You follow her to the men's chamber.

The hallway leads to an antechamber lined with doors hung with colorful curtains. She pushes aside a curtain and leads you into a large comfortable room. There are palates on the floor piled with pillows and folded blankets. "There are three others who currently sleep here," Adah tells you, "but they are busy with their chores and studies. You will be educated while you live here. The tutor, Tiras is highest ranked among the men servants, just as I am highest ranked among the women. His room is just to the left of this one, if you have need of him later. For now he is with the master's children."

She leads you out the wide open doors into a garden behind walls. There is a fountain with a crystal pool. "Your drinking water," Adah explains when you pause to look. "The bathhouse is here."

You enter the shadowy room at the side of the garden. There are no windows and the room is lit by a pair of small lamps. Adah reaches her hand into the bath to test its temperature and then lifts a steaming kettle from the cook stove and adds water to the tub.

"Well then, undress." Adah looks at you expectantly a wanton gleam in her eye. You get the impression that she enjoys commanding men to take their clothes off. You consider protesting to her presence. You've been bathing yourself without assistance for many years, and you feel childish having this woman standing over you, but you remember her advice about obedience. You strip out of your tunic and pants without objection.

Adah hands you the kettle and tells you to refill it from the pool in the garden. You watch her gather your clothing and throw them into the stove's fire before you walk out naked into the sunlight. It feels odd being outside without your clothes on, but the sun is warm on your bare skin and you realize that you enjoy the sensation.

When you return with the kettle full you see that Adah has slipped out of her sheer gown. She takes the kettle from you and places it back on the stove. "Sit here," she says, indicating a wooden bench. She kneels at your side and scoops a handful of lumpy stuff from a jar beside her. She begins rubbing the oily stuff over your body, and the sweet flowery sent of it fills your nostrils. She starts with your feet, muttering about how filthy they are. She works up your legs, and massages your thighs with the aromatic oil.

You watch the woman's amble breasts tremble with the vigor of her ministrations to your thighs, kneading your muscles with her strong hands. You cannot help the arousal that you feel at her touch, and your cock grows hard and eager to be touched as well.