The Siren

“If pain is a sign of love,” Zach said as Søren hung the whip on the wall once more, “then I must love a great deal.” He thought of Grace now, wondered what she would say if she knew where he was, what he was doing.

Søren’s eyes found his and the look he gave Zach was one of the most profound compassion.

“I am certain that you do.”

Zach held the priest’s gaze as long as he could, but the moment grew too intimate and Zach turned away. A good priest, Griffin had called Søren. He was certainly adept at inspiring confessions.

A mural adorned the fourth wall of the room. Zach picked up the oil lamp and threw light against the familiar monster on the wall.

“The lesson of the Jabberwocky,” Zach said, studying its line and angles. Søren came to stand at his side. “I saw a book at Nora’s. The Jabberwocky. You, I presume it was you, wrote, ‘Never forget the lesson of the Jabberwocky’ inside it. But it’s a nonsense poem. It has no lesson.”

“But it does,” Søren countered. “A handsome prince fights a terrible, beautiful dragon and slays him then carries the head home strapped to his saddle. The lesson is obvious. When one is a monster, one does well to beware knights in shining armor. A good lesson for Eleanor.”

Zach heard the meaning behind Søren’s words. “Nora is not a monster. She’s not perfect obviously. But she’s a good person, and to call her a monster is ridiculous.”

“You know her that well, do you?” Søren asked, turning to face him full-on. “Before tonight she scared you, didn’t she? Her fearlessness, her brazenness, I’m sure it’s terrifying at first. Foreign to those who lead the proverbial life of quiet desperation as I imagine you do. She scared you with the sheer force of her life and being. But now you look around and think her courage is merely a byproduct of her damage. You imagine I abused her, changed her. And you would save her, as Wesley imagines he can? You would be her knight in shining armor? Yes, before you feared her and now you pity her. I assure you, Zachary, you were right the first time.”

* * *

This was her favorite part.

Nora ordered Michael to lie on his back in the middle of the bed. She pulled out from under the bed a silver spreader bar. She laid the bar, a length of rope and a pair of scissors on the bed next to Michael’s hip. She lit three candles and let them burn on the table next to the bed.

“Don’t be scared, angel,” she said. “You are completely safe here. You have your safe word. You can stop this at any time. You don’t have to do anything but lie there and take what I give you. Do you understand?”

Michael eyed the scissors warily. He took a deep breath.

“Yes, mistress. I understand.”

Nora took two snap hooks and locked Michael’s ankles to each end of the bar. She threaded rope through the buckle on his ankle cuffs, tied the cuff to the bedpost and neatly snipped off the excess rope. She came to the head of the bed and took each of Michael’s wrists in her hands. She spread him out like an X and tied him down. He could move neither his hands nor his feet. She bent and bit the soft skin above his wrist—a shiver passed through his body. His eyes looked to the ceiling and stared placidly at nothing. Nora knew that look, had worn it herself a thousand nights in Søren’s bed.

“Michael, stay with me.”

“I’m here.” His eyes focused again on her face. She knew how easy it was to disappear into the moment. But she wanted him to remember it, to be with her every step of the way.

“Good boy. How do you feel?”

Michael tugged on his bonds but not in a struggle. He seemed simply to take pleasure in their existence.

“Free,” he said and she knew exactly what he meant.

Nora slipped off the bed and unzipped her skirt and let it fall to the floor. She crawled back onto the bed and sat next to Michael’s hips. She ran her hands over his skin…smooth and cool to the touch. She caressed his face, stroked his arms and lingered along his inner thighs.

Finally, when it seemed he could wait no longer, she straddled his hips, took him in her hand and guided him inside her.

Michael arched underneath her as she wrapped herself around him. She watched as his eyes closed in shocked wonder and opened again darkened with knowledge. He gasped as she pushed and clenched her muscles tight around him. She bent over, dipping her mouth to his, his lips eager and artless and tasting of snow. She remembered the last kiss Søren gave her before he penetrated her the first time. Such pleasure coupled with such pain…the pain, like the flash of a camera, rendering the moment forever fixed in her mind. Michael would remember this moment, too. She would make sure of it.

She pushed against him again and let herself enjoy his body inside hers. Closing her eyes for a moment, she imagined someone else under her, inside her, someone with blond hair instead of black, someone with brown eyes instead of silver…Nora felt her climax start to build and she pushed it back and opened her eyes.

Rising up, she reached for the candle burning beside the bed. She brought it to her carefully, not letting any of the wax drop. Michael’s eyes followed the glowing wick as Nora held it over the center of his panting chest.

“And now how do you feel?” she asked, rocking her hips to evoke another gasp.

Michael turned his gaze from the candle to her face. He wore an expression of fearful trust, of trusting fear.

“Safe,” he said.