04 | Guilty Pleasures

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Waking up a couple of hours before I was supposed to be at work, I decided to take advantage of the time by slowly getting ready for the day. Slipping out of my clothes, I remembered that the water temperature had been fixed last night. Instantly put into a good mood, I stood under the shower head for a few minutes, allowing my body to adjust to the almost scorching hot drops—my favorite kind of showers.

While I placed my left leg on the edge of the bathtub and placed a layer of shaving cream from my ankle up, I suddenly let my mind wander to the things I experienced yesterday. Creating streaks with a cheap razor over my soft skin, my thoughts once again narrowed in on the BDSM exhibit.

Although I was heavily interested in BDSM, I still didn't see myself as a submissive or a masochist. While the many facets associated with the lifestyle excited me, due to my lack of experience, I still wasn't sure where I fit in.

As I started to think about what it would be like if I got the chance to satisfy my curiosity, my mind brought me to Mr. Dupont, Damien, again. The only plausible reason for creating a room like that was because he was a part of that world himself, right? To know so much that you have every kind of contraption, toy, and restraint available for use, you'd have to be participating in those kinds of activities.

I couldn't come up with any other explanation. Hell, he hinted at it himself when he told me all that stuff about how being punctual is an act of discipline, blah blah blah. Cordelia also exposed that he was a man that craved control. There was no way this man wasn't bending women over his knee every chance he got.

In an attempt to stop thinking about him, I only became more aroused. As I finished shaving my body bare, I started to lather my hair with shampoo as well as conditioner before working on my body. Scrubbing every curve, the soap started to foam all over. Washing off the bubbles, my fingers roamed every inch of skin, causing me to create an image in my head that someone else was touching me instead.

I imagined someone standing behind me, gripping my throat with their hand, forcing me to look back at them as they fucked me with aggression. I imagined someone bending me over the bathroom sink and spanking me until my ass was completely red and I was unable to beg for any more. I imagined being completely restrained while having two fingers inside of me, keeping me from reaching my climax, unable to suppress my moans.

Just thinking about those things was enough to orgasm on the spot. However, I hadn't been able to bring myself to a climax in quite a while. The thoughts that ran rampage in my mind always had me wanting more and my fingers weren't giving me the release I needed, now more than ever.

Letting out a bothered sigh, I finished rinsing off and stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around my body.

Moving over to the bathroom counter, I squeezed any excess water out of my hair and ran a few creams through it before letting it air dry. Pushing my hair behind my shoulders, I dried off the rest of my body and looked for my outfit.

Today being another chilly day, I slipped into yet another long-sleeve black dress, this one having a turtleneck and an oval cut-out at the chest. Deciding that the knitted material would be enough to keep me warm, I placed my coat back onto the rack.

Pulling on another pair of sheer stockings and noticing the scratches on my knee, I made a promise to myself that I would do everything to keep these ones from ripping. A mental note to stop being so clumsy.

Noticing that I had a little less than an hour before I had to be at the museum, I sat on the floor and placed all of my makeup in front of me. Looking at myself in the huge circle mirror I had found at the boutique yesterday, I pushed my hair behind my ears.

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