“Miss, it’s time for your bath.”

I look up from the book in my hands, meeting his gaze. His eyes hold a quiet determination, and I know he won’t let me wriggle out of this. I smile slightly, setting the book aside.

“Alright, pet. Prepare everything.”

He nods, and I watch as he moves with purpose, gathering the essentials—shampoo, conditioner, body wash, and all the lotions I prefer. The tub is already filling with warm water, steam curling into the air. I lean back in my chair, enjoying the sight of him taking care of things so diligently.

When the water’s ready, he turns to me, his eyes soft. “Miss, may I assist you?”

I raise an eyebrow, feigning hesitation. “You may.”

He helps me out of my clothes, his touch respectful and gentle. There’s a slight blush on his cheeks, something that never fails to amuse me. I allow him to guide me to the tub, and as I sink into the warm water, a sigh escapes my lips. It’s perfect—just the right temperature, the water soothing the tension in my muscles.

He kneels by the side of the tub, his hands hovering just above the water. “May I wash your hair, Miss?”

“Go ahead, love.”

He pours a small amount of shampoo into his hands, lathering it before gently massaging it into my scalp. His fingers are skilled, knowing exactly where to apply pressure and where to be delicate. I close my eyes, letting the sensation wash over me. His touch is calming, methodical, each movement deliberate yet infused with care.

“Miss, do you like it?” he asks softly.

“Mhm,” I murmur, too relaxed to form a proper response.

He continues his work, rinsing out the shampoo with warm water before applying conditioner. As he does, his fingers slide through my hair, ensuring every strand is coated. He’s so careful, so attentive, it’s almost hypnotic.

After a few minutes, he rinses out the conditioner, his touch never faltering. “Lean back, Miss,” he instructs, and I comply, resting my head on the edge of the tub.

He moves to my shoulders next, lathering the washcloth with body wash. He starts at my neck, the cloth gliding over my skin in smooth, rhythmic strokes. I can feel the tension melting away with each pass, my body growing more and more relaxed under his care.

“Do you need anything else, Miss?” he asks as he works.

“No, just continue,” I reply, my voice barely above a whisper.

He washes my arms, my hands, then moves down to my legs, his touch as respectful as ever. There’s something deeply satisfying about being cared for like this, his complete focus on my comfort and well-being.

When he’s done, he rinses the soap away, leaving my skin clean and soft. He stands, offering me a hand to help me out of the tub. I take it, allowing him to wrap a large, fluffy towel around me. His touch is gentle as he pats me dry, making sure not to miss a single spot.

“Miss, would you like me to dry your hair?” he asks, his voice tentative.

“Yes, pet,” I answer, enjoying his eager willingness to please.

He guides me to a small stool near the sink, and I sit down, allowing him to take the lead. He carefully dries my hair with a towel first, then picks up the blow dryer. His movements are precise as he brushes through my hair, the warm air drying it quickly. I watch him in the mirror, noting the concentration on his face.

“You’re doing well, love,” I say softly, and he smiles at the praise, his focus never wavering.

Once my hair is dry, he sets the brush and dryer aside, moving to kneel before me. “May I take care of your nails, Miss?”

“You may,” I respond, extending my hands to him.

He takes them gently, filing and shaping each nail with careful precision. His touch is light, almost reverent, and I can see how much he enjoys taking care of me like this. When he’s finished with my hands, he moves to my feet, giving them the same meticulous attention.

“Miss, would you like me to apply lotion?” he asks once he’s done with my nails.

“Yes, love.”

He picks up the lotion, warming it between his hands before applying it to my skin. He starts at my arms, working his way down with firm, soothing strokes. His hands are warm, the lotion leaving my skin feeling soft and moisturized.

When he finishes, he looks up at me, his expression one of quiet satisfaction. “How do you feel, Miss?”

“Perfect,” I reply, reaching down to cup his cheek. He leans into my touch, a contented smile playing on his lips.

“Thank you, pet,” I say, standing and pulling him to his feet. “You’ve done well.”

His eyes light up at the praise, and he bows his head slightly. “Anything for you, Miss.”

I press a soft kiss to his forehead, feeling the connection between us strengthen. As he helps me into my robe, I can’t help but feel a deep sense of contentment. Being cared for by him, in this way, is something I cherish—a bond that goes beyond mere words, built on trust, respect, and the purest form of devotion.

“Come, pet,” I say, taking his hand. “Let’s enjoy the rest of the evening together.”