After spraying me over to remove any further residue, she then lightly toweled me dry. Well mostly dry, there was a slight dampness to my skin.Then she led me back to the other room. This was the first time I had seen it, it was set up like a classic dungeon with an "X" frame, rack and other manner of restraining and torturing device. I was lead to a padded table and assisted to lie on top on my back. The spreader bar holding my arms was attached to the head of the table and my legs were then bound wide apart to the foot of the table in stirrups. As they did this I tried to look at what they were about and caught the incongruity of my crotch framed with the two small strips of hair."I see you have noticed our little problem. You are all nice and clean except for that area. We call it the bikini line. Do you know why?"I did, but with a gag firmly implanted in my mouth, I certainly wasn't in a position to tell her that."When you wear a bikini, that area is exposed. Did you know that. They discovered that while Mark was fascinated by the Greek and Roman civilisations his real love was medieval Europe. Deirdre agreed with him on the former but was much more into modern history and, in particular, female emancipation. It became clear that she was a bit too left -wing for his liking.After dinner she invited him back to her house. Her fellow teacher housemates had gone sailing at the Dummersee. They sat on the sofa and had another coffee. Deirdre put her cup down firmly."Revision!" she said in her best school-ma'am voice.Mark, grinning, set down his cup equally firmly and said "Yes, Miss," took her in his arms and gently kissed her lips. He ran his hands through her hair and began butterfly kisses on her face. He moved back to her lips and soon they were kissing passionately, their tongues exploring each other's mouths. Mark drew back and gently kissed the line of her jaw and as much of her neck as he could. Deirdre's breathing started to come in pants. He returned to.
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