“Oh, very nice,” she murmured softly. “I can see four distinct stripes here. This first one is a bit weak, but the other three are indeed crackers.” Her finger went out and carefully traced each stripe for me, as if I couldn’t tell where they were from the feeling. My arms and hands ached from my awkward position, but I couldn’t have moved to save my life. I lay there and let the woman play with my bare bottom for God only knows how long. She poked and squeezed and patted and pinched, and I just moaned and wept and prayed for an end. “There’s quite an opening here, lad,” the woman said, her hand carefully caressing the empty space between the first and second stripes.
A Trip to the Head36
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