Showered

For about twenty minutes, Amy simply holds onto me, before slowly pulling out and withdrawing. She slides off of her bed and looks at me, before stripping herself nude. Her fingers curl around my wrists, and she pulls me to my feet to stand up.

“Stand still,” she orders, taking a moment to strip the rest of my clothes off of me. Then she strips her bed down entirely, since we made a terrible mess. I watch her for a moment, standing still as commanded, until she looks at me, and motions.

“Come, faggot,” she orders, walking to her door and opening it, then out into the rest of the house, walking around nude as if it's literally her house. I follow her to the laundry room, watching silently as she stuffs the machine and turns it on.

I continue to follow, when she turns and leads me to the ground floor bathroom, and sits me on the toilet lid, stroking my hair. It feels like she's monitoring me, ensuring I am all right, after she rammed me hard and dominated me relentlessly.

“I'm okay, I promise,” I tell her, looking up as her as she strokes my hair out of my face, “You didn't fuck me brain-dead.” At that, Amy grins at me, one hand moving to rest on her hip. Her other cups my cheek, thumb brushing my cheekbone.

“It's called aftercare. Even faggots need it,” she tells me, “and you're going to have questions once you've recovered more. For now, we're going to bathe, which means I'm going to bathe you, and you're not going to argue with me about that bit.”

She knows me too damn well. I had been just about to object and assure her that I am more than capable of washing my own ass. She cut me off before I even started by telling me I wasn't going to argue. I don't think that's the brainwashing.

Amy just knows how to shut me up whenever she knows what I'm about to say and isn't gonna listen to it. She turns, and turns on the water, waiting for it to warm. Her eyes flick to me, “I'm going to use lukewarm water, since we're pretty hot.”

Once the water's ready, Amy crouches and turns, pulling me up with her shoulder under my arm. My cheeks turn to warm pink, again, as she acts as if I might fall over. “Jeez. You didn't fuck me so hard my legs turned into gelatinous ooze, Amy!”

“I know,” she grins, nuzzling her cheek against mine, “It's aftercare ... and an excuse to hold you ... and you know that I'm fond of being careful, and if you did fall, I'd feel terrible. So let me pamper you a little bit right now, all right, you whore?”

“Okay, Amy,” I answer, my cheeks pink as I offer a receptive smile, and she moves us into the water. She pushes me to sit on a small shelf, then pours shampoo on my head. I let her wash my hair, rinse, then wash and rinse her own hair, after.

Amy lathers her hands, and I close my eyes, letting her wash my face and ears, down my neck, from my fingers up to my shoulders. She spreads soap down my chest, all the way to my waistline, then I feel the warm water cascading onto me.

I open my eyes, watching her watch me, and she smiles. One wet hand cups my cheek, and her forehead touches mine. “Your eyes are clearer now. Good, good, but I'm still going to be bathing you fully. You relax, let me take care of you.”

“Okay.” I accept that she won't back off on it, and in truth, I do appreciate it. We're in territory that I'd never expected, and her confidence and guidance is welcome. I watch her bathe herself, then crouch down, bathing my legs, and hips.

My cheeks warm as she handles my cock and my balls, then turns me to the wall, washing my ass. I arch, gasping softly, as her fingers drive in, firm and lubricated by soap lather. I rest my forehead on the wall, as I feel her cum flowing out of me.

Her fingers press in, sweeping around, pulling back. I watch over my shoulder as she lathers her hands, again, then soaps my legs, anew, before rinsing her hands off. She stands, rinsing my body down completely, and turns off the showerhead.

It takes a few minutes before she's dried herself off, and then me. When she opens the bathroom door, I shudder a little at the gust of far cooler air that wafts in through it. She leans against the door and shouts out, “Dean! Are you home, now?”

“Yea!” a call comes back, “In my room!”

“Stay in your room, we're naked right now!” she shouts, and I hear his footsteps. I lean a little bit, just enough not to see Dean, himself, but to see, and hear, his door suddenly shut with a firm click. Amy grabs my wrist and pulls me to her room.

“Sit, fag,” she orders, and I drop to the floor and sit, watching her dress, “We'll talk in a minute, but first I'm gonna go get your clothes.” I nod, waiting as she retrieves them, and then I quickly get dressed while she gathers a new set of bedding.

Once we've made her bed, she knocks on Dean's door, then comes back to me, and we sit on the bed. I look at her, biting my lower lip, as I think about the last few hours. My mind wanders, and I start to wonder about something that she said.

Author's Note:
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