When he ordered me to massage his legs, I wasn’t sure why I became obedient, or maybe I just felt bad for him. But, on the other hand, he was genuinely tired, so I believed it was the least I could do for him.

I massaged him for thirty minutes, and during those times, I was pressing his muscles. All I could hear from him was his groans. Or did he even moan? I wasn’t sure, though, but one thing was sure, he was contented with my service. He had no idea that my father used to ask me to massage his tired legs from working all day.

“Do you...