Chapter 39: The Bag

Amber was not home. Thank God for small miracles. The packages were by the door, a pile with my name on it and no judgment, which was more than I was giving myself. I took them to the bathroom and ran the tub faucet until the water was warm. The bag and the hose came out of the first box. I read the sheet. I filled the bag while I stripped. Not for the last time today, I wondered what the fuck I was doing with my life.

I summoned the courage to now look at my ass. Since I was seriously considering allowing Tyler to enter it tonight, I needed to see what the damage was. I turned to see myself in the mirror’s reflection, and I hissed. My ass looked like hamburger meat. Large, red, angry welts covered both cheeks almost completely. Deep, dark bruises of red and black had formed in clumps. I gently ran a hand over one cheek, feeling the raised lines from where the belt had landed extra hard. I tried gentle pressure on an angry bruise, and I winced. My God, I thought, as I looked like I had been beaten, and I was almost shocked at how he had managed to keep all the damage apparently confined to the two round globes of my ass. My thighs looked fine, even where the last two strikes had landed the night before. I knew how bruising worked. There was no way I could ever let Mike or Amber see these. I would have to cover myself for ten to twelve days, perhaps longer for some. I turned away, unable and unwilling to look any longer. I consoled myself that it wasn’t a serious injury; it wasn’t anything lasting, and I deserved it. It was payment for my own actions. I pushed it out of my head and went back to the task at hand.