My Body-Mine

by Blakely Bennett

  I handed him the contract and he struck through number seventeen and initialed it. I had a feeling that everything had gone just as he had planned, but what could I do?

  “There are a few on the Dom list that I have questions about. What’s this business of you reading what I write?”

  “I can provide valuable feedback. I have been in this lifestyle for a long time. Plus I’m an avid reader and can help you edit and polish.”

  “My journal is private and I’m not willing to share it. I’m not sure I’m even comfortable having you read my story.” My words rushed together and I started to pant. “I think there needs to be some boundaries between us and it is a bit paternalistic to give me no choice in the matter. How about, I’ll seek your advice when I deem it necessary. This has nothing to do with sex, so as far as I’m concerned, you have no right to dictate this part of my life.” I took several deep breaths in an effort to regain my equilibrium. That rule had upset me as much as any of them. I wanted the freedom to write, but I did not want to be critiqued and censored by a lover, especially a jealous one.

  Sitting still, fingering his upper lip as he had done when he wore a mustache, he appeared to be formulating a rebuttal. Instead he said, “I can go along with that but I do hope you’ll trust me enough to seek out my help if the occasion arises.”

  Realizing that the stress of the negotiations had my shoulders up by my ears, I expelled a large breath of air and willed my body to relax. I peered back at the page and the last item on the Dom side of the list. “Do you plan to add additional subs to the household?”

  I’m not sure why, but the idea bothered me. Somehow I had gotten past sharing Marcello with Janice. In all honesty, I preferred it that way. He had darker, harsher needs than Luke—at least that’s what I told myself at the time—and having Janice in the house reduced the chances of me receiving the kind of discipline that scared me the most. I shuddered when I remembered the scene I had witnessed the night I had escaped from his house. Marcello’s door had been left slightly open and I had seen him using electricity to shock Janice. Neither had been aware of my presence and I could see that Janice thrived on the kind of pain I considered torture. Well, she could have the more extreme domination. I felt somewhat reassured that he had another woman to take it out on.

  But now, the prospect of a person I didn’t know coming into the house twisted my stomach into knots.

  “I’m not anticipating a new addition, but it is possible. I will take your and Janice’s concerns into consideration.”

  It seemed a distant possibility so I let that one slide. “Okay …” I said, realizing I had no more delaying tactics up my sleeve. “It seems this contract is merely putting off the inevitable.”

  “It will allow us to go forward half a year from now with a better idea of what we can agree to.”

  I held out my hand and he placed a pen in it. I crossed out number eleven on the Dom list—the part about his reading my writing and providing feedback—and initialed it. After signing and dating the document, I handed the pen and paper to him and he did the same.

  “I’m relieved to have that taken care of,” he said. He gestured to the non-descript housekeeper hovering by the door, his signal indicating that the time had come to remove breakfast from the table.

  He clutched my wrist as she cleared the plates. The energy of his intention surrounded me—time to pay the piper. The patience he had shown over the last few months had expired and the fee would be extracted from my hide.

  As soon as the table had been cleared and the dining room door closed, Marcello reared up, pushing the chair away in his haste. Yanking my seat backward and raising my wrist above my head, he brought me to my feet. He tugged the sash away from my waist, causing the robe to pool to the ground.

  Spinning me about to face him, he claimed my mouth. I had to stand on my tiptoes and wrap my arms around his neck to keep from falling. Friction from the stubble around his mouth since the removal of his mustache—I much preferred his naked face—made my lips swell. The way a kiss could blot out everything else still astonished me. His tongue moved in and about my lips, running over my teeth then drifting back to duel with mine once again. As he captured my bottom lip in his teeth, I hissed my passion. I tried to resist his power to sway me and govern my cravings, but it had been so long since I’d relinquished control. I heaved a sigh as I let the rush of sensations trample all my powers of reason.

  Sensing my submission, he easily lifted me off my toes and placed me at the edge of the table. “Flip over and lie flat,” he said as he yanked back the chair I had been sitting in and the one next to it.

  “Yes, Sir,” I said, feeling silly as I uttered the words. The linen table cloth felt rough against my cheek and the friction had my nipples fully erect. My thick, wavy brown hair fanned out, partially covering my face and making it difficult to see what was happening. I kept my arms at my sides in anticipation.

  I felt the heat of his body shift away from my back and down to my feet. The suspense of what he would do next had my heart pounding in my chest. I could hear the blood pulsing in my throat. Convinced my long awaited punishment had come due, I prepared myself for the first strike of his palm. Instead, I felt soft leather running along the arch of my right foot and up my calf. I raised my head to see what Marcello had used to create the exquisite sensation of being softly caressed.

  My breath caught in my throat at the site of the flogger. The red and black checkered handle had a ball of woven black leather at the bottom and top where Marcello’s large hand gripped the implement. The full mop of half-inch straps of black leather frightened me. I had only one prior experience with a flogger. I had watched Luke, just before a photo shoot, flog a model, striping her back with welts that led her to quiet, albeit intense, orgasm.

  Marcello distracted me from my growing apprehension by giving my left foot and leg the same soft treatment. He moved his large muscular body down the length of the dinner table as he trailed the straps of rawhide between my butt cheeks, causing my muscles to quiver. The many fingers of leather tickled the sides of my body and back. I could feel my cum dripping onto the table and decided then and there that signing the contract had been a necessary step in giving my body what it thirsted for.

  He continued to feather the flogger over all my exposed flesh, including my neck and face. I closed my eyes, drowning in the floods of sensation pouring over me. When he ran his fingers through the swollen pulp of my labia, I yelped. My clit protruded from its sheath, inviting him in.

  “You are so wet, Jane,” he growled. I could hear him unzip just before he tugged my legs toward the end of the table, spearing me from behind in one stroke with his hard thick, cock.

  “Oh, fuck!” I yelled. My fleshy pussy engulfed his phallus as he held my legs up to accommodate his height.

  “You will pay for that!” he grunted, using my thighs as leverage to spear in and out of me, both of us growing closer and closer to orgasm as he slammed against me.

  Would I ever learn? I wondered.

  “Oh please, oh god, can I cum,” I begged, at least adhering to some of the rules of the contract.

  “Merda!” he bellowed, sliding abruptly out of me and dropping my legs to the ground.

  Hearing the anger in his voice, I heeded Janice’s long standing advice. I stayed still and did not utter a sound.

  “Get back up on the table,” he whispered with an intensity that frightened me. “You owe me for making me wait so long, Jane, and for your foul mouth.”

  “Yes, Sir,” I hurriedly responded and scurried to get into position, lying face down.

  “It’s time for you to count.”

  The restraint that he exhibited in the dining room evaporated and I knew who’d pay the price. Part of me exulted in the fact that Marcello lost control—maybe my pride—but the sensible me suspected that pride came just before the fall.

  Lost in my thoughts, I hesitated to respond. He used the mop of leather to flog me into awaren
ess. “Uh, uh, uh, yes, Sir, uh one,” I stuttered. The stings of the suede, as I continued to count, had put me in a muddle. I felt my wetness increase as the pain emanated first from my ass as he whipped me there several times, and then down to my thighs. Pain and pleasure had become a heady cocktail.

  Having to focus on counting each sting made it impossible to escape into subspace. As the punishment continued and the flogger arced down with greater frequency, the numbers emerged in a howl. He worked over my waist, ass, and upper thighs until I reached the count of fifty. My heart thudded in my chest and my libido craved fulfillment.

  He paused, and when he did, I let myself disappear into the bliss of endorphins plundering my body.

  Then he whipped the sole of my foot. “Ouch, ouch, oh fuck, Marcello,” I screamed in response.

  “Count,” he demanding as he struck the same foot again even harder.

  “Fifty-one and two,” I barely got out. The sting of the flogger shot through the sole of my foot and radiated up my calf, leaving me mildly nauseated.

  Striking the other foot, he shouted, “You forgot … yes, Sir!”

  “Oh god, oh god, yes, Sir, fifty-three.”

  “I hope I made my point.”

  “Yes, Sir, definitely, Sir.” I breathed heavily, my face to the side. The pain in the soles of my feet had taken away some of the arousal but not nearly enough.

  I could hear him removing his clothing just before he jerked me back again by my feet. “Stand up and turn around,” he ordered.

  I complied as quickly as I could, wincing as my sore feet touched the ground. Without delay he lifted me again. I thought he planned to place me on the edge of the table, but instead he easily carried me across the room. I wrapped my legs around his waist as best as I could, just as he pinned my back against the wall. He lowered me onto his cock and leered straight into me.

  “You are mine,” he said. “Make no mistake.”

  The thought that yet another man regarded me as his possession terrified me as well as turned me on. That I could stir that kind of passion in two such different and dangerously attractive men left my head swimming and changed my entire concept of myself. Plain Jane had left, along with my self-control. I could only hope that I still carried my self-preservation with me.

  Marcello imprisoned me with his kiss, enveloping me in his spicy taste and manly scent. I fingered the thick hair on his chest, reveling in the ecstasy of being filled by another. For the first time in a long while, I stopped fighting with myself over my choices.

  Gripping my ass tightly, he angled me up and let me drop down onto his cock as he thrust up to meet my fall. Spread wide by the sheer width of him, slammed repeatedly against my clit, I found myself closer and closer to the tip-off.

  “I need to cum, Sir,” I said.

  He slowed his pace and said, “That sounded more like a demand than a request. The answer is most definitely no.”

  As he continued to penetrate my pussy, now at a more leisurely pace, I obeyed his order not to cum, but still enjoyed several small releases on the climb up. Would he deny me my eventual orgasm?

  I had buried my head against his shoulder, concentrating on not letting my climax escape, when I heard his deep voice.

  “Look at me,” he demanded.

  As the battle over the details of our relationship ended, our eyes locked, and I began to revel in the sting that flared from my buttocks while Marcello gripped my whipped ass. I finally stopped scrutinizing the past. I accepted that Luke and now Marcello had turned me into a pain slut, making me wetter and bringing me to orgasms I had only ever read about. I wanted—no, needed—to be taken, tied, and trained. The large intimidating man before me had gotten what he ultimately wanted and so had I.

  “Cum with me, NOW!” Marcello bellowed.

  I obeyed my new Dom, my new master. Clasping his shoulders, I frantically followed his lead as he slammed me down onto his stiff erection until I felt him expand one last time, causing the violent orgasm that ripped through us both.

  “Salvami,” Marcello muttered. He kept his eyes averted as he carried me over to the end of the table and set me down.

  “What?” I said and touched his cheek. He looked back at me and I could tell he felt more than he anticipated. I knew I had. Seeing the lost expression in his eyes frightened me. I wondered if he’d admit the truth.

  “Save me,” he breathed out heavily, looking away.

  “What does that mean?” I said.

  He turned back to face me. “That’s what I said in Italian.”

  “Oh,” I said with a small laugh. “I feel that way all the time.”

  A knock sounded on the door.

  “Yes?” Marcello said across the room.

  Janice poked her head in. “Sorry to disturb you but you have the staff meeting at the restaurant in thirty minutes.”

  “Thank you, Janice.”

  She gave me an odd look and then closed the door.

  “I don’t usually lose track of time,” Marcello said. The comment didn’t emerge as an explanation. He seemed to be speaking to himself and not to me.

  Glancing back down in my direction he said, “Would you like to come to the restaurant with me?”

  Perhaps he wasn’t quite ready to break the connection we had just forged.

  “I’d rather do some writing,” I said, eager to chronicle what I had just experienced.

  When Luke and I had lived together, he could turn hot or cold on me at any given moment. I trusted what Marcello and I had just shared would remain intact. I felt the satisfaction of being thoroughly beaten, fucked, and used. Now I needed some alone time.

  * * * *

  As I recounted my first experience as Marcello’s submissive, I couldn’t help but think about the impending weekend. I worried about what Marcello might be planning for my induction into his world of domination.

  CHAPTER THREE

  My music filled the otherwise quiet house as I finished recording my last few experiences with Marcello, remembering that I needed to ask him for a copy of the contract. I wondered if he’d used a standard Dom/sub contract template or if he just made it up as he saw fit.

  My phone rang, bringing me out of my musings. I glanced down and hit ignore. Parker had been trying to reach me for some time. The last time I’d seen her had felt so uncomfortable that I had pretty much given up on reconciling the relationship. We’d always been at ease with each other and sharing our lives, and now my heart hurt over the loss. I just couldn’t figure out a way to repair it. It seemed easier to ignore my guilty feelings than confront them. She had stood by me after the final break with Luke, helping me to pick up the pieces of my shattered psyche. How would I explain to her that I had just done the same thing with Marcello? Given my body away to another man? I’m sure she’d stage an intervention to have me committed if she knew what I had just signed.

  Sandy and I had chatted occasionally on Facebook but the exchanges remained rather brief and superficial. She and Jason flirted with the idea of marriage but hadn’t traveled past the “maybe” stage.

  I no longer shunned the online stuff, because it allowed me to stay in touch while hiding in plain sight. Texting worked great as well and since upgrading to a smartphone, I could easily communicate from a distance.

  Allison and I talked once after I got out of the psych unit. She forgave me for swallowing enough pain and sleeping pills to kill myself on the day of her wedding, but some things are just unforgivable in my book.

  My mother and I fell back into our occasional antagonistic crossfire on the phone but for the most part I avoided seeing her.

  I refocused on my writing and reliving my very first flogging. As embarrassed as I am to admit it, my earlier disciplining ranked high in experiences I wished to repeat, and writing about it left me wet and turned on. I knew Marcello to be capable of much worse; the memory of the caning I received when I’d inadvertently yelled out Luke’s name during sex still lingered in my mind. I could strangle mysel
f for not putting caning on the list of hard limits.

  Sometimes I really wondered about myself—well, to be honest, more than sometimes. Although I didn’t regret signing the contract, I did want to understand why my body needed those extremes to achieve the heights of pleasure I craved.

  My thoughts were interrupted by loud voices. I could hear the volume of Marcello’s tone but not the words. He sounded angry and that worried me so I moved closer to my closed door to see if I could make out the words. Janice’s voice sounded more distressed than irate. I wondered what had happened at the restaurant meeting or on the way back. Still unable to make out more than a word here and there, I gave up, deciding that Janice would fill me in when she had a chance. I saved my journal and turned off the computer.

  Plopping down on the bed, I reached over and retrieved my current erotic romance novel. The story of infidelity sparked the painful memory of Luke’s betrayal and how I had felt while watching the video of Janice sucking his cock. Luke had pledged loyalty and monogamy to me, but clearly we had different ideas of what that meant. My stomach roiled, even though I had forgiven Janice months back. I shook off the memory and read a couple more pages until I heard a soft knock on the door.

  “Come in,” I said.

  The door opened to reveal Marcello, not Janice.

  “Is everything okay?” I said, placing the book upside down on the bed and sliding to the edge. “I heard you and—”

  “We’re sorting something out that I’d rather not talk about at the moment.”

  “Okay.” I shrugged my shoulders and waited.

  He sat down next to me on the bed. Taking my hand in his I felt immediately soothed by his calm energy. “I received a call from Parker today,” he said. “She has been trying to touch base with you via email and phone calls and can’t seem to reach you. She’s very worried.”

  “Well, uh …” I gazed down and covered his large hand with mine. “I have been avoiding her,” I said, looking up at him.

  “Obviously, but why?”

  “The last time we spent time together it felt awkward and uncomfortable. I just don’t know how to behave with her anymore.”