Sometime after I had fallen asleep, Cavan had left me a bottle of witch hazel with a note reading “Add this to your bathwater. You will need it.”
I’d heard witch hazel helped a bottom recover from getting over-f****d, but as I hobbled to the tub, I was doubtful it could do the trick. However, as I had no job to go to, I was free to lounge in the bath all day.
About two hours after sunset, I was in bed trying to fit together the pieces of a flute that mysteriously appeared when the telltale mist appeared. I jumped up to strip off my clothes, but I was too late. Cavan’s hands materialized first, shredding my shorts and shirt simultaneously.
“You are always to be naked at night,” he said, “or suffer the consequences.” He sat down on the bed and pulled me down so my body was prone across hi
