Her thighs ached, her chest and shoulders felt sore from all the bites and marks littering them. She noticed that they were all in areas that her work shirts would cover; she was secretly relieved she wouldn’t have to glamour or erase any.  She liked being marked, claimed. She could feel herself still leaking; it was a mix of both of them and while she wanted to wash herself and get rid of the feeling, it also brought back memories she wasn’t in a rush to forget.