When Pietro finally uncuffed my wrists, I almost sank to my knees, but he caught me right on time.
"Are you ever going to run from me again?"
"No, Sir." I sobbed out the words, hanging my head in despair, too ashamed of my weakness to look at him.
I thought I’d be much much stronger than this. He scooped me up, and I jerked in pain as he carried me across the room. Everywhere my whipped flesh touched him, the painful agony multiplied. He carried me and made me lie on a soft padded couch. A minute later, I felt him massaging salve on my whip marks.
The burns cooled significantly. His gentle hands swept over my skin, stroking, numbing and soothing comfort into my flesh. I moaned with gratitude. He moved over every throbbing inch, and the feeling of his palms on my skin turned out to be
