My Body-His Marcello

by

Blakely
Bennett

SMASHWORDS
EDITION

* * * *
*

PUBLISHED
BY:

Fanny Press on
Smashwords

My
Body-His

(Marcello)

Copyright © 2013
by Blakely Bennett

Fanny
Press

PO Box
70515

Seattle, WA
98127

For more
information go to: www.fannypress.com

BlakelyBennett.fannypress.com

All rights
reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in
any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including
photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval
system, without permission in writing from the
publisher.

This is a work of
fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents
are either the product of the author's imagination or are used
fictitiously.

Cover design by
Sabrina Sun

MY BODY-HIS
Marcello

Copyright © 2013
by Blakely Bennett

ISBN:
978-1-60381-525-3 (Trade Paper)

ISBN:
978-1-60381-524-6 (eBook)

Produced in the
United States of America

Smashwords
Edition License Notes

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Thank you for respecting the author's work.

* * * *
*

For my
parents—also great friends—who provided an environment where I had
time to chase my passions and realize my dreams.

* * * *
*

The hugest thank
you goes to my husband who helped me stay grounded in the process
of editing and expanding
My Body-His (Marcello)
. His
suggestions and hand-holding helped make this book (I hope) even
more enjoyable than
My Body-His
.

Without Catherine
Treadgold and Fanny Press this novel would not be a reality. Thank
you!

So many friends
and family members have offered support and encouragement as the
My Body
Trilogy has unfolded. Special thanks to Brenda S.,
one of my closest, dearest friends. She is not only an incredible
listener but someone who inspires me to show my real self to the
world. Brenda S., you are one of the most emotionally brave people
I have ever met.

To some of my
first readers and reviewers: Barbara, Kathe, Brenda L., Terry,
Rakesh, Molly, Bookie Nookie, Shannon, Cate, AlexJouJou,
Cara,
Jo (S-D) and many
more
.
Thank
you so much for your enthusiasm and
praise!

Heartfelt thanks
also go to Norm, Jeff, Jeremy, Orli (Brian), Sam, and Kevin for
offering me emotional support on the days I needed it.

I am deeply
grateful to Wayne and Barb, who helped me get my first book signing
for MBH, and to Joy, who put in a good word for me
elsewhere.

It always amazes
my husband that I can write with the music blaring. I love the Alex
Clare mix on Pandora, which I listened to while working on MBHM.
Here are some of my favorite musicians and bands from that
playlist:

Alex Clare (of
course!)

Florence and the
Machine

Foster the
People

MGMT

Phoenix

Regina
Spektor

Blue
Foundation

Adele

Kings of
Leon

La
Roux

Passion
Pit

The
Verve

Plain White
T’s

Feist

Sia

Flux
Pavilion

Kate
Nash

Jet

* * * *
*

Some of the
feedback I received from the first novel in the
My Body
Trilogy,
My Body-His
, compelled to me clarify a few matters
for those about to embark on the second episode.

Although I did
extensive research into the BDSM lifestyle, what I found there
represented healthy dynamics and unhealthy ones as found in every
type of relationship. I never set out to write a romance or to
depict a healthy Dom/sub relationship. While the
My Body
Trilogy takes place within a branch of the BDSM subculture, Jane
and Luke’s relationship is dysfunctional and the arc of the story
is her journey through it to her ultimate
self-empowerment.

There are those
within the BDSM community who have taken issue because
My
Body-His
depicts a total power exchange that Jane does not
really want. I would argue that she chose it every step of the way
and therefore
it
is
consensual. This particular odyssey of self-exploration, sex, and
submission was never intended to be a model for the lifestyle or a
condemnation of BDSM.

Read the whole
trilogy and you will see.

—
Blakely

* * * *
*

Picking up the
bouquet of gold roses left for me next to the couch, I imagined
myself to be small enough that the flowers might hide my naked body
from the crowd. My wavy brown hair had been tamed into two
flower-woven French braids that joined together atop the rest of my
flowing tresses.

I stared at my
reflection in the window across from me. The few pounds I had put
on since quitting my job and spending all my time at home with Luke
had made me more voluptuous and curvy. Although I was naked, the
golden sheen that coated my skin, the tuxedo cuffs encircling my
wrists and ankles, and the jewelry adorning my throat and waist and
dangling from my earlobes and nipples provided me some comfort. The
new piercings, however, had left my nipples erect and
throbbing.

It was a warm,
cloudless evening in Hollywood, Florida, the perfect temperature
for a wedding. But this was not the wedding of my dreams. Parading
down the aisle naked was certainly not my preference, although I
wanted to please my lover, Luke. My groom was fully clothed and as
handsome as I’d ever seen him. The rest of the guests were dressed
as well. This was the wedding he had staged for us, the one that
would declare to everyone we knew that my body belonged to him. And
I loved him so desperately that I was willing to follow wherever he
might take me.

I, Jane—no longer
plain Jane—anxiously passed through the open French doors and
snaked my way around the tables. When I got to the steps that led
down to the beach, I stopped. I could see everyone. Luke was
waiting for me just inside the flower-covered gazebo next to the
Justice of the Peace. Parker, my closest friend, stood nearby,
along with an older, strikingly handsome gentleman.

Luke turned and
caught my eye. His radiant smile and the loving expression in his
luminous gray eyes took all my fears away. He looked striking and
strong in his white linen suit and bright blue shirt, no shoes on
his feet. I watched him rake his hands through his straight, sandy
brown hair, smoothing it across his wide forehead, and away from
his eyes. Seeing the love that illuminated his angular face, I knew
that the rest of my life would not be spent alone. There was a
place where I belonged.

As I marched
carefully down the steps, everyone stood and rotated to face me. I
kept my eyes locked on Luke. No one else existed for me. Just Luke
and his love, guiding me safely home like a beacon on a foggy
night. I progressed with ease toward the life I had chosen. No one
understood it—not even me—but at that moment, it was the only life
I craved.

* * *

When Luke and I
first met, I never would have predicted that our unconventional
arrangement would lead to marriage. I couldn’t have imagined I
would live with him after knowing him less than a week. She was not
the Jane I had known prior to that crucial moment in my life, mere
months earlier. I could never have pictured myself naked at my own
wedding, adorned only with body paint and fresh nipple piercings. I
had asked Sandy to be my maid of honor, but she couldn’t deal with
my state of undress. No wonder. Sandy knew the old me better than
anyone, and just how far I had traveled from my former
self.

Other than my
acute embarrassment at my own exposed condition, I had to admit
that Luke had arranged a beautiful wedding behind our new beach
house. Although he hadn’t warned me about the number of people I
would have to face while naked. I’d briefly considered calling off
the wedding when I saw the workmen setting up the chairs, now
filled with ogling guests.

I peered over my
shoulder one last time at our spacious new home, protected from the
wind by sea grape bushes. It beautifully modeled the taste and
comfort I loved. Not only did it provide a space for my writing,
but it stood only a few blocks from where I usually ran along the
beach. The huge bathroom featured a tub that comfortably
accommodated both Luke and me and the kitchen had state-of-the-art
stainless steel appliances and black granite
countertops.

Luke had a much
bigger office/studio for his photography equipment, bondage
instruments, and the rack of discipline tools hanging on the wall.
He used all the props for his photography and—when I
transgressed—for my pain and pleasure.

I’d agreed to the
rules he’d set, all seven of them. I remember the day he first told
me his expectations. I could hear his deep, incisive voice telling
me about the life I could have if I wanted to be with him, if I
submitted to him.

“
Number One—Your body is mine. You will no longer have control
over your own pleasure. I will use your body as I see fit for your
pleasure and mine. Number Two—Obey my instructions totally and
completely and without question. You must follow them to the letter
… nothing more … nothing less. Number Three—Always have your legs
open to me. Number Four—When you are receiving discipline I expect
you to be completely still. Number Five—You will not speak during a
discipline session unless a direct question is asked of you. My
favorite response is, ‘Yes, please.’ The exception to this rule is
speaking the safe words.”

The second time
we met he told me that if I wanted to get rid of him after that
night, I could simply say, “Get lost, creep!” The safe words would
stop any type of sex or discipline but it would also end our
relationship. “Get lost, creep,” made me laugh so much I decided to
use it for my safe word. Now that I was getting married, I was
certain I would never have cause to use it.

Luke went on to
explain the last two rules, “Number Six—You will be punished for
questioning an order. If you don’t understand my command, that’s
fine, but if you are trying to talk me out of an arrangement, then
you will be punished. This refers back to rule two: Follow my
directions totally and completely and without question. Number
Seven—and my personal favorite—You will always be naked in our
home. Clothes off at the front door.” Rule seven explained my lack
of attire at our own wedding, despite my former dreams of an ivory
gown with a long train.

Why I hadn’t
immediately run the other way is still a mystery. When I’d
unintentionally ended up at a sex party and met Luke, standing at
his easel, I was in my thirties, independent and successfully
employed in a secure and lucrative job in human resources. The
party had been held at a mansion—one that belonged to him, although
I hadn’t realized it at the time. He was wealthy, but I still
wasn’t sure if the erotic photographs he offered on the Internet
were responsible for his globe-trotting lifestyle. Although it
bothered me that I was in the pics for sale on the Web—my ecstatic
submission captured surreptitiously—I took some pride in those
images as well. The other naked women that populated the
photographs—and the personal album I’d found in his office—bothered
me more.