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It was clear Tris knew what he was doing.
“Stand there.” Tris nodded to a spot in the shower on the other side of the still-open glass door, near one of the main waterfall showerheads and close enough for the hose capped with that terrifying enema nozzle to reach me. I took my mark, shivering slightly in anticipation, feeling completely and utterly submissive as I stared at him.
My dick could pound nails at this point.
He turned the knob to increase the pressure slightly, running his fingers through it, presumably to test the temperature and flow. I felt myself relaxing a little. Tris was going to take care of me.
“Turn around.” I nodded, doing as he’d asked. “Bend over, hands against the glass.”
How different this felt to nearly two weeks ago when we’d been in this exact spot. Tris was dominating me then, but somehow, this didn’t feel the same at all.
“Relax, Henry,” he cooed, voice soothing as his free hand came to rest on my lower back. “Let me in.”
I took a deep breath then unclenched my still-lubricated hole so he could insert the nozzle. As soon as he did, cool water started to trickle in, and a shiver wracked my body. His hand rubbed against my back with more intention, calming me down. I relaxed more even as the water filled me.
In actuality, he was probably only filling me up for less than a minute. But it sure felt like I had that nozzle my ass forever. I’d started shifting my weight to relieve the cramping in my abdomen after mere seconds. Soon, I was sweating despite the water cooling my insides.
“Shh, it’s okay, baby, you’re okay.” Tris’s soft words echoed in the quiet bathroom, and warmth emanated from the hand that had never left my back. “You’re almost done. You’re doing such a good job.”
Tears threatened at that, at knowing I was being good for my Angel Daddy. Despite the role play, this was Tris taking care of me, and I relished it.
Then we were done. Tris turned the water off, but I still felt impossibly full.
“I’m going to remove the nozzle, but don’t let it go yet, okay?” He carefully pulled out the hose, letting it fall away as both hands found my lower back and my ass. “Hold that for a bit, baby.”
Oh, Jesus, really? The cramping increased, and the need to void my bowels became nearly unbearable. My arms shook against the glass with my effort to do as he’d said, but it was so fucking hard.
His arms trailed down my sides. “Good job, baby. Just a little longer.” I was shaking so hard, sweat dripping down my forehead when he finally said, “Okay. I’m going to step out of the way, and when I grab your hand, let it all go.”
I nodded quickly, grateful I would soon be rid of this painful fullness. Any embarrassment I thought I’d feel at letting myself go in front of Tristan was overshadowed by sheer relief as Tris’s hand found mine and I released, my eyes shut tight.
Admittedly, the sound was humiliating. But Tristan squeezed my hand through it, and I squeezed him right back.
When it was over, I’d never felt so emptied out.
“Good boy.” I opened my eyes just as Tris stretched to turn on the closest showerhead. It rained down on me, rinsing me off and washing the dirty water down the drain. “Good job, Henry. One more time, not as long this time, and you’ll be good to go.”
“What?!” I couldn’t stop myself from nearly shouting the question as dread filled my stomach. “I have to do that again?”
Tristan moved into my line of sight, smiling sweetly. His hand went up to brush a sweat-soaked strand of hair off my forehead. “We have to make sure you’re all cleaned out, baby. You’ve got this. I’ll be right here, just like before.”
I drew in a shaky breath before I nodded tentatively. Tris knew what he was doing, and if this was what he needed—or even wanted—I would do it for him.
As promised, the second time wasn’t as bad and didn’t last nearly as long. Once the water had been rinsed down again, Tristan reached for a loofah and the bottle of soap and started washing me.
My eyes fell shut, enjoying the feeling of this beautiful man taking care of me. He lathered up every inch of me, caressing each and every tattoo decorating my chest, sides, arms, and thighs and cleaning my legs, feet, and most intimate places thoroughly, inside and out, before rinsing me off then washing my hair.
His boxer briefs were soaked through at this point, which I did not mind at all, but regrettably, he removed them to hurriedly clean himself from the neck down. Then he turned off the water, ushering me out of the shower.
Grabbing a towel from the open shelving along the wall, he first wiped me down with such exceptional gentleness I nearly teared up again. He wrapped me in the towel then quickly dried himself off before wringing out the undergarment he’d left on the floor of the shower and hanging it and our wet towels on the nearby racks to dry.
Then, as if something had taken over his body, he stiffened, straightening as his eyes landed on me. My back went ramrod straight under his perusal as my dick, which had deflated during the humiliation of the enema, started to perk back up at dominant Tris.
“Now,” he said, eyes hard but sparkling. “Let’s get started.”
Chapter twenty-nine
Henry
