Chapter 23: Shower Training
The steam thickened, wrapping them in a private cocoon of heat and sound. Wanda pulled back from the kiss, her eyes alight with a new, focused intent. “On your knees,” she said, her voice a husky command that brooked no argument.
Natasha felt a shiver, a delicious friction between her jaded expectations and the pure authority radiating from this younger woman. She obeyed, turning and lowering herself onto her hands and knees on the wet marble. The hot water drummed on her back, but her attention was riveted behind her, to the space between her thighs and her ass.
Wanda knelt close, her breath ghosting over Natasha’s most intimate places. One hand landed firmly on the small of Natasha’s back, a point of ownership. The other hand, slick with water, traced a tantalizing line from the swell of Natasha’s ass cheek down through the slick cleft. A finger circled Natasha’s opening, dipping just inside, gathering her wetness, then tracing back, higher, to a place that made Natasha tense with a different kind of anticipation.
“Relax,” Wanda murmured, her tone a curious blend of gentle and unyielding. “Just feel.”
Then, Wanda’s tongue found her.
Not on her clit, not where Natasha had expected. The first flat, hot stroke was against the tight furl of her asshole, a firm, wet line that bypassed her pussy entirely. Natasha gasped, her knuckles going white against the marble.
“This,” Wanda said, her lips brushing the sensitive rim as she spoke, “is rimming, baby. My specialty.”
She dove back in, her tongue no longer tentative. It was a firm, searching instrument, circling the outer ring before pressing insistently. Natasha choked back a sound that was half-surprise, half-aching pleasure. It was a stark, vulnerable invasion, but under the relentless, skillful pressure of Wanda’s tongue, vulnerability transformed into raw, filthy sensation.
Wanda’s right hand, the one not pinning Natasha in place, slid between her splayed thighs. Two fingers, slick with Natasha’s own arousal and the cascade of the shower, pushed into her pussy with no preamble. They curled deep, finding that spongy spot with unerring accuracy, and began a rhythm that was immediately punishingly perfect.
Natasha moaned, a broken, desperate sound lost in the spray. The dual assault shattered her. Her consciousness narrowed to a primal, humiliating, glorious pinpoint: the wet, rhythmic fuck of Wanda’s fingers inside her pussy, and the even more obscene, intimate stroke of her tongue against—and now inside—her ass. Wanda worked her open, her tongue flicking and probing, while her fingers scissored and stroked deep within, the two motions creating a feedback loop of such intense pressure that Natasha thought she might come undone simply from the overwhelming fullness.
Wanda released the rimming, but only to breathe out hot air against it, making Natasha clench around nothing. “Dirty girl,” she cooed, before adding a third finger to Natasha’s cunt. It was a snug, stretching burn that made Natasha cry out. “Love how filthy you are for me.”
Then, Wanda brought her tongue back, this time licking in a broad stripe from Natasha’s clit, over her slit, and up, joining the two separate sensations into one continuous, shocking line. It was an act of base possession, re-mapping Natasha’s body into a single, Wanda-owned pleasure zone. Her fingers worked harder, her tongue deeper, her focus absolute. Her mouth latched onto Natasha’s clit, sucking it with rhythmic force.
“Oh, fuck,” Natasha sobbed, her hips buckling. Her orgasm detonated, a silent scream of a thing that ripped through her core and tore a raw, ragged shout from her throat. It was the kind of shattering, full-body release she never achieved with a client, the kind she’d almost forgotten could exist. She shook violently, her vision whiting out, Wanda’s relentless mouth and hand working her through the crashing waves until she was just a shuddering, boneless husk.
Natasha collapsed onto her side on the floor, the warm water pouring over her recovery. Wanda wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, her expression smug but her eyes soft. She sat back on her heels, watching Natasha come back to herself.
It took Natasha a full minute to catch her breath. When her vision cleared, she looked at Wanda, her mind reeling. Yesterday had been powerful, electric, fueled by chaotic magic and soul-deep recognition. But this… this was surgical.This was craft. It wasn’t just animal passion; it was knowledge, a deep archive of desire pulled from a past life and perfected with present skill.
“Jesus Christ,” Natasha finally rasped, pushing wet hair from her face. “What the fuck was that?”
Wanda tilted her head, a small, knowing smile on her lips. “Yesterday? Yesterday was re-introduction. Basic survival. Me holding back my own power. I was holding you, and myself, with kid gloves.”
Natasha just stared, dumbfounded.
Wanda leaned forward, her eyes glittering in the steam. “Natasha… your tolerance for electricity within your body and pleasure, look at you. You didn't even break into a real sweat and were calling me your lover … well looked her at where Wanda said that. Nat facial expression was of first signs of passion and love. Nat missed it again…” But here, in front of her stood Wanda?” Wanda traces the line again,” although your connection to your body reminds me a difficult students but master connection to found I had taking to deeply understand anything taught time tries pass lost rising oh my Love Spider your mind core is sexy plus while Wanda is breathing I. Was.Going. Easy. You.” She punctuated each word softly. “I matched your beginner soul energy. Now?” Her smile widened, feral and breathtaking. “Now, let me actually use some skill.”