*Looks up at Dov, continuing the brushing motions. A hand rests on either hip, fingers outstretched in the direction of her navel, wandering over her lower belly. The curled fingers are patient and thorough, methodically stroking over her shirt as if inefficiently scratching away specks of dirt. They are undeterred by those defensive arms, raised up perhaps involuntarily but not yet combating my own.*
No, I believe this shirt has some specks on it. It wouldn't do for someone of your stature to be seen in dirty clothes, now would it? I'll have to do a very careful job cleaning it. After all, as your servant, shouldn't your cleanliness take priority over anything or anyone else?
*A subtle smirk crosses my lips, the only indication of my amusement. As I speak, gazing carefully at her cringing face, my fingertips redouble their efforts, fanning out over as much of her midsection as they can, fingers curling one after the other in waves, pinky to pointer, outer stomach to inner. My eyes focus on her face, trying to observe any reaction, darting down to her belly and back again, taking in all that I can.*