She offers to wash you instead

"Sir," She stops your hands at her belt, "Allow me to wash you instead." Searching her eyes for any clue to her intentions, you wonder if she is just trying to keep you from stripping her again or if she has a more dangerous plan in mind. Her eyes meet yours without faltering, and you see nothing but sweet innocence in her face. You don't trust her at all, but you like the idea of having this servant washing you as she must have washed her mistress. Having her use her soft hands to caress and tease the weeks of accumulated grime from your body and then drying the drops of water gently with a towel sounds like a pleasant way to celebrate the fall of Athenapolis.

"Alright girl." You tell her as you pull your tunic from your body and hand her the rag. "But I'm keeping this pen knife up here with my sword." Hanging your weapon's belt from one of the hooks on the wall above the trough and tucking the sharp dagger behind the belt you sit on the thick stone edge of the water though and unbuckling your sandals you swing your feet into the cool water. Now wearing only a loincloth around your private parts you sit with your back to her and wait to see what she does. You are confident that if she runs, that you will be able to catch her before she can get out of the building.

You feel her bare shoulder and breast brush your back as she leans forward to soak the rag in the water, but no sooner do you become aware of the sensation then she jerks back replacing the warmth of her skin with the cool wet rag. Few things have ever felt as fine as the soft warmth of her tit touching your back, but for now you are content to let her wash the weeks of grime from your body. As you feel her small hands rub the dirt from your neck and shoulders you relax with a deep sigh.

"Did you bathe your mistress like this?" You ask picturing in your mind Sandrine gently pouring steaming water over the back of her mistress and then using her soft hands to wash her all over. Sandrine hesitated before she answered.

"Yes, of course."

"Is she pretty? The councelor's daughter. Describe her to me, what does she look like?" Sandrine is now running the rag over the outside of your arm, and she seems to appreciate the strong muscles that lay just under your thick skin.

"Not like this, sir. Her arms are soft and thin like mine, and smooth. She has none of these scars." Your arms show your years of training: your left arm has a thick calloused layer of skin where the shield strap rests against it and your right forearm has multiple scars where swords slipped past your guard and cut open the skin. Most of the injuries were from training weapons, the dull blades not cutting too deep, but one long white scar runs nearly the length of your forearm where you blocked a slash with your arm. You would have been killed were it not for the rest of the phalanx that advanced pushing your assailant backwards as you stumbled to the ground.

Lifting your arms above your head you become aware of just how badly your body smells. Sandrine is silent again as she washes the newly exposed flesh under your arms.

"Would she make someone a pretty bed ****? What does her body look like? Is she slim like you or plump from overeating and lack of exercise?"

"She has my build - I don't know if men prefer that in a **** or if you want her to have swollen breasts the size of melons." Her hands are now reaching further around your body rubbing your chest and abdomen. Taking her hands in yours you pull them to your muscled pecks and cup her small hands around your pectoral muscles pressing them against your nipples.

"When you washed your mistress did she like it when you rubbed her breasts?" Several breaths of silence, so you push some more. "Did she have you pleasure her with your tongue and fingers as well as washing her soft form?" Sandrine still says nothing but allows you to pull her arms some more so her warm breasts press against your back. "I bet she loved the feel of your body against her back as you washed her juices from between her open thighs." You let go of her hands so you can work your loincloth loose, but she doesn't pull away. Her breasts continue to press against your back and her hands run the length of your torso feeling the hard muscles of your body.

"Did you like serving your mistress?"