by Scars
Selina got more apprehensive when he didn't say anything. The silence lay heavy in the air. She hated it. The quiet was a more powerful tool than if he'd shouted at her. Her heart pounded with guilt.
"Nothing happened." The words tumbled from her lips, her nerves even more jittery.
"But you wanted something to happen."
"No."
"You propositioned Christopher," he said in a matter-of-fact tone and walked to the bedroom.
"Not really." She shrugged.
"Not really?" He turned then to look at her, his expression one of non-amused disbelief.
"Well, he was being Christopher, talking dirty. I just dared him to follow through."
"Even after I'd told you to wait for me. On our wedding night."
"Get off it, Ben." She couldn’t control her anger anymore. Her frustration. "You and I know this marriage isn't real. Look at me. I'm hardly the blushing bride."
Ben's heat reached her before he gripped her shoulders and pulled her back. Her bare shoulders and back burned with his heat. The ridge of his straining erection pushed against the soft curve of her plump bottom.
"Blushing or not, you are still my bride," he said, his tone calmer than she expected it. "For as long as you remain my wife, you will keep to the terms of our agreement in and out of the bedroom."
He ran his hands down from her shoulders, in a gentle stimulating caress, leaving tingles in its wake, down her arms and stopped at her waist pinning them there.
"Ben, I—"
"You promised, Selina. You promised to accept my terms in return for my help. Have you changed your mind? If you have, say so now."
He was giving her a way out. But in truth it wasn't an option she could entertain.
"No." She heaved a sigh. She was messing this up already. And it was only a few hours into their wedding. Even if it was a sham, she'd made him a promise. The least she could do was to keep it.
But her need to preserve herself—her heart—warred with her promise to surrender to him.
This was only temporary. She could do it.
"I'm sorry," she said.
He turned her around to face him and tilted her chin up. She stared at dark grey eyes filled with tenderness and lust. The stubble on his chin called to her soft palms. She would've rubbed her hand against his chin if he wasn't holding her arms to her side.
"I know how difficult it is for you to let go and trust anyone. But I know that deep down you crave my restraint, my dominance over you."
She made a sound in her throat, but he continued.
"It's there in the flick of your beautiful brown eyes when you stare at me when you think I can't see you."
She gasped softly.
"In the passive curve of your delicate spine, in the seductive sway of your rounded hips." As he spoke he ran his hands down her spine, hips and stopped on her bottom cheeks.
Her heart pounded loudly in her chest.
"You're a beautiful woman, Lina. I desire your body, your submission, and most of all your trust."
"I don't know what to say, Ben."
"Say nothing. For now, I want you to strip naked. When you're done, lie in the middle of the bed."
Without waiting for her response he walked out to the living room.
Strip naked. Selina stood paralysed with fear. This was the part she'd been dreading.
"Oh and if you're not undressed in two minutes, I'll be testing out the new paddle on the bedside on your lovely arse."
No way. He wouldn’t. He knew she didn't like pain. But sure enough there was a black leather paddle, soft rope ties, and a red silk sash.
Electrified, she reached for the zipper on her skirt and pulled it down, dropping the fabric in a pool at her feet. Next she unclipped her garter from her stockings and rolled them off along with her shoes.
She was naked except for her corset. As naked as she'd ever gotten with anybody, including her husband. She climbed onto the bed and spread herself flat on it.
Benjamin returned. He was also devoid of his clothing except for the charcoal trousers. His muscles rippled as he moved. She licked her lips, her mouth watering at the sexy sight.
"What did I tell you to do?" He stood at the edge of the bed but didn’t touch her.
"You told me to strip naked." She shifted, more anxious under his serious gaze.
"And you know you're already in trouble for your actions earlier."
"Yes, but—"
"Still you invite more punishment by disobeying me blatantly."
She bit her lip. "I can't take it off."
"You can't, or you won't?"
"I..."
"So you know what comes next."
"Yes," she said in a small voice, her body trembling.
"Pick up the paddle and bring it to me." He walked away into the living room.
Selina took a deep breath and rose. Though she was petrified, she picked up the paddle from the bedside cabinet. She had to be brave. Benjamin knew she didn't do pain. And he was never that harsh with his discipline. She could take it.
In the living room, she found Benjamin sitting in a straight-backed chair next to the mahogany writing desk. He took the paddle from her hand and pulled her across his lap facing down, her bum up in the air. The vibration of the egg stopped, but he didn't remove it.
Her breathing rate increased, and she stiffened her body, using her hands on the carpet to hold herself.
"You will feel better if you relaxed." His cool hand caressed her bottom.
Before she could react, the first sharp crack landed. Pain followed. She inhaled in a quick hiss. The second came on top of the first, spreading the sting. Her eyes watered. Each smack jostled the egg as it landed on a different spot. After the smarting of the third, she stopped breathing, waiting for each spank.
The pain triggered memories—ones she'd chosen to bury. They came to the surface now. And she cried silently, the tears flowing down her face.
The present merged with the past. All she knew was pain, sharp and bloody. Panicked she fought back at the hands holding her down, kicking out. There were hands everywhere, and she was cold, trembling, praying for death.
"You're safe, Lina. I've got you," a tender voice whispered. A soothing hand massaged her neck and back. "Breathe, darling. Breathe."
She opened her eyes and realised she was sitting on Benjamin's lap, his arms wrapped around her in a cocoon, her head on his chest.
With each new breath, his spicy smoke-wood cologne acted like a safe anchor grounding her back in the present, his strong arms chasing the nightmare of her past away. Finally she calmed, and her sobbing stopped. She inhaled deeply and exhaled in a shudder.
He leaned back and tilted her head up with one hand. On his other hand, he held a white handkerchief he must have pulled out of his trouser pocket. Cringing at what she expected him to see on her face—streaks of tears smearing her make-up, red puffy panda eyes, her vulnerability—she attempted to hide her face in his chest.
The pressure from the pad of his thumb on her chin increased, holding her face still. The smile on his face was tinged with tenderness. "You needed that."
She sighed and nodded, lowering her gaze. "I haven't cried in years, since..."
She didn't want to go back there, to that dark place. Still she accepted that the tension she'd carried all day was now gone. Lowering her guards and allowing Benjamin to take charge had brought her relief she hadn't been able to achieve by herself. She would admit that much.
He wiped her face, gently, as if she was crystal glass.
A sense of calm invaded her mind. She tipped her head back, letting out another sigh. For the first time in what seemed like forever, she didn't mind being fragile. She felt safe in her husband's arms. Right now she wanted to burrow in the cocoon and comfort of his strong body protecting hers.
"You don't have to be ashamed of crying. It doesn't make you any less strong or beautiful."
"I'm not beautiful. You haven't seen all of me yet."
"Is that why you hide behind the corsets? You think I won't find you attractive because of some blemish on your body. Am I that shallow in your eyes?"
She couldn’t miss the hurt tone in his voice. He had a point. Benjamin was one of the most intense people she knew. He took things very seriously and never got into anything lightly. The issue wasn't him. It was her.
She had worried about people looking at her with pity in their eyes if she showed any weakness. Yet, she'd just bawled her eyes out. The look of lust in his eyes had not faded. There was no condescending disappointment in his gaze.
Perhaps he would understand when he saw what lay beneath the bones of her corset. It was one way of testing the strength of his commitment.
"I'm the one who's shallow. I'm afraid the desire in your eyes will die and be replaced with sympathy. I don't want your pity."
He lifted her so she was standing on her feet. His hands wrapped around her waist. Firm lips pressed against the top swell of her left breast. Warmth flared on her skin.
"This afternoon, I vowed to worship your body with mine. I keep my promises, Lina." He looked up at her, his eyes filled with sincerity. She believed him.
"Will you show me?" His tone was firm and soothing. He sat back, and she missed his touch. She wanted his hands back on her body, soothing her, pleasuring her. The only way she would get it was to succumb and strip herself of her inhibitions. The corset was a symbol of the last of her control.
The initial design for her wedding dress had the laces for the corset at the back. She'd requested a change to front-fasteners, in her bid to retain control. She didn't want to have to ask Ben to help her loosen it.
Inhaling a deep breath, she reached for the first of the fasteners with trembling hands and unhooked it. With the first one undone, it was easier to do the others. Her whole body was shaking when the final hook was undone. She gripped the edges of the corset. The hooks dug into her palms, hurting, but she ignored it. Inhaling a deep, slow breath for courage, she gradually drew the ends of the corset apart, revealing her torso to Ben.
"Who did that to you?" His voice was encased in steel.
She glanced at him sharply. His gaze was fixated on her abdomen where she was sure he could see the criss-cross of ugly dark scars.
He glanced up and met her gaze. His eyes were dark with anger. "Tell me who dared to mark your body, so I can find them and make them pay."
"I don't want to talk about it," she said in a choked voice.
Turning away, she ran into the bedroom. The sound of his frustrated growl echoed in the room. She climbed onto the bed and lay on her side hugging her knees to her chin. Trying to blank her mind off, she squeezed her eyes shut, rocking her body from side to side. She didn't want to think about the past. Not now. Not ever again.
Firm hands massaged her back and her leg—slow, firm strokes interspaced with light, feathery ones—arousing feelings that had cooled. Gently he coaxed her until she lay on her stomach, her head on a pillow facing away from him. He pulled the egg out and tossed it aside. She gasped as her body missed the fullness.
He massaged oil into her skin, soothing her raw bum cheeks. The calming scent of lavender and camomile transported her to a green meadow on a summer's day with stems of flowers swaying in the breeze.
The darkness of her mind slowly dissolved. Soon the tension on her shoulders and her agitation turned to serenity, and before she drifted off into a light snooze, he covered her with a bed sheet.
The sound of crockery jangling on metal woke Selina. She stretched out and opened her eyes. The bedroom was dimly lit with just the one side lamp on.
"Congratulations to you and your wife," someone said from the other room.
"Thank you." Ben's low deep voice came from the sitting room.
"You're welcome, sir. If you need anything else just call the front desk."
She sat up. The cool air on her body revealed her nakedness. For a brief moment, panic swirled in her mind. She yanked the sheet up to cover her chest and swept her gaze across the room for her clothes. Her gaze found the paddle now back on the bedside cabinet.
She remembered, bowing to Ben's paddle and stripping off her corset, being vulnerable and Ben taking care of her need.
She didn't hear the concierge leave. Nor did she hear Ben return to the bedroom. The skin on her arms tingled. She raised her gaze to the door to find him there, his broad, toned, tanned upper body leaning against the frame, dark brown short hair trailing down sinewy arms, his hands shoved in his trouser pockets, hiding long fingers she'd rather have tracing every curve on her body.
The intensity of his dark gaze snatched her breath away. Her skin flushed. Instinctively her fingers clutched the sheet tighter.
"Are you back to hiding your body away?"
It was a simple question. So why did it sound like a reprimand?
"No." Her bum still ached from the paddle. She didn't want another round. She released the sheet. It dropped down to her thighs.
"Good." His smile of approval filled her chest with warmth, pleasing her. He strode to the bed and sat on one end. The mattress dipped with his weight.
"I love looking at you. Get on your hands and knees."
The effect of his complimentary words surprised her. She wanted to be on display for him, needed to have his eyes worship her body, knowing that he genuinely desired her, scars and all.
She lowered her hands and took up the position with practiced grace. Well, as much grace as she could muster when all her body was bared and under her husband's scrutiny. And desires. She clutched the sheet to hide the fact that her hands were trembling with anticipation.
With the pad of his fingers, he trailed a heated path from her shoulder to her back. She closed her eyes and sighed, tuning in to the sensations he elicited from her body.
"We don't have to talk about your past tonight." He continued his sensual caresses, over her sore bottom and tracing the crack between down to her slit. Her inside walls contracted in expectation, and she bit her lower lip.
"But I have to tell you that I want you the same as I've always wanted you."
He drew her left hand and placed it over the ridge of his erection. It felt huge, and a smile tugged her lips. She turned her head. He had a twinkle in his eyes, but it was pure desire. No pity.
"Of course, if you'd rather sleep tonight—"
"No way." She sat back on her haunches. "You've had me on edge all evening long with that damned vibrator inside me. You owe me a damned good fucking."
He flipped her over before she knew what'd hit her. The quick hard smack on her bottom resounded in the room inflaming her already raw behind. She wouldn’t be sitting much tomorrow.
"You'll get a damned good fucking when I say so, woman." He flipped her over again. "And I need to stuff your mouth. You're getting too lippy."
She licked her lips, and he chuckled.
"For the rest of the weekend, you're not allowed to put on any clothes, except when we're out of this room or there's someone else in here."
"What?" She frowned. Her body issues weren't just going to disappear at a flash. "Why?"
"Do I need a reason?"
The smirk on his face challenged her to dispute his words. She'd agreed to accede to him, accepting the terms of the arrangement. One of which stated that her body was his to command as he pleased.
"No," she said, gulping down her unease. As long as she could cover up in the presence of others, then she could live with putting her body on display for him for the rest of the weekend.
"Moreover, it pleases me to see you exposed to me. Just me."
The contracting ache between her thighs confirmed that her body wanted to be displayed to him, even if a part of her mind rebelled against it.
He reached across and picked up the black soft rope. With it, he bound her entire body in an intricate weave. The way the rope wound around her breasts and abdomen made her feel like a precious parcel, his to keep safe and treasure, down to the
pattern crossing each thigh and lower leg.
He placed a pillow beneath her head for support, and she knelt on the bed, bound hands crossed on her back, knees apart, her arse and sex exposed to him.
He stood beside her. This close, the bulge in his trousers was so close, yet so far away as she couldn’t touch him.
"Beautiful," he said in a voice thick with lust.
The pads of his fingers trailed a path down the spine of the rope over her spinal column down, past where it held her arms to the crease of her bum. Tingles spread on her skin. Her womb contracted. She winced when he palmed her exposed, sore butt-cheek.
He disappeared out of her line of sight. When he returned the red silk sash was in his right hand. Her heart thudded in her chest. She swallowed to hide her rising agitation.
"Sit up."
Holding her shoulders, he helped her raise her head and straighten her back. She knelt before him, her breasts pushed out by the cross-over rope design. Shibaru. That's the name he'd called it the first time he'd bound her so intricately in his apartment. She remembered asking Ben once where he'd learnt such a beautiful skill with a rope, and he'd said the army. Somehow she hadn't thought that a Japanese art form would be taught to South African soldiers.
"Your trust is the most important gift you can give me." He brushed back strands of her hair that had fallen to cover her face. "But I realise that it will take a while for me to earn it. So we're going to take it a step at a time."
She swallowed again, her stomach churning. She knew what he was getting at but couldn't stop her apprehension. The idea of being blindfolded, so that she couldn't anticipate what he was going to do to her and when, both terrified and thrilled her at the same time.
The first time he'd wanted to use the red sash over her eyes, she'd point blank said no. She couldn’t bring herself to give up that much control to him. She'd been afraid of breaking down before him, of letting him see her so vulnerable.
Now, he'd seen her at her most vulnerable, physically fighting the nightmare of her past and bawling like a baby. She'd never been that unguarded before anyone else. And her world hadn't bottomed out.