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For the second time in a day, she was naked, all naked this time, aware of the stroke of steam from the tub caressing her flanks, and moistening areas already wet. As if that part of her were a separate being, an aroused feline in truth, it was sharply aware of the proximity of his arm, pressed against the back of her thighs, the imprint of each finger along her knee cap, and what each of those fingers would feel like, imprinted on her slick crevices. The thought shivered through her body and he frowned, his eyes still closed.
"The water will be good and warm," he promised.
She smiled. "I'm not cold. Walk toward the tub. "
She nearly moaned as his first step moved his skin against her bare breast. With impish intent, she shifted in his embrace, dragging the already aroused nipple across his pectoral as she settled. His lips twisted in a wry grimace, his acknowledgement of her torture, and his grip tightened on her, in a way that suggested he would like to hold her so, in a myriad of positions, his hands never full enough of all she could have to offer.
It was only three steps to the almost full tub, but he stopped after each, asking her if his path was clear to take the next step, to be sure he would in fact safely deliver her to her destination. The clouds of steam were getting thicker, floating up from the fountains, swirling about them from the quiet whirl of the fan vent, and Lauren inhaled it, that dewlike air, coming off rock and earth, as if they were by a hot spring in a mountain cave.
"We're here," she said, and was pleased when he stopped, but did not automatically put her down, awaiting her pleasure on the matter.
Lauren reached up and traced his jawline with one finger, caressing his nape with the other hand molded to his neck. Her knuckles drifted down his sternum and to the place where her breast and his pectoral met. With one fingernail, she traced the joining path of the two curves, letting him feel the shape of her against him, as if drawing it on the canvas of his own body.
"Don't open your eyes," she repeated, suspecting the order might need reinforcement. "Remember the punishment if you do. "
"It would be worth it," he muttered, but he did not open them. She smiled, locking both her arms around him to draw herself up for a light brush of lips against the leaping pulse in his throat.
She gasped against his skin as he crushed her to him, holding her squeezed in his arms as if he could meld their skins together and make one inseparable organism if he held her that way long enough. His jaw pressed against her hair and she knew she did not imagine the tremor she felt run through the muscles there.
Again the thought ran through her, its passage like the drag of barb wire across her heart. What on earth happened to you, you lovely man?
She let him hold her that way for a moment more, tightening the grip of her own arms, to give him comfort. The sexual drumbeats receded to jungle sounds, and there was something far more gentle between them, something far more dangerous than the sexual vibrations.
"You can let my legs down, now," she said at last, breaking the spell. He complied, stooping slightly to release them, his hand following the length of her thigh so that when she stood, his hand trailed up her hip, his long fingers caressing the curve of her bottom.
"Drop your hands to your sides," she ordered, and he let out of whuff of frustration that brought back a startling memory. At her giggle, his brow creased.
"What?"
She studied his face, touched it to reassure him that she was not making fun of him. It would never occur to her to do so, not to this gift of nature. Her gift, for the time being.
"Well, I was remembering going to a dog obedience class with one of my friends. They had this exercise; I think they called it Sit-Stay with Stimulus. It was where the dog sat at his master or mistress's heel while the trainer and her assistants went up and down the line, approaching the dog, and crooning to them. You know 'you're such a good dog, look how beautiful you are,' to
see if they would resist their master's orders and stand up or go toward that stimulus. "
Lauren glanced down between them. She was standing nude before him, the heat of her body close enough to radiate onto his, and send the message clearly behind the closed eyelids that she was within touching, embracing - hell, a dip of the knees - fucking distance. Her gaze drifted down further. She suspected if she freed him from the constraints of his jeans, his arousal would be laying along the seam of her slightly parted thighs. And then it would be over. Even a Dominant had limits to what she could bear.
So, regrettably, for now, the clothes stayed on, though she would have enjoyed seeing him kneeling by the tub naked, his cock jutting up above his folded knees, all four knuckles of either hand required to be pressed to the tile floor on the outside of his thighs, his head up. Lauren wasn't a big subscriber to the
"head down and don't look the Mistress in the eye" school of Dominatrix. She loved faces, and all their expressions, and with a tucked down head, you missed a lot of information. Plus, it was actually harder for a self-conscious sub to keep his head up, which made it easier to earn the pleasure of punishment, if you made holding the chin up a requirement.
"That noise you just made," she injected warm humor into her voice, "reminded me of that class, the dogs impatient with the whole silly nonsense, but willing to endure it for the reward. "
"Do the trick, get the bone," he said.
"There was that instant gratification, yes," she curled one lock of his hair around the curve behind his ear, following the sensitive shell of skin down to the silver earring and tracing the small inside loop of that with the tip of her finger. "But while most of the dogs did need the little reward treats to keep them focused, mostly they seemed happy to be pleasing their Master or Mistress, taking joy in their owners' pleasure in them. I liked that. "
"Why?"
"Because it said there was something more between them, something that made them obey beyond treats. Maybe love. Maybe sort of the for better or worse bonding that dogs seem to be so much better at than people. "
His fingertips reached out, touched her face with unsettling accuracy. Lauren looked up at him.
"Don't be sad," he said softly.
She laid her cheek in his palm, and let him feel the attempt of a smile.
"Okay. " She straightened, gripped his forearm for balance and stepped into the tub, grimacing, as she had to shift weight to the tender ankle. All pain was forgotten at the blissful embrace of hot water. She shut off the water as he had instructed, leaving the fountains running. Lauren picked up a couple of the sapphire colored bathbeads Lisette had in a dish in one corner and dropped them in with her, changing the texture of the water so it became a soft oill upon the skin, perfuming the air with rosemary and lavender.
