I woke up, headed to the bathroom and took a shower. As if on autopilot, I shampooed my hair, rinsed it, shampooed again, rinsed again, slathered my body in shower gel, savored its sweet smell, swilled it down and enjoyed the hot water washing over my body. Nothing wakes me better than a constant, unending barrage of water painting a thousand invisible trials down my body, dripping off my nose and chin, breasts and nipples, elbows and fingertips.
Revitalized, I switched the shower head to a pulse, leaned against the wall, spread my legs, trusted my hips forward and pulled my pussy lips aside. Hot water filled my cunt, cleaned it out, beat against my G-spot and brought me slowly but steadily to an early morning orgasm. The red LED on the shower cam blinked enthusiastically and reminded me that there were people watching, wanking, jerking off, cumming with me. Conflicting feelings shot through my brain, irksome, but strangely arousing.
My phone went off and announced an incoming message.
Quote:
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Originally Posted by Nadia
Do I have to remind you that Adrian wants to call? Please take your pill.
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OMG! I was waiting for him, I was looking forward to him, I dearly wanted to get in the mood for him, there was no need to remind me of him. Nevertheless, I texted back that I would take my pill, dried myself off, wrapped a towel around my head and went to the living room. The little pill Nadia had left after her last visit was still in a zipper bag in a box on my bookshelves. I took it and washed it down with leftover Prosecco.
Nadia had told me that Adrian would call mid-morning, but had not been able or had not been willing to give me an exact time. I was wondering who in the end was in touch with him. It would not be Nadia. Most probably it was the BF, but as Nadia was involved, it could also be Laura. I thought it would be nice if it was Laura, it had been a long time since I've heard from her.
Not wanting to talk to Adrian with all the paying clients listening in, I donned a white shirt and white cotton panties, rolled the sleeves up, took what dirty laundry was in my hamper and rode the elevator down to the basement. Not long ago, the BF had explained to me that a men's shirt was the only sensible clothing style for me doing my laundry. He had added that I'd better not button the shirt and that, if I was fussy about it, he would make me go bare-naked. Hard to resist such a courteous invitation.
I entered the laundry room and found it empty. I put the laundry in the washer, added detergent and started the machine. The gray concrete of the basement floor felt cold on my naked feet. I shivered, placed my phone on a shelf opposite the washer, made sure that I was in the camera's field of view and hopped onto the top of the washing machine. I listened to the water run in and leaned against the wall, legs splayed open, knees bent, my toes touching. The unbuttoned shirt bared my tits and made me conscious of the wet, sticky and hungry cleft between my legs only scantily clad by my already damp cotton panties. In an attempt to keep some modesty, I pulled the shirt tails over my crotch.
Nadia had hinted that Adrian might call me on FaceTime and that I should be prepared. I checked my appearance on the phone's screen. I looked like a girl that had just come out of bed. Which I was, after all. I had not even put on fresh makeup. I hoped Adrian would like what he saw.
The air was chilly and made my nipples peek through the shirt. The tails concealed my panties only as long as I did not raise my arms. Tentatively, I ruffled my hair and yes, the shirt fell open and revealed everything.
The water in the washer started to get warm. The drum's repetitive vibrations lulled me. It felt good. My right hand reached for the smooth space between my legs and found it wet. I let it slide into my panties, pushed my middle finger in my cleft and gasped. I had hit my G-spot. Stroking softly I transitioned into a slinky and serene mood.
Staring at the phone's screen I thought back to Adrian's first call. The feelings I had had then, like falling in love with somebody for the first time, kept creeping back, but in a very strange way. Truth is, I did not know what to make of him. Back then, he had been quite suave and sincere and interested, but at the same time he had been inquiring and direct in his questioning. And he had been introduced by the BF!
In a flash, all my muscles tensed. I withdrew my finger and sat up. My mouth was dry, my skin was damp and my breath went shallow. Could it be that I was anxious? In a conscious effort to wind down I took a deep breath, as deep as I could, and when I finally exhaled I tightened my stomach muscles to push all the air out. It helped. I continued to breathe through my belly, my stomach rising on the inhalation and falling on the exhalation, until my anxiety waned. With newfound sensibility I smelled the chilly wetness of the detergents-filled air, felt the vibrating warmth of the water-filled washer, sensed the damp cloth of my juice-filled panties sticking to my sensitive skin. All my senses gyrated towards my pussy. As if on its own, my hand moved back to my snatch.
My confidence returned. I wondered what he would look like. I decided that I would throw all my social inhibitions to the wind and tell him anything, without any reservations. I wanted to connect. Why should I bother? He would be perfectly able to deal with me and my emotions.
With a bang the door opened and a teenaged boy stormed in. He had tousled red hair, wore baggy jeans and his T-shirt sported a Nirvana logo. I knew him, he lived with his parents, two apartments below mine. He ogled my iPhone and my naked legs, went to one of the tumblers on the other side of the room, opened it, put dry laundry in an empty hamper and left, not without throwing me a last nosy look. I snatched my shirt tails up and winked. He grinned. As soon as he was out, my hands snapped back to my crotch.
My fingers had just resumed their job when my phone sounded. It must be him! I felt a sense of freedom. A warm rush of lust swept from my belly right up to my brain. I jumped from the washer and touched the red dot. He would accept me as I was....
"Hello?" The screen remained dark.
"Adrian?" I hesitated. "It's me... Emily... "
He sounded far away. "Of course it's you! I'm glad to see you!" His voice grew louder, as pleasant and well-modulated as last time. "How come you're in the laundry room?" The way he said it made me think he was smiling. I climbed back onto the washer. "You look good on your throne - even if it's only a washing machine."
I did not want to be diverted, asked back, "Can you see me?" and pursued, "I can't see you..."
"Small wonder you can't see me." He seemed to shrug. "My camera is switched off."
"Oh..." I frowned. "I had hoped to see you."
"Darling..." I could almost hear him smile. "For the time being, there's no need for you to see me... "
I pulled my knees to my chest, hugged my arms around them, made a show of wrapping me up in my shirt and rested my head on my hands.
He laughed. "That does not help. Your panties are showing. I can even see that you're wet..." He cleared his throat. "Which brings me to the core of the matter..."
I let go of my knees, opened my legs and looked at the camera, but he kept quiet. Before the silence became unbearable, I burst out, "My dark sides?"
He grinned, "Yes.... How do you know?"
"Because last time we talked, you reacted very strongly when I admitted that I was hooked by this D/s thing."
I must have sounded unnerved, because he retorted, "Only because I liked it! I liked that you've been intrigued and agitated by it. And when you told me that it was a desire you already had as a kid..."
I interrupted him brusquely, "You are asking me to tell you about my fantasies as a kid?"
He deflected. "No! Not at all! I want you to understand the reason I do not want you to see me. Think of this call as a confession. At least kind of... If you go to a catholic church, you can't see the confessor either..."
Stubbornly, I asked, "What do you want me to confess, then?"
He was not to be interrupted. "Just take another example: If you go to a shrink, I mean a traditional Freudian psychoanalyst, he has you lying on a couch and you can't see him either... They believe it gives you more freedom to express yourself without feeling awkward..."
I did not know what to say, so I went silent. Then I whispered, "You may find it strange, but I found out about these feelings all on my own, before puberty, before I had my first period..."
This time it was he who did not know what to say. He waited for me to continue. When I did not, he started, "I do not find it strange..." but broke off.
I went through my option but did not feel like censoring my thoughts. Instinctively, I jumped over the hurdle. "It must have been around the time I found out that it felt good to touch me down there, but before I knew why it felt good, before my first orgasm. I remember one night, my parents had sent me to bed and I, the well-behaved kid, had obeyed, but waiting to doze off my mind wandered into a strangely arousing daydream..."
He kept silent. I went on, without thinking, not caring if voicing my thoughts was a good or a bad idea. "I had not peed before going to bed, back then I liked my bladder to be full, I liked the feeling, it was disturbing and stimulating at once, I pressed my thighs together and my mind wandered and I imagined being with other kids, not my real-life friends, kids I did not know, kids older than me, boys and girls, and we were in a playground. I was sitting on a swing and I was wearing a light summer dress and I was not demurely sitting on my dress as I was expected to, but sat on my panty clad bottom and the hem of my dress flew up with every swing forward and exposed my white cotton panties. I felt embarrassed and ashamed but I could not ignore the oh so good feeling this humiliation created down there, between my legs, wandering up to my belly, tickling my barely developed tits. The other kids, clambering about the monkey bars, urged me to leave the swing and I climbed up to them and - do you remember what it felt like to hang upside-down as a child? When I was small, I used to do it in the playground a lot, hanging from the back of my knees from the monkey-bars or from the branches of a tree. What a feeling of freedom and exhilaration!"
He had been right, talking to him without being able to see him was a liberating experience. I was no longer thinking about me as a bad person, I did not feel like I should not have these thoughts. All my inhibitions went sideways. "I had stopped to hang from the back of my knees about the age of seven or eight, as the ratio of weight to size changed and it became too painful, but in my daydreams I could still do it, and I Ioved it because it allowed me to flash my panties!"
It felt good to open up and share my thought. "By now I needed to pee even in my dream, and somehow everybody knew about it, and the others made fun of me and told me I would not be able to hold it and I would wet myself and the scene changed and I was standing with my back against a tree and my hands were tied on my back, behind the tree, and I was fearing and wishing at the same time that they would pull my panties down and inspect me thoroughly and discuss their findings as if I could not hear them and I spread my legs and my hands wandered under the blanket and I touched my slit and I was blushing and agitated and felt as if I was about to burst and then I got up and went to the bathroom and peed and felt better."
He asked softly, "Do you need to pee now?" Wondering about his question I realized that I actually needed to pee.
Puzzled, I replied, "Yes, I do, how do you know?"
"Just an inspired guess..." he said, in a voice that hinted at amusement. "I will let you go to the loo in a moment, but not before you tell me why you found it fascinating to be dominated, at such a young age."
I did not react to his good mood. "You mean, before I turned 18? Before I started to roam the shadier parts of the Internet? Before I found out that I was not alone with my secret desires, that there were innumerable comrades in suffering?"
He laughed. "Comrades in suffering? That's nicely phrased! That's what you think your fellow subs are?" I pressed my legs together. "Oh, I see... You really need to pee. Don't be grumpy, answer my question and I'll let you go... "
"You know what I like, otherwise we would not be playing this game..."
He said, "Be that as it may, I want you to tell me..." and fell silent.
I moaned, "If you insist," leaned back and opened my legs, my feet dangling from the washer. "There's a lot of things that turned me on back then. For example the idea of giving up my opinion. When I was young, if another person said I was wrong, I agreed. If another person said I was right, I agreed as well. I was a people pleaser, so knowing what another person wanted, being told what to do had a distinct appeal..."