Page 20 of His Master

When it came to washing in this particular case, I actually took the active role.

“Stand here and grip those rings above you,” I ordered Simon, positioning him in the middle of the shower and pointing up to two of several rings fastened to the ceiling.

“Yes, Master.” He moved to obey quickly, grasping the rings, then spreading his legs as I kicked them apart so that he stood spreadeagle in the middle of the shower, barely balanced.

I adjusted a few of the showerheads so that a gentle spray shot down on him from both sides, wetting him enough for me to grab the soap and a sponge to clean him off.

Within seconds, Simon’s body relaxed into a state that radiated bliss as I soaped his filthy body up and scrubbed him down. He closed his eyes so that I could wash his face, then kept them closed with a look of pure pleasure as I washed the rest of him.

I smiled, something warm and excited growing within me as I cared for my omega slave. I loved every second of it, too, from the tender way I caressed his used body with my hands and the sponge to the sight of him trying to hide a smile. Simon really was special, and the possessiveness within me was all-consuming.

“Move closer to the wall,” I ordered him once he was completely clean. “You’re going to wait here while I wash myself.”

“Yes, Master,” Simon said, as docile as could be.

I’d changed my mind about having him wash me, because I sensed he needed something more than that. I guided him to within about six inches of the shower wall, then I repositioned a certain gadget I’d had made, a water jet that could be moved up and down to just the right height. Once Simon was perfectly positioned, I turned the jet on full blast, directing it hard against his half-hard cock and balls.

Simon let out a yelp, his eyes suddenly opening as the unexpected jet of pain hit him. He glanced down for a split second as the high pressure of the water beat mercilessly against him. He continued to pant with discomfort as I turned to step into the gentler spray for a quick scrub.

I’d gotten the idea for the adjustable water jet after accidentally taking a hit straight to my junk with a pressure-washer when helping a friend prep his house for repainting in college. A little bit of water play with a mild jet was awesome. Full-on pressure was like having your cock and balls constantly beaten with a stick.

Simon panted and groaned a little, his face pinched with pain, but he didn’t move, just letting the jet punish him. I was impressed that he would hold himself there and let the pain wash over him. At least half of the omegas I’d played with in the past safeworded at the jet.

I took my time washing, partly because I wanted to see how long Simon would endure it, partly because I was definitely getting off on watching him fight through the pain, and partially because I knew he wanted it. We couldn’t stay in the shower forever, though.

I turned off all the water in the shower, and as soon as the jet went off, Simon made a sound and sagged a little, hanging from the rings, but not attempting to close his legs or nurse his balls, like most of the other omegas who endured the jet did. Again, I was impressed.

“Time to dry off and get supper,” I said cheerily, scooping an arm around Simon’s waist and pulling him with me out of the shower.

Simon was a little stunned by the whole thing. His face was contorted, and I had that sixth sense that he was struggling internally again. That only made the urge to take care of him, to take care of him the way we both needed, stronger than ever.

“Good boy,” I said as I moved him to a spot on the bath mat, then reached for a towel to dry myself. “I know it hurts, but you need it to remind you of your place.”

To my shock, Simon sobbed at those words, lowering his head. “Yes, Master,” he moaned, almost weeping.

Alarm bells sounded in my head. Fantasies like this were fun and even necessary for some people. I might have hated myself for the things I did to omegas in the past, but everything felt different with Simon. I genuinely believed in my core that he needed everything we were doing.

But that feeling that something wasn’t right was loud.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” I said once I finished drying myself and grabbed another towel to dry him. “You’re so strong and perfect. You make me as horny as if you were in heat.”

Instead of making Simon feel better, he cried harder and glanced up at me with a pleading look.

“There, there, boy. I’ve got you,” I said, scrambling desperately to figure out what he needed and how I could give it to him.

Once we were dry, I led him into my bedroom, pointed for him to kneel in a spot on the carpet, then went to the wardrobeto search for robes for both of us. Maybe being covered up for a bit would help settle Simon’s mind.

That was the plan, but as soon as I walked back into the bedroom, my phone, which I’d left on the bed, started to ring. And not just any ring, either. It rang with Vivien’s ringtone.

“Shit,” I hissed, tossing the spare robe onto the bed, then rushing over to grab the phone.

Sure enough, it was Vivien.

I glanced to Simon, who shivered as he knelt, need and desperation rippling from him, then back to my phone.

I had to take the call. I hated doing it when Simon was in such a vulnerable place, but I had to.

“Hey, Viv,” I answered, striding across to the bureau against the wall and opening it, looking for something that might calm Simon.

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