Being tightly bound called to Marcella’s soul in a way nothing else quite could. This, more than anything else, would help her get through this stage of the game. Her pussy already wept, begging for his touch. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, welcoming the beginnings of subspace.
His breath tickled her ear, and she thought he might kiss her, but then she remembered his rules. No touching.
“You are so fucking beautiful like this, Cella.
My Cella.
My slave, bound with her legs spread, her ass and her pussy open and waiting to take anything I want to dish out. I could leave you like this and do nothing but stroke your skin. I could clamp your clit and your nipples. I could play with your
ass,
stretch out your pretty little anus in a hundred different ways. I could lay ice cubes all over your body and watch them melt.”
Cream gushed from her pussy at the pictures he painted. Her breaths came harder and faster. Yes, that’s what she wanted. She wanted him to use her body, to play with her until she begged him to fuck her. And then she wanted him to take her any way he chose.
He moved away, and soft strips of leather brushed across her shoulders. She couldn’t count them, but she suspected he used a cat-o’-nine-tails. A tremor ran through her system. The last time someone had used a cat on her, things had not gone well. While no permanent damage had been done and her lover hadn’t been at all abusive, she hadn’t been able to orgasm that night.
Concentrating, she tried to figure out what kind of falls the cat had. She detected no beads or flat pieces, and that made her immeasurably relieved. The falls explored her back. They trailed over her ass and down her thighs. After some time passed, she felt her muscles relaxing under this tender torture.
Then the cat disappeared. Before long, the sensation of leather caressing her skin returned, but the number of falls seemed to have multiplied by a hundred. He’d exchanged the cat for a heater. The falls were shorter and more numerous, and the sting it delivered tended to be minimal.
“I’m going to warm you up, slave. I’ll tell you when it’s going to hurt.”
Marcella appreciated the warning. She didn’t fear pain or the whip; she just didn’t find it erotic.
The first few smacks felt nice. He peppered her back with the softest sensations. The steady staccato beat a rhythm into her muscles that relaxed them. Her entire body turned to liquid.
Fog enshrouded her mind. Just when she thought she might fall asleep, Sean spoke again. “You’re warmed up, my Cella. These next ones will sting. Give me your color.”
She didn’t hesitate to answer, and her speech slurred when it came out.
“Green, Master.”
Not a second passed before white heat seared a path near her left shoulder blade. That harsh sting had come from the cat. Tears pricked behind her eyelids, and she sucked in her breath.
“Breathe, Marcella.”
She almost jumped at the sound of Fuller’s voice. She had completely forgotten he was there to witness this torment.
“Breathe, Cella.” Sean’s command echoed Fuller’s recommendation.
She inhaled and exhaled, taking slow, controlled breaths that the next sting of the cat ruined. The tears broke free and fell, but she held back the sobs so he wouldn’t know she didn’t love this. He rained more blows across her back. She tried to give herself over to the pain, but she couldn’t seem to find that place where it turned enjoyable.
The blows halted abruptly. “What color?”
She inhaled deeply and dug even deeper for her resolve.
“Green, Master.”
Leather sang through the air and smacked sharply on the fleshy part of her ass. This stimulated her a little more, but it didn’t do for her what she knew it did for other submissives. Sean expected for this to not only arouse her, but to bring her to orgasm. If she were able to respond to this the way Gretchen did, she would have climaxed by now.
Marcella’s imagination had always been active. Perhaps she could arouse herself with sexual thoughts—mental pictures of Sean naked, the remembrance of what it felt like to have him thrusting into her body, claiming it the way only he could. Every time she felt her body responding, though, the sharpness of the falls cut through and jerked her back to the present.
This wasn’t working. Sean alternated sides of her body, never striking the same location twice in a row. Her tears returned, this time as much from frustration as from the pain throbbing through her system.
A soft caress whispered across her temple, and fingers dragged light paths through her hair. “This is what you want. This was your wish, wasn’t it?” Fuller’s voice rumbled almost too low for her to hear. Sean wouldn’t be able to make out his words.
She panted to get her breathing under control. The fire blazing across her back and over her ass didn’t allow her to speak. She was too afraid her safe word would tumble out.
“You want to be his. You want him to be your master, to control your pleasure. You want to submit to him with every fiber of your being, don’t you? He’s everything to you. He’s your friend, and now he’s your lover. He’s the other half of your soul. You were made for him, Marcella, and he’s waited a long, long time for you. Give this to him, honey. I know you want to.”
Fuller, bless his soul, whispered her deepest desires, marking them with an undeniable truth possessed only by the spoken word. Yes, she wanted to give this to Sean. From the bottom of her heart, she wanted to please him, but she was failing miserably. Her tears came faster, and she couldn’t stop the loud sobs that racked her body so hard they shook the bench.
The steady
whistle-smack
of the whip halted. A dull
thud
sounded, and the door to the room opened and closed. Chilly air rushed across her flaming back, turning her sobs to shivers. The buckles loosened and fell away, freeing her arms and legs. Strong hands lifted her and wrapped a blanket around her body. They weren’t Sean’s, and this man carried the scent of Fuller’s spicy aftershave, not Sean’s comforting aroma.
Marcella lifted the blindfold away to find Fuller’s arms around her. She pushed at his chest, but he held fast.
“If I let go, you won’t stay standing for long. Let me take you to the bed and set you down.”
She nodded and glanced around the room. Through the fog of her misery, she noted Sean’s absence. She let Fuller help her sit on the edge of the futon in the porn corner. “He’s gone. I failed.”
Hot tears tracked down her cheeks. The pain knifing through her chest doused the fire on her skin.
“You didn’t fail, Marcella.” He urged her closer, and she rested her head on his shoulder. “He failed. He doesn’t like to fail at anything. You know this.”
She knew. She knew all too well how he reacted to failure. Throw out the entire project and start fresh. Since she was nothing more than a project, she knew he was finished with her. It didn’t matter who failed or who was at fault. Their affair was over before it had really begun.
She eased out of Fuller’s comforting embrace. She needed to process this, think it through, and grieve for her missed opportunity. “I’d like to be alone, Fuller.”
He studied her for a moment, and then he nodded and left the room. The door slammed shut behind him.
* * * *
With his back sliding along the cold wall, Sean sank to the floor and scrubbed his hands over his face. He didn’t know exactly where he’d gone wrong. The warm-up had definitely relaxed her muscles. He’d almost gone overboard and put her to sleep. He filed the effectiveness of that away for when she was stressed and needed to relax.
When he’d switched to a flogger with longer and fewer falls, he knew it would have more of a sting. The people who would be watching at the benefit would expect the flogging to have a bite to it. Every time it whistled through the air, the tension in the room would rise a little more. While his main job was to bring Marcella to orgasm, the side effect would be the titillation of the audience. He hoped to titillate a little more cash from them in the form of donations to the leukemia research foundation he favored.
But Marcella hadn’t responded the way he’d expected. When she’d told him she’d only climaxed once under the sting of a whip, he’d taken that to mean she’d been with doms who lacked finesse. He knew how well she responded to finesse. He had been confident in his ability to show her the wonders of a good flogging.
“What the hell are you doing?”
The door slammed so hard it shook the wall behind Sean’s back. He lifted his head to find Fuller standing over him, hands fisted on his hips. Sean dropped his gaze to where his arms rested on his knees.
“Are you just going to sit out here and pout while your sub is bound to a bench in there?” Fuller kicked the toe of his shoe into Sean’s bare foot. “You’re being a shitty dom right now.”
Sean picked at his cuticle. “I’ve been a shitty dom for the past half hour. She’s not even wet. I brought her down here wet.”
“She submitted to you.”
His answering laugh redefined pathetic. Yes, she had submitted to him. She’d done it on the basis of an affection and respect he’d spent the last year earning. “This wasn’t supposed to be a punishment.” But that’s all it had ended up being. She hadn’t enjoyed it at all. She’d tried her hardest. He recognized her effort, and he loved the iron will backing it up. She had done her part, but he’d failed to give her what she needed.
“No, but you did learn how to punish her, didn’t you?”
Something Fuller had said penetrated his brain. Sean shot to his feet. “You left her tied up in there?”
Fuller’s nose wrinkled with disgust. “No. You left her tied up in there. I untied her, covered her up, and tried to give her some aftercare. She refused me, man. She wants you. She needs you to let her know this isn’t the end.”
The end.
How could this be anything other than the end? He’d never failed with a sub before, and now he’d failed with the one who could destroy him if she left. This morning had gone so well. Later, in the dining room, she had responded to him beautifully. She had warned him that she had trouble climaxing under a whip, but he’d been so confident in his skills that he’d dismissed her worries.
She had responded to both bondage and gentleness before, but she seemed to be immune to them both when he added the whip. This couldn’t be anything but a punishment, and she had done nothing to deserve punishment.
Quite the opposite.
She had done everything she could to please him, including not faking her response to the whip.
Fuller slammed both palms into Sean’s shoulders, pushing him back against the wall. “Damn it, Sean. I’ve watched you pussyfoot around her for a year. She loves you, and you’re throwing it all away right now. Get in there and hold her. You have a responsibility to see to her aftercare. Tell her you’re proud of her. Apologize for fucking up. Tell her she means something to you, because right now she thinks she doesn’t mean shit to you.”
As always, his best friend had a point. Marcella hadn’t used her safe word, and she hadn’t signaled yellow or red. Stopping had been his decision alone. He needed to fortify his courage, get back in there, and find out how badly he’d fucked things up between them.
He nodded at Fuller with finality. Fuller grinned, his smile conveying an encouraging smugness. Sean turned away, knowing his friend would understand if he didn’t show him out tonight.
The dungeon’s padded walls muted all sounds, but the extreme silence of the room felt unnatural. Marcella sat on the futon, hugging her knees. She rocked back and forth with tiny, unconscious movements. A soft, cream-colored blanket enshrouded her body and helped her curtain of hair hide her face. He swallowed his gut from where it seemed to have lodged in his throat.
She shouldn’t have to comfort herself. That’s my job.
Wordlessly, he sat next to her and pulled her into his embrace. She stiffened, but she didn’t pull away.
“I’m sorry.” She sniffled a bit, evidence of tears he couldn’t see because her face remained buried.
He smoothed his hand over her hair.
“None of that, Cella.
I’m sorry. This is my fault. I shouldn’t have let it go on for as long as I did. You told me in several ways that flogging didn’t do it for you.”
“I tried. I wanted—” She broke off in a sob, and her tears came faster.
This situation required firmness and compassion, a combination difficult to achieve. With both hands, he guided her face up until her gaze met his. Because she meant the world to him, he dropped his guard and spoke from the heart. “No, Cella. Don’t do this. I’m so proud of you for trying, for doing this to please me. You have no idea how much I cherish the gifts you’ve given me. Your trust and submission mean the world to me. We’re learning each other in a completely new way. Flogging just isn’t your thing.”