Pleasure Bay (31 page)

He didn’t respond; there was complete silence behind her.

Finally, he spoke in a chilling voice. “You’re married?”

“Oh no!” She shook her head empathically, earnestly meeting his eyes. “At least not anymore.”

The tightness in his face lessened with her answer, but the anger remained. Having decided to tell him the worst, in hopes of illustrating exactly how messed up she was, she dropped her gaze and continued.

“In my senior year of college, I met a man. He was older, sophisticated, and worldly. He was also quite charming and it was exciting when he turned that charm on me. He ultimately swept me off my feet and we married right after graduation. At first, things were good. He said he loved me and wanted to nurture my submissive side, but I soon found out he had more than D/s in mind. He wanted someone young and inexperienced that he could guide and mentor in the lifestyle. He said he wanted to mold me into his perfect submissive.”

“I can see where this is going.” His voice quivered with rage as he spoke. She wasn’t sure who was the target, herself or her former master, but she kept going regardless. She might not ever get the nerve again.

“Yes, he wanted much more than a submissive, he wanted a 24/7 sex slave. I’m ashamed to say that he turned me into a puppet—I essentially danced on his strings. He isolated me, which I was told would help immerse me in my submission. What it did was distance me from the few friends I had and we lost touch. He changed greatly while this was going on and I saw a cruel side to his nature for the first time. It would come out if I defied him or made the smallest mistake. He looked for reasons to punish me, although he often said he didn’t need one. He demeaned me, called me stupid, and convinced me that I was such a poor excuse for a submissive that I deserved his wrath and disdain.”

She paused, still unable to believe how he had manipulated her thinking. Her hand went to her forehead to rub away the headache that was forming. Closing her eyes against the pain, she whispered, “I was frightened, Dimitri, so I surrendered. If I became docile, it pleased him and the pain lessened.”

A muttered curse and an enraged growl, like an angry bear, rumbled from his chest. Still, she didn’t turn.

“Uncuff me so I can hold you, baby.”

She shook her head, murmuring, “I’m sorry, but I can’t,” before she continued. “He controlled my entire life, how I dressed, what I ate, and he scheduled every minute of my day. I submitted and things went well for a while. Then it got weird.”

The grunt from behind her challenged that remark without him actually saying a single word.

“Okay, it was already weird, but it got weirder and scarier. About six months into our marriage, he got involved with a local BDSM group who thought of themselves as strict lifestylers. They believed in exacting discipline and high protocol. He was like a kid with a new game after that and I was his perfect toy. He studied their rules, poses, and protocols. There were a lot of them; so many that they even had a manual. He made me practice, repeatedly, kneeling and standing in these difficult embarrassing poses. Once I had been trained to his standards, he started to show me off to his friends. As he said, he ‘loved putting his play pretty on display.’”

Mariah could hear his snide voice in her head, speaking to her as a pet, not his wife. A trained dog, eager to perform her tricks for a reward. Realizing that she had become lost in the horrific memories and had stopped talking, she continued aloud.

“Robert preened like a peacock that a fifty-year-old could attract and hold onto a sweet, young slave like myself. When he began to show an interest in sharing me amongst the group, I balked. Of course, I was punished severely.”

“The scar across your back; he whipped you, didn’t he?”

She turned then, looking at him in surprise.

“Baby, I know how cruelly a lash can cut. I’ve seen the scars before. Did you have no one to turn to, Mariah? A friend, another member of the community, a dom you could trust?”

“No, I was truthful when I said I had no family, Dimitri, and my husband made certain I didn’t get close to anyone. Most of the time I wasn’t allowed to speak at all.”

“He gagged you?”

“Yes.” A sob escaped. Frustrated, she scrubbed the tears from her face. She wanted to get through this without breaking down; it would be easier for the both of them. Clearing her throat, she took a deep, steadying breath.

“I won’t get into all the gory details, but in the end, he brought others into our scenes. At first, a ménage with one man seemed to appease him, until he decided to bring home two men while he watched. Still, that wasn’t enough. He was like a drug addict; the more he had, the more degradation he subjected me to, the more he wanted.”

The cuffs grated and clanged against the headboard as he pulled at them. “Mariah, I have to have you in my arms, baby. I want you to do as you’re told now and let me loose.”

He’d said the dominant command softly, but she still had to fight the urge to obey. Her need to protect herself and flee outweighed her need to please him at the moment. She didn’t want to draw out the torture for either of them any longer than necessary. There was no point getting into her depression and that her self-worth was at zero. Or that when she tried to leave, Robert had found her, brought her back, and punished her with that whip. From then on, she was on lock down when not in his presence, but she didn’t tell Dimitri about that, or the cage that had one day appeared in their bedroom. In the end, she’d become worse than a slave, she had become his prisoner. She felt less than the animal he treated her as and had seriously contemplated suicide as her only way out. No, what she’d told him was horrifying enough. She skipped all that and jumped to the end of her sordid story.

“It all blew up the night I killed him.”

“Mariah! In the name of God, get these cuffs off.”

As she spoke, the evening replayed before her eyes. “He’d invited friends over for a weekend to play in his prized dungeon. I was to act as hostess and be the entertainment for the group; there were five doms and two dommes. Some had brought their own slaves and submissives, others planned to play with me. It was the final straw. I decided I was leaving even if I died trying. When I refused to service one of the men and demanded to be released, Robert pulled a knife.”

“
O mio Dio
.”

She vaguely heard his vehement curse, but locked in the nightmare of her memories, she didn’t respond. “Blood play, he called it. He told his friends it was my kink and that I liked to be subdued at knifepoint. He assigned two of the men to strap me down. Some of the guests got antsy about this because I was screaming bloody murder through the gag and fighting like a maniac. At first, they thought it was role-play, but as it went on, they weren’t sure. They began to question my consent, but the group didn’t have safewords that would tell them for sure that I wanted out. I think some were intimidated by Robert because of his wealth and respect in the community. Still, some of them told him to stop and began to argue about it. It was a welcome diversion for me. I broke free, but as usual, he came after me.”

Shaking her head, as if that could clear away the horrific memories, she looked down at her tightly gripped hands before continuing. “From there, it’s a blur. We struggled, his knife fell on the floor, and we scrambled for it. The next thing I knew he was dead and my hands were covered in his blood, but I was finally free.”

She went silent then.

“It was self-defense, Mariah.”

“Yes, that’s what the jury said.”

“
Piccola mia,
I can’t bear not being able to hold you.” When she only stared ahead, he groaned in frustration. “You do know he was insane and none of this was your fault, yes?”

“Yes, that is what my therapist said.” She said this softly before turning to him. “I can’t get past this, Dimitri. He treated me like dirt beneath his feet, but it wasn’t always like that. Whether it was love, or just a schoolgirl infatuation, I cared for him at first. So in my eagerness to please my new husband, I gave him my submission. However, my need to submit changed him. He became obsessed with controlling me and I, like a fool, allowed him to. I became no more than a possession, no longer a wife that he could love, but an object, with no voice, no brain to think, I was like an end table, or an ottoman. To use and forget about until the next time.”

“Baby, you can’t take his warped sense of dominance upon yourself. He was a twisted fuck, Mariah.”

“There was another after Robert. I was twenty-four; two years had gone by. I decided to limit my need to sexual submission in the bedroom only. It was okay with him. We were happy at first.” Tears began to fall again as she thought of another relationship gone weirdly wrong.

“Baby—”

“He also decided he wanted a slave, so I ended it.”

“Mariah—”

“I tried again a year later with another man, but it went much the same way. Rather pathetic, isn’t it? There is something about me that changed these men.”

“It isn’t you,
piccola,
but the weak men that you chose. They found a beautiful submissive who was willing to give all of herself to them and the control went to their heads. That is their flaw, not yours. You can’t take ownership of that upon yourself.”

She gave a small humorless huff of laughter. “You sound like Dr. LaRouche.”

“Who?”

“My psychiatrist.”

“That’s why you go to Jamaica every Tuesday.”

“Yes, I started seeing her in Kingston not long after I came to Pleasure Bay.”

“Uncuff me now, Mariah.”

“I can’t.” Looking back at him, she saw a mix of emotions in his tense features. Frustration, pain, anger, and love were shining from his wet eyes. “Oh, honey, don’t you see? I am the common denominator in this equation.”

“No, I don’t believe that. I didn’t know you then, but I don’t think you are that naïve young woman anymore. You called me master a while ago, but you didn’t subjugate yourself to me. You were brave and asked for what you wanted. Being submissive doesn’t mean you have no voice, no choice. It’s a gift you choose to give a dominant. You just need a man who will not manipulate that gift into something abusive. I am that man, baby. There are players out there who enjoy those intense games, both doms and subs. A good dom will recognize what his sub needs and will honor their limits, respecting them. Whether submissive or slave, a good dom will protect and nurture that giving spirit. It doesn’t have to be cruel or sordid or ugly. That is what it would be with us, Mariah, because I am a good dom.”

“I believe you are the best dom and I pray every day for understanding of why I couldn’t have met you first, before my heart was irrevocably broken. I can’t risk it again, Dimitri, and I’m sorry for that.”

“You have more work to do with Dr. LaRouche, baby. You’re still not thinking clearly. I can help with that too.”

“I doubt if anything can help. It’s been five years since Robert—since I killed him, which is another reason we can’t be together. The damage is too severe. I guess I’m just not meant to be with a good man.”

“
Dio!
I can’t believe that.”

“Again, I’m so very sorry. It’s safer for me not to be in the lifestyle in any way. That’s what I loved about Pleasure Bay. I could be around it without being actively involved in it. Helping others find love was a reward in itself. Even though I know it is not my path.”

“Forget about the lifestyle. It’s just a game. I don’t need it; with you I have everything.”

She laughed humorlessly through her tears. “You don’t mean that. Look around you. This whole island, your beautiful, wonderful island was turned into an adult playground of pleasure and kink. You’ve built a BDSM-friendly world where you are the king Dimitri. Tell me, after all that, you don’t need it in your life. A few months, maybe years you’d get by without it, but eventually you’d miss it. It’s in your blood, honey, a craving, a burning need.”

“You are my craving,
cara
. You are in my blood and all that I need.”

“You say that now, but a day will come when you regret not being able to play in your dungeon with a woman who craves it as much as you do. That’s not me and I can’t take that away from you. It’s not fair to you to give it up and it’s not fair to me to be with a man who wants more than I am willing to give.”

“That’s bullshit, Mariah. You’re letting your past talk for you. I am your future. Uncuff me now and we’ll move beyond this.”

She didn’t move or speak, only looked at him as a tear ran slowly down her cheek.

“This has gone on long enough and though I have nothing but concern and commitment for seeing you through this, I grow impatient with this game. You cannot judge me by the asshole dominants of your past. You talk about unfair. What is unfair is your lack of faith in me, your lack of trust.”

“Exactly. I’m too fucked up to trust.”

He flinched at her use of the crude epithet.

“Sorry, but that’s why I can’t stay.” Another tear escaped and soon more were pouring down her face. She scrubbed them away, not wanting the last image of him to be blurred and watery. “I hope you can forgive me someday for being such a coward.”

“I plan to bust your little ass. Release me.”

“I’m sorry.” She stood, needing to leave now or miss the plane.

“Take off the cuffs, Mariah.”

Sadly, she shook her head as she backed away.

“Dammit! Take. Off. The. Fucking. Cuffs!”

“I’ll love you always, Dimitri.” Her voice broke on a sob as she rushed out the door, closing it firmly behind her. In her wake, a torrent of angry Italian words seared her ears. Despite the stout wooden door, she heard every angry syllable clearly.

Mariah knew that he’d look for her, so she had to be smart. She had to hide away in a place he’d never think to look. It was for his own good, she told herself. She’d rather give him up now, to someone who could make him happy, than to stay with him and rob him of something that he loved. In the end, he would resent her and be miserable like the others before him.

Chapter Eighteen