CHAPTER NINETEEN
“Feeling better now?” Wyatt asks solicitously.
I am on the floor, in his arms. My joined hands, connected to the front of my collar with six inches of chain, are folded prayerfully at my breast. He cradles me, feeding me bites of meat and giving me a beer bottle to suckle. My ass burns and throbs inside and out. My jaw aches and my throat feels bruised. There are fading rope burns behind my knees and pins and needles in my feet from restricted circulation. There are ligature marks on my wrists from fighting the cuffs. I have a headache and my eyes burn from weeping. These are all superficial things. I have suffered worse than this before and know that I will recover quickly and completely. I have betrayed my beloved, after all. My suffering is probably less than I deser
