The Inner Room

by Claire Thompson

  Cam was more than ready for her to officially move in, but decided to give her a little more time before broaching the subject. He didn’t want to undermine her recovery by making her somehow think he was suggesting she should be afraid of living alone.

  He decided instead to focus on resuming their D/s exploration, which up until the trauma, had been such a source of intensity and pleasure for them both. But now Marissa, who before had been so wonderfully eager to push the erotic envelope, seemed to have closed up like a flower in the dark, tightly furled and shut off from the joy of submission.

  Instead she threw herself into her work with a vengeance, leaving the house at dawn to go to her club, then spending ten to twelve hours every day at the hospital, and working on her computer when she came home at night to catch up on her charts. She had fallen into bed each night this week claiming exhaustion, and Cam knew she wasn’t lying about that. But he also knew she was using it as an excuse to keep him at arms’ length, both physically and emotionally.

  He wanted to be patient, and he understood she needed time to heal, but he also knew the longer she held herself apart, the harder it would be for them to reconnect. Something had to change, and he understood he would need to be the one to effect that change.

  Now he just held her and stroked her damp hair away from her face. “Go back to sleep, sweetheart. I’ll hold you and keep you safe.” She smiled, and lifted her face to his, closing her eyes for a kiss. He kept vigil for a long time, until he was certain she was asleep. Only then did he close his own eyes.

  “Tomorrow,” he promised himself, “I’ll talk to Jack. He’ll know what to do.”

  ~*~

  Marissa pumped furiously on the elliptical, arms and legs working in concert as she approached the thirty-minute mark. Dana, who had finished her workout a minute before, stood beside her machine toweling the sweat from her face. “Have time for a quick fruit juice after your shower?”

  Marissa looked down at her friend, glanced at the wall clock and shrugged. “I guess so.”

  They met up twenty-five minutes later at the exercise club’s small café. As they sipped fresh orange juice, Dana said, “So, how’s it going? I’ve barely seen you this week. You doing okay?”

  Marissa glanced away as she answered. “Fine. I’m doing fine. Work is a good distraction. And Cam’s been great.”

  Dana nodded. “So we’ll see you at the club tonight?”

  Marissa shook her head. She could feel the traces of a headache coming on. “Cam’s got a client. I’m just going to stay home and get a good night’s sleep.”

  “Marissa.”

  “What?”

  “I’ve known you a long time. You’re not okay.”

  Unwelcome tears pricked at Marissa’s eyelids and she blinked them away, annoyed. “Nonsense. I’m fine. I’ve been seeing a counselor. Everything’s good.”

  “Marissa.”

  “What?” Marissa let the impatience slip into her voice. “I told you. I’m fine.” She finally looked directly at Dana, and was annoyed to see she was smiling.

  “What? What’s so amusing?”

  “Your insistence that you’re fine, when I know you’re not.”

  Again Marissa started to protest, but Dana stopped her with a held up hand. “Marissa. Shut up for a second and listen. I want to ask you a question, and I want your honest answer.”

  Marissa tensed but nodded. “Okay.”

  “When is the last time you scened with Cam? When is the last time you were properly whipped?”

  “Dana!” Marissa hissed, glancing at the tables around them, though no one appeared to be paying them any attention.

  “Answer the question.”

  “Well. Not since…before. I’ve been too busy,” she rushed on defensively.

  “There is nothing more important right now.” Dana reached for Marissa’s hand.

  “Give me a break. I mean, I haven’t exactly been in the mood to play, you know,” Marissa replied, but she didn’t pull her hand away.

  “I’m not talking about play.” Dana’s voice was gentle but earnest. “I’m talking about sustenance. About the life-giving submissive experience your Master can give you, if you let him. You know in your bones exactly what I’m talking about. For people like you and me, there is nothing more centering, or more essential, than being brought back to our core essence. It’s what you were missing all your life until you found the courage to explore this key aspect of what and who you are, Marissa. And now that you’ve found it, you need to hold on to it. You need to nurture it and let it continue to grow. Don’t shut Cam out of your life. Not now. Especially not now.”

  Marissa started to protest, to explain that she was essentially living with Cam now, and they’d never been closer. She wanted to refute Dana’s claim that she was shutting Cam out of anything, but the words wouldn’t come.

  Because she knew, when she quieted the rest of the noise in her head, that Dana was right.

  ~*~

  “How’s she doing? How’re you doing?” Jack was wiping down the bar in the still-empty club in the hour before it opened. Cam sat on the stool opposite him, waiting for his new client.

  “Fine,” Cam answered automatically. He looked up to see Jack regarding him with those dark, penetrating eyes. “Not so fine,” he amended with a sigh. He told Jack about Marissa’s avoidance of intimacy, and his own uncertainty in the face of it. “I love her so much, Jack. I don’t want to cause her any more pain. I don’t want to push her before she’s ready.”

  “Let me ask you something.” Jack put the washrag aside and focused his full attention on Cam. “If you were her trainer, not her lover, or no—let’s not even talk about Marissa and you. If a client came in to see you, and told you she was new to the scene, but had found her soul mate, and D/s had become a central focus of her life, but a recent traumatic event had made her unsure about continuing, what would you say to that client?”

  Cam didn’t even have to think about the reply. “I’d say BDSM would be the very best cure for whatever ails her. I’d explain to her that what happened has less than zero to do with BDSM, with the intensity, the exchange of power, the passion.”

  “And you’d be right,” Jack replied. “And then you’d probably contact her Master, am I right? And you’d tell him…”

  Cam chuckled admiringly. Jack made what had seemed so muddled in his head suddenly crystal clear. “I would tell him it was his responsibility to his sub to quit handling her with kid gloves, and to give her what she needed—what they both needed.”

  Jack pointed a finger at Cam. “Bingo.”

  ~*~

  The next morning after a leisurely breakfast at an outside café, Cam announced, “We’re going to run a little errand in Manhattan. There are few things we need to pick up for later.”

  “Where’re we going?” Marissa asked with what seemed to be genuine eagerness.

  “It’s a place called C&C’s in the Village. You’ll love it.”

  When they came out of the subway on St. Marks, Cam led Marissa along the street and down the few stairs to the basement-level BDSM gear shop, tensing slightly in case she balked. His talk with Jack the night before had galvanized him, and he was determined to show Marissa she had nothing to fear, and everything to gain, from resuming their D/s love affair.

  He was relieved when she offered no protest, as he was eager to introduce her to Celia and Cat. The familiar jingle greeted him as he pushed the door open and ushered Marissa inside.

  “Oooh,” Marissa breathed, as she took in the small but crowded space, filled with BDSM gear, jewelry and clothing. Celia was at her usual post behind the glass counter. Cat, a tall, statuesque woman with very short blond hair and large brown eyes, turned as they entered the store, her face breaking into a bright smile.

  “Master Cam!” she enthused, moving forward to wrap him in a hug. “Celia said you’d been by a while back. It’s about time you showed your face again.”

  Cam laughed. “I kno
w. It’s been too long. I’d like you to meet my partner and sub girl, Marissa,” he said, pride blooming inside him as Marissa slipped her hand into his. He turned to her. “This is Mistress Cat, and that’s Celia, her partner—”

  “And sub girl,” Cat interrupted. “Though you wouldn’t know it from her sass.” In spite of her words, she looked fondly at Celia, who this week sported bright orange hair with purple tips. Cat turned back to Marissa with a welcoming smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Marissa.” She waved an arm around the store. “Look around. Take your time. If you don’t see something you’re looking for, just ask.”

  Cam took Marissa on a tour of the place. “I was thinking we should buy a single tail,” he said, noting with pleasure the dilation of Marissa’s pupils and the small shiver of excitement that moved through her as she stared at the array of whips hung artfully along one wall. “We’ll pick one out today, and then there’s one more thing I want to show you.”

  After Marissa had looked at everything she wanted to, and they’d agreed upon a small purple single tail for their purchase, Cam led her to the glass jewelry counter. “Today,” he informed her, “we’re getting a second ring.” He had thought about how he would phrase it, as a question, or as a statement, and had decided on the latter. It was time to resume his role as Marissa’s Master, and to trust her enough to know she would respond in kind.

  “Oh,” she said softly, bending over the glass to examine the jewelry displayed on black velvet shelves inside.

  Cam pointed out a ring identical to the one he’d first picked out for Marissa prior to the piercing ceremony at Jack’s place. “We’ll take that one,” he informed Celia. “Oh, and a spool of that pink satin ribbon.”

  Marissa turned a questioning face toward him. “What—” she began.

  Cam smiled and placed his finger lightly over her lips. “You’ll see,” was all he said.

  ~*~

  Marissa tingled with anticipatory excitement. Though she hadn’t even realized it until now—she’d been waiting for Cam to come back to her. Or no, that wasn’t precisely correct. She’d been waiting on a subconscious level for him to bring her back. Dana’s talk with her couldn’t have come at a better time, and she couldn’t help but wonder if someone—maybe Jack?—had talked to Cam too. He was different, or rather, he was himself again.

  On the subway ride back to Queens, Marissa had examined the second tiny gold ring perched so prettily in its blue velvet box. But what had really intrigued her was the small spool of pink satin ribbon. Cam refused to say what it was for, only that she would see. He did share that he was going to pierce her second labia when they got home. She was aware he’d pierced many slaves-in-training, and knew exactly what he was doing, but still the thought of the sharp needle piercing her delicate labia sent a shudder of delicious fear through her, as did his promise of what would come next.

  “To celebrate your second piercing, we’ll try out the new single tail. It’s been too long since you were marked, slave girl.”

  She’d melted into a puddle of lust at his declaration, the words out of her mouth before she realized she was going to speak. “Thank you, Sir. Thank you.”

  Now she climbed into the shower and soaped her body before reaching for the razor. She stroked her mons with the blades so she would be perfectly smooth for the piercing. Drying herself quickly, she came into the bedroom. Cam was lying naked on the bed like a Greek god, his large, thick cock casually fisted in his hand as he read a magazine. He looked over at her, a sensual smile on his handsome face.

  “You will go to the dungeon to wait for me,” he said in a deep, sexy voice. “You will wear your collar and your wrist and ankle cuffs. You will wait in a kneeling, forehead press position until I come for you. Is there anything you want to say before you go?”

  “I love you, Sir.”

  Cam’s radiant smile warmed her from the inside out. “And I love you, sub girl.”

  In the dungeon, Marissa buckled her thick black leather collar around her throat, and welcomed the mantle of submissive serenity that settled itself over her senses. It was the strangest feeling, one she was hard-pressed to put into the proper words. Just beneath a deep and abiding sense of peace lay a simmering excitement, like water in the seconds before it rolls to a boil.

  She retrieved her leather cuffs and clips, and wrapped the soft leather bands around her wrists and ankles, using the O rings on each to clip the cuffs closed. She positioned herself on her knees on the carpet square in the center of the dungeon. She leaned slowly forward until her forehead was resting on the floor, her arms stretched out on either side of her head, and waited.

  It wasn’t long before she heard the dungeon door open. She didn’t move. She heard Cam enter the room, his bare feet sliding over the smooth hardwood until she felt his presence in front of her. His hand moved slowly over her bare back, his touch sending a shiver of pleasure to her core. He tapped her shoulder, and she rose as gracefully as she could, keeping her eyes submissively downcast.

  Cam held the new whip, along with the velvet jewelry box and the spool of satin ribbon. He moved toward the small end table beside the spanking bench and set down the items. Returning to her, he took her face into his hands and kissed her mouth with a possessive growl as she melted against him. He took a step back, his hair falling sexily into his eyes, which were staring hungrily at her.

  “Are you ready for my second ring, slave girl?” he asked softly.

  “Yes, Sir,” Marissa moaned. Her clit was already throbbing, and she knew she was sopping wet with anticipation. Cam led her to the spanking bench. She sat on the edge and he pressed her gently down onto her back on the padded leather.

  “Scoot your ass to the edge of the bench, and keep your feet flat on the floor on either side,” he instructed. “You will not move from that position until I’m done.”

  As Marissa adjusted her body on the bench, Cam stepped out of her vision. She could hear him rummaging in the supply cabinet at the back of the room. He returned a moment later with his piercing kit, which he set on the end table.

  She couldn’t stop the tremor of lust that shivered through her when he gripped her left outer labia between thumb and forefinger, and gently cleaned the area with a sterile pad. He selected a needle and pulled it from its protective plastic sheath, holding it so Marissa could see. “This piercing has no less import than the first, my darling. Even though there’s no one else to witness this ceremony today, I will ask you again—are you ready to take my needle, and to wear my ring as a symbol of my ownership and possession of your heart, body and soul?”

  “Yes, Sir,” Marissa whispered, her heart beating like a small drum in her chest. “Please, Sir.”

  The needle was sharp, and she felt the burning sensation as she had the first time, and then the ring was in place, and it was done. As before, a rush of pure joy hurtled through her body, along with a fierce sense of pride and empowerment.

  She lifted herself to her elbows to see Cam kneeling between her knees, his eyes bright with a blend of lust and adoration that nearly took her breath away. “You’re ravishingly beautiful,” he said, his voice husky with emotion.

  He reached for the spool of satin ribbon. “Do you know what this is for, slave girl?”

  Marissa suddenly realized its intended use, but she wanted Cam to say it, and so she said only, “Tell me, Sir.”

  “When you’re properly healed, I will lace this ribbon between the rings and tie it into a little bow at your cunt.” He reached out and touched the tip of his finger to her swollen, aching clit. “Only I will be allowed to untie the ribbon, when I decide to allow you to pee, or when I want to fuck you, or to whip your hot, sweet cunt.”

  Marissa could only moan in response.

  Cam stood and with an evil grin, extended his hand to her. “But that will have to wait a few days. Meanwhile, I want to christen your new whip. Since your sweet cunt needs to heal, I’ll be using that pert little ass of yours after you’re properl
y marked. I assume you have no problem with that?”

  “No, Sir,” Marissa answered fervently and with complete sincerity. “No problem at all.”

  Chapter 13

  BDSM equipment had been cleared on one side of the inner room, and a special dining table had been set up with a snowy white linen tablecloth, china and crystal, on which a sumptuous meal had just been served and consumed. Jack, Tony and Cam sat on chairs spaced around the table. Jesse, Dana and Marissa knelt on silk cushions beside their respective Masters. Two members of The Power Exchange waitstaff moved quietly around the table, unobtrusively clearing away the dishes. Jack had enlisted Stella, in her black leather apron, gold hoops dangling from her large nipples, and Steven, in his black leather vest and matching pants, to serve the meal, which Jack had had specially catered for the evening.

  The club wouldn’t be opening for another hour and a half, giving them ample time for the after-dinner ceremony the three Doms had planned. Cam looked down at Marissa, his heart surging with happiness. Though he’d always wanted someone to love, he had actually convinced himself over the years that being a BDSM trainer was nearly as fulfilling as having his own slave girl to cherish. What he hadn’t realized was that love didn’t just enhance a D/s connection—it transformed it.

  Marissa must have felt his eyes upon her, because she looked up at that moment, her face breaking into a radiant smile. Her back was straight, her lovely breasts thrust proudly forward. She was wearing a sheer white dress that did little to hide her naked body beneath it. Her expression was serene, her hands resting easily on her thighs. Gone was any trace of nervousness or trepidation. She seemed completely at peace and happy in her role as his sub girl. And tonight, he hoped, they would take the next step.

  Jack lightly tapped his crystal wine glass with a spoon, and all eyes turned to him. “Thank you all for joining me this evening. I know I speak for Tony and Cam when I say how deeply honored and proud we are to have such devoted and loving submissive partners.” He looked down fondly at Jesse. “To honor our subs, we’ve agreed each of you should go up to the dais in turn to allow your Master to demonstrate your submissive poise while undergoing an exercise of our choice.”