Lelika enjoys the intimate contact you share, moving her hips in union with yours whilst keeping her hand across your back and her neck tilted, her head pressed against your upper chest. She is noticeably disappointed as break off to move towards the jars of oils and spices, which he stares at, almost incredulously. The half-elf tolerates your close attention to her arm and shoulder, but when the bristles of the brush move to her armpit she tenses her muscles at the discomfort.<br/>Repeating the ritual with her other arm produces similar results, although prepared she now copes better with it. She enjoys the feeling of the brush against her palms, but as you work between her fingers, making sure no skin escapes, you can feel her fighting the reflex to withdrawn her arm. The oil she originally scoffed at is now welcomed upon her skin as she feels its soothing nature, and she closes her eyes in pleasure as you apply it, also taking comfort in the knowledge that she will not always need to be this clean.<br/>Having felt the brush on far more sensitive parts of her skin, she tolerates the scrubbing of her neck with but a single twitch, and when you clean around her breasts she is relieved, pressing her chest forwards to ease your task. Her attitude changes however when she realizes you do intend to clean her breast, and when the bristles first touch her small mounds she catches her breath in surprise and fear. Her hands, still bearing the slippery texture from the oil, go to your shoulders and she attempts to push herself away from you. Swiftly regaining control of her herself she ceases her actions as she calms down, her entire body one tense muscle as you continues. When you move your attention to her nipples she gasps in pain for the first time. Both fists are clenched and her tense body squirms in pain, her arms going to your shoulders and pressing down.<br/>When you are finished she takes several deep breaths, not even noticing the two kisses you plant on her nipples. For this sensitive flesh the soothing oil is not enough and she moves her hands to her breasts, periodically squeezing each nipple as if that helps alleviate the residual pain. She continues wish this tasks as you scrub her stomach and legs, but when you place the brush against her sex she lets out a cry of “NO!” followed closely by, “I’m sorry mistress,” through quick, short breath. Once again she lays her hands on your shoulders, leaning on you for support as she chokes away her cries of pain. Some of her hairs become entangled with the bristles and are pulled away, and as the cleaning goes one she rakes with her fingers, nails driving into the skin of your shoulders. She stops this once you move on to the soap, but continues to lean until your final kiss, in too much pain to properly enjoy the contact.<br/>As you stand you see that her vivid turquoise eyes have become coated in a layer of moister, and she looks at the brush in your hand as if it were another torture implement. Silently she obeys your command, turning around and lowering her torso, once again touching her toes. She is nervous and the slightest contact with her bottom causes her to tense up.