Mercy (23 page)

And those four words, I can’t say what they meant to me, while I was gagged and trussed and fucked and beaten there on that cross. Yes, my name was still Lucy to him, not slave or whore, and I was a dancer, not just a piece of flesh. But the worst part of it was, what made me start weeping, was the edge of frustration in Matthew’s voice that said he was being embarrassed, that he was being shown up. That Byron and Frank were rubbing it in his face.
Your girl is a piece of shit
, was basically what they were saying. I hated that I’d brought that embarrassment to him. For Matthew to be belittled on my behalf was just so horribly unfair, and then for him to still stand up for me so staunchly made me want to sob.

Things turned ugly then. Byron cycled through toy after toy. Beatings and dildos and nipple clamps and beatings and hair pulling and more beating to a constant symphony of verbal abuse. Matthew and his friends had become locked in some testosterone driven game of slave chicken, and I desperately, desperately wanted to scream
mercy
. But I wasn’t able to scream anything at all. In fact, I was barely able to keep from choking on my spit behind that godforsaken gag. I thought pretty soon I’d be foaming at the mouth. If this was S & M, real S & M, I didn’t want it. I only wanted what Matthew gave me, that edge of pain that was a pleasure to endure. Byron and Frank wanted to break me, smash me to pieces and then brutally smash me some more. I think Byron was trying to see how far Matthew would let him go, to see if he could actually force Matthew to stop him. And he did, when Byron said he wanted to piss in my mouth. I shook my head, frantic and disgusted, as Byron mocked me. “Do you think you have a choice?”

But Matthew muttered, “I don’t think so. Bodily fluids. You know. It’s getting late, we should probably go.”

He came over to the cross and stood behind me, stood between me and Byron who had to pee. It felt so protective, his body behind me. I cried desperate tears that I couldn’t reach back for him. Even when I had failed so miserably to live up to this S & M dream, even when he was angry and embarrassed, he still came behind me and put his hand on my neck. He touched me as if to say,
okay, now it’s over
, and I wept in sorrow and shame. He unmasked me, undid my restraints, and then carefully removed the awful gag stuffed down my throat. My lips and chin were covered in drool and I swiped it away as best as I could, feeling ugly and humiliated. I couldn’t have met his eyes then for anything, and fortunately he would not meet my eyes either. He brought me my dress and threw it at me. “Get ready. We’re leaving.”

I quickly obeyed. I knew he was disappointed in everything, me, his friends, the whole sordid scene. He didn’t even ask me to thank Byron and Frank, just said goodbye to them and dragged me out the door. As he pulled me to the car, I was awash in self-loathing, and Matthew was more furious than I’d ever seen him before.

“I’m sorry, Matthew,” I whispered.

“Shut up,” he barked so sharply that I flinched. He opened the door and shoved me in the back seat, then slammed the door and went to the driver’s side. He stood outside a minute, like he was trying to compose himself, then climbed in and peeled away from the house.

“I’m sorry—” I said again.

“Just shut the fuck up, Lucy. I mean it.”

“I tried, I just couldn’t—”

“Just shut up!” he yelled. “I asked you to fucking shut up!”

So I did. I sat and cried in the backseat as quietly as I could, and when we finally got to his house, let him haul me inside and rip off my dress.

He yelled for Mrs. Kemp as he pushed me to my knees.

“Suck me,” he growled, tearing open his pants, pulling out his cock and stuffing it into my mouth. While I started sucking him off, Mrs. Kemp scurried in from the kitchen in alarm.

“Take this fucking dress and fucking burn it,” he said, tossing it at her feet.

“Yes, Mr. Norris,” she replied, not missing a beat. I did not miss a beat either. While she collected the dress from the floor, I sucked away at his cock, while he pulled my hair so hard that it hurt.

“Just suck it, you bitch. Don’t be lazy.”

I sucked it like I could just suck everything away, and when I finished he looked down at me furiously while I swallowed his cum. He hauled me up and pulled me towards the basement, and I fought him then. I fought him hard, but he carried me kicking and flailing down the stairs and flung me into the room, right onto the floor. For a long time he stood and looked down at me as I sobbed brokenly. His anger, his furious disapproval was something I just couldn’t bear.

“Please, what can I do?”

“I asked you to shut up. That’s what I want you to do.”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

“I don’t want another fucking word from you.” He crossed to the armoire and got the cane, and stood over me for a minute, and then he said, “Don’t bother to count.”

As he started to beat me, I heard him talking low, almost to himself.

“You know why they call it
falling
, Lucy? Why they call it falling in love? Because it’s completely out of your control. And I hate being out of control.”

I was unable to untangle his words right then, exhausted and overwhelmed as I was. He just kept on hitting me with that cane while I writhed and drew my legs up on the floor. I felt it, but I didn’t feel it. It hurt so badly, but at the same time I felt so empty by that point that my entire body was a void. It was almost four in the morning, and I was completely sure that Matthew’s mind had snapped. He beat me until my own mind faltered and grew foggy, and then a word in my mind suddenly became clear.

“Mercy,” I moaned into the carpet.

He hit me again. Fire and pain.
Stop him.
“What?”

“Mercy!” I screamed at him. “Mercy! Mercy! Stop!”

I heard the cane hit the wall across the room, and I heard the door slam when he stalked out of the room and left me there, and I lay there still and alone until long after dawn.

So in the end it wasn’t Frank or Byron who broke me, it was Matthew himself. He broke me and crushed me and smashed me and left me lying there in jagged pieces on the cold basement floor.

Chapter Eleven: Plans

I’m not sure what time it was when he came back to get me, but I was still lying in exactly the same place. I never wanted to move again, actually, and when he tried to pick me up, I struggled and hit out at him.

“Lucy.” His voice sounded tired. “Don’t fight me.”

He carried me upstairs and put me in the tub. I soaked in there for half an hour while he hovered around, and then he ordered me to wash my hair. When I ignored him, he washed it himself, and when he was done he had to help me out of the tub because my legs and my back were so tired and sore.

He dried me and made me lie down on the bed and again he massaged my bruised and welted ass with salve. After that he combed my hair out as I lay on my stomach. I never even lifted my head from the pillow. At some point while he did that I fell asleep, because when I woke up again, it was dinnertime on Sunday night. Matthew was there when I opened my eyes.

“Hello,” he said.

I said nothing back to him.

“Lucy,” he said, and then he stopped, and he didn’t say anything for a long time.

Finally, he said very matter-of-factly, “Lucy, I’ve decided to make another promise to you. I’m never going to share you again. I decided I just don’t like it.”

“Oh, you decided that?” In ordinary circumstances, my tone would have gotten me slapped.

But he only frowned and said, “Yes,” and waited to see what my reply was to that.

My reply was, “I want to go home.”

“You’re not going home.”

“What do you want, Matthew? To beat me some more? To put some huge fucking gag in my mouth and make me drool and choke and then piss on me?”

“I had no idea, Lucy—”

“You’re a liar. You promised me truth.”

“Lucy—”

“Why did they call that woman Slave? What’s wrong with them? Why are they so sick?”

“They call her that because she likes it. Because she wants them to.”

“I’ve gone down on a woman exactly once in my life, and I’ll never even know her real name.”

“Her name is Gloria. And believe me, there’s nothing they do to her that she doesn’t completely revel in.”

“Do you like her?”

“I don’t care for her at all, to be perfectly honest with you.”

“But you want me to be like her.”

He snorted as if the idea was ridiculous. “No I don’t! God forbid you would be like her. I can’t stand her. She’s a total fake.”

“What do you mean, fake?”

“You know what I mean.” I thought for a minute and actually, I realized I did know what he meant. “She was better than me at everything, though. At the way she took pain.”

“I love the way you take pain, Lucy. I live for it.”

“Do you think I’m too skinny?”

“I think you’re perfect as you are. I’ve told you that before, many times, so don’t annoy me by fishing for compliments. Jesus, Lucy, they were just trying to fuck with your mind. And were successful at it, I might add.”

I kept asking questions, and he kept letting me, and the longer he let me, the braver I got.

“Why did you let them hurt me so badly? Why did you let them gag me like that? Let them mark my back?”

“I stopped them!”

“A little too late.”

“Do you want to know something, Lucy? You stupid little fuck. Do you even realize why they were so rough with you? Why they turned so completely against me? You’re a hundred times more real and sincere than Gloria. Gloria’s a pain whore. They’re never enough for her. They can’t keep her happy, they can’t satisfy her. She tops them from below, and honestly, soon, she’s going to leave them. She’s got both their nuts clutched right in her hand. I don’t believe you couldn’t see that.”

I thought back over the evening, and his words made sense to me. It all became crystal clear. “They were jealous of you.”

“Yes, jealous. Jealous of your honest, open reactions. Jealous of the fear you have, and the trust you place in me. Jealous of the noises you make that are real, not out of some porn movie.”

I digested that for a moment, and suddenly Byron and Frank seemed so sad. No matter the cruelty, the fancy dungeon, the imaginative punishments, they would never be enough for her. It boggled my mind. It all seemed so sad and ugly, and not sexy at all.

“So why? Why did you take me there?”

“They wanted Slave to see you, to see if they could get through to her. They’re trying to save a relationship. But I’m sorry in hindsight that I got you involved. If Byron or Frank try to contact you, you’re not to talk to them. You’ll tell me immediately if they do.”

I snorted. “Are you afraid they’ll try to steal your slave?”

“Don’t laugh. They will try. You’re not to go.”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh, God, Matthew.”

“I’m not kidding. Promise me. Swear to me now.”

“I promise.”

“Swear to me!”

“Okay, okay, I swear it.”

He just looked at me, frowning, and he looked really tired. I was afraid that soon he would cut off my questions.