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Ellen’s eyes sprang open. Master Damon loomed over her. She didn’t want to move. Just let me rest, she almost whined aloud. Shocked at her disobedience, even if just in her own head, she forced herself upright and swung her legs over the side of the bed.
She swayed as she got to her feet. Damon placed a firm hand on the back of her neck, his touch sending a fizzy jolt of electricity over her skin as he steadied her.
The bathroom was small but well organized. It contained a toilet, a free-standing sink and a bathtub with a handheld shower head, the curtain pushed aside. There was also what looked like a linen closet, its folding doors closed. Steam rose from the bath water, carrying with it the soothing, nutty scent of jojoba and coconut oil. Ellen couldn’t wait to climb in.
“Do you need to pee?” Master Damon asked.
His words awoke her bladder, which was in fact uncomfortably full. “Yes, Sir.”
“I do, too,” he said, his eyes hooding. “Go kneel by the toilet, lift the seat and cup your hands over the bowl. I’m going to piss in your hands. Once I’m done, you may use the toilet.”
Ellen stood rooted to the spot as she struggled to process his command. He’d warned her he might do this very thing. But somehow, she’d assumed, at least on their first day, that he wouldn’t immediately go to what would have been described as a hard limit, if she’d been permitted any.
Aware this was a test of her obedience as much as anything, Ellen forced herself to crouch by the side of the toilet. Pulse beating in her throat, she cupped her hands, her head bowed.
Master Damon’s jean-clad legs appeared beside her. He unzipped his fly and shifted, presumably taking out his cock. Ellen pressed her lips together, wincing with barely suppressed dread of what was to come.
A moment later, a hot stream of urine filled the bowl of her hands. It took every ounce of control not to pull away and leap up in disgust. At the same time, a dark, erotic humiliation swept through her, heating her blood and making her clit throb.
Finally, he flicked the last few drops and tucked himself away. Ellen stared down at the pungent liquid still cupped in her trembling hands, silently begging him to release her.
He placed a hand on her head, a chuckle in his voice as he said, “There, now. That wasn’t so bad, was it, slave?”
Was the question rhetorical? Or did he really expect an answer? Before she could decide, he added, “Your turn. Empty your hands and then sit on the pot. I’ll even lower the seat for you.”
Face on fire, Ellen rose to her feet as Master Damon stepped away. She had no idea what to do with her dripping hands as she sat on the toilet. To her relief, Master Damon handed her a wad of toilet paper, allowing her to at least wipe away the worst of it.
“Spread your legs wide so I can see what you’re doing,” he commanded.
It took several long seconds before her body relaxed enough to allow her to pee. Fortunately, training at The Enclave had somewhat inured her to relieving herself in front of others. Even so, she couldn’t stop the continuing blush as Master Damon crouched in front of her, his head tilted as he watched her pee.
When she was done, he rose to his feet. “Good girl. Wipe yourself and then climb into the tub. I’ll bring you something to drink.”
As he left the bathroom, Ellen quickly washed her hands in the sink, using plenty of soap. Once done, she twisted her long hair into a makeshift knot on the top of her head. Then she lowered herself into the bath with a contented sigh. The oiled water soothed her recently flogged skin and eased the lingering sting between her legs. She leaned back against the rim of the tub and closed her eyes, savoring the heat.
Master Damon returned a few minutes later with a bottle of chilled water. He twisted off the cap and handed her the bottle.
“Thank you, Sir,” she said, taking a grateful swig.
“Anthony wasn’t kidding,” he said, grinning down at her. “The fridge and pantry have enough food for an army and all of it looks homemade. It’s a little early for dinner but then again, we missed lunch. I found a pizza in the freezer and popped it into the oven.”
At the mention of food, Ellen’s stomach rumbled loudly.
Master Damon’s grin widened. “Hungry, huh?”
Ellen managed a sheepish smile. “Yes, Sir.”
“I’ve got a few calls I need to handle for work. The pizza should be ready in about thirty minutes. I’ll leave it to you to prepare anything else you might want to serve with the meal.” With that, he turned on his heel and left the room.
Ellen lolled in the tub a while longer as she listened to his low, masculine murmur in the other room. The day so far had been intense but he hadn’t yet given her anything she couldn’t handle. While she hadn’t liked his peeing into her hands, she was proud of herself for her relative grace in handling it. And she was pleasantly surprised to see he had a nurturing side.
Mindful of the time, she reached for the fresh bar of soap that sat on the tiled dish built into the wall. She gently washed her vulva, resisting the sudden urge to masturbate. Even if she could get away with it with him busy in the other room, she had no intention of disobeying his direct order not to touch herself without his permission or command.
After pulling the plug and climbing out of the tub, she opened the linen closet in search of a towel. The closet contained a stacked washer and dryer set next to shelves containing towels, bed linens, toiletries and grooming tools.
Ellen grabbed one of the towels and quickly dried herself. When she was done, she hung the damp towel on the hook on the inside of the door. Recalling that Master Damon had dropped their bags just inside the front door, she left the bathroom with the intention of retrieving her duffel.
She didn’t have to go far, as he’d apparently brought both their bags to the bedroom while she was in the bath. She made a mental note to put everything away as soon as she had time. Meanwhile, she pulled her toiletry bag from her duffle and returned to the bathroom.
