The Making of a Mistress 12 – The Hanged Man

In the latest “Making of a Mistress” (12. The Hanged Man), wet again at Valleri’s hands – Katia visits Valleri and Johnathon on Christmas Day. Johnathon isn’t impressed with Valleri’s Christmas gift to Katia.

Once again I found myself in Valleri’s shower, this time enjoying a torrent of frigid water from the showerhead. It rained down on my skin like a hail of needles. Valleri wasn’t being deliberately cruel with the temperature. When Johnathon had picked me up from my drunken Christmas adventure in town, I’d been in quite the state. So, on arrival, Valleri had insisted on sobering me up. And while her method was valid, it was also a torment. I squirmed around between Valleri’s strong hands, which pawed and kneaded my skin as if with dough, prior to proofing.

The proof was in my arousal – the raised heartbeat, how I could only look on her with my open mouth and make insensible sounds. She laughed at me, holding me in place as she lathered the fragrant oil around my shoulders. Each stinging drop of ice cold water a trance percussion, building to a frenetic sense of devotion to her. Under the heat of her hands, bubbles formed, sliding over my body – each soft peak, each valley, like white horses, made of lust, inciting me to submission at her hands.

Valleri had expressed her dismay at the state I’d arrived in. Quite unecessary, she’d stated,  it cannot continue. As my face fell, the kindness seeped into her voice again. She commented with approval that I had been a good girl to remember to maintain myself in the other ways. Still dazed, I asked – what other ways? At this, she slid a hand approvingly between my thighs, over the bare skin. I felt the pulse of her blood hot hands against my frozen genitals as if it were moving through my own body. As if we were one. She pulled up then and I rose, to tiptoes, wanting her. Her gaze held mine, allowing nothing, her dark irises crackling with the intensity of control. As I leaned in to kiss her – for I couldn’t help it – she pulled away, taking her hand with her.. A refusal. Perhaps a punishment? I felt instantly ashamed. She sighed then, placing a hand to my cheek, her voice dark and deep like a siren on coastal rocks. Comforting and chastising me.”

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