Chapter Four
AudenAn hour later, and Proserpina Markham is stretched sideways across my bed on her stomach, her head pillowed on her arms and her eyes closed. I’m rubbing arnica gel onto my sub’s bare bottom and thighs, admiring the geometric welts the crop has left on her skin and also keeping an eye on the usual things—her breathing, the goose bumps on her arms and legs, the expression on her face. I can still taste her on my lips from when I rewarded her for taking the cropping so well, and I consider tasting more straight from the source . . . but her contented sighs as I massage the soothing gel into her skin are almost as delicious.
I love those sighs. I love feeling like the whole world could be this. Us.
Sighs and welts and c*m.
If only he were here too.
I finish with th
