The Inner Room by Claire Thompson Page B

against her with the force of an ocean’s wave.
    Yes , her body whispered, yes, yes, yes .
    And then, without warning, he changed his angle so just the tips of the leather strands made contact with her skin. It stung like hell, and ripped her from the near-trance she had entered. The stinging little tips brushed the sides of her body and it felt like a hive of angry bees swarming over her skin.
    “Ow!” she yelled. “Fuck, that hurts!”
    “Take it.” Something in Cam’s tone spoke to something deep inside Marissa’s psyche.
    The panic that had been rising subsided, and she found that, while the whipping still stung, she could bear it. She could take it.
    He resumed the thuddy strokes once more, covering her flesh from thigh to shoulder in a dark, sweet fire of sensation that was nearly as good as, or no, be honest, maybe even better than, sex.
    “Oooooo,” someone moaned, the word charged with eroticism. Vaguely Marissa was aware she was the one making the sound, but she’d lost the capacity to censor or control her reactions. “Oooooo,” she moaned again. There was no more pain, though Cam was flogging her just as hard, if not harder, than before.
    Or, no, that wasn’t right. It did hurt. But it hurt so good . Though she didn’t understand it, the erotic pain, the pleasure, the power, the passion of what this man was doing somehow reached past the reserves built up over a lifetime of holding back the most intimate part of herself. It peeled back layers of control, of fear, of longing, of need, reaching to the very core of Marissa’s being. “Yes,” she whispered, the word a sibilant hiss of pure, raw need. “Yessssssssss…”
    Her head felt heavy and she let it fall back. Her bound hands around the post were the only thing that kept her from sliding into a puddle on the floor. She was no longer Marissa Roberts, MD, or Marissa Roberts the woman, or even Marissa Roberts, the sub girl. She was just sensation. Pure, perfect sensation, her spirit rising from her body as the leather kissed and stroked her skin with what she could only define as love.
     
    When she opened her eyes, she was confused to find herself on the ground. She was leaning back against someone, whose strong, masculine arms were wrapped around her from behind. As she came more fully to herself, she realized it was Cam holding her. She must have somehow passed out or something.
    Whatever had happened, she was engulfed in a deeply satisfying sense of utter well-being. Though still disoriented, she leaned back her head and smiled up at the gorgeous sexy man who was holding her.
    Defenses completely lowered, she blurted, “Wow, that was fucking amazing. No offense, but it really sucks that you’re gay.”

Chapter 6
     
    “I’m sorry, what?” Cam was sitting behind Marissa on the floor near the cross, his arms around her. He had been rocking her gently as she returned to planet earth, drifting in a pleasant fantasy that he wasn’t her trainer, but rather her lover—the lover who would soon carry her to bed and make love to her.
    Her words smashed through his reverie like a fist to the jaw, and he actually whipped his head back from the impact. Marissa twisted to face him, extricating herself from his arms in the process. “Oh!” she exclaimed “Sir. I should have said Sir. I didn’t ask permission to speak. I forgot. I—”
    “No, no,” Cam interjected. “That’s okay, Marissa. The assessment, the scene—it’s over. It’s okay. This is called aftercare. Where I help you come down from the high of the experience. No more Master or Sir required.”
    She looked relieved. “Oh, okay, then. Phew.”
    Cam smiled, but he wasn’t about to drop the subject. “So, I need clarification here. You think I’m gay?”
    She bit her lower lip, her eyes sliding away from his. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I hope that wasn’t rude to say. It just kind of slipped out.”
    Cam couldn’t help it. He started to laugh. He supposed he