Bathing

Carrie stripped nude before you, then climbed into the tub. You gawked.

"You aren't interested, are you Junior?" she said reproachfully.

"No Madam," you responded curtly. She nodded.

"Bathe me, boy," she commanded regally.

You started with her feet. Fine French soaps, soaping up her feet, her calves, her thighs, her sex. Her sex ... you looked at it, well used and well claimed by the Sheikh. But you couldn't linger. You movd up to her abdomen, her tits, her throat, all smelling of the delicate, fine soap.

"I've wanted you this way for awhile, boy. A servant of our house," Carrie said conversationally.

"Yes, Madam," you said professionally, as you rinsed off her body. She rolled over, so you could wash her back. You looked at the prominent tattoo of the crescent moon and star, the only thing marring her perfect skin.

"Praise Allah," you whispered. Both for the gift you were receiving, and for exerting his will upon your ex-girlfriend. She smiled, looking back as you started to soap up her ass.