Chapter 9: Golden Showers
The cold water hit like a slap. Iris gasped, her body jerking against June’s hold. June didn’t flinch. Her fingers, still buried knuckle-deep in Iris’s slick, pulsating cunt, twisted slowly. The possessive claim hung heavy in the damp air, thicker than the steam. Iris’s shudder wasn’t just from the cold; it was anticipation thrumming through her exhausted frame, mixing with the raw aftershocks of her brutal climax. Her eyes, glazed and heavy-lidded, locked onto June’s. There was no fear, only a fathomless well of dark need reflecting back.
June leaned in, her lips brushing the shell of Iris’s ear. The cold water streamed over them both, plastering their hair, making their skin pebble. The scent of lavender soap was overwhelmed now by the musk of sex and sweat. Her voice, when it came, was a low, guttural rasp that vibrated against Iris’s skin, cutting through the shower's roar. "Not done yet, sweetness."
Iris whimpered, her hips shifting minutely against June’s invading hand. "June…"
"Shhh." June’s fingers curled deliberately inside her, pressing against that spongy spot deep within Iris’s core. "Hold still." Her other hand slid down from Iris’s jaw, tracing the curve of her throat, over the swell of her breast, slick with water, then down, down the taut, stretched skin of her pregnant belly. Her palm settled low, just above Iris’s pubic bone, pressing firmly. "Feel that? Pressure? That ache deep inside?"
Iris nodded jerkily, her breath catching. "Y-yes."
"I want it," June breathed, her voice thick with dark hunger. Her fingers inside Iris pulsed, a relentless, claiming pressure. "I want to watch you lose control. Right here. Right now. While I’m buried inside you." Her lips dragged wetly along Iris’s jawline. "I want to watch hot piss flood out of you, soaking my fingers, running down your thighs, pooling on this fucking tile floor. Can you do that for me? Can you piss yourself while I finger your tight little cunt?"
The obscene command, delivered with such raw intensity, sent a jolt through Iris that had nothing to do with the cold. Her bladder, already straining under the weight of her pregnancy and the relentless pressure of June’s hand inside and out, clenched violently. A low moan, equal parts shame and desperate arousal, escaped her. "Oh god…"
"Do it," June commanded, her voice sharp, absolute. Her fingers inside Iris began a slow, deliberate fucking motion again, not fast, but deep and grinding. Her thumb pressed harder against Iris’s lower belly. "Let go. Now. For me."
It was too much. The unbearable fullness, the relentless stimulation deep inside her, the cold water shocking her senses, and the sheer, undeniable force of June’s demand shattered the last vestige of control. Iris’s eyes squeezed shut, her head falling back against the tiles with a thud. A choked sob ripped from her throat as her body betrayed her.
A hot, urgent stream burst forth. It wasn't a trickle; it was a release, gushing hotly around June’s fingers still pistoning slowly inside her. The sensation was overwhelming – the intense heat contrasting with the cold water, the sheer wrongness mixed with a shocking, visceral relief. The golden liquid sprayed out, splattering against the inside of Iris’s trembling thighs, hitting the slick tiles between her feet, mixing instantly with the shower spray and the remnants of her own slick arousal. The sound was a loud, hissing rush beneath the water’s roar.
June watched, mesmerized, her own breath ragged. She saw the hot liquid jetting, saw it coat her wrist where it emerged around her thrusting fingers, saw it run in rivulets down Iris’s pale skin. The sight was primal, filthy, and unbearably erotic. Iris’s body convulsed, not with orgasm this time, but with the sheer violence of the release, her cries dissolving into shuddering gasps.
As the stream finally dwindled to a trickle and then stopped, Iris slumped fully against June, trembling violently, utterly spent and exposed. Her face was buried in June’s wet shoulder, her breathing ragged and wet. The smell of urine mingled sharply with lavender and sex in the confined space.
June slowly withdrew her soaked fingers from Iris’s cunt. She didn’t release her. Instead, she guided Iris’s trembling body to lean back fully against the wall, then slid down herself, kneeling on the wet tiles between Iris’s spread legs. The cold water drummed on her back.
Her gaze was fixed on Iris’s belly, the taut curve glistening with water droplets… and streaks of the golden fluid. Slowly, deliberately, June leaned forward. She didn’t hesitate. Her tongue, hot and broad, swept a long, wet stripe up the center of Iris’s lower belly, through the diluted mess.
The taste was musky, salty, faintly acrid, utterly intimate. Iris cried out, a sharp, broken sound, her hands flying to tangle in June’s wet hair, not pushing her away, but holding on. "June!"
June ignored her. She lapped hungrily, like a starved animal, her tongue swirling over the stretched skin, collecting every trace. She licked along the paths the liquid had taken down Iris’s inner thighs, her movements methodical, thorough, obscene. Her nose brushed Iris’s wet curls, inhaling deeply the mingled scents of arousal, release, and her own ministrations. She licked upwards again, tracing the curve beneath Iris’s swollen navel, her tongue dipping into the shallow hollow.
"Fuck, you taste perfect," June groaned against Iris’s skin, her voice thick. "All of you. Mine." She punctuated the word with another broad, wet lick, cleaning the last streaks from the trembling expanse of belly.
Iris was shaking uncontrollably, her breaths coming in shallow gasps, her fingers tightening almost painfully in June’s hair. She felt flayed open, completely possessed, adrift on a terrifying wave of submission and shocking intimacy. The cold water was forgotten. There was only June’s mouth on her skin, June’s claim echoing in the steam.
June finally lifted her head, her chin glistening. She looked up at Iris, her brown eyes dark pools of possession, utterly devoid of the midwife’s calm. Water streamed down her face. "Every drop," she whispered, her voice raw. "Told you."
She surged up, capturing Iris’s mouth in a fierce, desperate kiss. It tasted of salt, musk, and something indefinably primal. Iris moaned into it, her body responding instinctively, arching towards June even as exhaustion threatened to pull her under. The kiss was a culmination, a seal on the violation and the claiming.
When June finally broke the kiss, resting her forehead against Iris’s collarbone, the silence was deafening save for the shower’s relentless spray and their ragged breathing. The flickering bulb cast shifting shadows. The steam felt suffocating now, thick with the aftermath. Iris’s legs trembled violently. June’s arms tightened around her waist, holding her upright against the cold tiles, the weight of the baby, the weight of what they’d just done, settling over them both like a shroud. The water was icy. The reality, sharp and cold as the tiles at Iris’s back, began to seep in at the edges of the steam.