Lost

[leah06]

Monique had undergone quite a few beatings in her time. She was not new to the world of bdsm, and her intense desire to please had frequently led her to clubs, play-parties, and the men who frequent them. She was proud of her ability to accept punishment. She knew how to express agony without alarming her tormentor, how to become pleasingly disheveled, how to indicate with her voice and body that this one was the best she’d ever taken. She did not consider whether this level of self-consciousness really served her well.

This beating, however, was in fact the worst she’d ever taken, and not in a good way. Clara had no idea what she was doing. Sometimes the whip fell with surgical precision; other times the tip would whip around to catch her searingly on some distinctly non-erogenous zone. The blows were alternately too light or too heavy. Clara would find a rhythm, lose it, find another one. Monique concentrated very hard on her own posture and responses. At least, she thought, one of them knew what she was doing.

Clara, on the other hand, was simply miserable. She wanted to please Adam in any way he asked, but it had never occurred to her that anyone would ask this of her. In fact, she’d only been beaten herself a few times and had found it very hard to take. She had hoped that if Adam were going to use the whip on her, he would restrain her. She feared that she would not be able to stand, as Monique was doing now, supporting herself on the bookshelves, crying out, writhing, but never breaking her self-created bonds. Monique was performing very well. It was she, Clara, who would prove to be the disappointment. She steadied herself, took another aim, and watched with dismay as the front of the whip struck the bookcase, deflecting most of its energy and leaving only the middle of the leather to thud unconvincingly on Monique’s hip. Now both women were crying.

Adam could hardly keep the grin off his face. Poor Clara was the picture of incompetence, and Monique’s exaggerated responses reminded him of bad porn – which was probably where she had learned them. He kept his amusement to himself, however, as he grabbed the whip from Clara, giving her a few sharp blows with the doubled strand before roughly pushing her aside. She fell heavily to the floor and remained there, her dark hair partly obscuring her face. He then administered a brief but brutal punishment on Monique, who quickly learned the difference between posturing and reality. Only when he was thoroughly convinced of the sincerity of her responses did he stop and turn to Clara.

Clara had by this time risen first to her knees and then to her feet. She was twisting her hands before her and looking unreasonably distressed. Adam looked at her. “That was, without a doubt, the worst performance I’ve ever witnessed. Didn’t you pay the slightest bit of attention to my demonstration?”

Clara felt done in. First she had failed to orgasm when it was clearly expected, then she had suffered the shame of watching her rival achieve with ease what she herself had been unable to achieve at all. Her body was still shaking from Adam's and Monique’s very different attentions. From the expertly aroused and callously unfilled desire that had been engendered. Finally she had been required to perform well beyond her abilities. She was now quite convinced that she would never satisfy Adam. Why make him say it?

“Yes?” he asked. Clara was now crying in earnest. “I’m sorry, Adam. I’m sorry I disappointed you. I’ll just get my things. . . .” Adam looked at her silently. “Maybe I could call a cab?”

Suddenly Adam understood. He was across the room in three steps. His hand grasped her throat as his body forced hers back to the wall. “You are not excused,” he said. – “But, but. . . I thought. . .” – “You offered yourself to be used, and I will use you. Don’t ask me how, and don’t ever presume to make my decisions for me. Understood?” The hand tightened on her throat as she nodded, wide-eyed. “You are mine. When I am through with you, I will say so. Until then, I will use you. If I want you to come, you will come. If I want you to beat Monique then you will do it. If I want you to crawl, swallow piss, scream in pain, you will do it and you will ask for more. But you will never again substitute your judgment for my own. Is that clear?” She nodded again. She drew small, labored breaths past his clenching hand.

The dimpled smile slowly returned to his face as he released her throat. He slapped her lightly and gripped her lower jaw, forcing it open as he traced the inside of her lips with his fingers.

“Be assured that however I use you, it will be for my pleasure. You have not displeased me. You will never for a moment displease me.” She must have looked grateful and relieved, because he added dryly, “Don’t thank me yet. I will never allow you to displease me. You might find that a heavy burden.”