Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 82829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
For a reason I can’t understand, I’m hit with a wave of emotions, like a tsunami chasing me down. Tears rush down my face, blurring us in the mirror. “You’re not mad?” I don’t know why I’m asking. There’s not a part of me that believes Marshall would be mad in a situation like this, but I need to hear it.
“No.” He uses his free hand to wipe my tears, the other one still holding the enema bag. “I’m proud. You’re such a good boy. You did so well for me. I’m not angry or disappointed in you.”
As soon as I hear the word disappointed, I realize that was really my fear—that’s what I needed him to say. I want Sir to always be proud of me, and I feared not being able to go on would make him dissatisfied with me, but really, it was the opposite.
“Thank you, Sir.”
“Are you okay? I’m going to pull it out, and you have to tighten to hold the water inside. Can you do that for your Sir?”
“Yes,” I reply, determined to accomplish what he asked.
“Good boy.”
It’s weird and uncomfortable when he pulls it out. I flinch, but I also make sure I hold the water in. I can’t imagine having an accident like that in front of him. I would be horrified, but somehow, thinking about that, how embarrassing it would be, manages to turn me on more.
“There we go… Now turn around and look at me.”
The fullness inside me is even more noticeable when I stand straight and turn. Sir sets the supplies on the counter, then washes his hands slowly, as if he has all the time in the world.
“How do you feel?”
“Like you shoved an enema nozzle up my ass, filled me with water, and now I have to hold it in.”
Marshall gives me a devilish grin. “Perfect. Now undress me.”
“Yes, Sir.” I wince, trying to ignore the discomfort in my gut. It’s not as jarring as the first time I did this to myself, and if it starts hurting, I know what I need to say to make it stop.
Sir lifts his arms for me to pull his shirt off. When I stretch up to do it, another cramp spasms in my stomach.
Next, I work open his jeans, then push them and his underwear down his thighs. Sir isn’t fully hard, his cock at half-mast. I want to lean in and suck him, to inhale his scent and let it soothe me, but I haven’t been given permission, so I don’t.
When I get to his feet, he lifts one leg, then the other so I can pull his clothes the rest of the way off. I look up at him, and his eyes meet mine.
“You’re so beautiful,” Sir says, reaching out and caressing my cheek, causing warmth to flood me.
“Will you smack me, please?”
“Are you sure you can handle it right now?”
I figure he means so I don’t let out the water, but I feel okay. I know I can do this.
I nod, and a stinging smack lands on my cheek. Blood rushes to my groin, making me harder.
“Again,” I beg, wanting more of this glorious torture, but then another cramp hits.
“No. Not yet. Sit on the toilet.”
Oh…oh.
Sir chuckles. “Didn’t think about that part, did you?” He crosses his arms and leans against the wall.
“No, I didn’t. I’m not sure why. You’re going to stay in here?”
Despite knowing the answer, I watch him expectantly. When he nods, I sigh and sit on the toilet.
“Remember, you can always use your safe word if you want me to leave.”
But as weird and uncomfortable as this is, I don’t want to use my safe word. There’s something about letting him see these parts of me that makes me feel even more connected to him. When you’re dating someone, you try to only let them in on the good parts, the sexy or desirable ones, but with Sir and me, it’s never really been that. He’s seen me in ways no one ever has, and while he’s more experienced, I’d like to think there is something different in how I’m seeing him too.
When I don’t give him the word, he nods and says, “Go ahead, whenever you’re ready.” He then starts messing with the faucets, turning the shower on.
Face flaming, I do my business with the shower running and Sir leaning against the opposite wall, watching. The expression on his face doesn’t change. He doesn’t look grossed out or anything like that.
I’m not sure my face has ever been hotter, and it takes a while to finish, but when I’m done, Sir tells me, “Good boy.”
“If you say so,” I reply, and he frowns.
“I do. You’re so good for me. Now wash your hands and get into the shower.”
I swallow the knot in my throat, both excited and nervous for what’s to come.