Surprise! You thought this was abandoned forever, huh? Sorry for the absurdly long delay BUT we likely will be wrapping this story up in the coming months. Enjoy!

The number of people in Marceline's life who had ever apologised for screaming at her was vanishingly small. It probably said a lot about her family that she was genuinely surprised to add Bonnie to that short list.

"I'm sorry." the redhead told her for the hundredth time. "I just... I'm still freaking out. You know? He saw us. He definitely recognized me, even if he didn't see you it's not hard for him to figure out who would be sitting in my car with me."

"I know, you said." Marcy replied softly. She would have been getting sick of saying it if she wasn't so worried about her girlfriend, still tense and stiff in her arms.

"He knows where I work. He knows where you live. Marcy, this is serious. Phoenix isn't someone you cross. When he first turned up at the club it wasn't long after opening and at the time I was involved in setting it up. He should have had a lifetime ban from the number of rules he broke but mysteriously the other organisers voted to give him a second chance, and then a third and a fourth. He's either buying them or he has dirt on them. And now he has dirt on me and on you. I shouldn't have dragged you into all this, I'm so sorry."

Marceline tightened her arms around Bonnie's shoulders and planted a firm kiss on the top of her head. Before that night if she'd thought about it at all she'd have assumed that Bonnie was the dominant one, the protector. It made sense. She was older, experienced, she was sexually dominant. But tonight she needed to be held and told it was going to be ok and Marcy found she really didn't mind doing that at all. It made sense that Bonnie would be unreasonably worried about Phoenix knowing where she worked especially with her past. But they had leverage over him, too.

"I doubt Phoebe knows what her dad gets up to monthly. Could be something we can use if he wants to make trouble." Marcy ventured after the silence stretched between them.

"No, I don't think it's likely that he's shared it with her. But I just don't want trouble, of any kind. Listen, I'm not the kinda Domme who's gonna tell you what to do outside the bedroom or the club. But I'd appreciate it if you stayed away from her, don't add more fuel to the fire. The more under the radar you are with the whole Burns family the better."

"I promise I won't go looking for trouble." Marceline replied, careful that her answer left a small loophole if she ever needed it.

"Thanks. I'm gonna have a cigarette and get my head together, I'd appreciate it if we could just try to get past this and enjoy our night together. God knows what Phoenix had planned but if you think we've heard the last of him you're wrong. Besides, aren't you heading home for Christmas in a couple of days?" Bonnie asked. She was already unbuttoning the formal shirt she'd worn to Ned's place and letting her hair down in a soft red cascade. "You don't mind if I smoke?"

"Go for it, I'm fine with it. And yeah, I've gotta go home for Christmas with my dumb family. Apparently dumping me for Thanksgiving is totally cool with them but God forbid I decide not to fly halfway across the country to see them for my least favourite holiday."

Bonnie was rooting in her bag and produced a battered packet of cigarettes with a guilty quirk of her lips.

"I was quitting." she explained sheepishly. "But right now? I could use something to calm me the fuck down."

Fuck Phoenix, Marceline decided. Fuck his weird power play, fuck his bizarre misogyny and interfering. Most importantly, fuck him having any control over their night. That was tomorrow's problem. Tonight she was the obedient sub and ever so willing girlfriend and she knew exactly what to do to help Bonnie calm down. She started by wrapping herself affectionately around the redhead when she slumped back down onto the sofa and took a deep drag of her cigarette. When the hand not holding the smoke found the back of her neck and drew fingernails gently across the top of her spine Marceline let out a hum of pleasure, almost a purr, and nuzzled her face against Bonnie's exposed stomach. She let her lithe body curve suggestively, making sure the swell of her sublime chest brushed a light friction against her girlfriend's thighs. Marceline was rewarded by the sight of a whole cloud of smoke escaping from the redhead's mouth in a sudden burst as she let out a soft moan. Next Marcy slid lower and her hands found Bonnie's belt, it was the work of a moment to have her jeans unbuttoned and hauled down with urgency then kicked to one side and immediately forgotten about. Not when there was that look in Bonnie's eyes as she took another drag of her cigarette, not when it very suddenly occurred to Marceline that very little was off limits for her older, more experienced lover.

"How do you feel about small burns?" the redhead asked in a husky voice, already eyeing the curve of her girlfriend's exposed back. Marceline's shirt was somewhere on the floor, neither of them even remembered how it had come off. The younger woman swallowed nervously and her eyes flickered between the cigarette and her lover's face.

"I, uh. Nothing visible, yeah? In a couple of days I have to go see my mother for Christmas and the last thing I need is her asking me why I have cigarette burns all down my arms." she finally replied. Bonnie nodded, that was to be expected.

"Of course. I'll try to stay on your back, ok?"

The first touch of heat on her skin had Marceline crying out in mingled pleasure pain against the skin of her lover's thigh. The hand that had woven its way through the back of her hair drew her forward and pressed her mouth against warm, eager flesh. When the touch of aching heat found her skin again Marcy was ready and let her fingers push forward deeper inside the redhead, curling and pulsing in time with the trail of small burns across her shoulders and the drag of finger nails against her scalp. She was quickly lost to the sensations, the overwhelming rhythm of burning skin and raking nails, rolling hips and thrusting fingers. Bonnie's tell-tale tremble came all too soon and the pressure on the back of Marceline's head increased suddenly. As the first cry of the redhead's climax broke past her lips the burn of the cigarette tip found Marcy's back again and she moaned too at the ache of it and the building urgency of her own needs. This time the burn didn't stop after a second, it stayed pressed hard against her until Bonnie's orgasm had finally calmed and the redhead fell back limp, gently running her fingers through soft dark hair and murmuring that she'd done so well, been so good.

"Follow me" the redhead told her once she'd recovered enough to notice the lust still burning strong in the younger woman's eyes. Marceline allowed herself to be pulled up from the sofa and lead back through to the bedroom where she sat nervously at the edge of the mattress while Bonnie rummaged in her nightstand for something. Finally she straightened up with a box in her hands and a sly smile gracing her features. "I got you a Christmas present. It was supposed to be a surprise for the night before you leave but I think you deserve it now."

The confusion was plain on Marcy's face and the redhead came to sit with her and pressed an affectionate kiss to her cheek as she pulled the pink wrapping paper away to reveal a plain cardboard box. Marceline opened it and Bonnie had the pleasure of watching her lover's eyes grow wide.

"I've, uh, that's new." Marceline mumbled as her face burned with a fierce blush.

"I figured you'd probably not used one before." Bonnie told her softly. "Luckily, I have. The harness is adjustable so when you feel comfortable with it we can switch up positions a little, and if you look underneath you'll find another matching item."

The idea that her girlfriend had worn a strap-on to fuck women in all kinds of positions many times before should have made Marceline jealous. Instead she felt a fresh surge of need run through her at the thought of it, that she was going to receive it too and when she felt comfortable she'd even be allowed to wear it and swap positions. It felt somehow kinkier than anything else they'd tried. Beneath the impressively sized silicone toy and a layer of fuchsia gift paper there was a smaller jewellery box that Marceline picked up curiously. It was heavier than she expected and she could hear something moving around inside when she tilted it. The first thing she saw when she opened it was the gleam of silver.

"There are two keys. I have one, and I'm trusting you with the other. It's only if you need to take it off for an emergency." Bonnie informed her as Marceline lifted out what at first glance appeared to be a heavy silver necklace. It comprised of a thick silver chain and a small heart-shaped tag on the closure point of one end with two words engraved, one on each side. One bore the legend Nightwing in elegant calligraphy and the other Princess. The catch itself was a tiny heart-shaped lock, Marceline didn't need to check to be certain it could only be opened with one of the two keys that came with it.

"This is beautiful." she breathed. "Thank you!"

"Put it on. If you're feeling brave we're going to test out your other present."

Marceline did as she was told and pulled the heavy chain around her neck. The lock came together with a satisfying click and the weight of the collar against her throat was oddly comforting. That was lucky because when she found herself almost panicking, on all fours and more vulnerable than she could ever remember being, when her whole being was occupied with slick silicone deeper than she'd had anything before, finger nails tightening on her hips until the skin broke and pleasure beginning to mix with pain, it was the weight of the chain around her neck that kept her anchored. It reminded her that she was safe with her Domme no matter how new their relationship was, Bonnie would never hurt her past what she enjoyed. And it was a mark of ownership as well as a badge of honor; she belonged to someone. The new sensations assaulted her senses with every thrust and the relentless rhythm of pain and pleasure became ever more intense until she'd abandoned all thoughts of keeping her voice down and surrendered to the agonizing climax that finally tore through her.

...

Stepping off the plane three days later into the familiar heat of Los Angeles was bittersweet. How many nights had Marceline laid awake shivering and missing the Californian warmth? Now it was blasting against her skin like she was inside a furnace compared to the icy wind that constantly swept through Notre Dame. The whole ride back to her mother's house was spent with the AC turned up to max and a bottle of ice water held to the back of her neck, just above where the new collar sat hidden in plain sight like any other necklace. Her mother was just as eagle eyed as ever though and between interrogating her about how the semester had gone and assigning a dizzying rota of chores for the week her eyes narrowed to the chain locked around her daughter's throat.

"Marceline, what is that?" she demanded.

"It's just a necklace, Mom. Do you want me to show you every single piece of new jewelry I've gotten since summer?" Marcy replied uncomfortably.

"What does that say, 'Princess'? Is that a brand? 'Princess and Nightwing'. I've never heard of that, wouldn't you prefer a Dolce&Gabbana or Dior? And is that a lock? Is that locked around your throat?"

"I've got a key, duh. Everyone in Indiana has them, it's called fashion, Mom. Just because you're a thousand years old-"

"Don't you dare take that tone with me, young lady. Take that thing off before dinner."

"No. It stays on."

"Marcy, it's dangerous. You'll choke yourself in your sleep with that thing around your neck and I'll find your lifeless corpse on Christmas morning, is that how you want to die? No seas tarado, just promise me you'll take it off before bed." her mother relented with a sigh.

"Is Rico here?" Marceline asked instead. She wanted to use the childish nickname Ricardio that she'd given to her step-father since he was so obsessed with fitness but it was best not to push her mother too far. Rico being a total creep was one of the many sore points in their relationship and being as far away from him as she could get had been a prime motivator in going to Notre Dame for Marcy. She didn't like the way he stared at women, didn't like that he thought it was okay to slap her mother's ass right in front of her teenage daughter or use the words 'woman' and 'bitch' interchangeably. Bonnie would have eviscerated him with a few well chosen words, Marceline was certain of it, but her girlfriend was two thousand miles away sharing an awkward Christmas with her brother.

"Rico's with his parents." her mother replied, still frowning at the collar. "He said to wish you a happy holidays."

"Sure he did." Marceline muttered to herself as she shouldered her bag and made for her childhood bedroom. No Ricardio, well it was looking like a better Christmas already despite the heat. All she needed now was a little alone time so she could let Bonnie know she'd arrived safely.

The alone time happened sooner rather than later when her mother announced she needed to run to the mall and then had an appointment right across town to keep and wouldn't be home for a few hours. The second her car engine started Marcy had her phone out and a video call to Bonnie already waiting to connect.

"Took you long enough." the redhead greeted her when the screen finally focused on her face.

"Waiting for my mom to leave. How are you?" Marcy replied.

"Not in the mood for small talk. A woman has needs, I miss you. Let me see you strip. Slowly."

It took a couple of minutes to find the right music for it and by then Marceline had managed to control her fierce blush. She'd never done anything like that before, it was difficult not to feel self conscious as piercing blue eyes watched her shimmy out of her clothes until she was down to nothing but a pair of skimpy panties and her collar. But if the calculating smile that the older woman wore was any indication Bonnie was enjoying her show.

"Very good. Now I want you to sit on the bed and take those off. Slow, don't rush it." she commanded. Marceline did as she was told, sliding the fabric down her legs with exaggerated care then stretching out coyly at an angle designed to reveal as little as possible. She glanced up at the camera through her lashes, radiating the same contrived innocence that had attracted Bonnie's attention when they'd first met.

"What would you like to see how, mistress?" Marcy asked her sweetly.

"I think you know what I want to see. Put your hands on yourself, tease yourself. Put on a show, I want to watch you get yourself off."

That blush was back but she wasn't about to let it get in the way. Not when her girlfriend was watching and ordering her to touch herself, not when it was the hottest she'd ever felt while getting herself off. It was difficult to keep things slow when she could feel Bonnie's eyes on her and follow the commands that came every few minutes in an increasingly strained voice.

"Describe it." Bonnie ordered her.

"It's, ah, warm. I'm imagining that these are your fingers. I'm picturing all the things we're gonna do when I get back."

"Do you want me to fuck you again?"

"You know I do."

"Then you'll have to earn it. Come for me, make it sexy. I'm watching you and getting so frustrated over here, I'm touching myself and imagining it's you, too. Let me see you get off."

Of course nothing compared to the way Bonnie could make her lose herself in wave after wave of intense pleasure. But coming hard onto her own fingers, listening to her lover moan as her own climax hit, that was pretty amazing too. The only thing Marceline missed was that there were no slim arms holding her afterwards, no hair stroking and murmurs that she'd done such a good job, been such a good girl. It was a strange feeling to actively want to be back at college instead of at home with her mom but Marcy couldn't shake it, more than anything she just wanted Christmas done so she could fly back to Notre Dame and straight back into Bonnie's bed.

...

"Marcy? Are you ready to go yet? Come, we're going to be late!"

"Just changing my shirt, Mom!"

There was a reason she was still topless and it had nothing to do with agonizing over which shirt to wear to Mass. It had everything to do with the tiny bottle of perfume that she'd found slipped into a side pocket of her bag. Upon opening it she'd discovered that it was an intoxicating cotton candy scent, almost overpowering but with a darker, peppery note underneath that offset the syrupy sweetness and stirred memories of warm hands on cold nights that left her breathless and covered in delicious bruising. Bonnie had left a small bottle of her perfume for Marcy to find, the same scent she'd been wearing the night they'd met and every club night after. Was it supposed to be a romantic gesture or an act of psychological domination? Marceline wasn't sure but she lost no time in spraying a little against her chest and shivering at the memory of bite bruises across her collarbones. She slid her shirt on over the top and bit her lip at the way it felt against her suddenly sensitive skin. It didn't matter how good getting herself off had been, she was aching for Bonnie's touch and the scent of her love all around her was maddeningly frustrating.

Her mother frowned when she came down the stairs, sniffing the air like there was some disgusting smell invading her home instead of a sensual mix of sweetness, spice and desire.

"You're wearing perfume to church?" her mother demanded.

"Do you want me to go wash it off and make us even later?" Marceline replied slyly. Her mother scowled but shook her head and made for the door.

"¡No seas cabeza hueca! You'll be the death of me, girl. Get in the car."

Christmas Eve Mass was dumb, like always, but it did have the unexpected advantage of seeing her old high school friends. After what felt like a lifetime of sitting in church listening to the priest and fantasizing about the way Bonnie's eyes rolled back into her head when she came Marceline was finally allowed to leave. Her mother didn't look particularly happy about it but she didn't argue when Marcy announced she was going to Keila's place for a while before heading home. She left on the back of her friend's motorbike with her long hair blowing free in the wind, almost not missing her girlfriend for as long as the weightless, nearly-flying sensation of the ride lasted.

Keila had moved into a crappy apartment on the edge of Venice Beach after dropping out of college halfway through her first year, it was no surprise to Marcy that her friend wasn't even pretending to care about education anymore. But most importantly she had her own space and it was the perfect bolthole away from the oppressive atmosphere at home. Her roommates were either working overnight at the local gas station or seeing their family so they had the whole apartment to themselves; the first thing Keila did when the door closed behind them was pull a tin box of joints out of her pocket and stuff one into Marcy's mouth.

"I can't, they might piss test me at college." she tried to protest around the end of her joint. She didn't take it out though, resisting temptation had never been her strong suit.

"For real? What kind of school drugs tests at random? And you're really scared, you dare call yourself punk?" Keila shot back with that look in her eyes, the same one that had sent them to the principal's office and had their mothers called up to the school so many times in the past. Marcy narrowed her eyes and grabbed the lighter that was held out of her.

"Punker than you." she finally replied as she breathed out her first lungful of smoke. Keila just grinned and shrugged before flinging herself down onto her threadbare sofa and taking a drag too.

"So what's new in fancy college-kid land?" Keila asked when they'd both had a few deep lungfuls of smoke and Marcy was beginning to feel relaxed for maybe the first time since her plane had landed. She considered how much to tell, how much Keila would be cool with.

"I'm fucking my anatomy professor." Marcy finally admitted with a shrug.

"Oh yeah? So I guess you were failing his class then?"

"Nah, we met at a club and didn't know we even were both at Notre Dame until the next morning when I turned up for my anatomy class with bruises on my ass and legs like jello."

"Classes start on a Monday. You're telling me you went out on a Sunday night, fucked some older guy you'd just met and then rolled out of his bed and right into his anatomy class the next morning?"

"...Something like that, yeah. Except, uh, it's some older woman. My anatomy professor's a chick."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"Huh, sounds kinda gay. Whatever, so long as she doesn't hurt you. Cause if she does I'll have to fly out there and beat a bitch down, I'm not even joking."

It had occurred to her that outing herself might not be the best idea but Marcy hadn't allowed herself to think about it. The fact she was sleeping with a woman wasn't something she was too embarrassed to tell her friend about, the kink was another matter though. That was just for them. Keila had lost interest anyway, she was rummaging through a box by the side of the couch and Marcy took the opportunity to pull her shirt up over her nose and take another breath of that seductive, amazing scent. If Bonnie's plan had been to get her as on edge and frustrated as possible then damn, it was working. Christmas could wait, Keila could wait. All she wanted was to fly back to Indiana.

"Ok, so you've lost you punk roots and that isn't okay, chica. I've shaving the side of your head." Keila announced as she straightened up with a pair of hair clippers in her hand and that same devilish glint in her bloodshot eyes again.