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As the teenage girl watched Master poise the candle over her nakedness, she whispered, “I have been a bad little whore.” Pink bower flowers—the same blossoms Kora tattooed into her body—in Katriana’s hair. “Christopher, if you were to loosen your arms, I’d slide down your chest and be back on my knees again.” Then her head tilted to my neck and the tongue was back at work, licking long strokes, punctuating them with soft nips of her teeth. “I’ll just say one thing then I’ll drop it. The last thing I did was to unlock the door again, like a ninja.
