I can’t write this anymore, anymore than I can dream it, or think it, or wonder if this is where our relationship is headed. I woke from that nap quickly, unable to tolerate the picture.
My ass is horrendously sore. Sitting on it makes me think of him, so I’m lying on the bed with it in the air.
Penny came up right after I got here with a bottle of witch hazel to soothe the sting, and a creamy concoction she said would make the roughed places heal more quickly. She told me nothing but time would take away the soreness—that’s as it should be. I asked her if she’d been punished hard like this often. She told me that every time is hard, every time feels like the worst, but without a doubt the worst punishment is being caned. She urged me to watch myself, as kind as Robert can be, he can be
