“You’re different,” I say before I can stop myself.
She shakes her head as if rejecting the idea. “I’m not.”
“Is that a lie you tell everyone or do you actually believe it?”
She blinks away the droplets of water that splash on her face after hitting her bare shoulders.
“I’m just like everyone else.”
“If you were like everyone else, I wouldn’t have noticed you on the beach.”
“Earlier today?” She continues when I don’t answer. “Today was the first time you saw me?”
“Wash your hair,” I demand.
Her hands continue to tremble as she reaches for the bottle of shampoo, and stubbornly she keeps her eyes wide open as she lathers her hair. She’s smart not to take her eyes off me, but all that does is prepare her to see what’s coming. She has no ability to prevent anything from happening.
“Conditioner,” I tell her after she rinses the shampoo from her hair.
She obeys the order quickly, but as her hands work the cream into her hair, her demeanor begins to change a little.
Her scared eyes gather a hint of defiance, irritation at following my orders clear as she immediately rinses the conditioner from her long blonde hair. I know she’d let it sit for a few minutes if she were alone, but I don’t make her repeat the process.
“Stop,” I snap when she considers herself done and reaches to turn the water off. “Do you really think I’m going to let you out of the shower before you wash your pussy?”
She shows more emotion than she has, yet when she looks back at me, her chin quivers uncontrollably. I know she’s crying, her eyes red from a combination of terror and the soap that had to have gotten in there in her stubbornness not to close her eyes to rinse the shampoo out.
I give her the same look I gave her earlier that saysyou know the rules.
A sob escapes her throat as she lathers more soap on her hands before pulling the front of her soaked dress up.
She doesn’t show me a damn thing as she cleans herself. I didn’t exactly expect her to lift the fabric and tuck it in under her chin as she washed, and I have to say I’m both a little disappointed and proud at the same time.
Surprisingly, she turns her back to me, risking taking her eyes off me to rinse herself clean, but I don’t use the opportunity to showcase the power I have over her. She’ll get more of that soon enough.
“You can turn off the water now,” I instruct when she turns back to face me.
She does so hesitantly, as if she’s anticipating the really bad shit to happen now that she’s clean.
“Get my floor wet, and I’ll make you lick it clean,” I warn as she lifts a leg to step out of the shower.
“May I have a towel, please?”
She says it the same way she did when she asked for the blanket. She’s very prim and proper, very fake.
“You’ll never get fully dry in that soaked dress.”
She blinks up at me, smart enough to understand what I’m saying, but not willing to do any more than she’s instructed.
“Strip,” I say, making it easier for her to obey.
“Pl-please,” she begs, and the sound of it makes my semi-erect cock start to thicken fully.
I don’t step back. I don’t give her any indication that she’ll win this round if she refuses.
And once again the witch fucking surprises me by reaching behind her for the zipper on her dress. She struggles for a few seconds, the zipper no longer working properly now that it’s wet.
The dark fabric falls to the floor at her feet, and that ounce of defiance I saw in her eyes disappears as she looks up at the ceiling.