Hearing my voice, she turned to me, folded her hands in front of the apron she must have brought with her, and looked at the floor by my feet. The weirdness of this display was enhanced further when she spoke with the same meek voice she used the day before, after I had kicked her out.
“Morning, Honey. I asked Ava what you like for breakfast. I hope that is Okay.”
She had even found the prepared dough pieces in the freezer and used them to make the bread rolls. I blinked at her for a few seconds before I found my voice.
“Yeah ... Sure. Uh ... Thanks.”
I was a little unsure about this situation, and decided to simply sit down at my small kitchen table. She immediately filled a plate, placed it in front of me and a quick peck on my cheek, and then continued on in the kitchen.
Following breakfast, I was planning to repeat the bathroom-procedure from the previous day. Claire had a different idea, though, as she insisted on not simply standing in front of the door this time.
“We talked about this yesterday, Claire.” I complained. “It worked out fine without you, didn’t it?”
“No, Honey, it didn’t. You managed to clean yourself up, but the pain almost took you out. There is no need for you to torture yourself when your sister and I are perfectly happy to help you out! I will not let you do this by yourself and possibly hurt yourself even more than you already are.”
I was surprised how adamant she was about this. Especially since it was such a sudden stark contrast to the demure display I had just witnessed in the kitchen. Honestly, I preferred her this way. If I wanted to live with a slave, I wouldn’t have helped Ava, but instead abused it like Aaron and Logan had. So, while I was reluctant to let her help me, I was also reluctant to discourage her new conviction.
“Fine.” I groaned, and saw her expression light up. “Let’s get this over with.”
She was unbelievably careful taking off my clothes. She wasn’t as practiced as the nurses in the hospital, but still managed to do it while causing only minimal discomfort on my part. When I sat down on the little stool in my tub, she made sure the water had the right temperature before letting it anywhere near me.
“Don’t worry about getting the wounds wet. The doctor’s appointment is in two hours, and they’ll change all the bandages and the packing anyway.” I informed her, and she nodded.
She still turned the water off after getting me sufficiently wet, and opted to gently scrub me down with a sponge. I watched her face attentively the whole time. When she slowly lifted my right arm and heard my pained reaction, there was what seemed like genuine worry in her eyes. That calmed me down a little. When she started working the soapy sponge around my lower stomach, though, there was a quick and obvious reaction I didn’t like, and I could see a glint in her eyes as they locked onto my erection.
She moved the sponge further down, rubbing it over my balls, and finally wrapped it around my shaft to clean in with slow strokes.
“I think it’s clean now.” I said after a few strokes. The coldness in my voice surprised even myself a little, and her hand immediately stopped moving.
“But ... Don’t you want me to...” she asked, confused.
“No.”
“Oh. I understand. I’m sorry, Honey.” she sounded meek again and hung her head, but this time I couldn’t give in. “D ... Do you want me to get your sister for this?”
“It’ll go away on its own once you stop stimulating it. Can we just finish, please?”
“Of course.”
It was clear that she wasn’t just disappointed, she was hurt. But I couldn’t help her with that. I may haven’t had a chance to jerk off in a week, but I’d rather stay celibate for another five weeks until my collarbone stops tormenting me, than to become dependent on them for that as well.
She finished with the sponge bath, rinsed me off, and then dried me off without another word. Even when she helped me get dressed, I got the impression that I had just beaten her into submission by refusing to let her jerk me off.
When it was time for the first appointment with my GP, she insisted on driving me, and I realized that she seemed to have time on her hands despite Tuesday being a weekday.
“I take it you haven’t found a new job yet?” I asked her.
“No.” she sounded a little uncertain. “But I have to admit that I haven’t honestly looked into getting a new job. At least not since Thanksgiving. I was too occupied with the ... trouble at home.”
“Hm. Understandable.”
“And ... since I’m now looking after you, I thought ... I would at least wait until you can use your arm again before I start looking again.”
I had suspected as much. Though, it gave me an idea that would possibly help me accept her help.
“Well, when you’re taking care of me, how about I just pay you what I would otherwise pay for a day nurse?” I offered.
“Pay me?” She sounded confused at first, but then her voice shifted to a mixture of nervousness and embarrassment. “How much ... would that be?”
