11 Jul

showering with my Goddess

Daily or weekly chores can be a great place to access a route into some non-sex BDSM scenarios.  You may have read my posts on Food Mind Fuck & to a lesser extent, Butt-Plug Challenge.  Well, this is the story of a third, but one which we use more often; both in the guise of Mistress/sub and as Wife & Husband.  It’s a story I’m calling showering with Goddess.

It starts with Mistress instructing me to turn on the shower; as always I do as instructed.  Our shower is simple over-bath type that comes out the back of the bath taps.  What this does mean is that each time you turn it on you place your life in the hands of the cold water/combi boiler gods.


Once the shower is up to temperature, I hop off to find my Goddess.  Whilst I’ve been faffing with the temperature controls, she has slipped out of her day clothes and into a silken dressing gown. I kneel before her and announce “your shower awaits”.  I follow as she makes her way across the landing to the bathroom.


Standing behind her as she shrugs off her dressing gown to reveal her soft supple milky white skin, she lets it slip gently down, until her whole back is bare, she pauses just around her hips, catching it in her hand.  This is my cue to take the gown, which I do as she steps into the shower.


I swiftly put her gown on the towel heater, pull the shower curtain and step into the shower myself.  My Goddess is facing away from me, still showing me only her back, but now I get to see the curvature of her hips and the undulation of her buttocks and then the firmness of her shapely legs.  She has her head rocked back, letting the warm water of the shower run over her front.  Her golden auburn hair mostly still dry, lazily collapsed on her shoulders.


I kneel down and wait.


I don’t mind this wait, after all, my Goddess’ lovely bottom is now at eye level, and although I know I’m not allowed to touch, I am free to observe.  So that’s what I do, I familiarise myself with all the little individualities of each bum cheek, a double freckle on the left, a very tiny dimple on the right.  All the time, my Goddess is enjoying the warm shower water running down her chest and stomach.


She decides it is time to wash.


As she turns round, I bow my head, partly in deference to my Goddess, and partly because I am expecting the water from the shower to hit my face, which it does.  Wetting my hair, and running into my eyes.


“Wash my hair first” she says.  I stand, reach for the shower head and direct the water onto her hair.  Her hair turns darker when it’s wet, and I always think it makes her look much more stern with hair slicked back and wet.  Once her hair is wet trough, I take the shampoo and squeeze some out.


Being the possessor of what can at best be described as short cropped hair, compared to my Goddess’ slightly past shoulder length hair, I am actually at a complete loss on how to wash her hair, and it’s something I just get wrong time and time again.  I wash my hair on my scalp, but if I concentrate on her scalp all I do is put knots in her hair, which really does not go down well.  If I just wash the long bits away from the scalp, that’s not doing the job properly.  Help me, I really don’t understand!  What I do know is that washing her hair like this also gives me a unique appreciation of why she goes through one bottle of shampoo a month whilst my bottle lasts a year.



Anyway, I do my best, and even manage to “accidentally” get a boob to touch my side as I massage her scalp.  She tells me to return to kneeling whilst she checks.  I replace the shower head in the holder and kneel as instructed.

She rinses the shampoo from her hair, again her back to me, spraying soapy water into my face as she does so, she delights in flicking her hair in the knowledge it will spray into my face.


She turns to face me, and for the first time I get to properly see her breasts, looking up at them means I am staring straight at the stream of shower water, but it’s price worth paying, and in any case, I have soap in my eyes I need to rinse off.


Looking through the blur of water in my eyes, I can still see the almost virginal white skin of her breasts, glistening with the wetness from the shower. I notice a small gathering of shampoo bubbles meandering down her chest, curving the inside of her right breast, and then heading down over her midriff.  I notice her nipples are a little bit sticky out, something that pleases me greatly; I love a sneaky nipple!


Her chest lifts up as she runs her hands through her hair, looking like an Amazonian Goddess towering above me, she runs some conditioner through her hair.  I am not yet trusted with such a crucial step in her hygiene regimen.


She leans over me, temporarily blocking the spray of water entirely, and I glance up for an even closer view of her lovely chest.  She now has the shower gel and the body puff.  She squeezes some of the gel onto the puff and passes me the puff.  “Wash your Goddess” she instructs, and again turns away from me.


I know that she likes a firm rub on her back, so, on standing, I start to scrub her back, leaning in a little to add the pressure I know she likes.  I scrub until her back is well covered in soap suds, and continue down over her bottom.  She responds to the puff on her bottom by giving a little wiggle, making me want to give it a good squeeze, but I know such things are off the cards at the moment.  I return to my knees as I wash down her legs to her feet.

My Goddess passes me a bar of soap, and I lather up to wash her feet.  This is the part I really enjoy; I love being able to caress her feet.  Starting behind the ankle, I clean over the ankle bone, down over the heel and carefully wash the bottom of her feet.  I move on to the top, before ending with the delicate toes; sliding a finger between each toe, curling my finger round the toe before moving on to the next toe, big to little and back; little to big.  It’s almost mesmeric, I find myself beginning to zone out, I’m not really aware of the shower water that is making its way into my mouth.  I don’t think I’m even aware that the foot belongs to my Goddess.


Before too long she kicks me gently with her foot, reminding me that she has two, and I begin again, entering my trance. I really don’t know what it is that takes me there, but the same happens when giving her a foot massage.  I just enter another realm where it’s just me and the foot.


I have to be awakened from my inner sanctuary with another gentle toe-nudge; breaking my transfixed gaze and causing my eyes to relocate their target to my Goddess’ face.  The shower water sprays over her shoulder and my eyes stings where I have absent-mindedly wiped soapy hands over my forehead.  I can’t stop though, there is a task to finish.


With the puff back in hand, I am now allowed to wash the hallowed front of my Goddess.  This time I start with the legs and work my way up.  We have well established boundaries whereby I am not allowed to wash the front area as would be covered by any reasonable pair of undies, and nor is my hand allowed to actually touch her; she is a priceless gem that I am only allowed to observe and care for.


I have tried in the past to cop a discreet feel of various part of her under the guise of the puff slipping, but she has none of that any more.  In the past this has resulted in an immediate end to the proceedings, of a cold shower for myself, bar of soap in the mouth.  Enough to make me realise not to do it again.  So I obediently wash her legs, and, standing, on to her stomach and chest.  Here the only freedom I’m allowed is a vigorous scrub under the arms which makes her breasts jiggle, to my delight.


When we are finished, I return to my knees, whilst my Goddess washes first the conditioner from her hair, again taking great lengths to splash me as much as possible.  She then moisturises her face.  Lastly with her special lady soap, she washes the forbidden area!  Aside from the feet, and the jiggling boobs, this is my favourite bit.


She lathers the soap up well in her hands, and, starting just below her navel, she creams her body up.  Using both hands in swirling motions, she works her downwards.  What seems like an age later she reaches her vulva, taking extreme joy in parting her labia and rubbing the soap on her clit, she relishes the fact I can’t touch.


I kneel, looking straight ahead at her fingers cleansing the area I wish my own fingers were exploring.  It’s a relief I’m kneeling else the stirring in my own groin area might be more noticeable.  I almost feel light headed with wanton.


And fleetingly it is over.  My Goddess turns to rinse and then switches off the flow of water.  This is my cue.  I quickly exit the bath and reach for my Goddess’ robe, which I help her into, relishing that last glimpse of her still wet breasts.  My task now is to clean and tidy.  She leaves the room; going to begin her moisturising regime.  But that’s a story for another day.


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