The Inner Room

by Claire Thompson

  But seeing him decked out in that muscleman T-shirt and black leather, his usually combed back hair falling into his eyes, his five-o’clock stubble adding a roguish appeal to his features, while she stood naked as a jaybird in front of him—holy cow! She’d nearly fallen down with shock.

  And the way he’d stared at her. Yes, he was clearly taken by surprise too, but his eyes had moved over her hungrily, making her feel even more naked than she was, if that made any sense. At the same time, though, it had felt as if he were caressing her with his gaze, as if he wanted her. But maybe that was just a talent he’d developed as a trainer—a way to make the submissive feel desired, whether male or female.

  She’d told herself she could handle the situation—she wanted to explore this part of herself too much to blow it—and she could have! She was doing okay, that is, until he put his hand on her throat, and his other hand on her cunt.

  Something about that big, masculine hand closing around her neck, bringing with it the knowledge that he had complete power over her, erotic and otherwise, had nearly undone her. Her poor clit was throbbing and when he slipped his fingers into her, that was bad enough. But that thing he did with his palm! Oh god, it was amazing. She wanted him to do it again. And again. And again…

  Where did a gay man learn to touch a woman like that?

  Though she was apprehensive about what came next, she was also excited. Erotic pain. Just the words were enough to send a shiver through her loins. Dana was right—how had she survived this long without being clued in to her submissive and masochistic needs? And if Cam were anywhere near as capable in the erotic pain department as he was in the giving straight girls orgasms department, she was definitely in for an intense experience.

  “I understand from Jack that you’ve responded well to a bare-handed spanking. Have you ever been flogged or caned? Have you ever been whipped?” Cam’s deep, sexy voice pulled Marissa back to the moment.

  Her heart jolted into a higher gear at these questions. “No, Sir. None of those things. Not yet.”

  A smile lifted one corner of his mouth. “Good answer. Not yet. Well, let’s remedy that, at least in part. I believe the flogger is the next logical step. I have something new I think would be just right.” He moved toward a rack and selected a medium-sized flogger with dozens of black leather tresses dangling from a thick braided handle.

  “I think I’ll keep you standing for this exercise.” He pointed to the polished wooden column that rose from the floor to the ceiling, which Marissa knew from the outer room was called a whipping post. “Hug the post and bring your hands together around it. I’ll cuff your wrists so it’s easier for you to stay in position. I’ll leave your feet free. Since we’re at a point in the assessment where it’s possible you might need it, what’s your safeword?”

  Marissa felt a ridiculous but undeniable sense of pride that she had one. “Lemon,” she said promptly, adding a belated, “Sir.”

  “Lemon,” Cam repeated. “Okay. Stand at the post. I’ll get a new set of cuffs for you.” Marissa moved to the whipping post and carefully pressed her bare body against the cool wood. She wrapped her arms around the thick pole and turned her head so her cheek was resting against it.

  Cam returned with a set of canvas cuffs with Velcro on either end, a ring of metal dangling from the center of each. He put one around each of her wrists and then clipped them together by the rings. Oddly, instead of making her feel more vulnerable because she was now bound, she found herself easing into a softer place, if that was the word. Somehow the wrist cuffs soothed her, and she wished he would also bind her waist and ankles, but she said nothing.

  He moved out of her sight and a moment later she felt his strong body pressed up against hers from behind. He smelled so good! Something woodsy and masculine. She wondered if he had a lover—a partner. Was the guy a sub? Did he cuff him to a whipping post and flog him before making love to him?

  Stop it, she ordered herself sternly. It is what it is.

  “Are you ready, sub girl?” Cam’s mouth was so close she could feel his breath tickling her ear. Though she’d just had a powerful if unexpected orgasm, her perverse cunt, which apparently didn’t know the man leaning against her was gay, perked to instant and throbbing attention.

  “Yes, Sir,” she managed, though in fact she was frightened of the flogger, which had to hurt way more than a mere spanking.

  Cam stepped back. “Good. We begin.” He appeared once more in front of her and held the handle of the flogger close to her face. “Kiss it,” he ordered. “Kiss the flogger as a gesture of your appreciation for what it can give you.”

  Though this sounded a bit contrived to Marissa, she dutifully touched her lips to the soft, fragrant leather.

  He moved again and she could just see him in her peripheral vision. “We’ll start light,” he said, “and gradually increase the intensity. My goal is to see what you can handle, and how you handle it. Feel free to cry out. It’s okay to tell me if it hurts, or to say that you don’t think you can take it anymore, and I’ll listen to you, though I won’t necessarily stop—not until I think it’s time.

  “Regarding your safeword—be very, very careful about using it. It’s an absolute last resort, and should only be used if you sincerely believe I’m not getting the message and the action needs to stop immediately. I should tell you, I’ve never, not once in the six years I’ve been doing this, had a sub need to use their safeword. I will pay attention to your body and your reactions, and all you really need to do is open your spirit to what I’m giving you. That said, you can use the safeword if you think you have to, but know that all action will cease at that moment, and the session will end. Are we clear?”

  “Yes, Sir,” Marissa said, now thoroughly terrified at the thought she was going to be taken to the point of crying out and screaming that she couldn’t take it anymore. Nonetheless, she was determined to see this through. No way was she going to back down now.

  “Okay, then. We begin.”

  The first strokes were little more than the brush of leather whispering over her skin. It almost tickled. After about ten of these, however, the intensity increased a little, and the leather now lightly smacked her skin, though still nowhere near as hard as Tony’s palm had been. This wasn’t so bad. She could totally do this!

  The flogger moved away from her ass now, landing between her shoulder blades. It stung, but at the same time, it felt good. It felt right. The leather moved down her back to her ass, this time striking harder, so the sting matched that on the thinner skin of her back. Next the flogger shifted to the backs of her thighs.

  The first really hard stroke took her by surprise, and Marissa gasped and tensed. “Relax,” Cam said at once. “Flow with the pain, not against it.”

  She had no idea what this meant, but Marissa did her best to relax, in spite of the fact she was naked and tethered to a whipping post, while an incredibly sexy gay Dom smacked her ass with a flogger.

  He hit her again, just as hard, and Marissa yelped a little. “Flow with it,” she heard him whisper behind her. He struck her again and again, each time a little harder than the last. It hurt, make no mistake, but at the same time her body seemed to crave the pain, just as it had when Tony had spanked her. Or no, even more. She thrilled to the thuddy caress of the flogger as it crashed against her with the force of an ocean’s wave.

  Yes, her body whispered, yes, yes, yes.

  And then, without warning, he changed his angle so just the tips of the leather strands made contact with her skin. It stung like hell, and ripped her from the near-trance she had entered. The stinging little tips brushed the sides of her body and it felt like a hive of angry bees swarming over her skin.

  “Ow!” she yelled. “Fuck, that hurts!”

  “Take it.” Something in Cam’s tone spoke to something deep inside Marissa’s psyche.

  The panic that had been rising subsided, and she found that, while the whipping still stung, she could bear it. She could take it.


  He resumed the thuddy strokes once more, covering her flesh from thigh to shoulder in a dark, sweet fire of sensation that was nearly as good as, or no, be honest, maybe even better than, sex.

  “Oooooo,” someone moaned, the word charged with eroticism. Vaguely Marissa was aware she was the one making the sound, but she’d lost the capacity to censor or control her reactions. “Oooooo,” she moaned again. There was no more pain, though Cam was flogging her just as hard, if not harder, than before.

  Or, no, that wasn’t right. It did hurt. But it hurt so good. Though she didn’t understand it, the erotic pain, the pleasure, the power, the passion of what this man was doing somehow reached past the reserves built up over a lifetime of holding back the most intimate part of herself. It peeled back layers of control, of fear, of longing, of need, reaching to the very core of Marissa’s being. “Yes,” she whispered, the word a sibilant hiss of pure, raw need. “Yessssssssss…”

  Her head felt heavy and she let it fall back. Her bound hands around the post were the only thing that kept her from sliding into a puddle on the floor. She was no longer Marissa Roberts, MD, or Marissa Roberts the woman, or even Marissa Roberts, the sub girl. She was just sensation. Pure, perfect sensation, her spirit rising from her body as the leather kissed and stroked her skin with what she could only define as love.

  When she opened her eyes, she was confused to find herself on the ground. She was leaning back against someone, whose strong, masculine arms were wrapped around her from behind. As she came more fully to herself, she realized it was Cam holding her. She must have somehow passed out or something.

  Whatever had happened, she was engulfed in a deeply satisfying sense of utter well-being. Though still disoriented, she leaned back her head and smiled up at the gorgeous sexy man who was holding her.

  Defenses completely lowered, she blurted, “Wow, that was fucking amazing. No offense, but it really sucks that you’re gay.”

  Chapter 6

  “I’m sorry, what?” Cam was sitting behind Marissa on the floor near the cross, his arms around her. He had been rocking her gently as she returned to planet earth, drifting in a pleasant fantasy that he wasn’t her trainer, but rather her lover—the lover who would soon carry her to bed and make love to her.

  Her words smashed through his reverie like a fist to the jaw, and he actually whipped his head back from the impact. Marissa twisted to face him, extricating herself from his arms in the process. “Oh!” she exclaimed “Sir. I should have said Sir. I didn’t ask permission to speak. I forgot. I—”

  “No, no,” Cam interjected. “That’s okay, Marissa. The assessment, the scene—it’s over. It’s okay. This is called aftercare. Where I help you come down from the high of the experience. No more Master or Sir required.”

  She looked relieved. “Oh, okay, then. Phew.”

  Cam smiled, but he wasn’t about to drop the subject. “So, I need clarification here. You think I’m gay?”

  She bit her lower lip, her eyes sliding away from his. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I hope that wasn’t rude to say. It just kind of slipped out.”

  Cam couldn’t help it. He started to laugh. He supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised. Marissa knew him first as a nurse, and he’d heard the whispers and seen the looks of some of the staff when he passed by.

  She met his eyes, crossed her arms over her breasts and frowned. “What? What’s funny?”

  He shook his head. “Forgive me.” He was still grinning. “I hate to burst your bubble, but I’m straight as an arrow.”

  Her expression moved to one of confusion. “Wait, what? You mean you’re…you’re not gay?” she stammered. Color was washing prettily over her cheeks and throat.

  It took every ounce of self-control for Cam not to gather her into his arms. “No, I’m not. What made you think I was? Surely not just because I’m a nurse?”

  “No, not at all,” she said with such conviction he wondered if she, if not lying, was perhaps hedging the truth a bit.

  He didn’t let her off the hook. “Okay, so then…what?”

  Again she looked away. “Oh, well, the other nurses were saying, I mean…Janice saw… Oh god, I’m really confused right now.”

  Cam relented. “Hey, I’m just busting your chops.” He pushed himself to his feet and headed toward the wall hooks where the clean robes were hung. He grabbed one and returned to her. As he placed it around her shoulders, he said, “So, I’m all ears. What juicy gossip did Janice have to spread this time?”

  Marissa offered a rueful smile. “So, you’re already on to her, huh? You’re right. I should have considered the source. Usually I know better. She swore she saw you going into a gay sex shop in the Village.”

  Cam slapped his forehead. “Ah, now I remember. I did see Janice down in the Village the other day. What she actually saw was me heading into C&C’s.” Marissa looked blank, and Cam elaborated. “It’s a BDSM gear shop. I suppose, in Janice’s defense, not that she deserves any, the mannequin in the window at C&C’s is a male dressed in BDSM leathers and chains, a ball gag over his mouth. She obviously drew her own conclusions.”

  Marissa started to laugh, a full-throated, open laugh that filled Cam with an irrational joy. He started to laugh too. Still chuckling, he leaned toward her and extended his hand. She took it, allowing him to help her up.

  They regarded each other for a long moment, each growing serious again. Cam’s lips tingled with the need to feel the press of her mouth against his, but he held himself in check.

  Marissa tied the sash of the robe around her slender waist. “So,” she said, pushing her hair from her face and tucking it behind her small, pretty ears. “Tell me the truth. How did I do tonight? Did I pass the audition?”

  “You did, Marissa,” Cam said sincerely. “I can honestly and without reservation recommend you to Jack as a provisional member of the club.”

  As he said it, he silently marveled at how little anyone knew about the people they worked with. Dr. Roberts, with her brisk, no-nonsense manner on the job, was secretly a passionate, sensual masochist with incredible potential as a submissive. And here she’d been right in his backyard, so to speak, and he’d had no idea.

  “Provisional?” she countered.

  Cam smiled. “Yeah. Jack is super cautious about admittance. He had a few problems with some guys a while back that nearly got the place shut down, so he’s very careful about who he accepts. Three months probation, and you can join as a full-fledged member.”

  There was a sharp rap at the door. Cam glanced at his watch. “Oh, shit,” he said. “I have a client booked for the next hour. That’s my five-minute warning. I’ll just talk to Jack real quick and let him know you’re in.”

  “Oh. You have a client? Now?” Marissa looked crestfallen, which made Cam smile again. He realized he’d been smiling so much in the last few minutes that his cheeks actually ached.

  Taking a chance, he said, “Listen, could you maybe wait for me? It’s a light night. I only have one half-hour session after this one coming up. I’d love to take you out for coffee or a glass of wine or something.” Suddenly he realized the assumption he’d made, and he added quickly, “I mean, uh, that is, if you came alone.”

  “I came with my friends, Tony and Dana. Do you know them?”

  Cam nodded. “I know who they are, but I don’t know them well.” He offered an apologetic shrug. “I don’t get a chance to spend much time in the outer room. I mostly work with clients and potential members back here. So”—he assumed a casual tone— “Tony and Dana are just…friends?” He’d learned in the scene not to make assumptions about the nature of D/s relationships, and ménages, especially those consisting of a Dom and two subs, were not all that unusual.

  Marissa smiled. “Just friends. Really Dana is my friend. Tony’s her husband. But he’s the one that got me this, uh, assessment.”

  “So, would they be cool if you came with them, but left with me? More to the point, would you be cool with it?�
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  Her smile widened and she ducked her head in a coquettish way that had nothing to do with Marissa Roberts, MD and everything to do with a sexy, flirtatious sub girl. “Yes, Sir. I’d be very cool with it.”

  ~*~

  Dana and Tony were still sitting where she’d left them when Marissa returned to the outer room. Dana’s hair was a bit disheveled, her mascara a little smeared, which led Marissa to think they’d been doing some scening of their own during her absence.

  “Well,” Dana said eagerly, as Tony stood and pulled out a chair for Marissa. “How did it go? Tell us everything!”

  Marissa sat, offering a nod of thanks to Tony. “It went great,” she said, unable to stop the wide smile that spread over her face.

  Dana was regarding her expectantly. “Come on, details, girlfriend! I’ve never even seen the inner room. I want a full description of everything that happened, from the second you entered the room until you came out here with that big ass smile on your face.”

  Tony sipped his wine as he regarded his wife with an indulgent smile.

  Where to start? Marissa had already decided she didn’t plan to share the fact that she and Cam worked together. She had a sense that would be violating his privacy. Nor did she plan to divulge her deeply personal, visceral response not only to what he’d done, but to the man himself. It was all still so new and precious—she wanted to have time alone to digest, dissect and savor every moment.

  “Let’s see,” she said, composing her thoughts. “The place wasn’t all that different from your playroom, except more equipment and more gear.” She went on to describe the basics of what the assessment entailed, leaving out their conversation during the aftercare, or the fact that Cam had pulled a powerful climax from her.

  “It sounds amazing,” Dana breathed, hanging on to every word. “So what happens now?”

  “Cam, er, the trainer, is going to talk to Jack. He says he’s going to recommend me for provisional membership.”