Hilary Baxter is a retired dominatrix who runs a boarding house for young women, and Anise has been there the longest. But how did she come to be employed as Miss Baxter’s sexy assistant? It wasn’t an easy road for either of them.
The two mix like oil and water. Anise isn’t ready for Miss Baxter’s uptight attitude, and Miss Baxter certainly is not thrilled with Anise’s lackadaisical outlook on life.
Then things come to a head, and Miss Baxter’s former profession takes center stage. Harsh words are spoken, apologies are made, and a new special therapy regime is agreed upon.
“So, you’ve decided?” Just like before, she didn’t even look up from her tablet.
“Yes, Miss Baxter.”
“Strip,” she said.
That was it. No please. She didn’t even use my name. But I did it. I slid my sleepshirt over my head and stood there leaning on my crutches, naked as the day I was born. I shivered, but not from cold.
I watched Miss Baxter set her tablet on the night stand and maneuver herself so that she was sitting on the edge of her bed, back ramrod straight and, I have to say, looking rather enticing in her silk nightie.
I chewed my lower lip.
“Anise,” she said. “In a moment I’m going to ask you to place yourself over my knee and I’m going to spank you. But before I do that, I want you to remember two very important words. Yellow and red. If you think it’s getting too intense and you need to slow down, you can say yellow. If you decide it’s not what you wanted and you’re done, you can say red. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Miss Baxter.” Why do I feel like a schoolgirl who just got called to the principal’s office?
“Do you have any questions, Anise?”
“Um.” I did notice a distinct difference from what I had envisioned when she first told me of her secret life as a dominatrix. “I -- I guess I thought you’d be wearing black leather of something.”
“I didn’t think it was really necessary.” She was smirking. “After all, you’re the one standing naked while I am still clothed. I think that asserts the roles quite well for our first time, don’t you?”
I shuddered slightly, again not from cold, but rather from her choice of the words ‘first time’. Did she anticipate this becoming a regular thing? “Yes, Miss Baxter.”
And then as if she read my mind, she said, “Of course there’s always the distinct possibility that you’ll call red and run screaming after the first kiss of my hand.”
I figured she was just trying to get under my skin with that remark. I decided I would not be giving her that satisfaction, no matter how much it hurt.
“Are you ready?”
“Yes, Miss Baxter.”
“Lay your lovely body across my knee.”