The Inner Room (13 page)
Authors: Claire Thompson
“You did exceptionally well, as I knew you would,” Cam said, and Marissa couldn’t stop the proud smile that spread over her face. “I know that was hard for you, slave M, but you overcame your own inhibitions and submitted with grace. I do believe a reward is in order. I’m thinking a flogging might fit the bill? Would that suit you?
“Oh,” Marissa replied happily. “Yes, Sir. That would suit me very well.”
“Excellent. I have an idea, and you may decline if it’s not to your liking. Tony and I were talking earlier, and we thought it might be a good experience if Tony were to flog you from behind while I stand in front of you. I’ve never actually gotten to watch your face when you fly, and I would love to see the transformation without the distraction of flogging you myself. What do you think?”
The thought of being able to look into Cam’s beautiful eyes while she was being flogged by a skilled Master was deeply compelling, and Marissa readily agreed to the idea. Cam brought her to stand beneath hanging chains, to which he clipped the soft leather cuffs he’d given her as a gift their second time in his home dungeon. She lifted her arms, an erotic thrill coursing through her as Cam closed the cuffs around her wrists. He tightened the chains until her arms were fully extended overhead.
Tony and Dana were now seated to their left. Retrieving the flogger he’d selected earlier, Cam turned to Tony. “If you’re ready?” he said, holding out the flogger.
Tony stood. “You bet.” Bending over, he kissed Dana. “You take care of the recording, okay? I promise you’ll get your turn afterward, my dear.”
“I’ll hold you to it,” Dana said with a grin. “I’m feeling awfully squirmy watching these two. You know patience never was my strong suit.”
Tony laughed. “You can say that again, sub girl,” he said in a teasing tone. Marissa could feel the affection between them, and it made her smile.
Tony started with a nice warm up, slowly but steadily ratcheting the intensity, using more force on her ass. A few times the thongs landed so she felt the impact as it hit the rubber base of the butt plug, the vibrations moving up through her ass, as if she were being flogged from the inside out.
At first Cam just watched her, his muscular arms folded over his chest, his brilliant blue eyes moving over her body like fingers, leaving her warm and tingling with desire for him. She couldn’t help but notice the bulge of his erection against the soft, black leather, and her mouth actually watered at the thought of worshipping his lovely cock once they got home.
A sudden, stinging stroke, much harder than those that had come before, made Marissa gasp with pain. The sting quickly eased into a pleasurable heat, but the stroke was followed by another, and then another, until pleasure and pain began to blur. Tony struck her shoulders, her back, her ass, her thighs, each stroke a thudding whack that made her sway in her chains.
Cam reached for her breasts, capturing her nipples and twisting. The sudden, sharp pinch distracted Marissa from the stinging onslaught behind her. “Ah!” she cried, wincing in her pain, though it shot paradoxically directly to her cunt, which throbbed with need.
Tony was focusing on her ass now, angling the flogger in such a way that the tips of each tress snapped like a thousand needles piercing her flesh. “No!” Marissa cried, though she hadn’t meant to. “I can’t. I can’t!” Her feet began to dance in an involuntary effort to get away from the relentless onslaught against her burning flesh.
“You can,” Cam said, his voice deep and commanding. “Do it for me, slave M. Suffer for your Master.”
Those words! They were like a balm over her senses, and Marissa felt her body relax. Her feet stopped their involuntary dance and she stilled as she stared into Cam’s eyes. He put a hand on her throat, his touch light but masterful. She shuddered, her eyes still locked on his. With his other hand, he reached between her legs. Gently he tugged at the small gold ring she wore there, the gesture reminding Marissa of the deep, abiding love she’d seen in Cam’s eyes as the needle had slipped through her flesh. Releasing the ring, he slipped a finger into her sopping cunt. Marissa groaned, any lingering modesty gone now. She couldn’t help herself as she leaned into his touch. He moved his hand, mashing his palm against her as she shamelessly ground against him, her clit hard as a pebble.
Tony finally stopped the stinging tip-flogging and shifted to the full, thuddy strokes Marissa loved. He was hitting her hard, as hard as she’d ever been flogged, but Cam’s hand on her cunt and her throat, and his steady, loving gaze into her eyes made the flogging not only bearable, but perfect. It was what she needed. It was what she was born for.
“Yes, yes, yes, yes,” she began to chant, only aware she was speaking when she heard the word bursting from her lips again and again. “Yes, yes, yes, yes…”
The pleasure became nearly unbearable, and the hard leather turned her skin to fire, while Cam’s perfect touch reduced her to shuddering jelly. Her head fell back, her chant fading into steady, slow breathing. She sagged hard against her wrist cuffs, a low moan emerging from somewhere deep inside her. The first wave of a powerful orgasm crashed over her, leaving her momentarily stunned. Several more waves followed, one after the other rolling through her as the flogging continued, consuming her in its fire.
“That’s it,” Cam said from somewhere far away. “You’re nearly there. Go. Now.”
His word was her command, and Marissa let go of the last vestiges of her control. She tumbled into a deep, welcoming silence, as her spirit left her body and soared in a pure, perfect place that surely must be heaven…
When awareness returned to her, Marissa was cradled in Cam’s arms on the floor. “You did good, baby,” he crooned in her ear. “I’m so fucking proud of you.”
Marissa leaned back in Cam’s comforting embrace as she basked in his praise.
From somewhere to her left, she heard Dana say, “Hey, Tony, remember that movie
When Harry Met Sally?
I want what she’s having!”
Marissa filled her cup and added enough cream and sugar to mask the bitterness of coffee left too long on the warmer. The staff lounge was empty, and she moved toward the window to watch the traffic below as she sipped the tepid brew.
She heard the sound of someone entering the room behind her and for one delighted second she thought it might be Cam, coming in early before his evening shift to surprise her. But when she turned, it was the handsome, smug face of Phil Mitchell that greeted her. “Well, well,” he said, opening his arms as if he expected her to come running into them. “Fancy meeting you here.”
“Hello,” Marissa said brusquely. She moved toward the sink and dumped what remained of the coffee, quickly washing her cup and placing it in the rack. She would have thought after the dreadful confrontation they’d had at the happy hour and her later undisguised annoyance at his intrusion into her office that the guy would want to steer clear of her, but it almost seemed as if he sought her out.
Until now she’d managed to avoid speaking to him since she’d come upon him snooping around in her office, but she’d seen him a number of times skulking around on the unit, when, as far as she knew, the software installation was complete on her floor. Several times she caught him staring at her in a way that made the tiny hairs on the back of her neck rise, but this was the first time she’d found herself alone in his presence.
Turning from the sink, Marissa started to move past Phil. He was standing between her and the door, hands in his pocket, a strange, unpleasant expression on his face. He shifted as she did, almost as if he were trying to block her from leaving. “Hey, Doc,” he said, his smile edging into a leer, “where you off to in such a hurry? If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to avoid me.”
Marissa frowned and looked at her watch. Could the guy really be that clueless? Or had he been so drunk at happy hour that he didn’t remember how horribly he’d behaved? She had half a mind to tell him exactly what she thought of him, but she quickly thought better of it. With that kind of guy, it was better just to cut and run.
“Excuse me. I have an appointment.” She pushed past him. She would be glad when the software installation and training were complete and she never had to set eyes on the asshole again.
That evening Marissa arrived home exhausted as always, but looking forward to Cam’s arrival around midnight. Though they didn’t get to spend much time together at the hospital, save for their professional interaction, Marissa hated the days when Cam had the evening shift, and didn’t come on duty until her day was nearly over. Cam had been hinting it might be a good idea to move in together, and so far Marissa hadn’t said yes or no, but she had to admit, she was definitely leaning toward a yes. The thought was at once exciting and a little scary. It would take things to a new level.
In their D/s relationship, each time Marissa had wanted something Cam offered, and at the same time been afraid, he had taken her by the hand and led her with such dominant confidence, respect and love to a new, better place. She knew in her bones she could trust Cam with her life. What more did she need to know?
She would tell him tonight. When he arrived, she would wrap herself around him and whisper in his ear that she was ready for the next step. Invigorated by the prospect, Marissa groomed herself carefully in the shower and put on the pretty new satin camisole and tap pant set she had recently bought, thinking with a grin how nice it would be when Cam removed it.
It was around nine when her doorbell rang, startling Marissa from the novel she was reading. Why was Cam so early? Did something happen at the hospital? And why wasn’t he using his key?
The doorbell rang again, followed by a brisk knock. Marissa realized it probably wasn’t Cam at all. It was probably Mrs. Baxter from down the hall wanting to borrow a cup of sugar or something.
Marissa slipped off the bed and reached for her robe, pulling it around her. She tied the sash as she headed into the living room. She put her eye to the peephole. Whoever was standing there was obscured by a huge bouquet of roses wrapped in green tissue paper.
Marissa smiled. Cam must have traded shifts, or gotten off early for some reason. How like her darling man to surprise her with flowers. He was such a romantic. Heart skipping with happiness, Marissa turned the deadbolt and reached for the doorknob. She pulled the door open and stepped back, her entire body alive with anticipation.
It wasn’t Cam.
The man standing there was dressed in black T-shirt, black jeans and heavy black combat boots. Marissa’s mind was clicking and stuttering in its effort to place the familiar but unwelcome face of the too-handsome blond. Meanwhile, her body was sending signals of its own. Her mouth had gone suddenly dry, and ice water had replaced the blood in her veins.
“Phil,” she finally managed. She clutched her robe at the throat. “What are you doing here? How did you get in the building?”
“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” he said, gesturing toward her with the flowers. “I got these just for you.” His mouth twisted into an unpleasant smile.
Marissa’s brain finally kicked into gear. There seemed to be no end to this asshole’s unmitigated gall. “Look, Phil,” she snapped, letting the anger show in her voice. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing. After the horrible way you behaved, I can’t believe you have the nerve to just show up at my door like this. I didn’t invite you here. I don’t want your flowers. Please go away.” Heart hammering, she was pleased at least her voice had come out firm and commanding.
As she spoke, she moved to close the door, but Phil shoved forward with his shoulder so hard that Marissa stumbled back as the door flew open. Phil came into the room. His eyes still on Marissa, he reached behind himself to shut the door, his fingers finding and turning the deadbolt.
His eyes were glittering, reminding Marissa of the crack addicts she’d treated during residency. “What’s the matter?” Phil demanded. “Don’t you like roses? Oh wait, I get it.” He narrowed his eyes, his face twisting into a leer. “You prefer the thorns, am I right, you sick bitch?” He grabbed a rose from the bunch, dropping the rest of the bouquet to the floor. Marissa watched, horrified, as he ripped the flower from its stem and dropped the petals to the floor. He brandished the stem like a weapon as he advanced slowly toward her.
Marissa backed away, her heart beating so loudly she could barely hear Phil’s bizarre words over the pounding in her ears.
The phone. Call 9-1-1.
Her phone was on the bedside table. She just had to get to the bedroom, lock the door, make the call.
She turned sharply from the intruder. She felt the tug on her robe and jerked away, allowing it to be pulled from her body as she made the dash toward the bedroom. She had nearly made it to the door when she felt him on her. His fingers dug into her shoulders as he spun her around. “Where do you think you’re going, huh? You belong to
me
now. That faggot nurse isn’t going to save you.”
He mashed her face against his chest. Gripping a handful of her hair, he jerked her head back and pressed his lips against hers. He reeked of alcohol as he thrust his slobbery tongue into her mouth. Marissa tried to wriggle out of his hold, but he was too strong, one arm like steel around her waist, his fingers tugging so hard it felt like he might yank her hair out by the roots.
Finally he let her go, but only long enough to grab her shoulders and force her to turn around. Moving behind her, he propelled her into the bedroom. He kicked the bedroom door shut and threw her onto the bed.
