Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 60105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 301(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 301(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Greta ushered me out of the bedroom and down the hall to a spacious bathroom. Gleaming white tiles and chrome fixtures gave the room a sterile, almost clinical feel. A large clawfoot tub dominated one corner, while a glass-enclosed shower stood opposite.
“Alright then,” Greta said briskly, closing the door behind us. “Go ahead and take your nightgown off.”
My hands shook as I grasped the hem of my nightgown. Greta’s stern gaze seemed to bore into me, making me acutely aware of every movement. Slowly, I lifted the garment over my head, fighting the urge to cover myself as I stood naked before her.
“Into the tub with you,” Greta instructed with an impatient gesture.
I climbed into the big tub. The chilly porcelain shocked my bare feet and I felt my forehead crease with the contradictory signals that seemed to be running through my nervous system. Greta handed me a bar of lavender-scented soap and a soft washcloth.
“Now then, lather up properly,” she said. “And I mean everywhere, young lady. Between your legs, your bottom cheeks, all of it.”
My cheeks burned as I wet the washcloth with warm water from the tap and began to soap myself up. I tried to be clinical about it, to treat it as just another task, but my body had other ideas. As I ran the soapy cloth between my thighs, my nipples hardened into stiff peaks. I bit my lip, willing myself not to react.
When I started to move the warm, slick fabric with a little more pressure, sliding it up and down to make sure I lathered thoroughly, things really became difficult. The softness against the sensitive nub of my clit sent a jolt of pleasure through me. I couldn’t help but gasp as I cleaned my pussy, the memories of the previous night flooding back unbidden.
“Spread your legs wider,” Greta commanded. “Make sure you get everywhere nice and clean.”
I complied, shifting my stance in the tub. As I did, I felt a trickle of wetness that had nothing to do with the bathwater. To my horror, I realized I was getting aroused.
Greta’s sharp eyes missed nothing. She clicked her tongue disapprovingly. “My, my,” she said, her tone a mixture of amusement and exasperation. “Looks like the men courting you will have their hands full. Such a lustful little thing, aren’t you?”
I wanted to sink through the bottom of the tub and disappear. But there was nowhere to hide from Greta’s knowing gaze or my own traitorous body.
“Here,” Greta said, holding out a pink plastic razor. “Time to take care of that bush. Can’t have you looking like an untamed forest down there.”
With shaking hands, I took the razor. Under Greta’s watchful eye, I began to shave myself, carefully removing every last hair from my pussy and between my bottom cheeks. The act felt terribly intimate and shameful, even without the added mortification of Greta watching me bare myself.
I tried to tell myself that after everything that had happened the night before in this strange house, I shouldn’t feel any embarrassment, but it seemed like my modesty, taught from childhood, had no intention of letting go.
Even worse, as I worked, I couldn’t help but wonder what Dylan would think of my newly smooth skin. The thought sent another wave of heat through me, making me squirm in the tub.
“Hold still,” Greta admonished. “Unless you want to nick yourself in a very uncomfortable place.”
I forced myself to remain motionless, even as my body thrummed with a kind of need I had never felt before. When I finished shaving, Greta stepped closer to inspect my work. Her eyes roamed critically over my newly bare skin, her lips pursed in concentration. I stood frozen, hardly daring to breathe as she examined me. I shivered as the air moving on my uncovered nipples tightened them into hard peaks.
Greta’s fingers ghosted along my inner thighs, spreading them wider. I felt utterly naked as she leaned in for a closer look, her breath warm against my sensitive skin. My face burned with humiliation, but I didn’t dare move or protest.
“Turn around, girl,” she commanded. “Bend over for me and spread those cute butt cheeks of yours.”
My face burning, I complied, feeling cool air where everything in me told me I shouldn’t as my trembling fingertips held my rear end open for the humiliating inspection.
“Hmm,” Greta murmured, her tone thoughtful. I whimpered as she ran a fingertip between the taut globes of my bottom, checking for any missed spots. The light touch sent a jolt of electricity through me, making me bite back a gasp. “You’ve done an acceptable job, Andrea. But only barely.”
She straightened up, fixing me with a stern look. “Next time, I expect better. The skin should be perfectly smooth, with no stubble or missed patches. The men of this household deserve nothing less than perfection when they choose to enjoy you.”