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Marcella’s imagination had always been active. Perhaps she could arouse herself with sexual thoughts—mental pictures of Sean naked, the remembrance of what it felt like to have him thrusting into her body, claiming it the way only he could. Every time she felt her body responding, though, the sharpness of the falls cut through and jerked her back to the present.
This wasn’t working. Sean alternated sides of her body, never striking the same location twice in a row. Her tears returned, this time as much from frustration as from the pain throbbing through her system.
A soft caress whispered across her temple, and fingers dragged light paths through her hair. “This is what you want. This was your wish, wasn’t it?” Fuller’s voice rumbled almost too low for her to hear. Sean wouldn’t be able to make out his words.
She panted to get her breathing under control. The fire blazing across her back and over her ass didn’t allow her to speak. She was too afraid her safe word would tumble out.
“You want to be his. You want him to be your master, to control your pleasure. You want to submit to him with every fiber of your being, don’t you? He’s everything to you. He’s your friend, and now he’s your lover. He’s the other half of your soul. You were made for him, Marcella, and he’s waited a long, long time for you. Give this to him, honey. I know you want to.”
Fuller, bless his soul, whispered her deepest desires, marking them with an undeniable truth possessed only by the spoken word. Yes, she wanted to give this to Sean. From the bottom of her heart, she wanted to please him, but she was failing miserably. Her tears came faster, and she couldn’t stop the loud sobs that racked her body so hard they shook the bench.
The steady whistle-smack of the whip halted. A dull thud sounded, and the door to the room opened and closed. Chilly air rushed across her flaming back, turning her sobs to shivers. The buckles loosened and fell away, freeing her arms and legs. Strong hands lifted her and wrapped a blanket around her body. They weren’t Sean’s, and this man carried the scent of Fuller’s spicy aftershave, not Sean’s comforting aroma.
Marcella lifted the blindfold away to find Fuller’s arms around her. She pushed at his chest, but he held fast.
“If I let go, you won’t stay standing for long. Let me take you to the bed and set you down.”
She nodded and glanced around the room. Through the fog of her misery, she noted Sean’s absence. She let Fuller help her sit on the edge of the futon in the porn corner. “He’s gone. I failed.”
Hot tears tracked down her cheeks. The pain knifing through her chest doused the fire on her skin.
“You didn’t fail, Marcella.” He urged her closer, and she rested her head on his shoulder. “He failed. He doesn’t like to fail at anything. You know this.”
She knew. She knew all too well how he reacted to failure. Throw out the entire project and start fresh. Since she was nothing more than a project, she knew he was finished with her. It didn’t matter who failed or who was at fault. Their affair was over before it had really begun.
She eased out of Fuller’s comforting embrace. She needed to process this, think it through, and grieve for her missed opportunity. “I’d like to be alone, Fuller.”
He studied her for a moment, and then he nodded and left the room. The door slammed shut behind him.
* * * *
With his back sliding along the cold wall, Sean sank to the floor and scrubbed his hands over his face. He didn’t know exactly where he’d gone wrong. The warm-up had definitely relaxed her muscles. He’d almost gone overboard and put her to sleep. He filed the effectiveness of that away for when she was stressed and needed to relax.
When he’d switched to a flogger with longer and fewer falls, he knew it would have more of a sting. The people who would be watching at the benefit would expect the flogging to have a bite to it. Every time it whistled through the air, the tension in the room would rise a little more. While his main job was to bring Marcella to orgasm, the side effect would be the titillation of the audience. He hoped to titillate a little more cash from them in the form of donations to the leukemia research foundation he favored.
But Marcella hadn’t responded the way he’d expected. When she’d told him she’d only climaxed once under the sting of a whip, he’d taken that to mean she’d been with doms who lacked finesse. He knew how well she responded to finesse. He had been confident in his ability to show her the wonders of a good flogging.
“What the hell are you doing?”
