Chapter Thirty-Four
With every washing, Yolanda’s infatuation increases. My skin, once smooth and uniform, is now covered from forehead to toes with Miss Ilona’s colored hypertrophic ridges of flesh. And Yolanda’s cleansing washcloth must swathe over every one... each so diligently cut and burned into my body. There are so many!
“Miss Ilona wants you oiled today. Something about the lighting.”
Mineral oil is applied and the shy maid’s bare hands begin to massage in the lubricant beginning at my face and working downward. She has rarely touched me before, using instead sponges and wet cloths, but obviously the oil and the necessity of smoothing it into every pore, dictates manipulation. And it feels good.
I stand between the stanchions, well secured as always. There has been no exercis
