Nastassia bathed Vance in warm liquid that, for a split second, soothed him. But searing pain quickly superseded comfort, drenching the open cuts in the flesh of his back. The acidic smell of her urine accentuated the warm, wet, stinging feel of her dramatic gesture of humiliating him and marking him as her property—not to mention the torment all over his back. Vance inhaled deeply, sucking in the pain that surged up his throat into his mouth. He bit his lower lip until he drew blood. But he was determined to bear his agony as stoically as he could.
“You’re being a good boy,” she said with her tone of voice and word choice conveying both abrasiveness and compassion in five simple words. Dismounting the tub, she took a portable fan from the bathroom closet, placed it on the toilet seat nea
