Chapter Twenty-One
Lex
That’s my girl. Up there on the stage. That’s my beautiful girl.
I knew she’d be here tonight. I can’t say how I knew, but I did. I felt as compelled to come here as I do to sit in front of my canvas or a lump of clay and stay there until the work is done.
I also knew I should have called. Or texted. Or something. I should have shown her I was still here. That I wasn’t going anywhere.
That she’s mine. Mine.
But I didn’t.
I tell myself it wasn’t because of what Mari said. It was the work. It was my brain being unable to think about more than one thing at a time when one of those things is my art.
But that’s not true. I don’t actually know why I didn’t call or text. I just know I didn’t and that I’ve left it too late.
Yet I still needed to see her.
Of course, I knew it was possible she came here with Mari – although I don’t see any trace of them in the tables nearest my skulking spot at the bar right at the rear of the room.
I know Roos has come here by herself before, with Joel or when he’s working.
She knows she’ll be looked after here, and as I expect, Mother Maria is treating her perfectly well.
She struck Roos beautifully, her wrist movements fluid and strong.
And that pretty little blonde submissive ate Roos’ ass so hungrily and dutifully, it made my cunt ache.
And wet. It made me very wet. But I didn’t come here to get off. I came here to watch.
I came here to see Roos and to figure out if staying away from her is really what she wants, what she needs.
“Ah, somebody else wants to come up and have some fun with Roos?” Mother Maria calls out, and my attention returns to the stage.
She’s standing at the edge again, talking to somebody sitting at a table just slightly to the side.
“I agree, that was too kind on her. She needs more of a spanking. Very well, come on up and deliver your punishment.”
I can’t see or hear who she is talking to, but then a figure stands and starts to approach the stage. The second the stage lights catch the person’s silhouette, my body freezes. That short, messy bob… That full arse and those round tits…
Mari. Fucking Mari.
I feel like I’ve been slapped, and I shouldn’t.
I lean more weight against the bar at my back, half-expecting myself to topple over as I watch Mari approach Mother Maria, who then takes them to the display of impact play tools.
I half-expected Mari to be here with Roos.
I knew when they showed up at my studio that whatever is happening between them is more than a one or two-night stand.
Roos had told them about being polyamorous.
I knew Mari had an interest in kink. It wasn’t an unlikely conclusion to have them come here together.
And yet it still stabs to see them on stage together.
It still feels like elastic squeezing my heart as Mari chooses a traditional-looking leather paddle and goes to Roos, pushing up on their toes so they can whisper something in her ear.
I still haven’t quite got a handle on a regular breathing pattern as Mari then moves to stand in front of Roos’ body on the St Andrew’s Cross, their hands smoothing over the still red lines and patches on Roos’ arse and thighs.
It's what I would do. It’s how I would touch Roos. It’s what I itch to do, standing at the back of the room, not wanting to move a muscle for fear that would catapult me towards the stage to rip Mari away from Roos.
That’s not the only reason I’m deadly still. I’m also frozen in place because I want to watch. As jealous as I am, I’m also intrigued. I feel ravenously greedy, in fact, in how I want to know what’s going to happen next. I daren’t blink and miss anything about the scene playing out in front of me.
Not that it’s much of a performance. It’s pretty clear this is Mari’s first time up on a stage in a venue like this.
They keep staring directly into the stage lights and blinking blindly, adorably using the paddle at one point to hide their eyes.
And they’re talking quietly, not matching Mother Maria’s stage voice or the way Roos dutifully raised her volume so we could hear her words of consent and her yelps of that heady mix of pain and pleasure once the strikes began.
The lack of explanation from the stage and the hesitancy with which Mari moves – still stroking Roos’ backside, although even I can see Roos is restless and desperate for more – has the audience chattering amongst themselves.
I look at Mother Maria, imploring her to take control with a beady stare that she is, of course, oblivious to. It’s like Mari needs to be told what to do just as much as Roos does.
I could do that, I think. I could tell Mari exactly what to do next. I could help them see to Roos’ needs while also seeing to their own.
It’s an uninvited and unwelcome line of thought, and yet it sticks, like a fleck of unwanted oil paint on an otherwise perfectly painted canvas. I grip my glass tighter, again fearing that if I move any other part of my body, my impulses will propel me onto the stage.
Finally, Mari seems to realise they need to take action.
Roos has been in this position for an uncomfortably long time, and I know Mother Maria is very aware of how each minute takes us closer to it being a dangerously long time.
I wonder if she says something to Mari to prompt them to step back and lift their hand holding the paddle.
They say something I don’t catch, although my ears strain to hear it. I want to know what they’re saying. What they’re thinking. What they’re feeling.
I shouldn’t, but I do.
Their first strike is awkward, clumsy. It’s like they decide to slow down right at the last minute, and it hits Roos a little higher than any kinkster would say is advisable. Roos trembles. Mother Maria winces. Somebody in the audience gasps. And Mari curses.
“Fuck,” they spit, loud enough for everyone to hear.
I ball my free hand into a fist. I have never felt more torn in my life. Split right down the middle between wanting to charge up there and take control and wanting to stay where I am transfixed on whatever happens next.
Mother Maria talks to Roos, and then Mari. Her words are inaudible, but her tone is clipped, curt.
Mari nods and lifts their hand again. The lean muscles in Roos’ back tense.
The most beautiful little pout appears on Mari’s face.
A carbon copy of the one I kissed away when I took their lips with mine in my studio.
I find myself reliving the kiss, their sweet taste, their reluctantly eager tongue.
Their second swipe is perfectly executed.
Right in the middle of Roos’ already red right butt cheek.
Mari smiles for half a second before moving so they can do the same to the left side.
And so it goes on. After a few strokes, they stop alternating, which has Roos throwing her head back in surprise when she gets two consecutive hits in the same place.
Only occasionally do they step closer to caress the flesh they’ve hit, and each time, I hear Roos moan in a way that has my cunt swelling.
I itch to plunge my fingers into my underwear.
I am desperate to fuck. Roos. Mari. My hand. Anybody. Anything.
But still, I don’t move. I am a statue on the outside, and a riot of colours and shapes and senses and feelings inside.
“Ten more, baby girl,” Mari says, loud enough for everyone to hear. I feel something I shouldn’t when they then follow this by biting Roos’ hip.
Pride. I’m so proud of Mari for taking up space in this way. I’m so proud of the way they grin at Roos and kiss her before saying, “And you’re going to count each one.”
Roos’ face is flushed. Her cheeks pink, and a glimmer of perspiration coats her skin. She looks good enough to eat.
“Yes, Mari.”
“Mx Mari,” they correct her.
“Yes, Mx Mari,” Roos says immediately and obediently.
I realise then what I’m witnessing. This is a key moment in Mari’s journey with kink.
I don’t know what has happened between the last time we played together ten years ago and this moment in time, but I sense that this is the first time Mari has owned who they are.
Maybe they’ve always stuck to being submissive, like they were for me back when we were clueless teenagers making it up as we went along.
Or maybe they have dabbled with being Dominant, but it’s only today that they’ve done so in public.
I wonder what it would be like to have Mari dominate me and Roos together. Could they do it? Could I?
I let myself have that fantasy for three seconds, and then I shut it down. Not only because I want to focus on watching Mari give their all to these last ten strikes.
Brave Roos counts down the lashes dutifully, the strain and the pain more and more evident with each shout. Mari pauses at five, and there’s a quick, mumbled exchange between them and Roos. It ends with Roos calling out, “Yes, please, Mx Mari, more.”
Mari resumes their position, and I hold my breath.
Roos is not the only one shaking as they deliver another hard thwack to Roos’ backside.
Each time they lift their hand, I study the slight tremble in their grip.
I am possessed by the curve of their shoulder each time their arm is raised.
I could paint a thousand paintings of the determined set to Mari’s mouth, jaw, and stare.
It’s impossible to say who I want more. Innocent, beaten, and used Roos, or determined, empowered, and emboldened Mari.
What I do know is that I can’t have either of them, and not just because I know they don’t want me.
“Two!” Roos gasps out, her voice fragile and beautiful.
Mari pulls their hand back higher than before. They use their whole body to make their arm swing. The crack of the paddle against Roos’ thigh reverberates around the room, the only sound in this vast space.
“One,” Roos says, and she’s crying now.
And oh, how sweet her tears will taste. How much I want to lick up each one. How much I want to bite them off her soft cheeks. How much I want to use them as lube to get myself off.
But I stay where I am. That is until Mother Maria and Mx Mari have Roos’ cuffs undone, and they help her out of position.
Roos immediately falls to the floor and that’s the moment when I move.
I dart forward as if to run to her, but I stop myself before I’ve made any distance because Mari is there, pulling her into their arms and cradling her.
They stroke the hair away from Roos’ face, and they kiss the top of her head.
They are saying words I can’t hear into Roos’ ear, but I know they’re soothing, I know they’re helping because Roos turns to look up at Mari, and she gives them the very same look she used to give me.
Big, cloudy sky eyes. Quivering bottom lip. A pleading frown.
She is falling in love with Mari. Or at the very least, she wants to be fucked by her.
And that I do not want to witness.
I am no stranger to self-inflicted pain, but I will not put myself through that.
I drain my glass, slam it back onto the bar behind me, and then march out of the room.
The soft light in the corridor outside is more of a shock than it should be, and I find myself blinking furiously as I head to the stairs and descend them quickly.
It’s almost like I’m trying to stop myself from crying.
I ignore Nadia, who is talking on the phone but tries to catch my eye.
It’s not as easy to slip past Joel, who is exactly where he was when I walked in, standing in the very front lobby.
“Well, that was quick,” he says, not exactly giving me space to walk past.
I don’t have a problem with Joel, but he definitely has a problem with me. I get it. His loyalty is with Roos, who he’s known a lot longer than he’s known me. It’s only because of Roos that he knows me, but we have always gotten along. Or we used to.
“Not really my thing tonight,” I explain, knowing that the chances of him reporting our conversation back to Roos and Mari are high.
He snorts. “Is that right?”
“Do you give all the members such a grilling on their way out?” I tilt my head to the side. I can play his game if he wants.
“Only the ones who treat my friends like shit.” His voice is low.
“Jesus, someone else who thinks Roos can’t stand up for herself. You do know she’s a grown woman, right? She doesn’t need people fighting her battles for her.”
Joel’s expression turns sly. “So you agree you’re a problem for her?”
I swallow down a hot ball of defiance. “Look, I’m on my way out so, you know, just let me leave.”
“I shouldn’t have let you in in the first place.”
It’s my turn to give him a smug look. “Well, that wouldn’t be keeping with the QISS ethos now, would it?”
Joel’s shoulders expand as he sucks in a breath. “If it were up to me, you’d be banned already.”
“Well, it’s not up to you.” A thought crosses my mind. “In fact, it’s my understanding the only way I’d be banned is if Roos asked you to officially request it. Which means…” I pause for effect because sometimes, I am that cunty. “She hasn’t requested it.”
“Doesn’t mean she wants you around her.” Joel steps closer to me, and I take full advantage of his momentum by slipping past him.
“So everyone keeps telling me.” I pull the door open but don’t walk out. I turn back to Joel. “Everyone except Roos. See you around, Joel.”
I rush out and let the door slam behind me. As I walk out into the night, I’m surprised to realise I have a smile on my face.