I crept past the curtains with the exaggerated patience of someone who knew exactly what they were doing and wanted the universe to appreciate the theatrical commitment, only to be immediately assaulted by a blast of steam so dense and scorching it felt as though the air itself had decided to choke me out of spite.
I swiped at my face with one hand, clearing the sudden film of condensation that threatened to blind me, blinking hard until my vision adjusted enough to take in the rest of the space.
The bathroom was compact—designed for efficiency as opposed to luxury, though the materials were expensive enough to blur that distinction—with sandstone walls that drank the steam, turning the space into a hazy cathedral of heat and moisture.
It was brighter than the bedroom we’d abandoned, lit by oil lamps tucked into recessed alcoves, their glow sliding over wet stone and refracting through the haze until everything took on that soft, dreamlike unreality.
The shower occupied the left corner, a modest arrangement of glass panels and polished brass fixtures that funneled water from a source I couldn’t identify and chose not to question.
Through the glass, I caught Jazmin’s silhouette moving with unhurried grace—blurred by the steam and streaming water, yet unmistakably hers. She worked soap through her hair in long, sensual drags, fingers raking from scalp to ends, before tilting her head back to let the spray rinse suds from her face and throat.
Her back arched in a curve that seemed anatomically excessive, chest jutting forward in a way that displayed her breasts to maximum effect. Even through the swirling veil of steam, the heavy swell of them was impossible to ignore—nipples dark and flushed, catching the dim glow of the oil lamps in tiny, glistening highlights that made my cock—despite having just cum what felt like several times its own volume—stir with renewed interest at the sight.
I made a deliberate show of clutching my wrist with one hand, shifting my weight from foot to foot in a display of hesitant arousal calculated to draw her attention. My breathing stayed shallow, audible in the humid hush between the drum of water and the hiss of steam.
Seconds stretched into something unbearable. The air between us thickened, charged, as though the steam itself were waiting for the moment she noticed.
Then it happened.
Jazmin’s hands stilled in her hair. Soap suds slid forgotten down her forearms. Her shoulders tensed, spine straightening a few degrees. The rhythm of the water against her skin seemed to change—louder, sharper—as though it too had noticed the shift in attention.
"Well," she said, her voice drifting softly through the steam, "look who decided to follow me. Couldn’t stay away, could you? Already missing the taste of my skin?"
She rotated to face me fully, water streaming down her body in shimmering rivers, before curling her finger in a beckoning gesture, equal parts invitation and command.
Without a second to waste, I reached for the glass door, fingers curling around the warm brass handle, but before I could pull it fully open, Jazmin’s hand lashed out from the swirling steam with snake-striking speed, gripping my wrist and yanking me forward with enough force to make me stumble.
I collided with her drenched body, my face plunging straight between the plush, heavy swell of her breasts.
The scent hit me instantly—faint traces of my drying cum tangled with whatever soap she’d been using—clean and innocent on the surface, yet undercut by the thick, lingering musk of fresh debauchery that clung to her skin like a secret.
The shower’s cascade soaked my hair in seconds, water streaming down my neck and back in warm, relentless rivers, plastering my body to hers while her flesh—impossibly soft, slippery with suds and sweat—yielded around me like living silk.
Her hand rose then, cradling the back of my head with surprising gentleness while her other hand slipped through my sodden strands in long, unhurried strokes, combing wet locks away from my forehead with the languid patience of someone savoring something precious.
Then she tilted my chin just enough to press a soft, lingering kiss to my brow—gentle, almost maternal, the kind of touch that should’ve felt jarring after all the filth we’d traded, but instead sharpen the contrast into something delicious, making the sweetness sting succulently against the lingering taste of my seed on her tongue.
Internally, I began to smirk with satisfaction because she had no idea what was about to happen, no concept of how thoroughly I was about to dismantle her control and turn this encounter into something she hadn’t prepared for.
Without a moment’s hesitation—without warning, permission, or any indication of my intentions—I activated my arousal spell.
The change struck like a thunderclap in slow motion.
The atmosphere seemed to thicken, pressure building as though desire itself had acquired mass and decided to settle into the room, pressing down on both of us with physical force.
Jazmin’s breath snagged in her throat—a sharp, involuntary gasp that ripped out from her chest. Her lungs seized, then expanded in a desperate heave, forcing the swell of her breasts harder against my face.
Her fingers, still tangled in my wet hair, began to quiver at my head—small tremors that betrayed how completely the spell was affecting her system, sinking its claws deep into her nerves and flooding her veins with liquid fire.
She wrenched me backward with enough force to make my neck twinge, just enough for our eyes to meet, and what I saw there was beautiful—confusion bleeding into her features like ink into water, raw and unfiltered, her brows drawing together as her pupils dilated so wide they nearly swallowed the light, her body betraying her in waves she couldn’t comprehend, trembling with a heat so fierce it seemed to border on agony.
In that suspended heartbeat, I moved—slipping behind her with liquid grace, letting the warm cascade and swirling steam wrap around me like a conspirator’s cloak—positioning myself at her back before she could process what was happening.
I molded myself there, chest sealing against the curve of her spine, my cock slipping naturally into the plush cleft between her cheeks—already rigid again, nestling deep where the flesh parted just enough to cradle the throbbing length.
And that’s when my assault began in earnest.
I let my hand drift down her thigh in slow motion, fingertips hovering in that exquisite near-touch—close enough that the heat of her skin kissed them, yet never quite making full contact.
A shiver rippled through her, muscles fluttering beneath the ghosting promise as her thighs parted wider on pure instinct, an unconscious offering, a silent plea carved in trembling flesh.
Then my other hand claimed her pussy outright.
No hesitation, no preamble—just the warm, decisive cradle of my palm settling over every silken inch of that plump, fevered mound. She arched into the hold with a broken moan, hips lifting as though trying to press herself deeper into my hand.
My fingers found her clit immediately, throbbing beneath the pad of my finger like a second heartbeat—swollen and sensitive, begging for attention—and in that same instant I began rubbing slow, possessive circles around the engorged nub, pressure feather-light yet precise, just enough to make her hips twitch forward but nowhere near the friction she craved.
Her juices coated my fingers, thick and slippery, turning each lazy orbit into a wet, obscene glide.
"What—" Jazmin’s voice broke on a trembling gasp. "What are you doing—?"
I didn’t answer, letting silence do the work while my fingers continued their methodical torture until, just then, my middle finger speared straight into her sopping cunt without mercy, burying deep as her slick walls clamped down like a vise, sucking at the intrusion as if starving for more.
Jazmin’s arms lifted with a small, almost adorable little twitch, elbows bent, hands hovering uselessly as she began panting in earnest, her carefully maintained composure crumbling under the dual assault of my fingers and the arousal spell flooding her system with artificial need.
Her tail lashed wetly against my thighs in heavy, erratic strokes, soaked fur dragging across my skin in rough, teasing drags that sent electric tingles straight to my cock—each slap a wordless confession to how completely she was losing control.
I plunged deeper, shoving a second finger in alongside the first, then a third, all while maintaining that relentless pressure on her inner walls, working harder, faster, until I felt her beginning to crest—her breathing growing sporadic, her muscles tensing, her cunt clenching rhythmically around my fingers in the telltale pattern of approaching orgasm.
Only then did I trigger the shock spell, channeling a sharp, concentrated jolt of electricity straight into her throbbing clit.
Jazmin screamed—raw and primal, echoing off the sandstone walls with enough volume that I briefly worried someone might investigate—before her entire body convulsed, back arching violently as thick, creamy jets erupted from her cunt in forceful spurts, drenching my fingers in hot, viscous waves. The slick gush poured down my wrist, mingling with the shower’s cascade in milky rivulets that swirled around our feet.
I withdrew my hand with a soft, almost delighted giggle, watching her collapse in an ungainly sprawl—knees buckling, thighs quaking, her legs giving out completely as the aftershocks wracked her frame.
I stepped around to face her then, towering now as she knelt in the pooling water. Her eyes lifted to mine—wide, pleading, shimmering with stunned confusion. This hadn’t been part of her script, wasn’t something she’d anticipated or prepared for.
Her mouth began working frantically, trying desperately to form words, sounds, anything that might help her process what I’d just done to her.
But I didn’t give her the chance.
Instead, both my hands rose to clamp around her skull, fingers digging into wet hair, before I thrust forward hard, forcing my rigid cock straight down her throat without a shred of warning or permission.
She gagged initially—a wet, choking sound that sent delicious vibrations straight through my throbbing shaft. But then she moaned around the intrusion, low and ravenous. The tight ring of her throat softened and stretched, welcoming me deeper as my hips pressed flush against her face, her nose buried in the damp skin above my groin.
Her tongue flattened thick against the underside, dragging in hungry laps while saliva bubbled at the corners of her stretched lips and dripped in thick strands down her chin.
Then came the madness.
Jazmin began working with frantic determination, her head bobbing as her hands rose to grip my thighs for leverage.
Her technique was exceptional. She alternated between deep, full-throated swallows that took me to the root, her throat constricting in warm, rippling waves around my cock, before focusing on the swollen head, her tongue tracing intricate, teasing patterns across the sensitive ridge and underside until my knees threatened to buckle.
Every so often she pulled back further, letting her lips glide down the shaft in long, sucking strokes, the tip of her tongue flicking lightly at the slit to coax out fresh beads of pre-cum.
The moment she sensed me trembling, she plunged down again, taking me deep with an eager choke that vibrated straight through my core.
Her breasts hung low and pendulous beneath her, each forward surge of her head sending them into a slow, voluptuous swing, colliding with a soft, fleshy thwap that echoed faintly beneath the shower’s steady hiss.
When she swallowed me to the hilt, the outline of my shaft became visible—bulging against the delicate column of her throat, stretching the smooth skin into an intimate contour that vanished again as she drew back.
She worked me as if she were trying to wrench the last stubborn drops of cum from my cock by sheer force of will, but my body was completely spent after everything we’d done.
I had almost nothing left, my balls aching drained and heavy, each pulse feeling as though it were being pulled from an empty well.
When the climax finally arrived, it was feeble. A thin, reluctant trickle that barely coated her tongue, more reflex than force. She pulled back with a wet hack, coughing slightly before looking up at me with eyes wild with need.
"More," she rasped, voice scraped raw and trembling. "Please, I need more, give me everything, I’ll do anything just please—"
"Anything?" I interrupted, my voice taking on that teasing quality I’d come to perfect over the years. "That’s quite the offer. Very generous. Almost reckless, really, given that you have no idea what I might ask for."
I reached down to stroke her cheek with mock tenderness. "But first, I think we need to establish some new rules for our little arrangement. Starting with you standing up and pressing yourself against that glass wall. Hands flat, breasts pinned steady, ass out. Give me a proper display of submission so I know you’re serious about this sudden change in attitude."
Jazmin scrambled to obey, her legs still shaky from her orgasm but functional enough to carry her the few steps to the glass.
She positioned herself exactly as I’d commanded—hands splayed against the wet surface, breasts flattening slightly under their own weight, back arched to present her ass in a way that made my mouth water despite my exhaustion.
I stepped up behind her, taking a moment to appreciate the view, before reaching down to spread her pussy open with one hand, revealing the glistening flesh within.
Her cunt was a dripping ruin—inner folds flushed dark and puffy, coated in thick, glossy ropes of her cream that clung in sticky strands, stretching and breaking as I spread her further. The entrance twitched visibly, leaking fresh pulses of arousal that ran down her inner thighs.
She whimpered at the exposure, a small sound of raw vulnerability that sent a sharp pulse straight to my groin, my cock snapping back to full, aching hardness in an instant.
Slowly, I draped myself across her back, my arms coming around to hug her waist in a parody of romantic intimacy, my lips close enough to her ear that she could feel my breath when I spoke.
"Beg for it," I commanded softly, my rigid cock nestled hot and heavy between her parted cheeks, the swollen head nudging insistently at her dripping entrance. "Beg for my cock. Tell me exactly what you want me to do to you, in detail, with that filthy mouth you’ve been using to tease me all evening. Convince me you deserve to be fucked."
Jazmin’s breath came in ragged gasps, her entire body trembling against mine. "Please," she whispered, her voice breaking on the word. "Please fuck me. I need your cock inside me, need to feel you stretching me open and claiming me completely. I need you to rail me against this glass until I forget everything except the feeling of you pounding into my cunt. Please, I’ll be good, I’ll do whatever you want, just please give me your cock and fuck me like the needy whore I’ve become!"
"Better," I murmured, dark satisfaction curling through my veins at the sight of her collapse. "Much better. Since you asked so nicely—"
I rammed myself home in one brutal thrust.
No easy entry. No mercy. Just the thick head splitting her open, the entire length burying itself to the balls with a wet smack.
Her scream tore through the steam—high, ragged, animalistic in its fervor—echoing off wet tile as her cunt spasmed wildly around me, walls fluttering in frantic, greedy contractions, trying to swallow me deeper even as they fought the sudden invasion.
I didn’t give her time to adjust.
My hips snapped forward again and again, setting a rhythm that spoke of pure violence—deep, punishing strokes that rammed her pelvis against the glass with each fap. Her breasts dragged across the slick surface in salacious smears, nipples scraping the cold pane until they flushed an angry dark rose, leaving streaks of condensation and sweat in their wake.
"Yes!" Jazmin screamed, all pretense of control completely abandoned. "Fuck yes, just like that, harder, ruin me!"
Her voice splintered into broken fragments—half-formed syllables that melted against the glass. Her forehead rested flush against the pane, a glistening thread of drool slipping from the corner of her lip, catching the steam before stretching and falling in slow silvery threads to her chin.
I refused to stop.
My hips drove forward with that same merciless rhythm—slow, exact, unforgiving in its measured cruelty—each plunge carving deeper than the last, claiming territory she could no longer defend.
Her tail thrashed wildly between us, wet fur slapping against my thighs, the tip occasionally brushing my balls in a way that made my rhythm stutter for half a heartbeat.
I reached down, grabbed the thick base where it met her spine, and yanked—using it like a handle to haul her back onto my cock even harder, pulling a sharp yelp from her throat—a sound that cracked open into a raw, trembling moan halfway through.
Gods, her insides felt incredible—clinging with a savage, sucking tightness despite how soaked she was. The walls didn’t just grip, they performed slow, peristaltic rolls, starting at the base and crawling upward in luxurious, milking contractions, each wave squeezing just a bit harder than the last.
The angle was viciously precise—allowing me to spear straight to the places that made her voice fracture upward in sharp, ascending cries, each collision sending visible tremors through her spine.
I could feel the rapid quivers deep inside her, the telltale flutter of muscles dancing on the brink, her body hovering at the precipice of yet another orgasm.
"Beg for my cum," I commanded between thrusts, my voice rough with exertion. "Do it properly."
"Gods, please!" Jazmin screamed, her voice absolutely wrecked. "Please cum inside me, I need it, need to feel you flooding my insides with your hot seed, marking me from the inside out, claiming me so thoroughly that I’ll be dripping your cum for days! Please, I’ll do anything, just give me your load, fill me until I’m overflowing. Breed me, please, I’m begging you—!"
Her desperation hit me like a punch to the gut, snapping the last thread of my restraint. I smirked into the steam—though she couldn’t see it—before giving my hips one final smack that drove me impossibly deep.
Then came the flood.
Some buried reserve I hadn’t known existed detonated inside me.
My cock—aching painfully now, heavily protested the orgasm, yet came anyway. Thick, scalding ropes erupted inside her, flooding her cunt with heavy pulses that painted her trembling folds white, filling her so completely I could feel the pressure swell against my shaft, forcing the overflow to squeeze back around me in warm, creamy waves.
At the same instant, Jazmin came undone again—hot gushes of her release squirting out in thick, powerful spurts, soaking my shaft and balls, running in messy rivers down her thighs to mix with the shower water in pearlescent streaks of cum.
I pulled out with slow satisfaction, savoring the wet, sucking resistance of her cunt as it reluctantly released me. My cock emerged inch by glistening inch, thickly coated in our combined filth clinging to every vein and ridge in heavy, ropey strands that stretched and snapped between her swollen entrance and my shaft with lewd little sounds.
The moment the head popped free, a thick glob of cum began oozing out from her pussy almost instantly.
Jazmin slid down the glass in a graceless heap, knees splaying wide as she hit the shower floor. Her cunt, ruined and gaping, pulsed visibly with aftershocks—each flutter forcing out another heavy spurt of my seed.
The air was thick with the raw, bleachy reek of semen, the sharp tang of her arousal, and the humid steam—each breath pulling the scent of our ruin deeper into my lungs.
I knew then that it was time for my real work to begin.
The physical domination was complete, her defenses shattered, her mind soft and pliable in that post-orgasmic haze where secrets feel like nothing more than excess weight.
Time to turn this encounter into something useful.