“I need practice,” she said.
“When did you last have intercourse?”
Emma thought hard. “A week ago.” That certainly didn’t make her sound like a slut.
“When did you last masturbate?”
Emma blushed again. Why did the word sound so shameful on Mrs Bradshaw’s lips? It had been the day before, first thing in the morning, lying in bed, before Gerry and Charles had arrived. She had intended to confess it to Master, since she had not received permission for the act. But she had not had a chance.
“Yesterday, Mrs Bradshaw,” she said.
“With your hand or a vibrator?”
Really, Emma thought, what can be the point of these questions? “With my hand.”
Mrs Bradshaw stood up. “Come over here.”
At the far end of the room was a pair of scales. “Take off your top and skirt. And your shoes,” said Mrs Brad
