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Eden cascades her hands down Clay’s back, softly massaging the muscles that are stretched and defined. “Give me a color,” she says to him.
“Green,” he replies without hesitation.
“Good boy. Deep breath.”
I watch his back, already glistening with sweat, as he drags in a lungful of air, the cords of muscles expanding with the movement. It’s unexpectedly beautiful to see him displayed like this.
“Just three rounds of five tonight, but we’ll use the flogger.”
“Yes, Madame.”
“I want you to count, and don’t forget to thank me.”
He gives her his reply of obedience once again before she takes a step back. Before she rears her hand back to make the first hit, her eyes meet mine. We stare at each other for a moment before her mouth twitches at the corner, and I sense a small, delicate smile. I find myself wanting to smile in return.
But before I can, her expression turns flat and serious again. Then she lets the flogger fly, connecting with the flesh of Clay’s back with an audiblethwap. He moans before saying, “One. Thank you, Madame.”
Without giving him any time to recover, she sends it flying again.
“Two. Thank you, Madame.”
With every hit, some softer or harder than others, he says the same thing.
“Three. Thank you, Madame.”
All the way up to five, when she sets the flogger down on the counter and walks up to his back, stroking her hand over the reddening skin.
“You’re doing so well,” she murmurs softly as her fingers glide over his sweat-soaked skin.
“Thank you, Madame,” he replies.
“Do you think you need more? To prove how good you are.”
“Yes, Madame.”
“Then give me a color,” she says, moving to his side and looking into his eyes. There’s about a foot between his body and the cross, and his head is hanging forward, pressed sideways to the surface.
“Green, Madame,” he croaks.
She strokes his head, her nails against his scalp, as she brushes his hair back in the slicked way he normally wears it. I can’t help but feel the intimacy radiating from them, giving me that third-wheel feeling that settles in the back of my throat like unshed tears.
It’s becoming increasingly clear that these two have something with each other I will never have. No matter how much I learn tonight or how well I play this role for him in the future, I’ll never beher.
Will I be enough?
These thoughts plague me during the next two rounds with the flogger. I can hardly focus on the hits or take mental note of everything she says and does because I’m distracted by the notion that while I can pretend to be Madame Kink in the bedroom, I’ll never be Eden.
And that might be what he truly wants, after all.
By the time he gets to the end of the third set, he’s taking long, meditative breaths.
“See how strong he is?” she asks, stroking his head again. “Not such a filthy little man anymore, are you?”
“No, Madame,” he replies with a rasp in his voice.
“You’re such a good pet, aren’t you? Always pleasing your Madame. Making me so proud.”
Spoken by anyone else, these words would feel silly and awkward, but spoken by her…they’re genuine. She really does make him feelgood, and I can tell by the change in his demeanor. He does seem stronger and more confident.
