Matilda awoke with a groan, her body aching, her back raw as she stretched tender muscle.
Sitting up, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, the room around her coming back into focus. Dim, electric candles on the dresser kept the light in the room soft. The sheets covering her felt soft; smooth against her bare legs and hips, fabric cool against her skin. It was soothing, a sharp contrast to the burning ache radiating through her back.
She looked down at her wrists. The dimples in her skin where she'd been shackled in place were faint now, but still noticeable.
It was with that, that she took stock of the night before. She could see the cross out of the corner of her eye; the mere sight of it made her shiver, realizing how she'd been bound to it and beaten until her muscle and bone quivered, seemingly liquefied beneath her skin into something semi-solid and unstable. Reaching behind herself with one hand, she ran her fingertips over the welts in her skin, feeling them burn ever so slightly beneath her touch. A light gasp, a flutter of air, spilled over her lips at the contact.
Cracks and fissures, she thought to herself. The process of breaking her down had begun, just as Jocelyn had promised her.
Calculating every movement with respect to her aching body, she pushed back the bed sheets, turning herself until her feet met the bedroom floor. It was then that she noticed the silk robe hanging on a hook beside the door into the living space. Hopefully, she thought, it wouldn't be too strange to wear that and nothing else upon exiting the room.
A quiet laugh. Strange, compared to what, exactly? She crossed the room, wrapping herself in the robe, tying the sash around her waist with a firm knot over her belly. The material felt gentle, soothing, against her back. A blessed relief, she thought to herself.
She opened the door.
Jocelyn was seated on the couch, dressed in loose, black pants and a white tank top. Her hands cradled a coffee mug, a thin line of steam rising from it as she sipped on its contents. Her eyes shifted from her drink to Matilda, though, as soon as Matilda stepped through the doorway.
"Good morning," Jocelyn said, setting her drink down on the table in front of her. "I hope you slept well."
Matilda blinked, not knowing how to answer at first. She had slept well, as it turned out, for what felt like the first time in ages. Her head didn't feel cloudy; her body didn't crave caffeine as immediately as she was used to.
"I think so," Matilda answered. She turned to the windows looking out on the Crossroads cityscape. "What time is it?
"Ten in the morning. You're a heavy sleeper," Jocelyn said, grinning. "Though I suppose that's to be expected after your first scene."
Ten in the morning. Matilda blinked, then felt her heart accelerate. "Jocelyn, the brunch meeting! I'm supposed to be there in an hour and..."
"No need to worry. I canceled things late last night, after I helped you lay down." Jocelyn leaned back into the couch cushions, crossing her legs together, one knee over the other. "I informed the parties involved that you were sick from overworking yourself. They got back to me earlier this morning and agreed to move the meeting out a few weeks. The restaurant reservation has also been rescheduled. Very tied up and taken care of."
Matilda exhaled the breath she'd been holding onto. "You really are prepared for everything."
"That's my job, is it not? Now," Jocelyn said, gesturing with an upturned palm, "come over here. And take the robe off for a moment."
Blushing, Matilda nonetheless approached, loosening the belt on her only garment. Rolling her shoulders, she slipped out of it, draping the fabric over one forearm.
"Turn your back to me."
Again, Matilda complied. A gasp poured forth from her mouth as Jocelyn's fingers met her battered skin, fingertips and nails playing over the cuts and welts streaking across her back. She sank her teeth down into her lower lip with careful pressure, trying not to move as she was touched.
"I did some very nice work on you, last night," Jocelyn said. Matilda could hear the pride and contentment in her voice. Like an artist, she thought, admiring a finished piece. "This will all bruise nicely. You'll ache for a day or two, but after that, it should subside. The marks will take a few weeks to fully heal, however."
Matilda blinked. "Weeks?"
Jocelyn laughed, a light and playful sound. "I went pretty hard on you. Go in the bathroom and have a look, if you want to see for yourself. Feeling things is one matter; actually seeing the damage done is something else entirely, and I think you deserve to see what I did with you."
Looking at the robe for a moment, unsure of what to do with it, Matilda settled on laying it onto the couch next to Jocelyn. It felt strange to walk through her condo completely naked. She would never dare do this elsewhere, not even in her own home. Somehow, though, she didn't feel as guilty about it here as she would anywhere else.
She entered the bathroom, switching the lights on, and turning her back to the mirror sitting over the sink and vanity counter. A sharp gasp escaped her; Jocelyn was more than right. It was one thing to feel every little mark that had been left on her body. It was something else to see the bright red lines and rose-colored splotches arrayed across her back. It was shocking - in fact, exhilarating - to see the bruises blooming over her skin, from her shoulders down to her bottom.
She barely noticed Jocelyn entering the bathroom next to her, arms crossed as her eyes scanned the reflection in the mirror. "What do you think," asked Jocelyn, her smile from before only growing wider as she took in her handiwork in detail.
"It's incredible, honestly." Matilda blushed, unable to bring herself to turn back around. The sight of her battered back was a humbling sight to drink in. "I didn't think I could handle all of that."
"Honestly, I wasn't sure at first if you could, either."
It was then that Matilda turned around, her gaze meeting Jocelyn's. "You didn't?"
"I wasn't completely sure, no. You seemed a little hesitant before we started." Jocelyn stepped closer; Matilda noticed then that she was carrying the robe she had taken off earlier. Jocelyn draped the garment back onto Matilda's shoulders. "I was fully prepared for you to call the safe word once I started to go harder. But you handled it. I'm quite proud of you, honestly."
Proud. Matilda blushed. Had anyone ever been proud of her before? "T-thank you."
"You're very welcome. But this is only the beginning. If you're ready to continue discussing matters, we'll go back into the living room."
Matilda blinked. "What is there to discuss?"
"Our relationship, going forward. But first, coffee. I imagine you might like a cup."
~
The coffee was perfect, Matilda thought as she curled up on the opposite end of the couch from Jocelyn. Rich and dark, with just a splash of cream and a hint of sugar. It was much darker than what she normally drank, and far sharper in taste, but it seemed perfect in light of the previous nights rush of sensation and feeling. Smooth and strong. Much like Jocelyn, she found herself thinking.
It felt strange to sit on this other woman's couch, she mused, wearing nothing but a loosely tied bathrobe. It felt comfortable, however; relaxed, compared to the rush she often found herself in, pinging from home, to work, and back again. It was as though someone had turned up the volume of her life the previous night, drowning out the white noise that constantly filled her head, and now that it had subsided in intensity she was left with a soothing quiet.
"I hope you don't mind how strong the coffee is," Jocelyn said. "I drink mine fairly strong."
"No, it's fine." Matilda smiled, letting the warmth of her drink flow through the ceramic walls of the mug and into her fingertips. "I think I like it this way."
Jocelyn nodded, took a last sip of her drink, and set the empty mug down. "So, how are we feeling after last night?"
"Physically, or mentally?"
"Both, of course."
Matilda bowed her head, looking down into her drink. What did she feel, anyway? "Physically, I ache all over. But you said that was normal, so I don't feel too strange about it. I'm just... not used to something so vivid."
"I would imagine. That was probably more intense than anything you've ever experienced."
