He knows how to get her really wet.
I imagine that we’re at your house in London and there’s no one in. There’ll be no one home for a while. You make me crawl on my hands and knees into the garden. You sit me down on a chair and tie me tightly to it with duct tape. You look at me and laugh. You get the hose and turn the tap on. Water starts running out onto the ground. You edge the hose towards me but don’t actually spray me with the water. You wait, watching the anticipation in my eyes.
“Come on then. Do it,” I say
“You might want this, you little slut, but I’m going to do it to the point where it’s so unpleasant, you won’t be as cheeky in future.”
I laugh. “I don’t think so, c**t.”
“You don’t use that word, whore.” I start to answer back, but don’t really have a chance, because you point the hose at me and soak me with it. The water is cold. Really fucking cold. You come closer to me so you can stand over me and just hold the hose over my head. My hair is dripping and soon my clothes are completely wet too.
“You like this?”
“Yes.” I answer, with shame.
“You like me tying you to a chair outside and soaking you with freezing cold water from a hose?” I don’t answer.
“I asked you a fucking question.” You slap me.
“I love it.”
“How long could you stand this for?”
“Don’t know.”
“Because you know it’s just begun…” You point the hose between my legs and lean down and kiss me on the lips. We kiss for a long time, intensely, with tongues, until you pull away and resume holding the hose over my head. You keep it there for a good few minutes. I feel so degraded. I feel so cold. But I feel incredibly turned on.
“You do look really sexy, I have to say,” you tell me. I feel pretty sexy. You take the hose away and turn off the tap. You go inside and come back with a bucket. You take the hose off the tap and fill up the bucket with the cold water. You walk over to me and stand over me with the bucket in your hands.
“You cold?” you ask.
“What do you think?” I reply.
“I was going to do two buckets. Now it’s going to be four.”
“I don’t care.”
You start to tip the bucket so the water is almost pouring out, then you stop and hold it upright again. I’ve got butterflies in my tummy. I look at you and bite my lip. You laugh. You do this again two more times until you finally pour the whole bucket of water over my head. Even though I’m already wet, it’s a bit of a shock.
“I hate you,” I say.
“Then why do you let a man who you hate use you and make you suffer? You’re pathetic.” You like calling me pathetic. I don’t know if it makes you feel more powerful, but you seem to do it a lot. You fill the bucket again and pour it over me. Then you do it again. Then the last time, you decide to tease me again.
“You like being completely drenched?”
“Yes.”
“You want me to pour this last bucket over you?” I pause and then reluctantly nod my head.
“Then beg.” Of course. You like me to beg for things. I laugh. You look at me impatiently.
“Please pour that bucket of water over me. I love it so much. Please.” Satisfied with my pleading, you tip the last bucket of water over me. I’m so wet, I couldn’t be any wetter if you tried. My clothes are clinging to me but all I can think of is how fun it all was and how much I hate you even though I wanted it. You kiss me again. You can see how much I’ve enjoyed it and how aroused I am.
“I guess I could get to like this,” you say. I smile. You get some scissors and cut away the tape. You pick me up and carry me inside. You put me down on the bed where there is already a towel laid out.
“You don’t take those wet clothes off until I’ve finished with you, do you understand?”
“Yes, Master.”
You lift my skirt up and take off my thong. You put two fingers inside me.
“You’re very wet,” you say with a glint in your eye. We laugh.
“I know.”
You take your clothes off. You put your hand on your cock. It’s already nearly hard and you play with it until it’s fully hard.
“Spread your legs, whore,” you say.
I do as I’m told. You push your cock into me and I gasp as it goes in. You push it in all the way. You lean down to kiss me and I pull your hair. You pull my hair back, harder.
“Do you like being fucked in soaking wet clothes?”
“Yes. But next time I want to see you wet as well.” You laugh to yourself.
“Maybe,” you say. I could have guessed that reply. You slap me on the face.
“Harder,” I say
You hit me harder a few times. I hit you back; you hold down both my wrists with one hand and slap me again. I pull you towards me with my legs to fuck me deeper.
“You sexy little whore.”
“Bastard.”
“You’re my sex toy and I do what I want to you. You exist to make me come. You exist for me to use whenever I want and however I want. Do you understand?”
“Yes. I’ll do anything you want. I love you using me and I love you torturing me and I loved it when you were throwing all the water on me. I want you to throw me in a lake. I want you to push my head underwater. I want to suck your cock underwater again.”
“Oh fuck.”
“I’m your worthless little whore. I’m yours. I’m your slave.”
“Oh yeah…You’re my come jar and don’t you forget it.”
“I won’t.”
‘Do you want my come inside you, slut?”
“Yes. I want your come inside me. I want you to come in all my holes and wherever you want.” You’re looking at me with that angry turned-on look while you fuck me like you don’t care about me. You slap me round the face a few times.
“I hate you,” I say with disdain while you thrust into me, slow and deep and I know you’re having an orgasm. You moan and bite my neck and then stop thrusting. We kiss and you take your cock out of me and lie down on the bed next to me. You put out your arm for me to hug into and I cuddle into you.
“Thank you, Master,” I say. You kiss me on the lips.
We hug for a few minutes, something I love doing with you after a good hard fucking.
“Permission to change out of my wet clothes?” I ask.
“Permission granted,” you say.
