My Body-His Marcello

by Blakely Bennett

“Merda, Luke. Either go outside with your guests or help me get Jane down. Now!” After releasing more slack in the rope Marcello told me, “Don’t lower your arms right away. Let the blood ease back in first. Slowly, now.”

  “Oh fuck, I don’t think I can,” I said, numb, yet in terrible pain. My heart had managed to shut itself off over the course of the bondage. I understood now the necessity of building a fortress around that precious organ.

  Luke and Janice each massaged a shoulder and helped me to slowly lower my arms. I felt absurdly grateful to Marcello. He was my rescuer, and yet he was one of the people who had pushed me off the cliff in the first place. Until that moment I had never understood women who stayed in abusive relationships. It’s not that I believed I existed in one myself, but I recognized the overpowering need to be loved, accepted and given a place where I belonged—three important reasons to forgive the unforgivable. Deep inside I must have known I wasn’t very different from those abused women.

  Marcello led Luke away and I could see them arguing in the hall in front of our bedroom without hearing what they said.

  A few minutes later, they came back and Luke said, “You will be going home with Marcello tonight.”

  “Please ask Marcello and Janice to leave us so we can talk.”

  “You may speak in front of them.”

  “That has to be a set-up of mass proportions. I spoke my mind to Jack and see what it got me.” I pivoted around, giving them all a clear view of my back. “Which marks do I have to thank you for?” I said, addressing all three of them.

  “We didn’t participate,” Janice said.

  Marcello nodded.

  I confronted Luke. “Whether you wielded a whip or not you are responsible for all of it.”

  “As I’m free to use your body as I please, you are completely correct.”

  “So tell me, are you breaking your promise to me?”

  “I am.”

  “Fuck off.”

  “Jane, watch yourself.”

  “Oh I’m watching myself all right. I can barely stand from tonight’s ordeal simply because you got pissed off over two little words that could’ve been punished simply by allowing Jack to go down on me.”

  “Are you trying to tell me how I should discipline you?”

  “I’m telling you that there are consequences for your choices as well. You promised me I would have the time of my life at your party and I most certainly did not. Now you feel you are justified in breaking another of your promises to me? What happened to all the bullshit about trust? You are showing me as clear as day that your word means nothing.”

  “Jane, I’m warning you,” Luke said.

  His ears were reddening with anger, but it didn’t deter me. All the anger I had accumulated over the course of our relationship and marriage came to a head.

  I turned and addressed Marcello. “Did Luke tell you his theory that you’re in love with me? And did you tell Luke of your plans to make me yours?”

  Luke took a step toward me, his eyes narrowing to slits and the heat of his anger palpable.

  “You are breaking your promise to me, breaking us in effect. And the irony of it all is that I enjoyed most of my time at Marcello’s and found him far more open and available than you.”

  Luke took one more step toward me and then did something I never thought him capable of. He slapped me full handed across the face, knocking me to my knees. I touched my nose and felt blood there. I gazed up at him, utterly demoralized.

  He raised his arm yet again and struck me a second time. The tears didn’t come; instead long buried rage seared through me.

  “Who the fuck do you think you are?!” I screamed. I struggled to my feet, taking a step backwards as he followed, poised to strike me again. His menacing approach, fed by grievous rage, seemed to take place in slow motion. Instincts of self-protection kicked in and without thinking I bellowed, “GET LOST CREEP!”

  I might have thrown ice water in his face. I watched the anger drain from Luke, leaving abject sadness in its wake.

  “Pack your things and get out,” he said in a quiet voice. “You can make arrangements for Janice to retrieve the rest of your things.”

  “No!” I cried. “I take it back.”

  “There’s no taking it back. I never want to see you again.”

  “You can’t mean that. Luke, please, this all got out of control tonight. Please don’t do this.” I felt panicked and nauseous. Blood was still dripping out of my nose.

  “She’s all yours,” Luke said to Marcello. Luke veered and lurched back toward his office.

  “Luke, noooooo ...” Ignoring the pain, I ran after him, tugging on his sleeve, begging him to stop.

  “Please do something with this,” he said to Marcello, looking down on me in disgust. Then he locked himself inside his office.

  I collapsed on the floor and Janice rushed over to me. In that moment I knew what death felt like. Not the imagined death of life ending but the excruciating feeling when one realizes they’ve been murdered, the life stolen from them. I was certain I would never move another muscle, never draw another breath. I experienced total disassociation. I floated in a world of my dreams and ceased to exist. I could feel Janice beside me but had no idea where I was.

  Someone lifted me up and carried me to a bed. I heard drawers and doors open but even with my eyes open I didn’t see. I did not want to see.

  I felt something on my nose and I pushed it away.

  “Jane? JANE! Look at me,” I heard.

  I forced myself to focus and saw Marcello before me.

  “Good,” he said. “You’ll stay with us.”

  “No,” I said, managing to get it out.

  “Janice has packed some of your things and we can get you whatever else you need.”

  “No.”

  “Do you want me to call your mother or one of your friends?” Janice said.

  I shook my head back and forth repeatedly, much longer than was necessary. “Just leave me here.”

  “I can’t do that,” Marcello said.

  “I can’t stay with you.”

  “Yes, you can,” Janice said.

  “No, I can’t, ’cause then he’d never take me back.”

  “He won’t take you back anyway,” Janice said.

  “You don’t know that. You just think that because he wouldn’t take you back.”

  “Honey, please just come with us and we can work out all the details tomorrow,” she said.

  “NO! He said I shouldn’t stay with another man or even talk to him unless he ordered me to.”

  “He did order you to,” Marcello said.

  “It’s different now ... Just leave me here,” I said, looking up at him. “I’ll try to talk to him.”

  “That is definitely unwise. You need to give him space,” he said.

  “Fine I’ll pack up my computer and leave. You don’t need to wait on me.”

  “We can drive you somewhere,” Janice said.

  “I don’t need a ride. If you want to do something for me then go find my sleeping bag in the garage.”

  They both left the room and I hurriedly took the clothes Janice had collected and pulled them out of the suitcase she had taken from the closet. Cramming them into my backpack, I threw my toiletries on top. I slipped on a t-shirt, sweatpants and a hoodie jacket. After tying my sneakers I crossed to the other room to retrieve my computer. This time I thought to unlock my writing room window before leaving so I would have a way back in.

  The backpack made my shoulders scream out in agony. I welcomed the pain. If I could still feel then I wasn’t dead yet. I needed to stay alive long enough to convince Luke to take me back. That made no sense—even to me—but I didn’t care. I just knew that I couldn’t go to Marcello’s.

  I snatched a blanket from the closet and tied it around my waist. Taking my cellphone and charger from the kitchen counter, I left before Marcello and Janice could emerge from the garage. Searching for the non-existent sleeping bag
would keep them busy for a while. I skulked out the front door, avoiding Luke’s guests out back, and took the over-walk to the beach.

  I staggered along the sand to the lounge chair I had occupied the night of the wedding and threw my things under it. Wrapping the blanket around me, I fell asleep on the chair. The sheer emotional and physical exhaustion put me in a deep slumber.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Vaguely aware of being lifted, my grip on reality slipping, I dreamt Luke had come to rescue me and carry me back home. When I awoke in the cold light of day, the sun shined into a room I had never been in before. I did, however, recognize the décor. I lay on a bed in Marcello’s house. Janice must have told him where to find me on the lounge chair.

  In a panic that Luke might find out I spent the night at Marcello’s, I plotted how to sneak out. But as soon as I shifted to sit up I realized my body would not, could not allow it.

  I had no idea how to go about getting Luke back; I just knew I had to convince him we were still meant to be together. I know how sick that might sound, especially after the terrible ordeals I had suffered under Luke’s control. But I could not abide the thought of living without him, and my fevered brain focused on those months of bliss when everything had seemed so perfect.

  Struggling between doing something that could rescue my marriage and seeking the oblivion of sleep, I realized my first priority was to use the bathroom. I searched the medicine cabinet for anything that might knock me out but only found ibuprofen and tampons. I swallowed three pills and shuffled back into “my” room.

  The décor still had the Native American feel but the walls were a pale green and furniture a mixture of light and dark woods. I imagined that the last woman who occupied the space chose the paint color and the wildly colorful art on the walls.

  Feeling confined by my clothes, I tugged off my sweatpants and t-shirt. I panicked when I didn’t see any of my stuff, but then there it was—my backpack and blanket—on the floor of the closet.

  Moving gingerly, I carefully arranged myself back up on the bed, pulling my backpack with me.

  I retrieved my cellphone and charger and plugged it in next to the headboard. The message button flashed and my heart skipped a beat. I went to the list of voicemail calls, only to find that the message came from Parker. I didn’t bother checking it.

  I opened the largest section of my backpack to retrieve my computer and check my email but I had received nothing from Luke. I had to try and reach out to him in any way I could.

  To: LukeBandDphotos@controlme.com

  From: PlainJane368@yahoo.com

  Subject: I’m so, so sorry …

  Dear Luke,

  Please, come get me and don’t be mad about where I am. I had planned to crash on the beach and come back this morning but while I was sleeping (or passed out or whatever I was last night after our fight), Marcello carried me off the beach and took me to his house. I woke up in one of his bedrooms this morning and I swear I don’t want to be here. I have no interest in Marcello. I was just overwrought and didn’t mean anything I said.

  I’m so, so sorry about what I said to Jack and all of it. I know it’s my fault and I’ll do whatever it takes to make it up to you.

  You know we are meant to be together and that everything was perfect before the party.

  Please come for me. I can’t breathe or eat or smile without you. You mean everything to me; you mean more than life itself. I no longer exist without you.

  I need to see you so I know we will be okay.

  Loving and missing you,

  Jane

  I had just hit the send button when Janice peeked around the door.

  “You’re up. I expected you to still be asleep. How are you doing?”

  “Peachy,” I said, rolling my eyes.

  “Your face is barely swollen. How’s your back?”

  “I don’t see why you could possibly care. You both must be celebrating.”

  “Celebrating? Of course not. We’re worried for you,” she said, stepping farther into the room.

  “Forgive me if I don’t believe you. Had you kept your fucking mouth shut, had Marcello acted like the gentleman he pretends to be, I would right now be recuperating with Luke. Instead, I’m stuck here until I can travel on my own back to my life.”

  “I understand you’re upset, but your life, as you knew it, no longer exists.”

  “Please leave me alone and close the door behind you,” I said, jabbing my finger toward the door.

  “Jane, I know Luke and I know that he never looks back. Did he ever tell you what happened with his father?”

  I sat up; Janice finally garnered my full attention. I longed for any information about Luke.

  “When Luke was just seventeen he had an opportunity to study art in France. And although Luke participated in sports and academics, his true passion was drawing and painting. His father thought those pursuits were a waste of his intelligence. He didn’t show Luke the acceptance letter until after the deadline had passed.

  “He left his house that very day and never looked back. His parents died many years later but as far as I know he never spoke to either his father or mother again.”

  “Why not his mom?” I wondered out loud.

  “He assumed she knew about the letter as well and felt too scared to go against his father’s wishes. He had lost all respect for her.”

  “How did he get into photography?”

  Janice inched closer to me and sat on the edge of the bed. “Some of this I have pieced together so I’m not one hundred percent sure of the accuracy. He had little money when he went out on his own, so he modeled for a Japanese man in New York. He mentioned hitch-hiking there in hopes of making his mark in the art world.”

  “That explains the Japanese connection. Do you know how he met Marcello?”

  “Marcello lived in New York with his grandparents years ago so maybe they met there. You should ask him.”

  “Yeah, Marcello mentioned that he grew up in New York. Do you know if the photos Luke posed for were BDSM focused?”

  “He never would answer that question directly, but I assume so. I believe he got into photography because of the Japanese guy and maybe the lifestyle as well—but you know how Luke is. Getting answers from him is like prospecting for gold.” She took my hand and said, “I’m truly sorry how everything turned out. I never wanted you to experience the devastation I went through—am going through. You know what I mean.”

  I wanted to believe her. Desperately needing someone to trust, to talk to about our chosen lifestyle, I finally answered her original question. “My shoulders and lower back hurt the most but I just took some Advil. Really my body is the least of my worries.”

  “Tell me what I can do to help.”

  “I’m not sure there is help for me.” She knew better than anyone what I was feeling. “I think I’ll go back to sleep now.”

  She stroked my hair before leaving and I could see that she still lived with the sadness I was just beginning to understand.

  Lying on my side and snuggling a pillow between my legs, I wondered about Luke. How could a seventeen-year-old boy make it alone in New York? Did he have to sell himself to make ends meet? I couldn’t imagine the forty-five-year-old Luke I knew doing anything of the sort at any age. It made me nauseous to even consider it.

  From what Janice had shared, I determined he had a dominating, disapproving father and a passive mother. Is that why he chooses submissive women? Or captures them, as in my case? He must have learned Japanese from the photographer. Maybe he traveled with him to Japan?

  I wondered how long Marcello and Luke had known each other and how they had met. What did Marcello have over Luke? Luke said that there was nothing but obviously Marcello had a huge influence over him.

  Although I didn’t want to share the same space with Marcello, I decided I would do just that to get more information about Luke. I was convinced that the more knowledge I had, the easier it would be to persuade him
to take me back.

  I dozed off, still processing all the new facts Janice had provided.

  * * *

  My own shrieking woke me up. I sat up abruptly in bed, groaning as my back and shoulders ached from the effort. My heart pounded in my chest and my breathing felt erratic. Sweat covered my face and neck.

  In the dream I had been tied to a circular plank of wood, face down. Men surrounded it, each one holding a different whip and paddle for my punishment. They easily rotated the table so each man had a go at abusing my legs, buttocks and back. They circled the table again and I saw an enormous man standing beside my face. His huge cock stuck straight out, and he jammed it into my throat, forcing the colossal phallus deeper and deeper until I could no longer breathe.

  I felt death approaching and in the dream I was relieved to be released from my torment.

  Marcello burst through the door of my room and came to me, enfolding me in his arms. “I heard you scream,” he said.

  I tried to wiggle away from him at first, but instead a violent storm of tears shattered me. Sobbing as he held me, I wished I had the strength to pummel his chest. Although the thought wreaked havoc on my psyche, it occurred to me that yet again the instigator of my hell had morphed into my savior.

  “Sarà bene,” he murmured to me in Italian. “Everything is going to be okay. You’re not alone.”

  I wept over the loss of the life Luke and I had forged together. Although part of me knew that getting back there again would probably require black magic, my soul could accept no other option.

  Marcello smoothed my hair as I bawled in his arms. I felt small and young against his large body. As my tears slowed I thought of my father. Resting my head against Marcello’s chest I wondered if my father had ever held me like that when I was a young child and upset. I couldn’t recall one memory of either of my parents nurturing me in that way. The flow of my tears increased at the thought.