He shook his head anyway.
“No? Well, only puppies get bathed in tubs like this. If you’re just a filthy human, I can take the hose to you instead of washing you down with soap.”
I should’ve played this particular hand when we’d still been in the cell, but it was damn near impossible to think of these things ahead of time.
“What do you want?” he asked, but the attempt at snark was subdued.
I smiled. He was too tired to fight much, which meant…
“A little bark,” I told him. “Just a small one. Give me a bark…” I held up the showerhead at the end of the hose. “And I’ll clean you from head to toe.”
The idea had to sound good to him, because he hesitated. He was silent for a moment, then he gave a small, tentative bark.
I had to fight not to show my surprise. He’d actually obeyed without forcing me to get stern? He really must’ve been tired.
“Good boy, Toby,” I praised him.
“Not Toby,” he said.
I ignored him. He’d learn soon enough that he was whoever I said he was and not anyone else.
I let the warm water start to flow over him, and he let out a moan. Sagging in the tub, he didn’t fight as he settled there on all fours while I rinsed him thoroughly. “Tilt your head back,” I told him.
He looked warily at me.
“I’m not going to try to drown you or anything,” I said, deadpan. “I just want to wash your hair while I’m at it. Don’t you want to be nice and clean?”
Those seemed to be the magic words.
He wanted, more than anything, to be clean. I didn’twant him to be filthy either, but I wasn’t above using it as a way to get him to submit.
I wasn’t above doing much of anything, apparently, which was a somewhat uncomfortable realization to come to.
He leaned his head back, and I wet his hair, too. I grabbed a bottle of shampoo and soaped it up, and both of us were quiet as I washed and rinsed his hair. He didn’t even try to fight, which had me feeling a little suspicious by the time I turned to his body.
This would be the time he’d argue.
It was time to get to the main event. “I’m going to bathe you now,” I told him. I wet a washcloth and put soap on it, rubbing it until suds formed, then I started high at his neckline. He froze, all but quivering beneath me.
He let me wash his face, his back and the back of his legs. It wasn’t until I ordered him to turn over that he finally balked and gave me another of those death glares.
“I can clean myself,” he informed me, as haughtily as if he were on this side of the tub and I was inside.
“Maybe right now.” I shrugged. “Once you have your mitts, you won’t be able to at all.”
I could see the wary curiosity in his expression, but he didn’t ask. I knew he didn’t dare… because he wasn’t ready to know the answer yet. He wasn’t ready to know about any of this, really, but he was getting a lesson he wouldn’t soon forget.
“But you’re not going to.” My voice grew firmer. “Now turn over so I can get your front.”
I didn’t give him an “or else.” His imagination would surely supply him with a whole lot of scenarios, and it meant I could save the ones I’d devised for times when I really needed him to cooperate.
He hesitated again, then turned so he could sit on his ass in the tub. He drew a leg up so he could partially shield his shriveled cock from my view. It wouldn’t help for long, but I let him have his false sense of modesty as I washed his neck down to his chest, then his legs.
“You know what’s next,” I said.
“You’re not going to play with my cock,” he said stubbornly.
“I’d have to find it first,” I told him, purposely baiting him.
