There. She’d known it.
“Let’s get your first whipping taken care of. That way you can sleep it off and we can start again in the morning.”
Truthfully, it didn’t frighten her. As a slave, she’d been punished in far worse ways than whipping, and she’d already begun to trust him enough to believe he wouldn’t go too far. In fact, she almost looked forward to submitting to his punishment without a fuss. Would he find her unable to resist again?
Her gaze tangled in his amethyst one, and her breath hitched as all thoughts rushed out of her brain. She became nothing but n***d, trembling flesh, a blank canvas for him to paint upon. “I—I don’t know what to call you.”
“Rok.”
She dropped her eyes and dipped a curtsy. “Master Rok,” she murmured submissively.
His posture went rigid. He cupped her
