Shower

The knock on her door came just fifteen minutes after she’d placed the emergency call. He came in carrying a battered black toolbox, and wearing that onesie outfit that all plumbers wore. The coveralls had been mustard yellow in some long-ago time, she supposed. Now it was stained, and smelled faintly of rust and dark wet places as he brushed past her.

In the bathroom, she watched as he opened the tool box, took out an enormous wrench and began dismembering her tub faucet. A grunt was followed by an ‘hmmmm’, which was followed by more banging.

“Got a big problem here,” his voice was as rusty-sounding as her pipes looked.

“Okay,” she said, though it was far from “okay”. The hit to her bank account was gonna hurt, and here it was, coming near her vacation time.

“Got some new faucets out in the truck. You can come take a look and pick one you want.”

She rolled her eyes behind his back. A faucet was a faucet was a faucet, wasn’t it?

“Fine,” she said, her tone dry. “Can’t you just pick one for me?”

“Nope.”

Wordy bastard, she thought, shaking her head.

“Fine,” she said again, then turned to the hallway.

His arms came around her from behind, pressing her to the wall.

“Not all that’s ‘fine’,” he murmured, his coffee-breath snaking around her neck to make her gag.

“Hey!” She would have said more but a dank rag was pushed into her mouth.

“Grunt all ya want. I like hearin’ it.”

His arm kept her head pressed to the wall, while the other hand tugged down her sweatpants. She hadn’t worn underwear today, and his hand slid over the bare skin of her ass before slapping the soft curve.

She tried to push off of the wall. After a very brief struggle, her hands were tied behind her back with her own tee-shirt, her tits were hanging out of her bra, and she was bent over the arm of her couch. She’d fought her way down the hallway, battering at him, to no avail. His fingers dug into her hips as his cock pressed against her slit. He was going to rape her and she could do nothing to stop it, stop him.

He pressed, but not against her pussy lips.

She shook her head, no, oh god no! He pressed harder, she clenched her anus tight. He slapped her hard and she jolted.  OH, but it hurt! In that moment with concentration slipping, he pierced her.

The slap had been a caress compared to this. His thick hardness shoved into her tight and unwilling bottom. She screamed and grunted around the dirty wad in her mouth, would have torn and twisted his skin if her fingers weren’t bound in the fabric of her shirt. She felt the scratchy rasp of hair against the bottom curve of her ass, and knew he was now balls deep in her.  Her belly carried the weight of a man’s cock. Fingers clenching hard into the soft flesh of her hips, she felt the incredible relief of his shaft slipping away. The relief was short-lived, as his hips flexed, and his cock once again snaked up the line of her bowels.

There was a tingle in her clit. Struggling against the pounding length was impossible, and her body adapted to the sensations. The pain was a burning heat, but her pussy was beginning to stir. She felt her nipples pearl, the knots of flesh rubbing against the cool leather of the couch.

It wasn’t possible.

His body moved in hers, driving a path deeply into the cleft of her ass, her anus throbbing from the relentless assault. At the same time, her cunt clenched and she felt the unmistakable sensations presaging an orgasm.

She didn’t feel the cock burping its load in her butt, but his satisfied grunt informed her. Her body shook and trembled as she tumbled from her own sensory overload. Her pussy clenched, her head pressed into the coolness of the sofa, and her back arched as the orgasm rocked through her.

“Fuckin’ hot tamale, you are.”

Her eyes closed, as she winced. She wasn’t anyone’s ‘hot tamale’. She wanted to be released, she wanted to be finished. The cumming hadn’t been enough to quell the throb in her cunt.

Unceremoniously, she was yanked upward by her hair, led back to the bathroom.

“No wigglin’ or you could pierce somethin’ important.”

She felt the cold metal pressing against her rectum, and shook her head, squealing.

“Aaaw, a little enema won’t hurtcha. Gotta get all that DNA evidence outta your butt, you ass fuck whore.”

He laughed, slapping her hip. The sound of running water threw her into panic, and in seconds, the stream was filling her. Her belly quivered and shook with this second intrusion.

“You best hold this until your ass is on the pot, else you’ll lick it up with your tongue.”

She chose to not doubt him, and clenched hard as he withdrew the pipe from her butt. He guided her to the toilet and told her to release. The sounds, the gush of fluid, the stink…all were so totally embarrassing, despite the fact that he had caused them all. She wanted him to go away, but he was watching everything. He reached into his toolbox and came up with a small bottle of dishwashing soap.

Once more she was yanked up by her hair. Her gut trembled as he bent her over, shoving the tip of the bottle into her asshole. The squirt was cold and she felt the soap burn against her raw skin. Once more he pressed the pipe against her anus, and the gurgle of water filling her tailpipes was as loud as the ocean in her ears.

“Nice belly full of suds now, eh, ass fuck whore?” She flushed at the taunting.

“Best hold it hard now…soap makes it way slippery…”

It was harder this second time, to hold the liquid as he pressed her down to the toilet seat.

“Squirt those soapy bubbles, whore,” he laughed, kicking apart her legs and watching the soapy, shitty liquid squirting from her.

“Very bubbly back there..”

His fingers slipped between her splayed legs.

“Smells like shit…then again I’m used to it.”

His finger found her clit, rubbed it roughly.  He laughed when she moaned around the rag.

“Hot fuck, you’re so ready, aren’t you whore?”

Her eyes closed, her back arched, her tits thrusting forward. She burned. Throbbing, aching, yearning, she was on fire with a lust she’d never felt before. Three thick fingers slid into her cunt, curling upward and fucking her roughly. She pressed down, grinding on him, seeking more. A fourth finger slid inside, stretching her painfully. She humped his hand, growling.

A quick yank tugged her from the toilet. He dropped her on the floor, kneeling between her legs, and began pressing his hand against her cunt.

“Ya want it, dontcha? Want my entire fucking hand inside your greedy-assed cunt?”

She  stared up at him. He must have read the answer in her eyes, as his smile widened. His fingers pinched at her clit, rubbed bubbles across her pussy lips. She whimpered as his thick hand pressed against her, then pushed deeper. The soap burned her tenderest flesh, adding to the fiery lust. His slick hand popped into her, and she yelped, then moaned.  Her pussy lips closed around his wrist. Fingers curled inside her as his fist twisted this way and that, fucking her with each simple movement.

The orgasm was wildly intense, cum jetting from her like a broken pipe. He wasn’t gentle about tugging his hand from her, but again, the deep pain turned her on.

“Fucking cunt,” he said, rising. She lay curled on the floor, floating in another state of awareness as the aftershocks of the powerful orgasm rumbled in her belly. She didn’t notice when he left the room, and barely paid attention when he moved into the shower and began fixing the faucet.

She came back to awareness when he threw the heavy wrench into the toolbox which was by her head.  The sharp clatter of the tool landing in the box jolted her fully awake.  Her shoulder hurt where she’d been laying on it; but her hands were free. Her only garment was her bra, her tits still flopped out of the cups. The side of her breast was freezing from laying on the bathroom floor.

“I’m all done. Almost.”

He tugged her roughly to her feet, then pulled her into the tub. She had a moment to admire the new fixture before he pushed her to her knees. Stepping out of the tub, he turned, his cock out. She opened her mouth to question him, when the hot shot of urine splashed against her face.

“Oh! No!”

Shielding her face with her hands, she felt the hot spray aimed at her tits, her belly, the vee of her thighs.

“You might wanna check out the shower.” He zipped up his coverall, and picking up his toolbox, strode out of the bathroom. She heard the front door close, even as she scootched up and turned the water on.

The spray hit her, dousing her with cold water, then warming quickly. As the needle sharp spray pummeled her body, she leaned against the wall. Her body ached. Her mind floated. A smile played about her lips. The upstairs toilet was having some flushing issues…

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About vanillamom

For over 8 years--(EIGHT?!) nilla and M have been a D/s couple. I'm the "small s" side of that designation, as he often reminds me. I'm silly and prone to giggling at inopportune times. He's a wicked Sadist, who feeds me my drug of choice--pain. My brain is always spinning dirty and dark little fantasies, which I sometimes share with the world. Welcome to the nilla-verse. It's wet and slippery here...with a dragon or two lurking.
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3 Responses to Shower

  1. Oh I do like your dark side nilla.
    Smiling as I pick up my plumbing tools 😉

  2. Wordwytch says:

    Oh geeze! And Wolf is suppose to work on the bathroom this weekend… hmm…

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