Page 32

CHAPTER 32

M ary

Trembling, Camille and I stepped into the massive shower stall. The cool tiles beneath my feet sent a shiver up my legs and through my body, clashing distractingly with the burning ache from my freshly caned bottom. The opulence surrounding us—gleaming chrome fixtures, multiple showerheads, and what looked like a built-in steam system, seemed a far cry from the communal showers at university, or even the Sons of Odin’s bathing chamber.

Beaumont’s voice cut through my observations. “Turn on the water, sluts. I want to see you get nice and wet for me.”

With shaking hands, I reached for the controls. Warm water cascaded over us from multiple directions, enveloping us in a cocoon of steam and droplets. I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the heat soothe my aching muscles and stinging backside. When I opened them again, I saw Camille doing the same, her dark hair plastered to her face and neck.

“That’s it,” Beaumont purred, his eyes raking over our glistening bodies. “Now, show me how naughty you two really are. Kiss each other. And make it good—I want to see your sweet little tongues.”

I turned to face Camille, my heart racing. We’d done this before, of course, but the thought still made my cheeks get hot and my tummy flip. I could see the mixture of fear and determination in my sister’s eyes, mirroring my own emotions. Slowly, I leaned in, pressing my lips to hers.

The kiss started tentatively, but as Beaumont’s impatient growl reached our ears, we deepened it. I felt Camille’s tongue brush against mine, and I couldn’t help the small moan that escaped me. The warmth of her mouth, combined with the hot water cascading over us, was intoxicating.

“Better,” Beaumont said, his voice thick with lust. “Now, rub those pretty tits together. I want to see those nipples getting hard.”

We broke the kiss, both of us panting slightly. Camille’s cheeks were flushed, and I knew mine must be too. Slowly, we moved closer, our breasts pressing together. The sensation of her soft flesh against mine, our nipples brushing and hardening, sent a jolt of helpless arousal through me.

As we moved against each other, I saw an opportunity. Leaning in close, my lips brushing Camille’s ear, I whispered as quietly as I could, “Be ready. I’m sure the Guard will come for us.”

I felt Camille stiffen slightly, but to her credit, she didn’t break our rhythm. Her hands came up to cup my breasts, kneading gently as she whispered back, “Both of us?”

Before I could respond, Beaumont’s voice rang out again.

“Enough of that,” the magnate barked. “Now, I want you to press those sweet little cunts together. Hands on each other’s hips.”

My heart raced as Camille and I awkwardly maneuvered into position, our bodies slick with water. The feeling of her mound against mine sent a jolt of unwanted arousal through me. I could feel the heat of her sex, so different from the shower’s warm spray.

“Good girls,” Beaumont purred, his eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. “Now, I want you to pee. Right now, just like that.”

I felt the blood drain from my face as his words sank in. Surely he couldn’t mean… But the stern look in his eyes told me he was entirely serious.

“Please, Monsieur,” I whimpered, hating how pathetic I sounded. “We can’t… it’s too… you know… too embarrassing.”

“You will do as I say,” Beaumont growled, his voice low and dangerous. “Or would you prefer another session with the cane?”

Tears welled in my eyes as I realized we had no choice. I met Camille’s gaze, seeing my own mortification reflected there. Slowly, we both nodded.

I closed my eyes, trying to relax enough to let go. It felt impossible, with Camille pressed against me and Beaumont’s hungry gaze on us both. But gradually, I felt the pressure in my bladder build until I couldn’t hold back any longer.

The first trickle of urine escaping me felt like liquid fire. I sobbed openly as I felt it flow down my legs, mingling with the shower water. Against me, I could feel Camille trembling, her own stream joining mine.

The utter humiliation of the act overwhelmed me. I’d never felt so degraded, so stripped of my dignity. And yet, to my horror, I could feel a perverse thrill flaring through me. My clit throbbed traitorously, and I prayed Beaumont wouldn’t notice my body’s shameful response.

“Beautiful,” Beaumont murmured as our streams finally tapered off. “Now, Mary, get on your knees. I want you to wash Camille’s cunt thoroughly, and then give it a nice, reverent kiss.”

My legs shook as I sank to my knees, the hard tile uncomfortable even through the water. I looked up at Camille, silently apologizing with my eyes as I reached for the soap.

Gently, I began to wash between Camille’s legs, trying to be as clinical as possible. But as my fingers slid over her soft folds, I couldn’t help but notice how smooth and warm she felt. I heard Camille’s breath hitch, and I knew she must be fighting the same battle against unwanted arousal that I was.

Once I’d rinsed away all traces of soap, I leaned forward, my heart pounding, and pressed my lips to Camille’s sex. The taste of her, clean from the shower, but with an underlying muskiness, filled my senses. I heard her sharp intake of breath above me and felt a tremor run through her body.

“Good girl,” Beaumont purred. “Now, fetch a razor from the rack over there. It’s time to make that pretty cunt nice and smooth.”

With shaking legs, I stood and retrieved a plastic razor from a rack in the corner of the stall. Its light material notwithstanding, it felt heavy in my hand. Turning back to Camille, I saw her forehead furrow deeply. I tried to convey reassurance with my gaze, silently promising to be gentle.

“Turn around and bend over,” Beaumont instructed Camille. “I want to see that tight little asshole while Mary shaves you.”

Camille obeyed, turning to face the shower wall and bending at the waist. Confronted by all her pink secrets, I swallowed hard, fighting against the confusing mix of arousal and shame that threatened to overwhelm me.

Kneeling behind my friend, I began to carefully shave her pussy. The razor glided smoothly over her skin, removing the stubble and leaving soft, bare flesh beneath. I was surprised at how easy it was to pretend I’d never done this before. The ritual nature of our previous shaving session, under Mor Astrid’s careful gaze, seemed a world away from this opulent, tawdry atmosphere.

Camille’s breath hitched every time the razor passed over a particularly sensitive spot. Her thighs trembled slightly, and I saw goosebumps rise on her skin despite the warm water still cascading over us.

“Make sure you get every last hair,” Beaumont commanded. “Between her ass cheeks, too. I want her cunt and asshole nice and smooth for my cock.”

I focused intently on my task, determined not to nick Camille’s delicate skin. The sheer intimacy of the act, combined with Beaumont’s leering presence, made me want to sink through the shower’s tile floor. My body’s helpless excitement at the shame only made it that much worse.

Beaumont spoke again. “Now, wash her asshole thoroughly. I want to see you really get in there with your fingers. Then kiss it.”

My stomach clenched at his words, but I knew better than to hesitate. Gently, I spread Camille’s cheeks, exposing her puckered entrance. I heard her whimper softly as I began to wash her, my fingers circling the tight ring of muscle.

The act felt so much more invasive than when we’d done it in the Sons of Odin’s bathing chamber, or even at the farm where Sven and Erik had filmed us. We had done it for the masters who had taught us so much in so short a time. Here, under Beaumont’s hungry gaze, it brought a level of humiliation I hadn’t even guessed at.

I leaned in, my face burning with shame, and pressed my lips to Camille’s freshly washed anus. The taste was clean, but the act itself felt so utterly degrading that tears sprang to my eyes. I heard Camille’s sharp intake of breath and felt her body tense beneath my touch.

“Excellent,” Beaumont purred. “Now switch places. Camille, it’s your turn to tend to Mary’s hygiene.”

My legs trembled as I stood, trading places with Camille. Cheeks burning anew, I bent over, exposing myself completely to my friend and our tormentor. I pressed my forehead against the shower wall, trying to steady my racing heart.

Camille’s touch was gentle as she began to wash my pussy, her fingers moving with careful precision. The clinical nature of her actions didn’t stop the way my body responded. Each brush of her fingertips sent little sparks of sensation through me, making my breath catch in my throat.

When she finished washing, I felt her hesitate for just a moment before pressing a soft kiss to my sex. The touch of her lips was feather-light, but it sent a jolt of electricity through my entire body. I bit my lip to stifle a moan, horrified by my body’s betrayal.

“Now shave her,” Beaumont commanded, his voice thick with lust.

I heard the soft scrape of the razor as Camille began to remove the stubble from my pussy. The sensation was oddly soothing, a counterpoint to the turmoil of emotions swirling within me. I focused on the sound of the water, on the feeling of it cascading down my back, trying to distance myself from the humiliation of the moment.

“Make sure you get every last hair,” Beaumont growled. “I want that cunt as smooth as silk.”

Camille’s movements became more meticulous, the razor gliding carefully over every curve and fold of my sex. I could feel her breath, warm against my sensitive skin, and it made me shiver despite the heat of the shower.

“Now her asshole,” Beaumont ordered. “Shave her there, then wash it thoroughly.”

I tensed as I felt Camille spread my cheeks, exposing my most private area to her gaze and touch. Her fingers were slick with soap as she circled my anus, cleaning it with a gentleness that made my heart ache. I felt the razor moving, and I bit my lip at the forbidden sensation. I wanted to tell her it was okay, that she didn’t need to be so careful, but I didn’t dare speak.

“Kiss it,” came Beaumont’s command.

I felt Camille’s lips press against my anus, soft and warm. The sensation was so intimate, so forbidden, that I couldn’t help the small whimper that escaped me. I heard Beaumont chuckle darkly behind us.

“Alright. You may get out of the shower and dry each other off.”

Camille and I stepped out of the shower, our bodies still trembling from the humiliating intimacies we had just shared. My cheeks burned with shame as I took a fluffy towel from her trembling hands and began to dry her off. Her skin was cool to the touch, and goosebumps prickled along her arms even in the warm room.

Without a word, we exchanged places, and she dried me off in turn. The absorbent fabric caught the last droplets of water on my skin, leaving me feeling even more vulnerable than before, somehow. Naked and shivering, we stared at each other, silently pleading for an escape from this too-seductive nightmare.

“Now,” Beaumont purred, his voice dark with lust. “Go into the bedroom and sit on the bed, facing each other.”

The massive four-poster bed loomed before us like an altar to our degradation. Swallowing my pride, I climbed onto the silk-covered mattress, its softness setting my nerves even more on edge. Looking at one another uncertainly, we carried out Beaumont’s command, sitting cross-legged, turned toward each other.

Beaumont sauntered into the room, his hands in the pockets of his deep blue silk robe. Taking his time, he came to the side of the bed. I watched, trying not to tremble visibly, as he pulled his left hand out and reached it toward me.

“Tonight,” he purred, tracing a fingernail lightly up my spine, “you girls are going to fuck each other before I fuck you.” His tone brimmed with dark anticipation. “You’re going to learn something special. A way for two pretty girls to fuck each other when they don’t have a man’s cock to share.” He chuckled at our wide-eyed expressions. “Spread your legs, sluts, and scoot toward each other. Put those sweet little cunts together.”