The morning sun crept through the crimson silk curtains, painting the Red Room in shades of blood and rose. Amber stirred in the cocoon of Kabir's arms, her body still humming with the memory of the previous day's discipline. The marks on her ass were a constant reminder of his possession, a beautiful constellation of pain that she wore like jewelry. The permanent collar was warm against her throat, the gold leash coiled on the bedside table, waiting.
She felt him stir behind her, his arm tightening around her waist. His lips brushed the nape of her neck, just below the collar. But instead of the commanding tone she had grown accustomed to, his voice was soft, tender, almost reverent.
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