Mercy

She smiled at me though, kindly and sweetly. I took my cues from her even though we didn’t talk. We were submissive sisters, that was the feeling I got from her, and I had a strong sense that later we’d be beaten side by side.

Matthew and the other men ordered dinner, and as I expected, Matthew ordered on my behalf. Over the course of time I gathered the men’s names were Byron and Frank. I was shocked, however, to hear them refer to the woman as Slave. That was all they called her the entire time we dined, and I was terrified that Matthew would begin to do the same to me. I realized that I couldn’t bear the loss of my name. But no, he referred to me many times as Lucy over the course of their conversations about me.

And yes, for the most part, that’s what the men did, they discussed the sexual lives of their slaves. As in, the sexual life of me and “Slave” who was next to me, while we sat with our heads down and picked at the food on our plates. I didn’t eat much although the food was delicious, but I listened, and wow, the things I learned. I remembered when Matthew had scoffed, “I’m ridiculously soft on you!” and by the end of dinner, I realized he had been, as Byron and Frank discussed their relationship with Slave.

Slave was apparently “full time,” she didn’t work or have her own domicile. She lived with Byron and Frank, who shared her every night. If one was tired or busy, the other one used her alone. They did a lot of the same things Matthew and I did, and then quite a bit more.

Slave wore a thick black padlocked collar, which she was ordered to display to Matthew from beneath the high neckline of her dress. Apparently she was also pierced and branded. I tried to keep the emotion out of my face, the way I felt about their arrangement, about the things she let them do to her. And of course, I wondered what exactly had been Matthew’s point in this little meeting. Maybe these were things he wanted to do to me.

Did he want to take things further between us? Was he unhappy, or bored? Did he want me to be more like Slave? Did he just want one night of watching me worked over by Byron and Frank? Because I knew that was what was in store for me. I could tell by the lingering looks they gave me. I saw in their eyes the promise of pain to come. I was so scared. I wanted to take Matthew’s hand and beg him, please don’t make me. I’m not that good.

But I didn’t do that. I stayed silent, because a part of me was curious too. A part of me was horny and reckless, and wanted to see if I could endure just one night of Slave’s hell. I was pretty sure that Matthew would protect me from anything that broke his promises to me. He wouldn’t let me get scars, or bleed, or get injured. He wouldn’t let any of these men inside me without a sheath. So aside from that, what could I not bear?

I met Matthew’s eyes from time to time, even though Slave kept hers down the entire time.

Yes, I’m allowed to look at my dominant. Aren’t I a mess? I met his eyes mostly to assuage my panic, to reassure myself that I was his and not Frank and Byron’s, who seemed to regard their submissive as nothing much more than a dog.

Soon after we met, he had told me emphatically, I’ll never put you in a collar. I’ll never treat you like a dog. I don’t like to have sex with animals. But Slave, apparently, ate off the floor.

Slave was collared around the clock. She was walked sometimes on a leash in the garden in the walled backyard. She pissed and shat out in the yard too, and sometimes, her masters pissed and shat on her. Slave was punished in a dungeon. Slave competed in pony races and exhibitions.

Slave didn’t even have a bedroom. Slave slept on the floor next to one of her masters’ beds.

I can’t say myself what drove Slave to do this, even being submissive as I was. I wondered how long she had lived a life like this, how much longer she would keep at it, and what the adjustment would be like when she re-entered the world. The idea of what she had done completely terrified me…to give up everything, every inkling of dignity and will. My eyes strayed to her again and again. When she met my eyes, hauntingly, there was intelligence and irony there.

I suppose it’s possible that it was all an act, that Byron and Frank bragged about things that weren’t true. Matthew didn’t brag a great amount about me, just spoke of my lithe dancer’s body, of how my muscles strained under his hands. He spoke of the way I lost myself, the way I came continuously and uncontrollably for him like a mindless slut. He spoke of the way I loved to be doubly penetrated, and the way I had never yet used our safe word, even when an outsider had beaten me and drawn blood.

He said that word, outsider, with an air of repugnance. I think he reminded his friends too, in a subtle way, that they were not to draw my blood. He was unapologetic for his “softness” towards me.

“I like to see her dance,” he explained. “I won’t take her away from that.” Byron and Frank nodded, although I knew they scorned his kindness. “Of course,” said Byron, “that’s a choice you’re free to make.”

After dinner, we went to the car. We were going to Frank and Byron’s house, to use the dungeon there. I sat beside Matthew half in shock, and he knew I had to ask the questions in my mind.

“Okay, you have until we get there. Ask your questions, whatever you want.” They poured out in a rush.

“How long have you known them? Have you done this before?”

“I’ve known them for years, Lucy, and I’ve played with them many times. It’s perfectly safe.”

“You’ve slept with her? Slave?” I felt unreasonably jealous.

“I’ve fucked her, yes,” he said. “And I will tonight.”

“They’ll have sex with me?”

“Yes. They’ll wear condoms every time.” He looked over at me with a faint frown. “Of course, you trust me to keep you safe.”

“Yes, I do...” I said, and I truly did.

“But you’re scared.”

“Yes.” I looked back at him, troubled. “Do you want me to be like her?”

“No, not really. But I do think you could learn some things from her. She’s been doing this for years.”

“She’s prettier than me,” I said mournfully.

“No, just different. If I thought she was more beautiful than you, she would be mine now, instead of you.”

“What do you want me to learn from this exactly?”

He didn’t answer right away. “I would like you to see how somebody else asserts dominance, and how it compares to the way that I dominate you.”

“Why? So you’ll look better? You want me to realize that you’re soft on me? I know that already. We don’t have to go through all this just to show me that.”

“No, it’s not that at all. What I want you to learn is if what I’m doing for you is enough. If it’s all you want.” Oh God, he thinks I’m not happy. He thinks he’s not enough for me. It boggled my brain. “I guess all I want from tonight, Lucy, is to show you that what we have is only part of what’s available to you. I don’t want you to be mad at me later that I never showed you.” I looked out the window crossly. Did he think I was that naive? “I read The Story of O, and Carrie’s Story too.”

“Even so, Lucy Merritt, you’re my submissive. If I want to educate you further, you’re obliged to obey.”

“I know I am, Matthew Norris,” I answered, and that earned me an excruciating pinch on the inside of my leg.

* * *

When we arrived in Byron and Frank’s “dungeon,” I really had to try hard not to laugh. It was such the epitome of an actual sex dungeon, it was really almost too over the top. It made Matthew’s stark, neutral basement room and armoire of toys look like a honeymoon suite. Slave was already naked and on her knees, with huge weights hanging down from her pierced nipples and her hands bound to a chain over her head.