Thank you for all the views, favorites, and follows! We're both so touched by the amazing reviews the story has gotten.
It wasn't difficult to fit into Bonnie's routine so long as she was careful not to be in the way. Classes through the day were strictly professional and Professor Sugar was just as brisk and efficient in delivering her notes as always. Marceline was doing well enough in anatomy and there was never any room to suggest favoritism in the way she was graded. Sometimes a code word at the end of the lecture would act as a summons and she'd disappear for an hour or two when neither of them were busy; if anyone wondered why their usually friendly professor's office door was locked and blinds drawn they never asked. Finn did wonder a few times where his friend disappeared to over lunch but he had so much to do with football practice, being courted by professional NFL scouts and struggling through the academia that didn't come naturally to him that he wasn't left with much time to ponder the mystery of the missing Marceline. Nights were more often than not spent in a haze of pain-pleasure and the intoxicating bliss of submission. It almost came as a surprise to wake one morning shivering in Bonnie's arms and discover that there was snow on the ground outside. Where had the fall gone? Overnight the air was more than just crisp and cool; an evening breeze lacked even the smallest breath of warmth and the students darted from class to class with heads bowed against the merciless weather and subzero temperatures. Most of them, anyway.
"HEY MARCY! GO LONG!"
She looked around just in time to catch a face full of half frozen slush that almost passed for a snowball and despite the frigid air her core was instantly filled with a boiling rage. Marceline spat out a mouthful of slush and stalked forward in deadly fury.
Finn and his brother Jake were grinning at her from the middle of the quad and standing proudly besides a rapidly melting pile of almost-snowballs. The younger boy had another one raised in a gloved fist.
"Don't you dare!"
Marceline didn't manage to get her lips closed in time to avoid another mouthful of snow and she barreled forwards into Finn's stupid laughing face as Jake leaped back out of her way.
"You're an asshole, Finn Mertens! You're the world's biggest, hairiest, stupidest, grossest, shit-covered asshole!"
He skidded backwards on the damp grass and pulled her down too, half trapped when his his huge frame rolled across her side and breathless from the fall and reluctant laughter. She could see him gazing around and it didn't escape her attention that a calculating look had crossed his broad face. Out of the corner of her eye Marceline could see a large crowd of students watching them and one very familiar vividly red head in particular, hair so bright it almost flamed in the weak sunlight. Oh God, Phoebe was there and that meant Finn's brain has just gone even stupider. He was grinning at her in a sort of fixed way and leaning down and oh hell no, Finn was definitely going to cross a fucking line because his dumb ex was watching.
"Don't-"
He wasn't listening. Finn clumsily mushed his mouth against hers and Marcy cringed at the sensation of stubble rough lips and chin chafing against her skin. She was already sensitive from the cold and it was more like being unwillingly kissed by damp sandpaper than anything even remotely pleasant.
"Get off me, fag-balls!" Marceline snarled to a chorus of wolf whistles from the watching crowd as he broke contact. Urgh, her mouth was unpleasantly wet and she couldn't even find leverage to sucker punch him in the crotch although she desperately wanted to.
"Girls were looking!" he pleaded. "Cute girls, hot girls! And, like, Phoebe!"
"I don't fucking care! You don't just smooch someone without their consent! And especially not when you know they're a l-" Marcy checked herself at lightning speed and with some impressive quick thinking managed to avoid saying 'lesbian' and redirected her traitorous mouth to; "-l-less forgiving person than most of your other friends."
"Come on, Marce, you promised to help me get whichever girl I wanted to date!" Finn begged.
"Dude, get off her and let her up. You're gonna be late to calc and you're a doofus." Jake added with a frown. He was giving Marceline a shrewd look, like he'd caught the almost-word that had flown right over his younger brother's head. Finn reluctantly backed off and the crushing weight pinning Marceline's right side to the half frozen ground disappeared. She struggled to her feet with a scowl.
"Marcy, come on." he tried again.
"I'm gonna be late." she replied angrily, shouldering past him and limping away on a leg that had gone numb from the cold and the weight of a dumb boy sitting on her. Jake turned to berate his brother but Marceline was too far away to hear much of what he said. She was hurrying to her next music class through a whispering crowd of other juniors and having a completely internal panic about what she was going to say to Bonnie when the inevitable gossip reached the redhead.
...
Marceline didn't get chance to talk to Bonnie before the evening and even if she had she still wasn't completely certain what to say. Her sense of foreboding increased exponentially when she noticed a terse message on her phone as she walked home from evening classes.
Club, tonight 7pm. If you're late it'll be worse.
Part of Marceline was terrified and part was writhing in anticipation of whatever the evening's punishment would be. Because if Bonnie had planned on breaking up with her, or telling her they weren't playmates anymore or whatever the relationship even was since they'd never bothered to define it, she wouldn't do it at the fetish club. No, this was going to be a night of intense punishment for letting anyone else near enough to press their gross dude-lips on her skin. Marcy was glad she belonged to someone, that someone cared enough to not just be a little jealous but to use that as a way of exploring their unique sexual dynamic instead of expressing it in a more destructive way. Maybe a girl her own age would have exploded in a jealous rage but Bonnie was clearly well past any kind of stupid teenage drama. It was one of the many, many things Marceline loved about their significant age gap, that and the older woman's considerable experience. Her mind was running wild picturing what might happen that night as she dressed for the club in some fancy silk lingerie and threw a hoodie and jeans over the top for the bus ride into town.
Of course the bus was late, why would it even try to be on time when Marcy had someplace to be? It was well past seven by the time she slid away from the busy main street and down an icy side road to their usual club. The doormen recognized her and let her in with a knowing smile; just how many people had Bonnie informed of her punishment tonight? Or, Princess. They didn't use outside names in the club, not under any circumstances.
There was always music playing inside. It served as a cover for anyone not invited who walked past and even if the patrons weren't there to play or hook up they could still dance and have a good time. Marceline loved the feeling of the overwhelming bass reverberating through her chest like a second heartbeat, she'd have come every month just for the dancing even if she hadn't found the most amazing older Domme to play with. One who was apparently waiting in her trademark leather catsuit in the dressing room and tapping an ominous looking riding crop against her thigh restlessly.
"Don't be late, I said." Princess greeted her with an eye roll.
"The bus was slow." Marcy tried to explain.
"I'm not looking for an excuse. I want to know how you're going to make it up to me."
Marcy wordlessly indicated her hoodie and Princess shot her an amused look. When the younger woman failed to answer and simply held her arms wide in invitation she reached forward curiously and tugged the zipper down, catching her breath a little at what was revealed.
If an almost criminally skin-tight leather catsuit was Princess' trademark look then Nightwing was rapidly establishing herself as the girl with the best lingerie collection. It helped that her credit card bills went straight to her father to pay and the one time he'd awkwardly brought up the numerous purchases she'd made at Victoria's Secrets and other high end lingerie stores she'd just asked him if he thought she didn't need underwear just like all the other girls her age and he'd hurriedly changed the subject. If his nineteen year old daughter wanted to wear hundreds of dollars of silky lingerie while she was away in college he wasn't going to stop her, so long as she didn't turn up on his doorstep pregnant or something. He'd simply paid the bills quietly and decided he didn't want to know who she was buying lingerie to impress.
Well Princess certainly seemed impressed at least. She let her eyes linger on the swell of a perfect bust cupped in deep, forest green silk and trimmed in ivory lace.
"Matching?" she murmured huskily as she brushed a thumb across the soft curves, making her lover sigh and lean into her touch.
"Uh huh. Brand new, just for you."
"Can't wait to take you home after this. But we have some entertainment first. I want you to let some people in to watch tonight."
That was her punishment then, public humiliation. She could feel herself beginning to warm with anticipated arousal just thinking about it.
"Yes, mistress."
"Good girl. I spoke with some of the other Dommes, we feel you'd be perfect to make an example of. Nightwing, look at me."
Marcy reluctantly opened her eyes as the inquisitive touch left her chest.
"Remember, this is play. You can always say no, always use the safeword. You don't have to do anything you don't want." Princess murmured.
"I know, same as always. I want to do it." Marcy replied softly. It was part of their foreplay now, there was nothing Marceline found hotter than telling her lover exactly how much she wanted it. And it was the first and most important rule in any kind of play, consent needed to be clearly established.
Princess had shimmied the younger woman's jeans down and off until she was wearing nothing but the delicious green silk underwear and a pair of curvaceous black ankle boots. The kisses that she trailed back up those sinfully long legs were edged with teeth and anticipation. Princess finished with a slow, deliberate love bite right on Marceline's inner thigh, sucking at the smooth skin and biting down with enough pressure that the bruise would last for days.
"Please." Marcy gasped, not giving a fuck that they were in the dressing room and anyone could walk in at any second.
"Later. That's just a warm up." Princess told her. The redhead's smile behind her customary black cloth eye mask was dark and wicked, Marceline's imagination was in overdrive picturing all the ways they might finish the night. She followed her Domme through into the club proper and instead of making for the stairs up to the private rooms she was led out onto the dance floor. Princess pulled her close and warm lips found her ear; March shivered at the contact.
"Show me how you sway."
Hypnotically, it turned out. With the bass shaking the air and the mesmerizing electronic beats it was too easy to lose herself to the pure joy of music, let her hips move with the rhythm as the muscle memory from years of dance classes took over. Probably it was quite the show, just in her silk lingerie and heels moving rapturously to the music, but Marcy only had eyes for one person that night and the appreciative stares she was drawing from the crowd went unnoticed. A calming hand on her neck stilled her and she looked up to meet her lover's eyes, unsure how long they'd even been on the dance floor.
"Upstairs. As much as I love watching you move I want to hear you moan now." Princess muttered into her ear. Marceline nodded and followed gladly, warm from the dancing and already full of the adrenaline of anticipation.
The biggest playroom was empty save for the same unicorn dressed woman Princess had been talking to the night Marcy had insisted they play a second time. She nodded to the door when they entered together and Princess pressed some kind of switch. Marceline didn't see what it did but evidently it was some kind of summons that a public session was about to begin because as Princess was strapping her to an upright X shaped frame the door opened again and a crowd of maybe a dozen or more people entered.
"You're still fine with having an audience?" Princess murmured. Marcy nodded and she smiled in reply as Princess tightened the last leg restraint and slid her hand up to the bite bruise on her lover's thigh, pressing it until the younger woman sucked in a breath of pained arousal.
So that's what the dancing had been for, to advertise that they were there and Nightwing was absolutely obedient to her Domme. Looked like plenty of people had gotten the message; Princess wanted to make this a public session and she was well known enough to gather a crowd even without the addition of her new and utterly gorgeous sub. Displaying the girl like that on the dance floor was just purely to show her off, because Princess wasn't stupid and she was aware that her new playmate was highly coveted. If she hadn't made it clear to everyone watching that Nightwing was playing with her that night there'd be someone else trying to woo her sub away within minutes.
The first blow was a stinging slap to the cheek and Marcy reeled as far as the restraints allowed her. She hadn't been expecting that although it wasn't unwelcome despite the surprised gasp it drew from her.
"You all know Nightwing, my girlfriend?" Princess was asking the watchers. Marcy stilled at stared at her, standing in profile with her eye mask and skin tight leather. Girlfriend? She tried the feeling of it in her mind. Girlfriend. Well they'd have had to define it at some point, they'd been sleeping together for almost two months now and it wasn't so unexpected. The crowd nodded and muttered, they'd all watched Nightwing with varying degrees of envy. "Well, Nightwing has been bad. Today she went and let some boy try to kiss her, right where he knew I was watching. I know she didn't know he was going to. But I still think she needs to be punished. What do you think?"
"Dumb little bitch needs teaching a lesson about who owns her." a man growled from the crowd. Princess' face darkened.
"I don't know how you and your sub do it, but Nightwing isn't my possession. I don't own her. She's here of her own free will, that's the way we like it. Call her or any other woman here a bitch again and I'll have you banned forever, Phoenix."
The man glared but remained silent and from the smirks of some of their assembled audience Marceline realized he must have had clashes with Princess before and they're been expecting her to lay a smack down on him. It didn't distract from the fact that plenty of other people had murmured they she needed to be punished though, and Marcy was eager to start. Her skin already prickled in anticipation, hypersensitive and cool from exposure to the air. Princess turned to her again and ice-blue eyes assessed the perfect curves of her abdomen and hips then slid down to the impossibly long legs splayed against the frame below. The older woman's gaze lingered for a moment on the thin slip of silk protecting her lover's dignity from the watching eyes and Marceline wondered what she was thinking. Princess' face held the promise of something much more personal later, something just for the two of them.
"So, Nightwing, I'm gonna have to punish you. So that you know not to go kissing boys to make me jealous." she murmured with a predatory smile. The crop flashed in her hand and landed a sharp blow on the side of Marceline's right thigh and she cried out at the abrupt pain. She'd been expecting a warm-up but apparently tonight Princess wasn't feeling generous and Marcy knew that the fine spider-web of broken blood vessels under the skin from each blow would take days to fade. Without the slow build of endorphins to blur her pain into pleasure the crop stung much worse than it would otherwise.
"What are you not going to do again?" Princess prompted her as the initial sharp pain from the blow faded to a hot ache.
"Kiss boys." Marceline whimpered. She sagged a little in her restraints, cringing in anticipation of the next lash from the crop. It landed against the outside of the other thigh, mirroring the first bruise, and left her writhing and moaning with the pain. Below the surface discomfort their brief moment in the dressing room earlier still had her blood pumping and when she opened her eyes the sight of all those people watching her was enough to send her squirming with a completely different sensation. This time the burn of the crop curled her toes and made her gasp with agony and arousal.
"You don't kiss boys, Nightwing. Not when you're putting on a little play scene for me, not to wind me up or rile me. You don't play head games with me." Princess was continuing. As she spoke the end of the crop was trailed teasingly along the bruises before dancing up one trembling inner thigh right to the edge of the silk panties. They were already darkened with damning evidence of how much Marcy was enjoying herself. As Princess met her eyes she bit her lip coyly and gazed up through long, dark lashes.
"I'm sorry, mistress." Marcy replied in a breathy purr.
"Not today. You've displeased me." Princess chided. Marceline looked away, down to the right, feigning humiliation.
"I'm sorry, Your Highness." she murmured. It was the power trip that got Princess off, she was all about being in control.
"That's better. Now how about we make you scream as prettily as you can for all these lovely people?"
The evening blurred into the burn of the crop and then a flogger against her tortured skin, waves of rapturous agony cresting and falling as Marceline lost track of what was going on around her, of anything but the sensations she was drowning in. And then it stopped, abruptly and without explanation. She looked up, surprised and shaken, trembling with what she belatedly realized was the frustration of orgasm denial.
"Are you sorry now?" Princess asked smugly. Her smile was dark and full of wicked delight, she knew how close she'd worked her lover and had timed the end of the session perfectly.
"Come on, please, I'm sorry!" she begged. The older woman leaned forward until her lips were brushing the shell of Marceline's ear and her warm breath caused even worse shivering.
"No. Any more brattiness from you and I'll have you stand in the middle of the club and read exerts from Fifty Shades Of Grey out loud to everyone." she murmured, obviously amused.
"I want you." Marcy pouted, well beyond dignity or defiance since her aching need was too urgent.
"When we get home." Princess whispered back. As she withdrew she left a small bite mark on the exposed neck just below Marcy's ear, a hickey so faint probably nobody else would notice it. Then she whirled to the watching crowd and herded them out of the door before turning back to her lover when the last of their guests had left.
"I suppose you're going to follow me home like a lost puppy again?" Princess asked with a wry smile as she trailed feather light fingertips down Marceline's chest and abdomen.
"You want me to." she shot back between soft moans and whimpers.
"Still such a brat, it's almost like you haven't learned your lesson."
"Maybe I like it when you punish me in public."
"It certainly looks like you do."
Marceline gasped in surprise as an electric bolt shot through her whole body. Princess' hand had slid just low enough to brush the wetness turning the forest green silk almost black and betraying how turned on Marceline was getting. But that was against the rules, it made her nervous to take a risk like that even if it was hot. Princess must have seen the spark of reluctance in her eyes because next second she was releasing the wrist and ankle restraints and tugging Marceline from the room, frustration making them both hurry.
Down the stairs, into the dressing room, into regular street clothes and then right out the back door to the parking lot and into Bonnie's car again, back in their everyday personas and more than ready to finish what the club night had started.