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“I apologized, and he said he didn’t have time for fake subs who weren’t ready to truly submit. I tried to explain, but I felt so stupid, and everything was starting to hurt, so I got dressed and left.”
Master Bennani pulled his finger from her ass, then gave her a gentle push. She half closed her eyes, watching as he went to the front of the stage to confer with Master Julen. Master Bennani cleaned his hands with a wipe as Master Julen began to address the small crowd that had gathered to watch.
Josslyn looked to her left, then her right, examining the other subs who hung suspended in webs of rope. Master Julen was explaining something about the how and why of both rope play and suspension bondage, but she didn’t care enough to listen.
Master Bennani gripped her by the shoulder and spun her, so her back was to the crowd. He spread her knees, then spread her pussy lips. She didn’t know if there was enough light for everyone watching to get a good look at her pussy. He repositioned his fingers, spreading her labia wide apart.
Finally, he released her, and she spun back to front. He caught her, stopping her from twisting helplessly.
When he cupped her chin, she could smell her own arousal on his fingers.
“Josslyn, look at me.”
She stared at his nose.
“No, look at me.” His voice vibrated with command.
Her gaze met his, and she felt tears well up, though she didn’t know why.
“He had no right to make you feel bad because you used your safeword.”
“You’d feel bad.” She wasn’t even sure why she was arguing with him.
“No, I’d feel like I’d failed you. That man failed you. He didn’t see that you were in self-destruct mode. Didn’t realize his callousness put you in a bad headspace.” Master Bennani raised one brow. “And this is why you have strong feelings about safewords. You had to use it, scream it, to get yourself out of an incredibly dangerous situation.”
“And I saw that when I did use it, I made him feel bad.”
“Josslyn, his feelings aren’t the critical issue in the story.” There was exasperation in his voice.
“Okay, maybe not.”
Master Bennani’s gaze searched her face, feature by feature, his thumb sliding over her cheekbone.
Josslyn closed her eyes, and the tears gathered along her lash line fell.
“Hold on, baby,” he whispered.
The tenderness in his tone, and the pet name, made it worse. She inhaled and the air escaped as a sob.
A moment later, the ropes jerked and then she was being lowered. He hadn’t bothered to bring back the table, so he lowered her onto the gym mat.
She was openly weeping at that point, so rather than untie her, Master Bennani cut through the ropes. A fuzzy blanket was draped over her shoulders, and then he urged her to lay flat so he could massage her legs arms and back through the blanket.
Josslyn’s tears had faded to odd hiccups. She knew they were still on the stage. Knew there were people watching, probably assessing her breakdown, attributing it to the catharsis ropes could bring. They weren’t wholly wrong, but they weren’t fully right.
It was a combination of the ropes, the story she’d told, and Ilias himself that had brought her to this point of being emotionally raw.
“Up,” he said, but it was a soft urging, not a hard command.
She leaned on him as he helped her to her feet. Master Bennani tucked the blanket securely around her shoulders and led her off the stage.
With each step they took, Josslyn calmed a little more but didn’t hit the point of floaty lethargy. She was hoping for post-scene Zen, but despite the tears, she still felt antsy.
He led her back to their playroom, and they sat together on the ottoman she’d lain on when he spanked her pussy. It was pushed up against the wall, allowing them to lean back as they sat side by side, the blanket tucked around her.
“Sore? Any numbness or tingling?”
“No, thank you, Sir.”
