He set the plug into the plughole of the bathtub and started the tapsrunning. A dusty-looking bottle caught his eye from the shelf and heread the label. Soak away the stress and strain of the day. Delicately perfumed with minerals and essential oils to relax tired muscles and calm the mind.It was something an old girlfriend of his had left behind. Up untilthis point, he had only ever considered throwing it out, but now itseemed a most welcome sight. He was tense and really did need tounwind. Why not give it a go?It smelt somewhat flowery; curiously appealing and as the bubblesstarted to form in the running water, the real smells started to waftaround the bathroom and it really did seem to have a relaxing effect. He started to strip and once again found himself looking in the mirroras he did so."Not a bad shape," he thought; perhaps a little short and skinny for aman but certainly not anything that could be described as 'ruggedlymasculine'.He started shaving his face. I had too much to drink, and the pot he made me smoke was terrible. When I sat at the table I noticed an envelope address to "The Slave of the House." I just sat there and ate while staring at it. I really wanted to open it. Just thinking about the instructions the last letter contained was getting me horny. I had several orgasms yesterday, but I felt unsatisfied. I was embarrassed and ashamed at what happened, but it really sparked a desire that I had never felt before.I realized that I was slowly rubbing my nipple on the edge of the table as I leaned forward to eat. I let my hand drop to my lap and stroked my pussy. It was sore, but wet. Why was I wet again? Where did these feelings come from? Why did I keep thinking about the men and women that had used and abused me last night? Why did it turn me on?I cleaned up the dishes and sat on the couch with the envelope. I still had my hand between my legs rubbing my clit softly as I read the letter.Slave,Clean yourself up. This includes.
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