The Inner Room (5 page)

Marissa’s mouth had gone dry and her voice came out hoarse when she answered. “Yes,” she managed, shocking herself by adding, “please.”

Tony smiled and let go of her hand. He stood. “Good. Why don’t you two go along to the playroom? I’ll join you in a moment.” Marissa darted a look at Dana, who had stood as well and was smiling. Finishing her wine, Marissa placed her glass on the table and got up, her heart beating with nervous anticipation.

While Tony took the bottle and glasses back into the kitchen, Dana led Marissa through the living room and down a narrow hallway, stopping at a closed door. Dana opened the door and stepped inside, clicking on the light as she entered. Marissa followed. Inside the room was a mini version of the club, complete with a cross, a spanking bench and, intriguingly, a human-size cage in the corner of the room. One wall was hung with coils of rope and various whips, canes and floggers. All sorts of cuffs, gags and other BDSM paraphernalia were set out on a long, high table against the back wall. Tucked into a corner was a plump loveseat with deep cushions, a small pile of blankets and towels stacked neatly on an end table beside it.

“Wow,” Marissa whispered, her mouth hanging open as she took in the space.

“Pretty amazing, huh?” Dana enthused. “Am I the luckiest girl in the world, or what?” Then, to Marissa’s surprise, Dana pulled the shift over her head and hung it on a hook just inside the door. Completely naked, she dropped to her knees on a small mat just inside the door and locked her arms behind her back, thrusting her small, perfect breasts proudly forward.

Seeing Marissa’s shocked expression, she said, “I’m sorry, I should have warned you. I must always strip immediately when I enter Master’s playroom. It puts me in what Master Tony calls a proper frame of mind.” Dana’s voice had taken on a sultry, husky tone, and she already had that dreamy expression on her face Marissa had seen at the club.

“Oh,” Marissa replied inanely.

Tony appeared in the door. He stepped in front of his kneeling wife and bent down to kiss the top of her head. Turning to Marissa he said in a matter-of-fact tone, “Would you like to start on the spanking bench or on the cross?”

“Um, gosh. I don’t know.”

“Would you like me to decide for you?” Like Dana, Tony’s voice had also taken on a deeper timbre, and he seemed to radiate a kind of mastery Marissa found extremely attractive.

“Uh, yeah. Yes. That would be good.”

“Yes, Sir,” Tony corrected. “While in this room, you will call me Master, or Sir, understood?”

Something lit deep in Marissa’s gut at these words, a tiny but bright flame of desire. “Yes,” she breathed. “Yes, Sir.”

Tony nodded. “We’ll go with the St. Andrew’s cross. Face the cross and lift your arms against the X. I will strap you into place.”

Marissa felt like she was in a kind of dream as she moved toward the cross. She leaned against the large wooden X and lifted her arms. “I’m going to take off your sandals, okay?” Tony said.

“Yes, Sir.”

Tony crouched behind her and unbuckled her sandals, slipping each one off. Something about the gesture was both masterful and tender, and Marissa realized she was deeply attracted to Dana’s husband, and not quite sure how she felt about that. Tony moved just behind her, the warmth of his body seeping through her clothing as he reached up and strapped one wrist and then the other against the smooth, polished wood of the cross.

A shudder moved through her frame, shaking her to her core as the leather cuffs closed snugly around her wrists. The sense of vulnerability was nearly overwhelming, but at the same time her entire being thrilled to the sensation of being bound.

She jumped when Tony lightly caressed her back. “Relax,” he murmured into her ear. “How are you doing? You okay?”

Marissa nodded, both confused and excited by what was happening to her.

“While in this room, Marissa, you are my sub girl. My sub girl will answer all questions with words. It’s important that I hear you speak, and it’s also a sign of respect. So I’ll ask again. Are you okay?”

Sub girl
.

The words resonated deep inside Marissa. “Yes, Sir,” she whispered, her heart beating high in her throat. “I’m okay, Sir. I’m good.”

“Good.” He stepped back and moved so Marissa could see his face. “Not that I think you’ll need it for this exercise, but it’s always a good idea to have a safeword, especially between people who aren’t intimately familiar with one another. Do you know what a safeword is?”

“Yes, I think so, uh, Sir,” Marissa answered. “It’s a word I would use if the scene got too intense. If I needed all the action to stop.”

Tony nodded. “That’s correct. It’s a word that we would never mistake as being an ongoing part of the scene. Something random, but that you would easily remember. Dana’s safeword is banana. Do you want to select a piece of fruit?” He grinned.

“Um. I’ll take lemon,” Marissa replied, deciding not to make a Freudian joke of Dana’s particular selection. Then the import of what she’d just done, of what she was doing, really hit her. A safeword!

“Lemon,” Tony repeated matter-of-factly, unaware of the turmoil going on inside Marissa’s head. “Perfect.” He stepped again behind her. “I’m going to leave your legs free for now. I think we’ll start with a spanking, just to get a sense of what you can handle. Pants on or off?”

Marissa swallowed, thinking of Dana naked behind her and so comfortable in her nudity. But Dana and Tony were married, and Dana was a bona fide sub girl, while Marissa was still only sub-curious, and really barely knew Tony. “Pants on…Sir.”

“All right, but feel free to change your mind. I’m going to spank you now.”

Marissa squeezed her eyes shut and tensed with nervous anticipation. Tony’s palm landed with a smack against her ass and Marissa gasped more out of surprise than anything. He struck her several more times in succession. Marissa began to relax. This wasn’t so bad. In fact, she had to admit she kind of liked the thud of his hard hand against her ass.

“How are you doing?” Tony asked.

“Good, Sir,” Marissa said. “But, um…” Did she dare?

“Yes?”

“Could we maybe try it with the pants off, but panties on?”

Tony chuckled. “We could do that.”

“It’s best skin on skin, Marissa, sweetheart,” Dana chimed in. “Don’t be shy. Tony’s seen bare bottoms before, trust me.”

Marissa said nothing to this. She drew in a tremulous breath as Tony unzipped the side zipper on her summer slacks and pulled them down her legs.

“We continue,” Tony said from behind her. His hand made more of an impact now, with only the thin silk of her panties between them. Marissa gasped as the sting mounted and her flesh heated. She began to pant, and became aware of the throb of her clit and the dampness in the crotch of her underwear.

He struck her hard, his rhythm steady as he covered every inch of her bottom. Tears stung her eyelids and Marissa began to dance a little on her toes, her body twisting to avoid Tony’s hard, relentless palm.

“I smell your desire,” Tony announced from behind her, and Marissa felt her face flame at these words.

“Oh, god,” she moaned, the words ripped from her mouth without her permission.

“No god.” Tony chuckled. “Just me. Are you ready for skin on skin, sub girl?”

Her tongue felt thick in her mouth and she could barely hear over the pounding of her own heart. “Skin, Sir,” she finally managed. He yanked down the flimsy, sex-soaked silk and pulled it away.

The solid impact of his hand against her ass sent another spasm through Marissa’s frame, this one as much pure, raw lust as fear. She began to pant. Her nipples actually hurt and her clit throbbed so hard she felt like she might actually come without being touched, if such a thing were possible. “Oh, god,” she heard herself moan again, though the voice seemed disembodied, as if it belonged to someone else. Her ass was on fire, her cunt was soaked in liquid heat, her mind was short-circuiting, her heart smashing wildly against the confines of her ribcage. “Oh, god, oh, god, oh, god,” she chanted as Tony struck her again, and again, and again.

Then it happened—as impossible as it seemed, Marissa felt the familiar warm, buttery clutch of an orgasm rising deep in her belly and shuddering through her body as she gasped and jerked against her wrist restraints. Finally she sagged against the cross, tears streaming down her cheeks, blood roaring in her ears, her breath rasping in her throat.

After a while—a second, a minute, an eternity, who could say?—she heard Tony’s dry chuckle behind her, and she realized the spanking had stopped. She felt him reach for one wrist and then the other, releasing the Velcro straps that held her in place. She fell back against him, her eyes closed as she reveled in the warmth of his strong embrace.

Tony put a supportive arm around Marissa’s shoulders and led her to the loveseat, where Dana now waited, a blanket spread open on her lap. As Tony eased Marissa onto the loveseat, Dana wrapped the blanket around her shoulders. Marissa leaned against her friend, who pulled her close. She rested her head on Dana’s shoulder, her eyes closing of their own accord as a happy sigh escaped her lips. 

“This girl is natural,” Tony said from somewhere in the distance. “No question about it. She was born to submit.”

Dr. Roberts was discussing the medical treatment plans for Cam’s patients, and Cam was mostly paying attention, but her mouth kept distracting him. It was a sensual mouth, her lips mobile and expressive as she spoke. She had a sexy voice, too, slightly husky while still completely feminine. He liked that she didn’t wear a lot of makeup—just a bit of mascara and a hint of pink lip-gloss, as far as he could tell. Her glossy hair was pulled back in a wide barrette at the nape of her neck, as it always was at work. What would it look like loose, tendrils curling around her face?

Her skin looked dewy fresh, and he had an irrational urge to stroke her cheek, just to see if it was as soft as it appeared. In spite of his best intentions to focus, his overactive libido kept inserting images of this beautiful woman kneeling naked in front of him and parting those luscious lips to receive the head of his cock. He would just give her the head at first. She would have to earn more.

She was asking a question about medications and Cam gave himself a mental shake. As his mouth responded to her question, his brain demanded to know what the fuck his problem was. Marissa Roberts was a doctor, for crying out loud, not to mention they worked together. Anyway, she was probably vanilla as an ice cream cone, and because of that, even if the sex was fantastic, it could never be more than a one-night stand. And he no longer did one-night stands. Especially not with vanilla MDs who looked down their noses at male nurses. Not that she’d ever offered the slightest hint of disrespect, but Cam was hypersensitive to the mutterings of hospital staff, and why should she be any different? Even though it was the twenty-first century, male nurses were still considered somewhat suspect, which was ironic, when you thought about it.

He forced himself back to his duties, thankfully easing once more into professional mode as they discussed the caseload for the week. Their meeting completed, Dr. Roberts turned and walked briskly away. He couldn’t stop himself from gazing after her as she headed toward the elevator bank. Again his imagination slipped into forbidden territory, as it removed the white lab coat and sensible pumps, re-dressing her in stiletto heels, stocking and garters, and nothing else. Before his body got into the act and gave him an erection, Cam turned back to his computer screen and busied himself with typing up his notes. The weekend, after all, was only a few hours away.

~*~

“Okay, I worked it out. You’re in.”

“You did?” Marissa realized her voice had come out as a squeak. She cleared her throat. “So I can come to the club with you tonight even though it’s not an open invitation night?” Marissa jumped up from her desk and did a little happy dance before catching herself. Glancing through her open office door, she sat back down and turned toward the window.

After that incredible experience with Tony and Dana, Marissa had spent the week in a kind of a daze. Her workweek was beyond busy, as always, which was a good thing, since otherwise she would have been banging on their door, begging for a repeat experience. When Tony had said she was a natural—born to submit—something had clicked into place inside Marissa, like a door finally unlocking onto a world she’d only dreamed of. She wanted more. More, more, more. But she had no idea where to go to find it.

Tony and Dana hadn’t invited her back, though to be fair, they were as busy as she was, if not more so. In her heart of hearts, she knew it probably wasn’t a good idea to request a repeat performance. The experience had been more sexual than she had expected, and even if they’d been interested, the concept of a ménage did not appeal.

She thought about joining one of the online BDSM dating sites, but figured they were probably as bogus as the vanilla dating sites, with gamers and posers far outnumbering any real potential partners. The idea of meeting a total stranger to engage in something as intimate as D/s just didn’t compute in her brain.

Dana had advised her that the public BDSM clubs could be pretty sleazy. Though there were genuine folks dedicated to the scene, there were even more wannabe bully boys posing as Doms, and needy, lonely girls pretending to be subs just to get a little affection, or at least physical touch. It could be, Dana had warned, a pretty depressing scene.

“Yes. Tony worked it out,” Dana replied to her question. “You can come with us tonight if you want, but, uh, there’s a catch.”

“A catch?” Marissa didn’t like the sound of that.

“Well, more of a condition. Membership requirements are pretty strict but Jack Morris, he’s the owner of the club, has agreed you can join on a trial basis, provided you undergo a full assessment.”

Marissa’s heart skipped a beat. “An assessment?” she squeaked.

“Yeah. The way Tony described it, it’s a kind of interview and session combined. The trainer needs to assess your submissive potential and decide if you’re the kind of person they want joining the club.”

Marissa wasn’t sure she liked the sound of submitting to whatever some stranger decided for her. In fact, the prospect scared her to death. On the other hand, she really wanted to go back to The Power Exchange, and if this was the only way… “Did you have to do this, uh, assessment when you joined?”

“Me?” Dana replied. “No. But I’m owned. Tony got admittance and I was included as his sub girl. It’s unusual for submissives to apply on their own, though it has been known to happen.”

“So, give me more details. Would I have to, um, get naked?”

Dana laughed. “Probably. But it won’t be in public, if that’s what you’re worried about. Assessments and training take place in the inner room. I’ve never even been in there before. It’s only for trainers and their clients. Some very intense stuff happens in there, so I’ve heard. Of course, I’ll want a full report.”

Marissa bit her lip, her mind veering wildly over the possibilities.

“So?” Dana prodded. “What’ll it be? You in?”

“Gosh, I don’t know. I mean, I want to, but I’m scared. It’s all so new.”

“I know. But Tony was right—you’re a natural. I frankly have no idea how you got this far in your life without exploring the scene before now.” Marissa didn’t reply, though since the amazing spanking, she’d been wondering the same thing herself.

“Think of it this way,” Dana said. “It’s not like you’re signing up to be someone’s 24/7 sex slave or something. It’s just an assessment. If it doesn’t feel right, you end the scene, that’s all. What are a few hours on a Friday night in the scheme of things? Shit, you went through four years of medical school and three years of residency, for Christ’s sake.”

Marissa chuckled dryly. “Yeah, talk about torture, but without the eroticism.”

“Exactly. Almost as bad as law school, ha ha. But seriously, this should be a piece of cake in comparison. There’s no real downside. If what the trainer offers isn’t for you, well good, then you’ve learned something important. But listen, it’s totally up to you. You can give this a pass, and you can still come with us again next month as our guest.”

That was three weeks away. Marissa could barely wait another second, much less three weeks. And Dana was right—there was no real downside, other than the somewhat terrifying prospect of getting naked in front of a stranger and basically assigning her self-will over to him for a period of time. Yet, even as her mind wavered, her body knew the answer. It was telling her with the thrum of adrenaline racing through her veins, the pulse deep in her sex, the desire vibrating through her bones like a primal drum.

“No,” she blurted. “I mean yes. Yes. I want to do it. Please tell them yes for me.”

Marissa felt a little foolish as she glanced down at the ridiculously expensive lacy black bra and panty set she’d bought that evening at Victoria’s Secret on her way home from work. It wasn’t as if she were dressing for a lover, but on the other hand, Dana had advised she would probably be asked to strip, so why not look her best?

She examined her naked form critically in the mirror. Her size C breasts were still firm, her stomach flat, not from dieting but from being too damn busy during the day to eat much. She touched her pubic hair, wondering if she should shave it, as so many women, Dana included, seemed to be doing these days.

She decided that, no, she would leave the neatly trimmed curls as they were. She would feel naked enough as it was, thank you. She sprayed a little
Beyond Paradise
perfume on her throat and wrists, then added a little spritz on her thigh for good measure. She put on the bra and panties and reached for the satin cream-colored chemise-style blouse she’d also bought at Victoria’s Secret. She slipped it over her head, reveling in the silky feel of the satin against her skin. It was lower cut than she was used to, but she had to admit she looked good in it.

She grinned nervously at her reflection and reminded herself again this wasn’t a date she was preparing for, but an
assessment
. It sounded so formal, so clinical. She wondered who this so-called trainer would be. Would he bark orders at her, like Master Mark had with slave L, and make her do things like scrub floors and lick his boots? God, she hoped not. That had been sexy to watch, but how would she handle it when she was the one on her knees?

A piece of cake, Dana had said. No big deal. And you can always end the scene, Marissa reminded herself. Yes. She could use her new safeword—lemon. She would have to make sure this trainer knew her safeword and understood she had next to no experience. He was a professional. She didn’t need to worry. All she had to do was listen and obey. A piece of cake.

Marissa’s cell phone buzzed and she glanced at it.
We’re a little early. Come down when you’re ready,
the text message read. Shit! Dana and Tony were already downstairs. Marissa pulled on her skirt and slipped her bare feet into the higher-than-usual heels she’d only worn a few times before, but which were surprisingly comfortable.

Be right down
, she texted back. She ran her fingers through her hair, which had dried naturally into loose waves that fell around her shoulders and framed her face. She had thought about and rejected any jewelry.
Keep it simple
, she told herself.
After all, you’re going to be stripping anyway.

Wrong thought, as it sent her heart once more into overdrive. She reached for her black velvet jacket. A last glance in the mirror, and she grabbed her purse, took a deep breath and murmured, “Piece of cake,” as she locked her apartment door.

“Welcome to The Power Exchange.”

Marissa looked up to see a fortyish man of medium height with massive arms and a shaved head. He was wearing a black leather vest over a barrel chest, leather pants stretched over muscular, stocky legs. His large nose was crooked, as if it had been broken, perhaps more than once. His eyes were dark and penetrating, and Marissa could feel the power in his gaze.

“Hi,” Marissa said. The man held out his hand, which engulfed Marissa’s as they shook.

“I’m Jack Morris.” His voice matched the rest of him, deep and gravelly. He spoke like someone used to being obeyed. “Tony’s told me a lot about you.”

Marissa glanced at Tony, who sat with her and Dana at the same table they’d occupied the last time she’d been to the club. Tony lifted his glass in Jack’s direction. “All true,” he grinned. Smiling at her, he added, “You’ll be in excellent hands, Marissa. The trainer who will assess you tonight is regarded as tops in his field—a real pro, and with good reason.” He turned back to Jack, adding, “Marissa won’t let you down. This one’s a keeper, Jack, you’ll see.”

You’ll see?
Was Jack going to be her trainer?

Marissa bit her lower lip. Where Tony had been understanding of her fears, and had let her go at her own pace, she strongly doubted Jack would go as easy on her. While the man was certainly compelling, he was also rather formidable, and not what she had visualized. In truth, she’d been harboring a fantasy that she would be trained by someone like the tall, dark and handsome Master Mark from the training videos.

Don’t be stupid. This is the chance of a lifetime. Tony and Dana say he’s the best. He has to know what he’s doing.
She realized they were all three staring at her. “If you’ll come with me,” Jack said, holding out his hand.

Marissa glanced nervously at her friends. Tony was smiling encouragingly at her. Dana put her hand on Marissa’s shoulder and gave it an affectionate squeeze. “Good luck,” she said softly. “I know you’ll do great.”

Marissa pushed her chair away from the table. Excitement warred with trepidation inside her as she took Jack’s offered hand. She was ready. She wanted this. More than that—she needed this.

Jack stepped to the bar and lifted a panel, gesturing for her to follow him. With a last look at Tony and Dana, Marissa stepped behind the bar. The bartender didn’t even glance up as they passed her. They walked through a small kitchen and down a narrow hallway to a set of double doors. Tony turned the knob on one of the doors and pushed it open. He stepped back, ushering Marissa in ahead of him. The room was larger than she had expected and looked something like Tony’s playroom, except there were more pieces of equipment, some of which she recognized, some she didn’t.

In addition to a St. Andrew’s cross, several spanking benches, a whipping post, a medical exam table and a set of stocks, there was an interesting series of rubber strips in one corner strapped to a metal frame. The apparatus was shaped like a huge spider’s web, with cuffs and chains dangling from various parts of it. Nearby were two cages, one upright with cuffs attached at the upper and lower corners, and one low and oblong, with newspapers spread on the bottom and what looked like a dog’s water bowl set inside it.