Chapter Thirty-Eight
Like many days before, chains stretched Robin’s wrists high over her head, her ankles spread with a bar and her feet angled to rings in the floor. “Ten Master,” she choked as the last welt claimed flesh, her body hungry for a taste of the lash, her thighs thankful for the pleasure it gave, and her moans stitched with pride.
Was she as beautiful laced with red stripes as Randy had claimed, or was she as ugly as some of those she serviced called her? Did the marks inflame her master’s love, inflate his ego, or was she a reprehensible slug in his eyes because of them?
Whether beautiful or ugly, she found peace in the pain. She rose early each morning, made her bed, evacuated her body, bathed, painted her face, dusted and cleaned her room, ate a sparse breakfast of fr
