When I muster the energy to lift myself up off the ground, I trudge awkwardly up the stairs into the master bedroom. I can hear the shower water running and the sound of voices coming from inside the bathroom, and I enter as quietly as possible, feeling like an intruder.
It's not just the shower that's running. The Walgrens left the bath running for me, and it's now almost half full. I can see their outlines through the frosted glass of the shower door. They're standing close enough to be cuddling, or possibly having standing sex.
I dip my hand in the bathwater and find that it's pretty hot. I really need a hot bath right now, so I turn off the tap and plant my foot in the bathwater. The temperature stings my skin just a little, so I give myself a moment to get accustomed to it before placing my other foot in the tub. Then I face one end of the tub and submerge my body up to my neck.
The hot water is gloriously soothing and doesn't really sting at all, but it does prickle my skin in just the right way, and I feel so much cleaner already. Apart from the sound of running water from the shower, a relatively tranquil atmosphere pervades the bathroom.
It's still hard to fathom just how much my life has changed since signing that contract. I wonder if it would be any better if I had just walked out of the Walgren's mansion and kept searching for a job. Maybe, since I wouldn't be contractually obliged to whore myself out to them; maybe not, since I would have to pay off my mountain of student debt by myself.
I take a deep breath and close my eyes as I sink below the surface. I feel the warm water close over the top of my head as I submerge myself completely, allowing myself to relax beneath the surface, fully immersed in the soothing liquid while clearing my head of all thoughts.
After about five seconds, I lift myself back up again, breaching the water and inhaling a deep breath while wiping bathwater from my eyes and brushing my soaked hair away from my face. It's been so long since I've enjoyed a full-body soaking in the bath like that, and I loved it.
The Walgrens are still showering, or possibly still talking while the shower is running, so I still have time to soak in the tub. I take a bottle of lotion and squirt some onto my palm, then I put the bottle back and begin rubbing the lotion all over my chest and neck.
I add some to my hair and give it a thorough rinse before washing my hands in the bathwater. There isn't much point in rubbing any lotion on the rest of my body since the water will wash it away, so I stick to my breasts and neck taking another deep breath and submerging my head below the water again. I come back up almost immediately and wipe the water from my face before doing my best to rinse out my hair.
Since I have time to spend in the tub, my fingers wander down to my thighs, which I open wide enough to touch myself. I'd rather lie on my bed while listening to Taylor Swift with a nice toy between my legs, but a few tender rubs of my clit are enough to make me exhale a silent breath of pleasure. My gaze is fixed on the shower door, partly to keep alert to the Walgrens exiting and partly because they're responsible for all of my recent sexual experiences.
As I rub my pussy in tighter circles, I start to feel the pleasure in my groin. I wonder if Steven Walgren's cum is already leaking out of me and whether giving myself an orgasm will affect my chances of conception. I'm in no hurry to get pregnant, so it hardly makes a difference.
The sound of the shower water stops reaching my ears, and I abruptly stop pleasuring myself -- as if the Walgrens would care if they caught me masturbating. Sure enough, the shower door opens and Mr. and Mrs. Walgren step out of the shower naked.
The sight of Mr. Walgren's muscular body makes me tremble with desire in spite of myself. I know very clearly what kind of person he is, and yet the sight of his strong muscles, his toned six-pack, and that long cock and big sack swinging between his legs brings a tingle to my pussy.
Mrs. Walgren continues to make me jealous with her gorgeous curves toned by yoga and her hips widened by multiple pregnancies. Will I get that same kind of body once I give birth?
The Walgrens each grab a towel and dry themselves off before wrapping themselves in them. Gina picks up another towel and starts wrapping it around her hair like a turban.
"Don't spend too long soaking," Gina admonishes me with a little smile.
Steven exits the bathroom without a word and Gina scampers after him to the master bedroom.
***
Once I'm out of the bath and dried off, I follow Gina's example and wrap my hair in a towel turban-style to dry it, then I join the Walgrens in the master bedroom. They're already dressed and they casually watch me get dressed while I suppress what little embarrassment I still feel.
The rest of the afternoon is weird in that they just let me hang out in their home. Steven Walgren disappears to his office to do whatever he does to keep the family rich while Gina curls up on the couch in the front room with a book. I feel awkward just sitting in silence while she reads, so I explore the rest of the mansion.
Besides the front room, there's another living room with no windows but with two big sets of bookshelves. There's also a big couch and an armchair designed for reading, and a display table with a dozen silver-framed photographs arranged like an art piece.
I approach the display table warily, aware that I'm about to get a much more personal glimpse into the Walgrens' family life, and unsure if I really want to know more. I can see the faces in the photos, and I recognize Gina and Steven alongside others I don't know, and I'm fearful of how either of them would react if they caught me snooping in here.
Why would they react badly? Mr. Walgren is busy with work and Mrs. Walgren is busy reading a book. They've literally given me free rein to roam about in their house until dinnertime, so as long as I don't break anything, I can basically do what I want. I walk up to the table and pick up the biggest of the framed photos, holding it carefully under the light.
It's their wedding photo. Gina looks beautiful, resplendent in a gorgeous white gown with a crown of flowers in her hair, holding a bouquet in one hand with the other wrapped around her new husband's waist. Steven looks handsome too in his white-tie suit and his arm around his bride. Husband and wife have beaming smiles on their faces.
I can't help but smile, too. Their happiness is infectious.
I put the wedding photo back in its place and pick up another framed photo, this one with four additional faces. Steven and Gina are sitting on the grass next to each other, each one holding a young boy in each arm, and all six smiling at the camera.
The four grinning boys all look like mini-Stevens with about the same amount of Gina in their faces. I can't help but wonder what kind of men they'll grow up to be, and it makes me shudder given what their parents get up to when they aren't at home.
Speaking of which, why aren't they at home?
I put the photo back where I found it and look at the other photos. One of them is of the oldest son at his middle school graduation ceremony and the others are from various family vacations. They all look so happy, and it occurs to me that the Walgrens must have found a way to keep their children busy on the weekends so that they aren't around when I come to visit.
I've spent long enough snooping around, so I make sure that each of the photos is in the position I originally found it, and return back the way I came. I realize I've still got another few hours to kill, but I'd rather spend them in boredom than get caught somewhere I shouldn't be. I return to the living room to find Gina still curled up on the couch with a book.
"Find anything you weren't supposed to?" She doesn't even look up as she asks me.
"I wasn't looking," I reply simply, sitting down on the opposite couch.
I notice a little smirk flash across Gina's face and I can't tell whether she just read something amusing or assumes I'm lying. She doesn't interrogate me any further, and after watching her for a while in silence as she reads, I start to get restless.
"How come your kids aren't home?"
"They're at boarding school," Gina responds without looking up from her book, "and no, you won't be meeting my children any time soon."
That's not what I asked her, and I'm not sure I'd want to meet the mini-Walgrens anyway. "At least you're keeping them in the dark about...this arrangement."
"As if we'd let them find out that their father likes to fuck women other than mommy."
There's something about the way Gina utters that statement that sounds off, a lot like the tense moment in the car on the way to go shopping. I know she claims to get off on watching Steven fucking other women, but there seem to be limits to how much she really enjoys it. I wonder if it's wise to press her any further, and ultimately decide that it isn't.
***
To my surprise, the Walgrens order me to put on the kimono negligee before dinner. I realize I shouldn't be too surprised as Gina hands me some sexy lingerie to wear underneath, but the knot that forms in my stomach starts to strangle my appetite as I get changed.
When I'm ready, Gina does my hair up in a double-bun style to complete the pseudo-oriental look, and then escorts me downstairs to the dining room. She's already changed into a strapless black cocktail dress with a hem that stops just above her knees, and she's done her hair up in a long side ponytail hanging over one shoulder.
We don't say a word to each other, but the closer we get to the dining room, the more the knot in my stomach tightens, strangling whatever remains of my appetite. Not for the first time, the question of what I've gotten myself into resurfaces in my mind.
When we enter the dining room, Steven is waiting for us in a casual suit without a tie and with his shirt unbuttoned at the top. An eclectic selection of East Asian food, including noodles, rice, and sushi, is waiting prepared and ready on the table, and two places have been set.
Why only two?
"Good evening, ladies," Steven greets us with a grin that reminds me of a shark.
Gina smiles back and struts over to the dining table to take her seat while Steven confronts me. Without warning, he grabs me by my wrists and forcefully leads me to one wall of the dining room. I didn't notice it at first, but my eyes widen in fright at the sight of the X-frame placed against the dining room wall. It has thick leather restraints for my wrists and ankles, and Steven gleefully forces them into the restraints before locking them in place.
"What the fuck are you doing?!" I demand fearfully, but my struggles are futile.
"Whatever we want with you," Steven replies with an evil grin, "as per the terms of the contract. You know, the one you signed of your own free will?"
