Matilda's lips curved into a smile, and she nodded. "Thank you, Zafron. That would be lovely. Although my back aches, mind getting that first?"
Zafron hesitated, taken aback by her request. He had never been so close to the mistress, not like this at least. But the thought of refusing her made his heart ache.
"Of course, Mistress," he finally said, bowing his head.
Matilda turned her back to him, her silhouette framed by the sunlight filtering through the window. Zafron could see the outline of her corset, the laces tightly cinched around her waist.
He stepped closer, his hands trembling as he reached out to touch her. He gently brushed his fingers against her back, feeling the warmth of her skin through the fabric of her dress.
"A little lower," Matilda instructed, her voice barely above a whisper.