Marked territory

She lifts one cheek and then the other to inspect the hidden marks beneath. They are slight: thin bluish lines that end in flares of pink and gray. The right side bears a darker line, with the flare sitting on the innermost part of her leg, where inner thigh meets inner cheek. The left, fading faster, curls toward the outer edge of her thigh, extending along the lower curve of her bottom.

A warmth moves over her as she knows the marks were not created in violence or in anger, or through a misjudgment of force. He saw that spot of her body and he wanted himself there. Those stains are the evidence of his claim on her.

There was a time when marks were undesirable to her, a sign of too much force, an ugly marring of her pale skin. But any who had marked her before had done so accidentally, betraying their lack of knowledge or skill in preventing the bruises that would last for days.

Tracing the lines with her fingertip, she reflects on the effort necessary to achieve their perfection. Two lines. One beneath each cheek. Like a painting, the strokes were designed to add to the beauty of the whole, nothing haphazard or ugly about them.

Deliberately placed, they are tender in their reminder of the night he put them there. And she is proud and thankful at once for his gift.

(Artwork by the fabulous Boris Vallejo)