158 - Shower
*Once you’re inside, flip the inner lock on and no one can unlock the door until you undo it. If the key doesn’t unlock the door, it’s occupied. Now tell me, little girl, do you like sub space? - Dom*
Darkness moved his large hand to her neck and lightly brushed her cheek with his thumb, “Do you mean tonight?”
Camille shivered at the open longing and need in his voice. She bit her lower lip and pressed her thighs together. With a small shake of her head, she whispered no.
*“Dous limyè mwen, ou teste pasyans mwen,”* he murmured.
She was used to him speaking creole to her and had picked up a few words here and there. He frequently called her his little light or sweet light. But what followed the honorific, she did not recognize. Her face must have given her away because he grinned at her as he moved in closer to her.
“You try my patience, my sweet light.”
“Oh….”
“Tell me, little light, when can we use this?” his hoarse voice was barely above a whisper. The rasp had her body trembling against him.
“Anytime we want,” she whispered. “The only thing that we cannot use is the black room. And the toys. But Dom said that we could use her spreader bars and bindings.”
“Good girl,” he smiled.
She was looking up at his dark eyes that were darker than usual. Her breath was already coming in small, shallow pants and he had barely touched her. She wanted him to touch her. And he knew this. Knew all of her silent tells, and he knew that she was desperate to feel his skin on hers.
But he was not ready to give her release yet.
“You’ve been here before?”
Camille nodded as her tongue dipped out to wet her lips, “Once.”
“And tell me, *ti limyè mwen*, what do you want to try first?”
She bit her bottom lip again, wondering if it was still in the shower. And *IT* was the spreader bar with wrist cuffs hanging in the open shower. Her eyes darted to the wood and frosted glass door separating the bathroom from the rest of the dungeon. Darkness turned to look where her eyes had wandered.
“In there?” he tipped his head towards the door and she nodded. Cocking an eyebrow at her, he turned her face back to his own. “Words, *ti limyè*, I want to hear your words.”
“Yes, Mesye.”
Although she did not know many words in Creole, she knew the important ones. Sir was *mesye*. Yes was *wi*, just like in French. And no was *non*. *Plis* was more and she often confused it with *tanpri* for please.
Even with her limited knowledge, her few words scattered here and there was enough to drive him crazy. A few words strung together, and Darkness could give Gomez Addams a run for his money. She would never be tall and thin like Morticia, and he would never be pale like Gomez. But he would still be head over heels in love with his wife just like the patriarch of the imaginary family.
“Show…,” he cleared his throat. “Show me.”
*“Wi, mesye.”*
Turning on her heel, she grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the bathroom. At the door, she took a deep breath before turning the knob and pushing open the door. The stark white continued inside this room too. Bright white hexagonal shaped mosaic tile and back grout covered the floor with the occasional black or red tile. There appeared to be no pattern to the sequence.
Glossy white subway tile covered the walls up four feet in a horizontal running pattern. There were six inches of the red mosaic tiles with an occasional white tile. Near the shower and tub, black wrought iron hooks were embedded in the tile and grout. From the top of the red band to the ceiling were the same tile in a vertical stack offset.
Just like in the bigger room, this floor also had a few drains. There was a large sunken white tub with black faucet and handles. A large glass enclosed shower with multiple showerheads and two handheld showerheads. Benches sat at either end of the shower.
Hanging from the ceiling, between two rain style shower heads, was a spreader bar with wrist cuffs.
The muttered words that fell from Darkness’ mouth was a mix of English, Creole and the few Dutch phrases that he had picked up. She may not have caught everything, or even understood all of what she did catch, but she knew what he was thinking. Especially with the growled command that he gave her.
“Strip.”
Camille shrugged off her cut and hung it on the nearest hook. The dark, fleece lined camo hunting jacket with orange reflective tape on the sleeves and body was slowly unzipped. The growl that came from Darkness’ throat had her pausing in her actions. Her eyes skimmed over his now bare chest as he stepped out of his boots and undid his belt.
“Little Cam,” he warned, “I said to strip.”
He pulled his belt out of the loops of his jeans in a smooth and quick movement. She swallowed hard as he folded the belt over itself. Folding it over again, he used the stiff leather to lift her chin so that her eyes met his. Excitement and anticipation made it difficult for her to do anything with the zipper and cloth as they slipped from her trembling fingers.
“Hands at your side, *ti limyè*.”
Camille nodded slightly against the belt as her arms fell to her sides.
*“Bon ti fi.”*
There was something about being called a good girl that made her melt. But when he said it in Creole, her bones disappeared, and her entire body turned to putty for him. He knew what it did to her, and he grinned as she tried to stay upright without giving in and falling to her knees.
He draped his belt around his neck before he quickly pulled the zipper on her coat the rest of the way and unhooked it at the bottom. Their eyes remained locked on each other as he removed her jacket and dropped it on the floor behind him with his own discarded clothes.
The dark colored DS T-shirt was gathered in his large dark hands and with the terse command of “Arms,” it was swiftly yanked off her body. Her red lace bra joined the growing pile of clothes behind him. Dark fingers undid the belt and button fly before pushing the denim down the toned legs that he couldn’t wait to feel wrapped around him.
Kneeling before her, he lifted one leg and removed her foot from the boot and jeans. He repeated the same process on the other leg. With her now stripped bare before him, he turned her to face the shower and walked her inside.
After fastening her wrists in the cuffs, he gently rubbed one ass cheek and then the other. Camille whimpered because she knew what was coming. His lips grazed her neck just below her ear.
“You disobeyed. Count for me.”
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