Breaking Point Ch. 03

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."

"It was. By leaps and bounds."

"Good." Jocelyn folded her hands on top of her legs. "And mentally?"

Matilda sank into thought. What did her mind feel like? It seemed hard to piece together; it felt like her head was far more shattered than her back felt. What kind of words could she wrap around what she was feeling, what words would make sense?

"Mentally, I..." Matilda paused, closing her eyes, letting her thoughts settle inside her head. "Mentally, I feel broken. Which I know was what you meant. The whole idea of breaking me down, and just... I don't think I was prepared for what that would feel like. I think I'm still reeling from it all."

"That's perfectly normal."

Matilda looked up from her drink, her eyes meeting Jocelyn's smile. There was something gentle, soothing, about her expression. It was incredible, she thought, how this woman could switch from being overpoweringly dominant on the one hand, to compassionate and understanding on the other. The two concepts seemed so utterly divorced from themselves in theory, and yet, in Jocelyn they felt seamlessly married together into one complex whole.

"Today will be easier. Last night was about breaking through your hesitance, your reluctance, to let go of control over yourself. I pushed you hard to get you to crack. Today, we let you lean into feeling. Sensation, but a different sort from what I gave you last night."

"Today?" Matilda blinked, her mind stuck on that one word.

"Of course. This is an ongoing project, Matilda, and we've only just scratched the surface, in more ways than one."

Anxiety started to creep over Matilda; she pushed it down, keeping her eyes fixed on Jocelyn, trying to connect with the other woman's confidence. "What's going to happen today?"

"Something that I hope will relax you. However, you need to tend to some things first."

"What things?"

Jocelyn laughed and leaned back into her seat. "For one, you'll want a shower. And secondly, you'll be helping me cook brunch."

Matilda blinked. "I... I've never... I don't know how to... I'm not really any good in the kitchen."

"Well, then," Jocelyn said. "I guess you're going to learn."

~

Pans and mixing bowls clattered together in the sink, the sound mingled with the rush of water from the faucet. The feeling of wrinkled fingers was strange to Matilda; she was used to meals being delivered, or at least, hastily picked up on the way to and from work. The idea of cooking a meal, and then cleaning up afterwards, was unfamiliar to her thought process, as well as her skin.

It was stranger, still, to do all of this in a kitchen that wasn't hers.

Jocelyn sat across the island counter from her, a champagne flute filled most of the way with a second mimosa, her fingers dusting the crumbs off of themselves and onto the plate in front of her from the triangle of avocado on toast she had finished. Jocelyn had lead during meal preparation; giving direction and demonstrating technique throughout. Now, though, that the dishes were all that were left to be done, the task was one Matilda was to take care of on her own.

"How," Matilda started, cleaning the inside of a steel bowl, "did I do with breakfast? I hope it wasn't too bad."

"You did fine." Jocelyn took a long sip on her drink. "The eggs were a little overdone, but everything else tasted fine. You followed my directions to the letter and I appreciate that."

Matilda blushed. More praise, she realized; was she really that deprived of kind words? She turned her head downward, redoubling her efforts on finishing the dishes. "Thank you," she said, her voice hushed.

It was a surprise, then, to feel Jocelyn's fingertips on her jaw, tilting her head upward, until their eyes met one another. "Look up at me when I compliment you. I'm expressing my gratitude for your behavior."

Matilda swallowed. An ever so slight tremble fluttered over her lips at the touch of fingers to her skin. The vivid memory of nails at her back, weaving their way around bright, red welts, buzzed at the back of her mind. She let her eyes lock with Jocelyn's, refusing to blink or waver. "Thank you," she repeated, the silent pause after interrupted only by the crash of steel against cast iron.

"Fuck!" Matilda jerked back, pulling away from Jocelyn's hand as water sprayed around the sink bowl and up onto the counter. She lunged forward, moving the bowl away from the stream pouring from the faucet, catching a splash of water on her robe and face in the process.

"Are you alright?" Jocelyn's question was sincere, concerned, but a hint of laughter betrayed the amusement in her voice with Matilda's awkward scramble. "I'm sorry, I should have given you some forewarning before doing that."

Matilda shook her head. "No! It's really okay! I'm sorry. The water didn't get you too, did it?"

A few drops of water spread across the top of Jocelyn's pajamas. "No, it's fine," she said with a wave of her hand. "It's nothing to worry about. A little water never hurt anyone."

"It hurt the Wicked Witch," Matilda offered.

Jocelyn snorted; fingers that had reached towards her glass pulled away instead, switching to cover her mouth and laughter. Her eyes locked with Matilda's again as she composed herself, though still maintaining a hint of humor in her smile. "Is that what you're comparing me to, then?"

"N-no!" Matilda shook her head, eyes wide. "Not at all!"

"Then what would you compare me to?"

Gathering herself back together, Matilda rummaged through her mind for words, and found none. "I don't have anything that I can think of that compares to you. You're a category completely to yourself."

Nodding, Jocelyn took her glass, finishing the last of her mimosa. She held the empty glass out to Matilda, her smile curling as the woman quickly, carefully, took it from her grasp and started washing it.

"If I may ask," Matilda said, her voice quiet as she focused on her chore, "what would you compare me to?"

Jocelyn shifted to one side, resting her elbow on the counter and her cheek against the heel of her palm. Her eyes settled closed, only momentarily, as she pondered the question. "I would compare you to clay, dear Matilda. Clay that I am going to take a lot of pleasure in shaping."

"Shape into what?"

"You're going to see, Matilda. In all honesty, I haven't fully decided yet what I want to do, and how I want to proceed, because part of that is a dialogue with you."

Easing off her bar stool, Jocelyn walked around the counter, stopping just beside Matilda, her fingers resting lightly on the granite surface. The other hand reached up, laying itself against Matilda's back. Pressure worked through the thin layer of silk, down to Matilda's marks, pulling a sharp exhale from Matilda's lips. She had to be doing it on purpose, Matilda thought to herself. Nonetheless, she leaned into the touch, letting her welts burn hotter under the contact.

"There's still work to be done in fully breaking you. One night will not do the trick." Jocelyn's hand stroked down the length of Matilda's back. "This afternoon and tonight will be the next step in the process. There will be others. They will get increasingly more unfamiliar, and possibly more uncomfortable. But I will be with you, every step of the way."

Matilda blinked. What could be more alien, more frightening, than what she went through the night before? "And then," she said, her eyes still turned down towards the sink, "you'll rebuild me?"

"Of course. You may not recognize what you've become, however."

Matilda was left speechless as Jocelyn pulled her hand away, the tap of her bare feet receding across the kitchen floor. "Now, finish the dishes. We have some business - actual business, mind you - to address. And then we'll have some fun."

"Yes, Madam," Matilda answered, the title slipping past her lips before she realized it. She covered her mouth, surprised, looking towards Jocelyn for her reaction, only to see nothing but the woman's curious smile before she turned away and walked back into the living room.