He’d grinned. “BURMA—Be Undressed Ready, My Angel!” And he’d winked at me.
Something deep inside my stomach begins to roll around, making me feel squiffy. A reminder of the past. Like I need one.
The contents of the box are made up of a long, white envelope, a small parcel wrapped in red, and a folded piece of paper. That’s it. I can’t feel anything bottle-shaped. I let out a sigh, just a little bit relieved. Opening the piece of paper, I read:
Well, my little Slave Girl, have you been waiting? Open the parcel. I expect you to keep it in your bag at all times, until I say otherwise. And then open the envelope, and you’ll know what to do. This is what I expect…