Chapter 2: Building Tension
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The steam from the shower coiled lazily around Arnold’s broad shoulders, curling like smoke from a dying ember, clinging to the sharp angles of his collarbone and the thick, dark hair that dusted his chest. The water beat down on him in relentless, rhythmic waves, the heat pressing against his skin as if trying to melt him into the tiles. His muscles twitched beneath the water’s caress, the familiar burn of exertion still thrumming in his limbs, though the gym’s weights had long since been left behind.
Arnold closed his eyes, letting the water wash over him, the tension of the day’s rehearsals and the weight of his own expectations dissolving beneath the spray.
He was alone in his private bathroom—no bodyguards, no assistants, no prying eyes—just the relentless hiss of the shower and the quiet hum of the house beyond these walls. He let his head fall forward, resting his forehead against the cool tile, his fingers curling into fists at his sides.
The door creaked open.
Arnold’s eyes snapped open.
Mildred stood there, her sensible heels clicking against the marble floor as she stepped inside. She carried a fresh stack of fluffy towels in one arm, her eyes never leaving him.
The steam from the shower thickened the air, making her plain cotton dress cling to her body in damp patches. Arnold’s saw the way her gaze lingered on every inch of him.
"Oh, I’m so sorry, Mr. Schwarzenegger," she said, her voice dripping with false innocence. "I didn’t realize you were still in here. I just wanted to drop off your towels."
Arnold didn’t move. The water cascaded down his chest, tracing the deep grooves of his abs before pooling around his flaccid, wet, floppy cock. He knew exactly what she was doing—what she’d been doing for months now.
The way she lingered when she brought his laundry. The way her fingers trembled just slightly when she polished the mahogany surfaces in his bedroom. The way her eyes followed him when he moved through the house, hungry and unblinking. But this—this was new. This was deliberate.
Arnold turned his back to her, the water sluicing down his spine, his hands bracing against the tile. "Out," he growled, his voice rough from disuse and something darker, something he refused to name.
Mildred didn’t move. She didn’t even blink. She knew his weakness. She loved his incredible body, more than anyone except one person--Arnold himself.
She knew what he craved. She knew what he *needed* from her.
Arnold's wet back muscles flexed as he turned to face her, arms crossed over his chest, water streaming down his face. His deep voice was a growl, "Mildred, get the fuck out."
Mildred's eyes dropped lower, tracing the thick, wet line that ran from his navel down to the thicket of dark hair between his powerful thighs. She licked her lips slowly, deliberately, before her gaze flicked back up to meet his.
"I'm so sorry Mr. Arnold," she said before beginning to lay it on thick. "Your body, it's just so...I just have never seen anything like it before ," she whispered, her voice thick with something that sounded like awe. "You’re so... perfect. Every inch of you. God, Mr. Schwarzenegger, I can’t even—"
Arnold’s jaw clenched, his muscles tensing beneath her gaze. He knew he should tell her to leave. He knew he should walk out of this shower, wrap a towel around himself, and pretend this never happened. But the way she was looking at him—the way her lips parted just slightly, the way her tongue darted out to wet them—it made his cock twitch, the first stirrings of arousal coiling low in his gut.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Arnold. I just think your body is so...so..."
"so what?" Arnold demanded to know.
"So what, Mildred? Say it."
Mildred's breath hitched, her fingers tightening around the stack of towels. The steam from the shower clung to her skin, making her dress stick to her body in all the right places. She could feel the dampness between her thighs, the way her nipples hardened against the fabric. She knew she should be ashamed, but she wasn't. She wanted this. She wanted *him*.
"Your body is so beautiful," she admitted. She noticed a slight change in Arnold's demeanor, curiosity maybe. "I'll leave Mr. Arnold but please, could I just admire your beautiful body for a minute?" Mildred ventured, her voice dropping to a whisper. She swallowed hard, the lie leaving her lips like a prayer. "I won't touch. I won't say another word. I just... need to look at you."
Arnold watched her, his dark eyes unreadable. He knew she was lying. He knew she wanted to touch him. He also knew that the longer she stood there, the harder it was going to be for him to deny her. Or himself.
"Please, Mr. Schwarzenegger," she whispered, her fingers flexing against the towels. "I'll never speak of this again. I swear on my mother's grave."
Arnold let out a rough, humorless laugh. "Alright, Mildred. I suppose I can allow dat." Arnold uncrossed his powerful arms and stepped out from under the shower stream, letting the water run down his back as he faced her fully. His cock bobbed with each movement—flaccid but still fairly juicy. The droplets from his hair dripped onto his shoulders, tracing patterns over the bulging pectorals that rose and fell with every breath. He watched her reaction, seeing the way her breath hitched when he let his arms drop to his sides, his biceps flexing as he crossed them low over his waist.
Mildred's mouth went dry.
The sight of Arnold Schwarzenegger standing there, completely naked, his body glistening with water, was enough to make her knees weak. She had seen him in movies, in magazines, in the gym—but never like this. Never so close that she could see the way his muscles rippled beneath his skin, the way the water droplets clung to his dark chest hair, the way his cock hung heavy and thick between his powerful thighs.
She swallowed hard, her fingers tightening around the towels. She could feel the heat radiating off him, the sheer power of his presence. It was intoxicating.
Arnold watched her, his dark eyes unreadable, his jaw set. Little did he know, Mildred's trap had been set, and he was her captured prey. She had broken his initial defenses, she knew he was as good as hers. As she circled his buck naked body, she made slight moans and gasps, knowing it would turn Arnold on. She noticed a slightly perceptible smile form on his mouth. She then crouched to get a closer look at his loins and faked an orgasm.
"Oh my God," she moaned, her voice thick with barely contained lust. "I-I've never seen anything like you before, Mr. Schwarzenegger. It's just so... so big." She let out another soft, needy whimper, her free hand drifting down to press against the damp fabric of her dress, right between her thighs. She could feel the heat of her own arousal, the way her pussy throbbed with need. She wanted him. She needed him. And tonight, she was going to have him.
Arnold's cock twitched at her words, his cock growing harder before her eyes at the sight of her touching herself.
He felt the familiar thrill of being worshipped, of being desired. It had been so long since anyone had looked at him the way she was now—with raw, unfiltered hunger.
Mildred’s knees hit the marble floor with a soft thud, the towels scattering around her. She didn’t care about them. She didn’t care about anything except the thick, heavy cock swaying just inches from her face. The shower had rinsed away any remaining soap, leaving his skin slick and shiny, his balls heavy and full beneath the thick shaft.
Arnold, no longer able to hide his amusement, felt his cock twitch slightly. He loved having his body praised and worshipped. "So Mildred, what exactly is it about my body that you enjoy the most?" Arnold asked, his tone both teasing and commanding. He wasn't even going to pretend anymore that he didn't want this. He liked her worship, her submission, the way her breath hitched as she looked at him.
Mildred moaned again, her free hand still rubbing between her legs as she rose slightly onto her knees, her fingers trembling as they reached out toward him without touching. "Your arms... God, your arms," she breathed. "So thick, so strong. I can see the veins bulging when you flex. And your chest—your pecs, they're like two fucking melons, so round and hard. And your abs..." She let out a shuddering breath.
"And your cock... fuck, Mr. Schwarzenegger. It's just so... manly." She began to slowly reach her hand towards it. Arnold didn't stop her this time
.
With a shaking breath, Mildred’s fingers brushed against the hot, slick flesh. His cock jerked at the contact, thick and heavy in her palm. A low groan rumbled from Arnold’s chest as she wrapped her fingers around the thick shaft, her touch light at first, then firmer as she began to stroke him.
“Fuck,” Arnold hissed, his hips shifting forward involuntarily, his cock twitching in her grip.
Arnold's cock grew even harder, thick and heavy, and it was all Mildred could do to keep from moaning at the size of him. She could feel the powerful pulse of his heartbeat through the thick vein running down the underside, the heat of him searing her palm.
"Please, Mr. Arnold, can I jack you off?" she begged him.
"I'll be so good for you. I'll make you feel so good."
Arnold's jaw tightened, his eyes darkening with something between desire and wariness. He knew he should stop her. He knew that this was dangerous, that Mildred was dangerous. But the way her fingers wrapped around his cock, the way her breath hitched with need, it was too much. He had spent too many nights alone, too many nights aching for the kind of worship that only a woman like her could give.
"Fuck," he growled, his voice low and rough. "Fine. But you better make it worth my time."
Mildred's lips curled into a slow, wicked smile.
She squeezed his cock once, gently at first, then with growing pressure, her fingers gliding up and down the thick shaft, feeling the vein throbbing beneath her touch. Pre-cum beaded at the slit, glistening like a pearl in the dim bathroom light. She leaned forward, her tongue darting out to catch it before pulling back with a hungry little sound.
Arnold's cock jerked in her grip, his hips bucking slightly as a deep growl tore from his throat.
"You like that?" Mildred purred, stroking him faster now, her thumb swiping over the sensitive underside of his cockhead. She knew exactly how to make him cum easily and quickly. She couldn't wait to see and hear him cum.
The way his face tightened, the way his abs flexed as he lost control. She wanted to worship his cock until he screamed her name.
Arnold exhaled sharply as Mildred's tongue flicked out again, this time dragging the flat of it along the thick vein pulsing down the underside of his shaft. The wet heat of her mouth hovered just a breath away from his cockhead, her breath hot and ragged against his sensitive skin.
"You really want this, huh?" Arnold growled, his fingers tangling in her damp hair. His grip wasn't gentle—it was possessive, commanding. He wasn't about to let her tease him any longer.
Not when every muscle in his body was coiled tight with need, not when the heat of her breath on his cock was pure torture.
Mildred used her expert technique and thrust the naked muscleman's orgasm to completion.
"Fuck—" Arnold groaned, his hips jerking forward on instinct as his cock shot thick ropes of cum across Mildred's face and chest, the first blast hitting her cheek and smearing in a glossy white streak. "Oh, *fuck—*"
Mildred’s tongue darted out to catch the next jet midair, her moans muffled against the spattering of seed that collected on her lips. She squeezed her thighs together, her fingers diving beneath the damp fabric of her dress to strum her soaked slit, the wet sounds of her arousal vying with Arnold’s ragged breaths above her.
His cock continued to pulse in her grip, the last of his cum dripping down her chin as she milked him dry. She didn’t stop stroking him until his hips stuttered and he let out a low, warning growl.
"Enough," he rasped, his voice rough with spent pleasure. But his cock didn’t soften. It stayed thick and heavy in her hand, twitching with aftershocks as she finally released him.
Mildred looked up at him through her lashes, her lips glistening with his cum, her fingers still buried between her thighs. "Did you like that, Mr. Schwarzenegger?" she murmured, her voice thick with satisfaction.
Over the next several months, Mildred continued to milk and suck Arnold's penis.
She had become his personal whore. She knew that Arnold loved the way she worshipped his body and his cock. Arnold had always been a man who enjoyed being admired and praised. But what he didn't know was that Mildred had a plan. She was going to make him fall in love with her. She was going to make him crave her body as much as she craved his.
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**The Study**
The fire crackled in the hearth, casting long shadows across the polished mahogany of Arnold’s study. The room smelled of aged leather, whiskey, and the faint musk of sex that always seemed to linger in the air when Mildred was around.
Arnold sat behind his massive oak desk, the firelight flickering across his face as he pored over a stack of political briefs. The papers were important, but his mind kept drifting back to the way Mildred’s lips had wrapped around his cock just hours earlier, the way her tongue had teased the thick vein along his shaft before swallowing him down to the root. His cock twitched in his slacks at the memory, the fabric growing tight as he shifted in his chair.
The door creaked open without a knock.
Mildred stepped inside, her plain black dress clinging to her curves in all the right places. The fabric strained slightly over her full breasts, the outline of her nipples visible through the thin cotton.