Currency in Flesh

Chapter 16

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

B elatedly, I realized Her Highness had ceased her assault. I couldn’t turn my head far enough to see her, and I was still too fuzzy to say anything useful, so I let my head tip to the side to rest on my shoulder, closing my eyes.

“Look at me, Grace,” I heard her whisper just beside my ear. I could feel the heat of her breath on my skin and I sank into it. The urge to curl up in this warm safety was too much to ignore, and for the first time, I willingly disobeyed her. I just couldn’t do it.

Her fingers smacked my cheek gently. “Still with me, daffodil?”

I hummed a reply that came out as Mhmmmmm , and pried my heavy eyelids apart. She stood on the other side of the device, peering through the center crossbeams. A faint sheen of sweat made her flawless face look dewy in the ambient candlelight.

“How are you feeling right now?” she asked.

My lashes fluttered as I struggled to maintain her gaze. “Good, Your Highness?” I answered, voice thready.

“Lady Cora, please,” she murmured. “I am going to release your ankles and then your wrists. Will you be able to stand on your own?”

I nodded. “I think so.”

She knelt, and I felt the cuffs loosen and unclasp. My eyes had closed again when she began to undo my wrists, and I sagged against the wood, my fingers curling around the beams but barely keeping me upright. A gentle hand unlatched the collar at my throat, and slid to my back, guiding me away from the cross. I was leaning on her more than I wanted to, but I felt almost drunk and I needed the help. She didn’t chastise me, if anything, she pulled me closer.

A twin to the chair in my room sat a few paces away and she helped ease me into it. I hissed in pain as my ass met the smooth velvet, but the relief of no longer supporting my own weight overtook the flash of pain. I melted into the seat, a puddle of a woman with buzzing skin and a head full of cotton. Lady Cora lowered herself beside me carefully, her lithe, cool fingers settling onto my bare leg.

“What you are experiencing right now is something many refer to as ‘subspace.’ It is not an abnormal reaction to restraint and physical punishment, and is a result of the many chemicals your brain released during that time.” Her hand traced soft circles over the skin of my thigh, and I focused on the repetitive motion as I attempted to regain some coherency.

Ice took hold of my bones, and all the comfortable warmth I had been basking in vanished, leaving me shaking uncontrollably. In an instant, a plush blanket wrapped around my bare body, and I felt the weight of Lady Cora’s arms. “It may happen every time, it may never happen again, but the after-effects can be hard at the beginning. Think of it as a strong endorphin crash. Here.” I smelled something sweet and spicy and cracked my eyes just open enough to see the mug she held to my lips. I reached for it with quivering hands, and her fingers wrapped around mine to keep them steady as I sipped some kind of tea.

A chocolate chip cookie was next, warm enough to leave streaks of melted chocolate on Lady Cora’s perfectly manicured nails, and flecked with just the right amount of flaky salt. I continued to nibble and sip until my shivering had ceased and I was able to sit up and think clearly. Pulling the blanket tightly around my shoulders, I raised my eyes to hers. Had I not known her, I’d have thought the tight lines at the corners of her lips to be concern. I didn’t know what they meant. “Did I do something wrong?” I asked, worry wriggling its way into my thoughts.

She softened, lifting her palm to cup my cheek. “No, pet. You did beautifully.”

“I thought—” I tried to swallow the sob, but failed. Once, twice, I tried to speak but only embarrassing blubbering sounds filled the air. Her thumb slid over my cheekbone and I took a deep breath, beginning again. “I-I thought I was supposed to be punished. Why are you tak-taking care of me?”

“Because you require care,” she answered. “A consequence is not always abuse, marigold. You were not being punished, you were being trained.”

“I don’t understand.”

She leaned forward and drew my face to hers. “I know, pet. I know.”

When she brought her lips to mine, the contact was feather-light, gentle. I opened to her, lifting my chin to chase the contact, longing for the comfort of her. She met my need with passion of her own, but it didn’t carry the searing desperation I expected. It was intimate, gentle. She kissed me like?—

No, she kissed me like she wanted me to feel safe. And I did. I tasted salt and knew I had begun to cry again, but she kissed me back anyway. My heart hammered behind my ribs, what if my nose got drippy and I got snot on her? What if I tried to sniff or wipe my face and made a gross sound or accidentally knocked her face with my hand? I started to pull away, but she held tight. “Everything is all right, pet,” she whispered against my mouth.

“B-but I’m snotty and gross—” I sniffed as though to illustrate my point, and felt her lips curl in a smile.

“Darling, there is not a single thing about you I find to be unappealing. Even your snotty nose.”

I let out a nervous giggle, and her tongue flicked over my upper lip, tasting my tears and god knows what else. “I’m sorry,” I said.

She pulled back far enough to see my face clearly. “Why are you apologizing? For crying? For the very normal reaction of your mind and body to a completely new experience? For feeling the emotions you have kept trapped for so long you had forgotten what they looked like?”

“Well,” I began, wiping my face with the back of my hand. “When you put it that way, it sounds stupid.”

“I am glad you have released some of what fills that pit deep within your soul, Grace. Do not apologize in an effort to minimize my perception of you. You have done enough of that for lifetimes upon lifetimes.”

Another errant tear slipped from my eye and she brushed it away before it could roll down my cheek. I thought her eyes glowed a little brighter than usual, and when she took my hand and stood, I followed. “Now turn around,” she instructed. “Let me heal that lovely ass of yours.”

I hesitated, trying to articulate my thoughts. “Is it okay if I say no?” I asked. “I’d like… I’d like to feel the pain. To remind me.”

She dropped my hand, looking away, and I wondered if I had displeased her. But before I could say anything else, she had squared her shoulders and turned back to me. “Of course,” she said in a tone I couldn’t interpret. “As you wish. ”

Lady Cora walked with me to my room, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead before opening the door with a flick of her hand. Part of me wanted to ask her to come in, to spend more time in the confusing comfort of her presence. But I also knew I needed real, restful sleep—and maybe a long cry.

A shower had appeared inexplicably in my room, and I wondered if she had seen my dream after all. However, this room looked nothing like the impersonal luxury of the bathroom in my memories. It was as though she had designed it to be the opposite—milky white marble tile with glittering black grout, a huge rainfall showerhead that covered most of the ceiling, a thick, black rug which felt impossibly soft beneath my bare feet.

I slid the blanket from my shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. There were no shower doors, only a slightly angled floor leading to a nearly invisible drain. I turned on the water, watching as steam curled all around, making the air heavy and scented like eucalyptus and pine. I don’t know how long I stood beneath the hot water, but by the time I had turned it off and located the largest towel I had ever seen, my skin was a bright flamingo pink.

Turning, I looked down at my ass. Both dimpled cheeks were mottled with red and pale purple bruising. I knew within a day or two it would turn an ugly, swampy yellow-green. There were a few spots which bore thin lines of broken skin—would they scar? I was sore, but in a way that felt oddly empowering. It was undeniable, visual evidence that I had survived. Sure, she had not intended to truly hurt me, or she would have. But regardless, even my constantly self-deprecating mind couldn’t deny I had come out of an experience that would have broken me a year ago with unexpected confidence. Had that been her goal? She seemed very familiar with ‘subspace;’ was it something she had engaged in with others?

Jealousy was a sour taste in the back of my throat, and I swallowed it down. Lady Cora had existed for an unknowable stretch of time, it would be absolute idiocy to be jealous of those who came before me. Even that thought was stupid. I was her pet, a passing fancy, maybe a project she had taken on to provide her with some sense of gratification. I was probably nothing more than the equivalent of embroidery—a needle had no right to be envious of threads it never stitched.

I snuggled into bed still nude, enjoying the feeling of silk on my aching muscles and tender skin. I tried to sleep, letting my head sink into the soft embrace of fluffy down, but I tossed and turned, nervous at what my dreams might bring. After a few minutes, I sat up.

“Lady Cora?” I spoke into the still and quiet of my empty room. There was no response, and I ran my hands through my damp hair. Of course, she wasn’t sitting up monitoring all sounds in the Underworld in case I called. Jesus, Grace.

Lady Cora, actually. The words sounded as though someone had spoken aloud, but I knew they had only been in my head. Was I going crazy now, too?

No, blossom. I could sense your unease. Are you well?

“I just…” I was talking to the fucking air. Fuck, if this was all in my mind… I continued, “I just wanted to sleep without dreaming. I know you can show me things, can you also take them away?”

Lie down and close your eyes, she said. I will ensure your sleep holds nothing but rest.

I fell back onto the pile of pillows, pulling the comforter up under my chin. The butt cheek that pressed against the mattress was a little sore, but I was still so comfortable. “Thank you,” I whispered against the silk. If she replied, I didn’t hear.