Safe Word: Oasis 2: By My Side

by Michele Zurlo

  Behind her neck, she dug her fingers into her skin as she struggled to stay still. Oh, why hadn’t he tied her down?

  A whimper escaped, and a moan followed. She lost the battle and thrust against his face. “Master, please.”

  He bit her clit. Her pelvis tilted, jerking away from his mouth, but he held her down with a firm grip on each thigh. She went nowhere, and he didn’t ease the pressure of his bite.

  “I’m sorry, Master. Please, oh please. I’m so sorry.”

  The pressure eased, indicating he’d accepted her apology. He closed his lips around her tender clit and sucked away the pain. He eased two fingers into her waiting pussy and finger fucked her cunt as gently as he sucked her clit.

  Tears escaped the corners of her eyes and were swallowed by the blindfold. How dare he be so gentle with her? She’d craved this kind of treatment from a dom, but she’d never thought it would happen. For some reason, dominant behavior and sadism seemed to go hand in hand with every dom she’d ever met. Though she’d fantasized about Sean and how perfect they seemed for one another, she had never thought he would turn out to be everything she wanted in a man.

  Suddenly the solidity of her emotional foundation fell away, and she faced the edge of the cliff far sooner than she thought possible. Her panted breaths took on more and more volume as she struggled to stave off her orgasm. “Oh fuck. Master, please let me come.”

  He didn’t answer. Her body shook with effort and emotion. The pleas falling from her lips came faster and louder, each cry more desperate than the last.

  At last, at long last, he lifted his mouth away, releasing her for a brief second, but he didn’t stop the slow thrust of his fingers. “Come, my slave. Scream it out for me.”

  Deep pulses began in her pussy the moment he gave the order. When he resumed sucking her clit, the mad rush of pleasure only increased. The world shook and screamed down around her taut body. She arched from the table, and the blindfold no longer mattered. Nothing mattered except Sean and the way he mastered her body and soul. Reality splintered as she ceded control of her pleasure to her master.

  When she came down, she found herself enclosed in Sean’s arms. He had tucked a blanket around her back. It curved around her hips and fell over her legs. Her cheek rested on his shoulder, and his hand traced reassuring paths up and down her arm.

  She opened her eyes. Someone had removed the blindfold, but she had no idea when that had happened. Sean smiled down at her.

  “Thank you, Master.”

  He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You performed beautifully, Marcella.”

  She hazarded a glance around the dining room. Fuller and all the dessert plates were gone. “Did Fuller leave?” Heat crept up her neck as she asked the question. Really she wanted to know whether or not she would be able to face him now that he had seen something she had shared with very few people.

  “He’s giving us some time for aftercare. He’s waiting downstairs.”

  The last vestiges of her orgasmic fog lifted. Though she had aced this part of the test, she knew she wasn’t out of the woods. Even if things weren’t weird now when she saw Fuller again, submitting to her master in front of one person wasn’t the same as submitting in front of a room full of people.

  And the whip still awaited her.

  Chapter Four

  The darkness brought by the blindfold sharpened her awareness of sounds and smells. The faded scent of peanut sauce vanished by degrees the farther she moved away from the kitchen and dining areas. The leather of the restraints Sean had used to bind her wrists behind her back creaked as she tried to adjust the position of her hands.

  Sweat and musk colored Sean’s normally clean scent. The familiar aroma quieted the butterflies in her stomach. Whether freshly showered or slick from time spent doing physical activity, his unique scent never failed to make her feel safe and comfortable.

  The density of the air increased as she descended the stairs that led to the dungeon. She didn’t know if her perception was colored by trepidation or if the air conditioning just didn’t circulate efficiently on the lower level. Being naked, she didn’t mind the slight increase in temperature brought by the higher humidity.

  Through it all, Sean never left her side. He maintained his position behind her and a little to the left, his hand always somewhere on her body, his presence and innate strength lending support and courage. He wrapped his hand around her arm on the stairs to keep her from stumbling. His fingers tickled the small of her back as he guided her down various hallways.

  Now he rested a hand on her shoulder. “Stop here.”

  Strands of her bangs slid from beneath the blindfold. Sean pulled them out so they lay against her forehead. He fiddled with her hair, smoothing caresses along its thick length. Though he seemed to like the sloppy style she’d affected before, he didn’t ask her to put it up again. At last he slipped the blindfold, an overlarge sleeping mask, up to her forehead. Immediately she dropped her gaze.

  With the curve of his finger, he urged her chin up. “Marcella, look at me.”

  Apprehension made her need to swallow a few times as she obeyed his order.

  “You don’t have to do this.”

  Oh, yes she did. If she didn’t, he would find some other submissive to bring to a climax under the power of his whip. No matter what the cost, she would be what he needed. She didn’t want to do this, and lying outright to Sean was not acceptable, so she phrased her response carefully. “I want to please you, Master.”

  His lips pursed, and she sensed a refusal lying just behind them.

  “Please let me do this.”

  Finally his head bobbed in a curt nod. “All right. Let’s use the stoplight system. You’re familiar with it?”

  Bless him, but this wasn’t about control. Marcella had no problem ceding complete control to Sean. He had repeatedly earned her trust, and she craved his domination. Giving her this additional level of control made her fall for him even harder. “Yes, Master. Red means stop. Yellow means slow down. Green means everything is okay and keep going. It’s also consent.”

  He smiled, his lips curling with satisfaction while firmness glittered from his hazel eyes. “Give me your color.”

  She liked how he phrased it as an order. These details meant so much, and they went a long way toward soothing her nerves. “Green, Master.” With him, her color would always be green.

  “Once we’re inside, I won’t touch you except to put the restraints on you. Fuller won’t touch you either. Nothing but the whip will be allowed to give you any pleasure.”

  She noted that he didn’t sound pleased with that rule. When he’d talked about it before, he had always sounded like he looked forward to the challenge. Now he sounded a little miffed that he had to keep his hands off. She didn’t mind if he broke the rules, but she wasn’t exactly in a position to tell him that without sounding like she was topping from the bottom. She had too much respect for Sean to do something like that.

  “Yes, Master. I understand.”

  He eased the blindfold back into place and rearranged her bangs to fall over it. A soft breeze followed the soft click announcing he’d opened the door to the dungeon. Her nerves tingled with anticipation. Though she didn’t exactly look forward to the whipping, she looked forward to being bound and to the sex play that would happen afterward.

  With a hand on her back, he guided her to the spanking bench. He moved his hand up her back to grasp her neck, and he pushed her down, bending her over the padded bench. A long bar no wider than a two-by-four supported her torso. The soft pad pressed between her breasts, which dangled down each side to hang free. This modified bench would let her master have access to her breasts and nipples.

  A longer, wider beam supported her hips. The padding on the edge was a little thicker than anywhere else, and for that Marcella was grateful. Her hip bones could jab annoying bruises into her skin and rub it raw. The additional padding would prevent that from happening so quickly.


  Sean adjusted something near her head before he pressed her face down. Divine softness cushioned the periphery of her face. She hadn’t known the table had the same kind of arm as a massage table. Bless him. Now she could breathe, and this would alleviate any tension on her neck. Other tables forced her to turn her head to the side, which stretched her muscles oddly and affected the sting of the whip.

  The leather strips binding her wrists slackened and fell away. Sean’s strong, warm hands caressed a path up her back and down her arm, moving it into place. Cool leather cuffs encircled her upper arm and her wrist as her master belted her in place. He did the same thing with her other arm, and then he secured cuffs around her thighs just above the knees.

  A thicker belt covered her lower back. It would keep her from squirming away from the whip. This was both a safety measure—if she moved and he struck an area he hadn’t intended to strike, it could cause internal damage—and another instrument to strip away control.

  Being tightly bound called to Marcella’s soul in a way nothing else quite could. This, more than anything else, would help her get through this stage of the game. Her pussy already wept, begging for his touch. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, welcoming the beginnings of subspace.

  His breath tickled her ear, and she thought he might kiss her, but then she remembered his rules. No touching.

  “You are so fucking beautiful like this, Cella. My Cella. My slave, bound with her legs spread, her ass and her pussy open and waiting to take anything I want to dish out. I could leave you like this and do nothing but stroke your skin. I could clamp your clit and your nipples. I could play with your ass, stretch out your pretty little anus in a hundred different ways. I could lay ice cubes all over your body and watch them melt.”

  Cream gushed from her pussy at the pictures he painted. Her breaths came harder and faster. Yes, that’s what she wanted. She wanted him to use her body, to play with her until she begged him to fuck her. And then she wanted him to take her any way he chose.

  He moved away, and soft strips of leather brushed across her shoulders. She couldn’t count them, but she suspected he used a cat-o’-nine-tails. A tremor ran through her system. The last time someone had used a cat on her, things had not gone well. While no permanent damage had been done and her lover hadn’t been at all abusive, she hadn’t been able to orgasm that night.

  Concentrating, she tried to figure out what kind of falls the cat had. She detected no beads or flat pieces, and that made her immeasurably relieved. The falls explored her back. They trailed over her ass and down her thighs. After some time passed, she felt her muscles relaxing under this tender torture.

  Then the cat disappeared. Before long, the sensation of leather caressing her skin returned, but the number of falls seemed to have multiplied by a hundred. He’d exchanged the cat for a heater. The falls were shorter and more numerous, and the sting it delivered tended to be minimal.

  “I’m going to warm you up, slave. I’ll tell you when it’s going to hurt.”

  Marcella appreciated the warning. She didn’t fear pain or the whip; she just didn’t find it erotic.

  The first few smacks felt nice. He peppered her back with the softest sensations. The steady staccato beat a rhythm into her muscles that relaxed them. Her entire body turned to liquid.

  Fog enshrouded her mind. Just when she thought she might fall asleep, Sean spoke again. “You’re warmed up, my Cella. These next ones will sting. Give me your color.”

  She didn’t hesitate to answer, and her speech slurred when it came out. “Green, Master.”

  Not a second passed before white heat seared a path near her left shoulder blade. That harsh sting had come from the cat. Tears pricked behind her eyelids, and she sucked in her breath.

  “Breathe, Marcella.”

  She almost jumped at the sound of Fuller’s voice. She had completely forgotten he was there to witness this torment.

  “Breathe, Cella.” Sean’s command echoed Fuller’s recommendation.

  She inhaled and exhaled, taking slow, controlled breaths that the next sting of the cat ruined. The tears broke free and fell, but she held back the sobs so he wouldn’t know she didn’t love this. He rained more blows across her back. She tried to give herself over to the pain, but she couldn’t seem to find that place where it turned enjoyable.

  The blows halted abruptly. “What color?”

  She inhaled deeply and dug even deeper for her resolve. “Green, Master.”

  Leather sang through the air and smacked sharply on the fleshy part of her ass. This stimulated her a little more, but it didn’t do for her what she knew it did for other submissives. Sean expected for this to not only arouse her, but to bring her to orgasm. If she were able to respond to this the way Gretchen did, she would have climaxed by now.

  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, Full
er.”

  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.