Mercy (9 page)

When I was done drooling over the cushiony sofas and ottomans, he took me over to a large armoire in the corner. It had drawers full of leather restraints, straps and cuffs, sex toys and paraphernalia that made my eyes go wide. The many things he showed me in that armoire both shocked and titillated me. I was so hot by that
time,
I wanted him to take me then and there. I was really close to begging for it but I managed to keep quiet, the obedient little slave. He showed me paddles and crops and canes, and tooled leather straps just as thick as the paddles. He showed me delicate but painful looking clips and clamps. He put one on my finger to give me an idea how it would feel. It pinched a little, but nothing I couldn’t bear. “It will feel different on your nipples and your clit,” he cautioned me. I swallowed hard. Of course it would.

Then he showed me dildos and butt plugs and other toys that terrified me. They were far too large to ever fit up inside me. “You’ll like these best of all,” he said with a smile. He showed me a shelf full of lubricants, all different types.
Scented, flavored, heavy duty, light duty.
He showed me one bottle with a gleam in his eye. “This kind will make you itch, for when you’ve really been bad.”

Yes, my eyes must have been like saucers looking into that armoire. He showed me everything proudly, like the curator of some perverse museum. When I’d had a good look at it all he tilted my face to his. He looked into my eyes and I felt shy and exposed. It was very, very hard not to look away.

“Look at me,” he insisted. When my eyes were fixed on his, he spoke to me in a low voice. “So what do you think, Lucy Merritt? If you’re going to be my lover, you’ll have to endure all these things.”

And the way he said
lover
made me absolutely thrill, and then that word
endure
, it sounded sexy as hell to my ears. I searched for my voice, for what to say. He pressed me some more, his voice goading me.

“Are you sure you don’t just want to run home? Climb back into bed with your worn out copy of
The Story of O
?”

“No. I want to stay here.”

“Okay then. Let’s stay.”

He led me to the center of the room,
then
walked away from me, talking over his shoulder. “Face me. Take off your clothes.
Everything.
Put them over by the door.”

I stood still for just a second, and then I did exactly as he said. I took off my sweater, my jeans, my shirt and socks and shoes, until I wore only my thong and bra, and then I looked up at him, my face flaming red.

“Everything but the panties,” he said from the sofa, where he sat watching every move I made. I removed my bra and placed everything by the door, thankful at least for the small scrap of fabric between my legs. As I walked, I had to make an effort to move my limbs. I had been naked for
Pietro
so many times, practically naked in dance costumes which left nothing to the imagination. But never, never had I truly felt as naked as I did now, and that was even wearing the panties he’d so graciously let me keep on. His intent gaze was terrifying and yet thrilling. I desperately hoped he liked what he saw.

He stood up and beckoned me back to the center of the room where he met me, looking over me long and critically. I burned and blushed. It was so intimate and embarrassing. My hands came up of their own volition to cover my breasts.

“Don’t,” he warned. “Don’t ever try to hide your body from me. In this room, when we’re together, it’s mine. Understand?”

I nodded and put my hands
down,
and felt my nipples grow hard under his gaze. I didn’t know whether to look at him, or look away, or look at the floor, or what. Then his hand touched my buttock, and I flinched.

“Stand still.”

Again he reached out to touch me, and this time, I was still as a statue for him. He ran his hand slowly all over my bottom, down to the underside of my cheeks and then further down to my upper thigh. Finally, he was putting those beautiful hands on me. He stood close, in my space, and I could smell him, feel him, his incredible maleness sending my own body into a chaotic,
hypercharged
hum. His fingers crept under my thong and he slowly pulled it down to the tops of my thighs, where he let it rest. He moved closer behind me and pressed against me. I stifled a moan. Though he was still fully dressed, I could feel his rigid erection against my ass.

His hands moved over me with maddening deliberation. His fingertips traced my shoulders, my belly, the curve of my hips, while I stood as still as I could manage. He cupped the heft of each of my breasts, squeezing and caressing them, then closed his fingers on my nipples until I gasped, pinching them even more brutally before letting them go. My pussy flooded with wetness for the things he was doing to me, and the thoughts he was making me think. He leaned down and breathed right against my neck, his rough cheek pressed to mine.

“Lucy. How do you feel?”

I swallowed. “I don’t know.”

“If you say ‘I don’t know’ to me again I’ll give you twenty with the cane. Think before you speak, and then answer. How do you feel?”

I might have sobbed then, one quick sob.
“Exposed.”

“Do you feel like putting your clothes back on?”

I shook my head.

“Answer me, goddamn it.”

“No,” I said quickly.

He walked away from me, went back to the sofa, sat down and looked at me.

“Stand up straight. Unclench your hands. Look at me and listen.”

I obeyed, my pulse pounding loud in my ears. I tried to relax, tried not to look scared.

“I want you to feel exposed, so if that’s how you feel, we’re off to a good start. You won’t wear clothes in this room. This is a room where I own you. When we’re in the confines of this room, you belong to me. If that’s not something you can agree with, you’re free to leave at any time. But I have to warn you, and I’m completely serious about this, if you ever leave this room before I’m finished with you, then you and I are done. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“As you see the walls are upholstered, and this is the basement of the house. It’s completely soundproof, so you can be as loud or as quiet as you like. I don’t really care if you scream or grit your teeth in silence. But I don’t use gags.”

I didn’t know what that meant, although he said it like it was important. I just stood silently, taking it all in.

“What you’ll need to remember and think of always, is that in this room, you exist for my use. You won’t have much cause to talk, but if I ask you a question, you’ll answer respectfully, using proper address. Do you know what proper address is?”

“Um...no.”

“
Um
is not proper address,” he frowned. “Shrugs, grunts, and headshakes are not proper address.
Yes, sir
or
Yes, Matthew
will suffice in the vast majority of situations. You will avoid using the word
no
, of course. You’ll do whatever I ask the moment I ask it of you and you won’t balk. If I don’t tell you what to do, you’ll stand or kneel and wait until I do. Do you understand?”

“Yes...sir.” The word
sir
felt strange on my lips. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d addressed any man as ‘sir,’ but it felt more appropriate than calling him Matthew at that point. We were no longer equals, not now. He went on in his cool, authoritative voice.

“If you don’t please me for whatever reason, you’ll be punished and it will hurt very much. Even if you please me, sometimes you’ll be punished because I’ll enjoy watching you endure it. But I’ll never injure you and I won’t draw blood. Same thing when I fuck you, the same rules apply. It won’t always feel good, but I won’t injure you and I’ll never draw blood. Do you understand?”

Again, I whispered “Yes, sir.”

“We’ll use a safe word in the beginning, and that word will be ‘mercy.’ ‘Mercy’ makes it end. But I warn you, don’t dare use it unless you’re desperate. If I catch you using it when you don’t really need to, whatever punishment you were getting, I’ll visit it on you ten times worse. I don’t tolerate lying well, as I’ve told you, to include the misuse of safe words. Lying and hiding sends me into a fury. You won’t ever do either. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“After our sessions I’ll expect you to sleep over. If you’re not to sleep over, I’ll have Davis drive you home. When we leave this room, our scenes will be over but your body will still be mine to use. The rules relax, but you’ll remain my submissive, and when I want you to take my cock, you will. And this will be our agreement, Lucy, until one or the other of us decides to terminate it.”

I took a deep breath.
To
terminate
it.
God.

He stood up and crossed to the armoire.

“But punishments will usually only take place down here. I’ve already shown you many of the things I’ll use to discipline you. As I’ve said, I can do whatever I want to you, and I will. You’re permitted to feel all the pleasure you wish, whenever you wish, but you may only come with my permission. Do you know why?”

He looked at me. I swallowed the
um
that came to my lips and thought hard. “Because I can only do as I’m told?”

“Yes, that’s part of it. The other part of it is that you belong to me when we play.
All
of you.
Your body, your feelings.
Even your thoughts.
Sometimes I’ll ask for your thoughts, Lucy, and you’ll give them to me. I’ll ask for you to do things you don’t want to do and you’ll do them for me. And your pleasure, your orgasms...” He paused for effect.
“Mine, not yours.
Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

I had understood submission on the surface, in the simplest form, but it was becoming clear to me that the submission Matthew expected was a lot more involved than it had been in my erotic dreams.

“The pleasure you feel will come at my hands always. You won’t touch yourself without my permission. Coming without my permission is a serious infraction, a punishable offense. To complicate matters,” he continued with a smile, “if I tell you to come, and you don’t, I’ll punish you for that as well.”

“But—” I clamped my mouth shut.

“Go on. If you have any questions, better to ask them now.”

“What if...what if I just can’t come?” Like most women, it was never a sure thing for me.

“Trust me, if you’re with me—
with me
, you understand—then you will. If you aren’t with me...if you aren’t giving yourself up to me,
that’s
your problem, your infraction, not mine.” He looked at me hard. “You see?”

“I think so.
Yes, sir.”

As I said this, he lifted some nipple clamps from the armoire.

“Have you worn clamps before, Lucy?”

“Yes, once,” I admitted.

“By
yourself,
or with a lover?”

“By myself.”

“Did you like how it felt?”

I burned with embarrassment. “Yes. But I didn’t make them very tight,” I added as an afterthought.

That made him laugh
. “Adjustable clamps. I don’t use those. Mine hurt. What about toys? Have you ever worn a plug in your ass?”

“Yes, sir.”
It was too humiliating.

“By
yourself,
or with a lover?”

“By myself,” I whispered. “I was curious.”

“Don’t be embarrassed. You’ll wear them all the time here. They’re excellent for keeping subs in the right headspace. Have you ever been spanked?”