Page 76 of For Her Own Good

Could I be a little less of a disaster at some point? Pretty please? Although Jade can’t be surprised by how overwrought I am, this is par for the course. And Lowry… Well, he likely remembers this kind of tantrum from the ones I would throw on occasion because it wasn’t fucking fair. It’s still not.

But I’ve come a long way since then, found people who can service my needs, including Jade who is as good as a mind reader sometimes. That’s what really good dominants seem like sometimes. Even though they don’t really read minds. They pay attention and observe to an extent that’s mind-boggling to most people, myself included.

Jade’s voice, soft but clear, thankfully cuts through my confusion. “Go to him, it’s fine. You’re not going to hurt my feelings.”

Permission given, I crawl into Lowry’s lap in a wildly undignified way and fling my arms around his neck, burying my face in the crook between his neck and shoulder. A space that feels like it was made for me, and that allows me to inhale him.

There’s the scent of sweat and I can’t tell if it’s from now or if it’s soaked into his shirt collar from past wears. It doesn’t matter. It makes him more human. He smells like warmth and the faint tang of arousal and also the aftershave or cologne that used to make me go weak in the knees. It still does. And whether that’s from memories or the present, does it really matter? I’m going to go ahead and say no. Because the fact is that at this very moment, I’ve never felt safer, more contained. My feelings aren’t too big for Lowry, they don’t scare him. The only time I’ve ever scared him was when I told him I was thinking about hurting myself, taking my own life, and frankly that seems fair. And still he kept it from me so I wouldn’t hide it from him in the future.

In the present, his solid arms are wrapped tight around me, as though I’m the life raft he’s clinging to instead of the other way around. But no—there’s a quality to his embrace that there isn’t in mine. Mine is desperate, wild, clutching. His is confident, strong, comforting.

Especially when he begins to croon in my ear.

The very sound of it makes me pause. Pause is maybe too strong of a word because I’m still sobbing uncontrollably. But control seems like a possibility now. Perhaps out of my reach at the moment, but a thing I have a chance in hell of attaining.

“Starla, love. Shh. You’re going to be okay.”

“It hurt.”

“Oh, I know. You’re a marvel, being able to take that. Really, flat-out incredible. I couldn’t believe it. Still can’t. You’re so strong.”

The wonder in his voice can’t be faked, and even as I relive that panicked moment between the penultimate and ultimate strikes, pride laps at me, soothing the sting of the pain and the panic.

“Still?”

Has seeing me like this changed his mind? Does he think now that he’s overestimated my capabilities? Was he impressed before and now that I’m bawling in his lap like a child who’s skinned their knee, will he reevaluate and determine I’ve actually been exaggerating every damn thing I’ve come crying to him about?

“More than ever. You’re my Star. You light the place up. You’re so brave and I could never… Can you breathe for me, darling? Please? Nice and slow. You’re not going to fall if you pass out because I’ve got you and I’m not letting you go for anything, but I know you can do it. If you can take a beating like that, a few inhales and exhales ought to be cake.”

It’s not the same, but I try to do as he’s asked and it’s made easier by homing in on his own respiration. Which he’s maybe exaggerating for me to follow as his hand circles my back, but I don’t care if he’s pandering to me. That’s what I do this for: to earn the spoiling and the coddling. I’ll take it as I concentrate on the way the air moves in and out of my lungs. Slower, slower until we’re nearly synched.

And because I can, I lick at the skin of his neck above his collar, lick and nibble and suck because it’s a comfort and I like the taste of him on my tongue. He might have a bruise where I’m working my mouth over his flesh, but he doesn’t complain, doesn’t try to stop me. Just lets me comfort myself by soaking in the shelter of his body.

* * *

Lowry

Starla’s mouth is still open on my neck, her tongue occasionally stroking the light stubble there in a way that’s making my pants incredibly uncomfortable. She makes these small noises as she nuzzles at me and her fingers are tangled in the cotton of my shirt. Sweet little Starla, who can take a beating that would make men twice her size cry.

I’ve been talking to her, telling her how incredible she is, how impressed with her I am, but she doesn’t seem to be listening anymore. If anything, she seems as though she’s on the verge of consciousness, slipping down to sleep.

Jade gets up from the chaise and brings over a fluffy blanket, a pastel pink and purple thing that looks starkly out of place amongst the dark elegance of our surroundings. She shrugs at my questioning look. “It’s her favorite.”

I’m glad Starla is sharing this with me, and I try to tamp down the envy I have for Jade—that she has been able to gather up these pieces of Starla, learn her innermost secret cravings, desires, and preferences. I want to know those things. I want to be able to hand them to Starla without her having to ask. I’d love it if she would and I wouldn’t refuse her, but it’s also hard to ask.

“You might want to scoot back,” Jade offers with a lift of her chin. “She gets heavy.”

Yes, that’s a good idea since Starla is already weighing on me, and I don’t think she’s hit that deadweight stage of sleep yet. Her noises have drifted off into nothingness and her head has slipped down to be cradled in my shoulder instead of having her mouth at my neck. Probably a good thing because I might’ve died of one of those three-hour erections those ED ads are always on about.

Trying not to wake her, I shift so my back’s against the high side of the chaise and my arm that’s behind her is supported. I don’t mind a bit of strain but I also don’t want to have to wake her up because my arm’s gone dead. When I’m settled, Jade drapes the blanket over Starla and tucks it in around her. She’s obviously very fond of Starla, and I can’t blame her at all.

“How long are you going to hold her for?” Jade asks as she sits at the opposite end of the chaise and slips off her shoes, revealing perfectly polished burgundy toenails.

I shrug as well as I can with the shoulder that’s not occupied by a snoozing Starla. “As long as it takes, I suppose, unless you have plans and need us out.”

Jade studies me and I try to maintain my composure under her scrutiny but it’s not easy because I feel as though her gaze is penetrating me, reaching into my brain to extract information.

“She’s not as tough as she seems, you know. I mean, the woman can take a hell of a spanking and other kinds of torments besides, but she’s…” Jade purses her lips and her gaze flickers to Starla, loyalty and fondness there. “But I suppose you think you know that already.”

---