I loved them. They were symbols written my body\'s blood of the pleasure and pain I had endured, the attention I had enjoyed. They were souvenirs of t...e joy I had shared with my mistress.Yet, the bruises and welts also scared and shocked me. I worried someone would discover them and my secret life would be exposed. How could someone else understand the fascination I felt looking at these bright red stripes across my chest? Several times a day, I\'d visit the men\'s room pull up my shirt to. Would someone do that to a girl on her wedding day? A joke like that would be pure evil, putting some sort of date-rape drug in her drink or slipping her a couple hits of ecstasy or something. I wasn't sure; drugs had never been my thing at all. But it seemed plausible, sorta. Well, not really. Nothing was making sense."I need you, Mark," Becky sighed just before our lips met. "The Best Man ... Ohhh ... Show me..."And then we were doing it. Even as I told myself how wrong this was and tried to. More

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