Once we had settled in at Londinium and I was under slightly less restrictive supervision, I replaced my tears with curses. I had squandered my inheri...ance, just as the prodigal son in the parable. It was only when I began to read the gospels I had managed to smuggle in my clothes that my mood began to brighten. For had not the prodigal son been welcomed with open arms by his father when he repented? And had not Peter betrayed Christ three times before dying a glorious witness to his grace?. “If it really gets too much, darling, just say the word ‘red’, and we will stop.” Clare stroked my cheek, looking intently at me. “‘kay,” I mumbled, my attention on the slowly increasing, pushing sensation between my legs and the wicked knowledge of what was to come. “Then tell me. What do you need to do?” Clare pushed my head back so I was looking at her, a warm seriousness in her eyes. “I - I need to say ‘red’ if it gets too much.” “Good.” She patted my cheek. My eyes flew back to that spot. More

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