I thought it was a bad idea, but she demanded we do this “now,” so I followed her into the sitting room, where the servants had set up the massage table I had ordered. I wasn’t about to try and massage her on the bed—bending down that far would fucking kill my back and besides, I’d be getting oil all over the expensive silk sheets.
Anyway, I told her to lay on the massage table but it was clear she’d never seen one before—she got on it and lay there, face up, with everything on display.
I tried not to watch as I asked her to turn over and lay on her stomach instead with her face in the hole at one end of the table so she could breathe.
She looked at me as though I was speaking a foreign language. Clearly she’d expected me to come over and just start grabbing her—that’s probably what her asshole of a husband does.
“But…you don’t want to touch me…here?” She waved a hand, indicating her full, bare breasts and the small nest of curls between her thighs.
I shook my head.
“No,” I said firmly. “Please just turn over. I promise I won’t hurt you, my lady.”
It was the second time I had tried to reassure her, but I could tell how little she believed me. She turned over but I could see how terrified she still was—every muscle was tight as a wire and her little hands were clenched into fists at her sides.
There was something else too—I could see marks on her pale skin. Faint and barely there but they still showed against her ivory skin tones. Were those old bruises? I wasn’t quite sure and decided not to ask—at least not at the moment.
I went to stand beside the table and she somehow got even tighter.
“Please,” she whispered, her voice muffled. “Whatever you are going to do to me, do it quickly and…and get it over with.”
I had no intention of going quickly—but I wasn’t going to molest her like she clearly thought I was either.
Without speaking, I got some of the massage oil I’d had sent over with the table and poured some into the palm of my hand to warm it. I had never given a massage before but I had gotten plenty of them—the cool down room at the DS headquarters had excellent robo-therapists that you could program to whatever setting you wanted. It always felt so damn good to come back after a mission and get a deep tissue massage.
But Isla clearly wasn’t used to this. What was she used to from that husband of hers? I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.
Deciding to start slow, I rubbed my hands together to spread the oil and then placed them gently on her bare back.
She nearly jumped off the table and ran away. Poor little female flinched so hard she rocked the damn massage table!
“Easy,” I murmured and just left my hands where they were—I could feel her trembling like a small, frightened animal. “Easy, my lady—I told you, I’m not going to hurt you.”
She didn’t say a word but she didn’t loosen up either. Her lovely back was knotted with tension and her hands were still clenched into fists. Did she expect me to hit her? To hurt her? I felt my heart clench as tight as one of her fists as I wondered what had happened to make her so frightened.
Maybe she was just scared because I was a stranger and because I was so big. That was what I thought, anyway. And since words didn’t seem to reassure her, the only thing I had left were actions.
Slowly, carefully, I began rubbing her back, running my hands up and down in long, slow strokes, spreading the lightly scented oil—it smelled faintly of flowers—over her pale, silky skin.
The whole time she didn’t relax. I must have stood there rubbing her back and upper arms and shoulders and the back of her neck for a solid thirty standard minutes and the whole damn time she was tight as a wire. I thought of trying to dig in a little and loosen some of her muscles, but her skin is so pale and fragile looking I decided against it. Better to be gentle this first time—as gentle as I could to prove to her I wasn’t the fucking ogre she clearly thought I was. So I kept on rubbing, but she didn’t loosen up a bit.
Well, this is a big fucking failure, I was thinking to myself when I heard her voice again.
“Are…are you not going to touch me anywhere else, Guard?” she asked, a tremble in her tone.
“No,” I said firmly. “No, this is enough for now. Your husband said to touch you—he didn’t say where. As far as I’m concerned, anything else would be a violation—unless you want me to touch you someplace else?” I asked, though I was pretty sure I knew the answer already.