She pressed her cheek against the cold hardness of the white tiles. She didn't want to come, she wasn't even aroused and yet she placed the showerhead between her legs and rocked her body forward so that the water sprayed on her clitoris.

'I don't want this.' She said to no one at all. She heard a voice answer her in her mind. His voice.

'Is it your choice, girl?' The imagined He said.
'No Sir, it isn't.' she whispered.
'Whose choice is it?' He asked.
'Your choice, Sir.'
'Then do it, because I want you to.'
'Yes Sir.' She said.

And her knees buckled and her fingernails scraped against the tiles. She grunted as she bore down, hating the pleasure of it, hating the need for it, hating the release.

Sometimes I need it to be for someone else.

It is easier that way.