The morning light casts a line across my eyes, and I blink against the assault. I stretch and immediately regret it. Pain shoots through the muscles in my back and the skin stretches across the wounds. My body aches from sleeping in a limited position. A moan escapes my lips to release the tension. With an effort, I swing my legs over the bed.
There is no breakfast on my desk. At the thought my stomach growls and begs for anything to help it settle. Even unshackled, my body is feeble in its attempt to move. I shuffle to the desk for water. The cool liquid is exquisite on my tongue. With greed I drink it down in large gulps.
Locks on the doors click and I jump at the sound. The movement causes the whip marks to ignite.
Ana walks into the room. She dashes my hopes for a reprieve on food when I realize her hands are empty.
“Master says it is time for you to purify yourself. I prepared an Epsom salt bath for you. Please follow me,” she says and turns down the hall.
Her words penetrate my mind and an audible groan slips between my lips. While the Epsom salt bath will soothe the aching muscles, the payment will lace pain when the water hits the open wounds.
I gather myself and follow Ana down the hallway.
We turn and walk into the large guest bathroom. Dominick was always fond of being able to play or give discipline wherever and whenever it was deemed necessary. Every bathroom in the house is equipped and sized appropriately.
The large soaking tub emits columns of steam. My muscles tense at the soothing concept but stop short in anticipation of the payment.
Ana reaches over to help me remove the sackcloth. Then she pulls on the edge of the bandage and removes it.
For a long moment, I stare at the bath.
Beside me, I hear Ana give an exasperated sigh.
“It seems I am not the only one who needs to learn patience and humility,” I comment as I sit on the edge of the tub and swing my legs into the water.
“I don’t even understand why you are here,” she says openly.
“Careful, girl, I am still a guest and a Dominant in this household.” My voice is monotone without emotion or inflection.
With care, I lower my body into the water and let out a hiss as the Epsom saltwater works its way up my back.
“Based on what I’ve seen, I think you are deluding yourself. Master would never treat another Dominant like he’s treating you.” Her free conversation confirms the fact that she sees me as an equal or subordinate.
“You’ve much to learn,” I comment. Everything in me fights against the pain. With care, I wash my body with handmade soap. It is a luxury I’ve not enjoyed for the past several months. Even with the discomfort, being able to take time to stop is a relief all its own.
“Obviously not from you,” she says and rolls her eyes.
“I’ll remind you of that one day,” I reply and sink down into the water.
My body retaliates from the bath in some ways, while in others, tension I did not know I carried is melted away. Once the bath is complete, I shower to wash my hair and rinse away the dredges of my penance.
Drops pound across my face and chest as I move to keep the rain of water off my back. After nearly drowning myself twice, I finally finish washing and conditioning my hair. When the water turns off, Ana magically appears.
“Please sit.” Her voice is kinder. The look in her eyes is pure confusion. I want to smirk. Instead I let my eyes cast down in false submission and sit at the vanity.
Behind me, Ana works on styling my hair. The sound of the dryer lulls against my senses. My mind is an odd dichotomy of pushing against the events of the last several days and relaxing into the expert hands behind me. With an effort, I close my eyes and give in to the moment.
Time passes without thought until pain streaks around my head. My eyes spring open. Ana presses the next thorned rose into the elegant updo.
“Master insisted. He says to remind you it is not complete.” Concern laces her voice.
Unadulterated fear runs through me.
“Are you okay?” Ana asks. A look of confusion shadows her face.
I force a smile.
“Yes, Ana. The hairstyle is beautiful.”
Behind me she gives a slight nod and I note the respect in the gesture.
It is then I realize Dominick knew of our earlier interaction and interjected to correct it at some point.
“Master requests you wear the dress he’s provided for you.” She motions over toward the door.
The long white dress, in a Grecian style, hangs over the back of the door. Its formality looks out of place, but upon closer inspection the fabric is thin, though it contains several layers.
I prepare to feel the fabric scrape across my back. When I turn it around, I realize it plummets to right above my ass. The entirety of every wound, bruise, and whip mark is on display.
Slipping into the dress is easy. The front cleavage point mimics the back. The dress covers and uncovers in the same breath.
“Please come with me to your room. There you will remain until you are summoned. There are no meals planned for you today. Water is provided to you,” she says and leads me back to my room.