“She’s intense, huh?” I said, as I stood in the middle of my tiny room, half into my corset, with Anise behind me, hands on the laces. “Miss Baxter, I mean.”
“She can be,” Anise said. “Inhale.”
Anise gave a sharp tug on ends of the laces, cinching me up tighter and squeezing me harder than I had ever experienced. I groaned and tried to remember what it was like to breathe.
“Anise.” I gasped. “My goodness you’re strong.”
“Mmm,” she said. “Snowboarder. Just turned pro.”
“No s**t?” I squeaked as Anise yanked again.
I heard a small chuckle. “No s**t,” she said.
“Is that where you got that bruise?”
“Hmm?” Anise yanked the laces again.
“The bruise just above your butt.”
“Oh, that. That’s nothing.” Anise gave two more sharp yanks before pronouncing me properly cinched up and helping her
