When Henry commanded me to massage his legs, I narrowed my eyes at him. He glared back, clearly not happy with my defiance. I wanted to suggest that he could hire a professional masseuse for a home service, but the thought of another woman touching him didn't sit well with me.

I wasn't sure why I became obedient when he ordered me to massage his legs. Maybe I felt sorry for him or was slowly developing feelings for him. Either way, he was obviously tired, so I figured it was the least I could do. I massaged him for thirty minutes, applying pressure to his muscles. All I could hear...