The taste of soap and salt on my tongue mingled with his muffled moans. His fingers dug deeper into my hair, guiding each movement with tyrannical pressure—too fast, and he would groan; too slow, and his nails would scratch my scalp.

I felt his erection in my mouth, hardening to its maximum. He lifted me up, his taste still lingering in my mouth, then pressed me against the shower wall, lifted me, and oh yes, his penis pressed against mine before releasing me, impaling me completely in a single thrust. My breath caught in my throat. It was so, so... well, ah, he began to move in and out.

The heat of the water mingled with the heat of his body, crushing mine, each thrust more violent than the last.

The cold shower tiles dug into my back with every thrust, the pain mingling strangely with the pleasure that rose like a tide. His hands gripped my thighs, his fingers digging into my flesh like vises as he quickened his pace.

"Look at me," he growled through clenched teeth, and I looked up to meet his dark gaze, heavy with desire and domination.

His hips slammed against mine with calculated ****, each movement tearing a gasp from my constricted throat. The steam from the shower enveloped our entwined bodies, the water cascading in murky ripples between our overheated skin. I felt every vein of his pulsing against my inner walls, an exquisite burn that made me arch my back against the icy tiles.

“Tighter,” he growled, his fingers digging into my hips to immobilize me. I wrapped my arms around his neck, panting as he satisfied his primal urges. He didn’t care about my pleasure, yet he fulfilled it. I loved sex without frills.

His nails dug into the flesh of my thighs as he accelerated, each thrust more savage than the last. The sound of our wet bodies slapping against the shower walls echoed, mingling with my muffled moans and his hoarse grunts. Pain and pleasure were so intertwined that I no longer knew where one began and the other ended.

• Hey, you’re not going to sell me out to clients to get gym memberships, are you? he said. He looked at me with a cold, humorless stare.

You're deluding yourself if you think I'm going to give you anything for free. You'll pay every penny, and if that's how you get what you want, you'll pay.

From that moment on, his thrusts became more brutal. I moaned in distress, but also because I was wet, betrayed by my body.

His hips slammed against mine one last time, deep, as if he wanted to leave his mark on my flesh. A hoarse groan escaped him as he stiffened, his fingers bruising my hips. The explosive heat between us mingled with the dripping wetness, his body trembling against mine in a spasm of satisfied domination.

I felt his burning breath against my neck, his teeth brushing against my skin like a final threat, his penis throbbing as he ejaculated inside me, his semen spilling out, he arched his back to spread it as far as he could.

-You belong to me, he said. I'm going to **** you again and again. You'll regret making a fool of me. You'll put your collar back on in an hour. Your first client will be here. If you don't want me to hand you over to him, you'd better prove him wrong, or you'll belong to him for an hour." My teeth chattered as he withdrew abruptly, letting his warm fluid trickle down my trembling thighs. He turned off the water, looked at me for a moment.

-Dry me, he said, handing me his towel.

I took the towel with a trembling hand, my clammy fingers sliding over the thick fabric still imbued with his musky scent. Kneeling on the cold tiles, I began to dry his wiry calves, moving up his tattooed thighs where drops of water still mingled with my own sweat. Each movement of the towel made my bruised skin tingle, the fabric reviving the marks of his fingers on my hips.

My fingers trembled as I traced his thighs, the towel absorbing each drop with calculated slowness. His acrid scent—sweat, sex, and domination—filled my nostrils as I dried his lower abdomen, narrowly avoiding the still-swollen flesh that quivered beneath my breath.

I was breathless and so moved to belong to such a beautiful man. I knew I was going to suffer, but I couldn't stop fantasizing about him.

In the end, I grabbed some sports gear he gave me, marked "staff," that was bordering on indecent.

-As much as you attract customers, I want to create a VIP category where they can challenge you once a month. If you fail, you'll belong to them for an hour. You'll either improve or become a piece of trash.

• But they're men, so I'm starting with a handicap. It's not fair.
• Don't worry, women can challenge you too, and that will motivate you to be the best.

I glanced down at the too-short sports shorts and the tight tank top, the fabric clinging to every curve like a humiliating second skin. My fingers brushed against the thin, transparent material where sweat would inevitably cling to my body. Virgil suddenly leaned forward, his hot breath on the back of my neck as he slipped a possessive hand under my tank top.

"Are you trembling already?" he murmured, cruelly pinching a hardened nipple between his fingers through the fabric of the bodysuit.

I bit my lip to stifle a moan of pain, but also of pleasure.