The week between appointments had never felt so long.
I measured time by the fading of my marks—the burns on my inner thighs scabbing over, flaking away to reveal pink new skin beneath. The welts on my breasts yellowed and faded, though the tenderness lingered, a constant reminder of the crop's kiss. Every shower was an exercise in endurance, hot water stinging the healing tissue until I learned to wash with cool cloths instead.










Write a comment ...