He was still incredibly groggy, the thick fog of drugs that lingered in his system forcing him to struggle against the pull of sleep. The mention of bathing motivated him enough that his eyes snapped fully opening. She was going to bathe him? No. He must have heard her wrong. This sweet, innocent child was going to<span style="font-style: italic">bathe</span>him? He wouldn't stand for it. It wasn't proper.<br/><br/>The words wouldn't come, though. He couldn't bring himself to speak against his mistress. She'd commanded him to bathe, and so he would, but it shamed him. He managed to bear his own weight almost completely as the two boys came to carry him to the tub. He wobbled drunkenly, his head swimming, and once even nearly blacked out as the thick fog overtook his will power briefly. Finally, however, he made it. There was no way around it, so he let the boys lift him and gently lower him into the water.<br/><br/>Shame gripped his stomach as the girl, he thought her name was Ann, reached in to pull his scant clothing away. He was only exposed for a brief moment before the wonderful, steaming, hot water covered him. He relaxed against the back of the tub, which seemed to fit the shape of his body perfectly, and tried not to look mortified and embarassed.