“I touched myself.” There, I’d said it. “I touched myself while I thought about how Anise had touched me. And while I thought about the mark she left on my shoulder.”
Miss Baxter moved the end of the crop away from my tender skin and rested it on her shoulder again. “Show us please.”
“The mark, Miss Baxter?” I said. “It’s faded.”
Miss Baxter looked at me with the corners of her mouth in an unmistakable downturn.
Oh s**t, she meant how I touched myself. I was not expecting that. Here I was lying face up on a massage table, wearing a corset and panties that weren’t even close to being dry anymore. Miss Baxter standing at one end and Anise at the other, and she wanted me to demonstrate how I touched myself when I thought about Anise. I’m going to die of embarrassment.
Miss Baxter moved t
