Bringing me over to the shower wall, Sark knelt in front of me once more and had me put my knees and palms under the flowing water. To my surprise, it was warm rather than cold. Not extremely warm, but far better than if it had been freezing. I could definitely see myself taking a shower here in the morning without discomfort.
Sark used the Foam Stone to make some of the mild, sweet-smelling lather and gently washed my injured areas, making certain I didn’t have any dirt or grit lodged in the wounds. I appreciated his gentle attentions and held still obediently for him as he finished washing me.
There were no towels to dry off with—at least not like the towels we had at home. But after a moment of searching, Sark found a kind of large blue leaf which was shiny and waxy on one side and furry and absorbent on the other. It was hanging on the wall on a hook with several others like it beside the shower area.
To my surprise, the towel-leaf absorbed water quite well and I was soon dry and clean, though my wounds were still raw and smarting.
“Well,” I said to Sark, looking down at myself. “I suppose we’d better go ask for some ointment?”
“In a minute.” He had a peculiar look on his face—a look I couldn’t read. “First let me try something. Come here—in here with me.”
He drew me into the sleeping chamber—well, I suppose it was the main living areas of the hut, but it did have the large mattress in it.
Sark had me sit down on the side of the mattress, which was about a meter thick, so I supposed it really would do for either a couch or a bed. Then he knelt before me again.
“What…what are you going to do?” I asked rather breathlessly. For again I was reminded of his desire to “taste” me.
“Nothing, probably,” he murmured. That odd, distracted look was still on his face. “But maybe… Well, let me just try it.”
And before I could ask any more questions, he took one of my hands, flipped it over and breathed on the scraped place on my palm.
At once, I felt a kind of healing coolness rushing though the injured area.
“Oh!” I exclaimed, for it felt rather good. When Sark drew back I looked down at my palm and saw that the raw, scraped place on the heel of my hand, where I had caught myself during my fall, was gone! The skin had healed completely and the wound had vanished, just as though it had never been there in the first place.
I was all amazement, I assure you! I looked up at Sark, who was looking at me as though to gauge my reaction.
“How…how did you do this?” I asked, flexing my fingers and moving my hand back and forth. “It’s as though I was never injured at all. How did you heal me?”
“I don’t know.” He looked faintly troubled. “I shouldn’t have been able to but I just wanted to try.”
“Will you heal my other wounds as well?” I asked rather timidly, for I wasn’t sure he liked what he had done.
Sark’s face cleared at once.
“Of course, sweetheart,” he murmured, using one of those endearing little nicknames I was beginning to like so much. He had called me “sweetheart” and “baby” the night before when he touched me and gave me such pleasure. I think I am beginning to associate such names with his touch for I flushed with desire as he took my other palm and healed it as well, simply by breathing on it.
Then it was time to heal my knees. I was sitting on the edge of the thick mattress and Sark leaned over and breathed deeply onto my wounded right knee.
But this wound was deeper, and the first breath didn’t quite heal it entirely.
Sark frowned at the result and said he’d like to try something else.
“What?” I asked.
“You’ll see,” was his enigmatic reply. Then he leaned down again and I felt his tongue, warm and wet, bathing my tender flesh.
I could not stop the surprised little gasp which fell from my lips. It felt as though he was erasing the stinging pain but not just that, he was also giving me pleasure. Ever since I had heard him speaking about what he wanted to do to me, I had been imagining it. And now that I actually felt his mouth on my skin…well, it sent shivers rippling down my spine and made my skin break out in goosebumps.
“Does that feel okay, baby?” Sark murmured, looking up at me. “You don’t mind letting me heal you?”
“Don’t mind? I love it,” I confessed in a rush. “I…I do not know why, but it feels good—really good—when you heal me like that, Mr. Sark.”