93 comments/ 447072 views/ 199 favorites Tales From Subspace By: NIGHTQUEEN1963 OPENING I started with a phone call. A pay phone call to a number found in the back of a new-wave newspaper that advertised Alternative Lifestyles. [Alternative Lifestyles. I had never felt like an alternative anything, but maybe I get ahead of myself.] It was not easy to make the call. My fingers could barely find the numbers on the keypad in the dim light. My breath came short and fast. Sweat slickened my palms and I was wet. Moist heat between my legs, throbbing with my pulse. Pounding emotions I thought long dead, forcing the very center of my being to vibrant flaming life. My skin heated up slowly in the cool air and my eyes blazed with this ill-concealed inner fire. Dark passions filling my body with need. I wanted pure physical satiation again. Hands, lips, cock, on me and in me, once again. It had been six long years of self-imposed isolation. I was ready to reach out but did not want true commitment. The thought of the traditional world of dating turning my stomach. I needed what I had been fantasizing about for so many years. Taking a deep breath, I dialed the phone. 10 Years ago... Nobody ever just falls into the life. It is a long torturous process that for some of us covers many years. It is an enigmatic tour through the dark recesses of your own mind. A journey not for the timid or shy. I have always believed that these cryptic images were always inside me. I just suppressed or hid them. Like most of us. It did start about ten years ago. I was an innocent. Weren't we all once? I was back from Karate class. Bag slung over my shoulder, sweaty, hot, hair plastered to my forehead. I walked into the small house that I shared with my boyfriend Rob. He was waiting for me. My riding crop tapping restlessly against his knee. I dropped my things and put my hands behind my neck. Falling gracefully to my knees, careful to keep them apart. Eyes away from his face and trained to his belt. My face was burning with embarrassment. “Come here.” He cooed. I crawled the distance necessary to place myself at his feet. The thick cream wool carpeting was harsh on my knees. I looked straight ahead at the dark tweed pants that I had bought him for his birthday. Cut full in the crotch to accentuate how gifted he was there. It was tempting to raise my eyes but I didn’t want to see the slow smile of triumph my breaking of the rules would bring over his handsome face. I tried to empty my mind of anticipation. [What would he want of me this time?] Any number of menial humiliating tasks awaited me. Things I would have to do on my knees without complaint. He addressed me again. His voice had changed, becoming huskier, more breathless. "Open my pants." I did it, undoing the zipper with my teeth. "Make me hard with your lips only." I freed him and took him into my mouth. Smelling musky salt. A unique aroma that was all his own. My hands snaked around his thighs to his buttocks. I kneaded them softly, as I balanced my own movements. Swallowing him down until air no longer moved into my lungs. He wasn't enormous, by any means, but easily on the high side of normal length. It was that Rob dripped sex. Every look, glance, touch was an assessment of someone else's erotic potential, mostly mine. Suddenly, he backed up. His hands gently forcing my mouth away. "Go into the bedroom, remove your clothes, lie face down on the bed. Wait for me." I went as quickly as I could. My hands trembling on my clothes, until finally I was nude. I lay face down on the waterbed. Feeling the cool percale sheets rubbing against my breasts, hardening the tips. Making me shiver as I spread myself like a starfish. Arms reaching, legs spread. My face lying to the right. Eyes closed, as always when there was any chance of seeing him while we played. It wasn't that we never had vanilla sex. At one point, that was all we had. Until we got engaged. Suddenly that diamond ring became a band of iron. Every orifice I owned was his to play with. Yet so slowly did he introduce these delicacies that I hardly noticed. One day he was holding me down to make love to me. The next, it seemed, he was breaking a riding crop on my virgin buttocks and taking me that way. No one ever knew except an uncle who brushed against me inadvertently and felt the garters that Rob made me wear without underwear. My uncle started to make a joke of it, but my furious blush made him back away quickly in confusion. The family could never know. I insisted upon that. They still don't and if they do. Well, they don't say anything. Rob came in. I could hear him. He secured my wrists, but left my ankles loose, so I could bend my knees. Just how he liked me, easily accessible. "Open your eyes!" He commanded and I obeyed. I looked into his dark eyes, noting again the intelligence there. Not truly handsome, his features were arresting. His hair cut almost military short. His smile endearingly crooked. When we were in High School together, I thought he was sweet. "Did you enjoy your class?" He asked carefully. "Yes, Rob." His hands moved to my spine. His long supple fingers wandering to the cleft between my buttocks, which tightened involuntarily. "I bought something new today." He walked away from me then. I heard the water in the bathroom running and knew that he was washing whatever it was that he had bought before using it on me. He kept the new toy behind his back and opened the drawer for the lube. He sat between my legs, Indian style, and ordered. "Bend your knees for me." I complied, feeling my buttocks separating to give him access. Rob really knew Greek. It had to be one of his favorite things to do. Not once during our two-year affair did he ever damage me back there. I never bled, not even the first time he took me that way. A thorough douching softening me, weakening my resolve, my fear. I felt his fingers, wet with lube, opening me. That was one of the few lasting gifts that Rob gave me. The gift of orgasm that originates somewhere other than my clitoris. I tried to relax as I felt that first finger, become two, then three. Rob taking his time, never in a hurry when he had his favorite orifice before him. I felt four fingers slide in and involuntarily clenched against him. I had never had four fingers in my ass at one time. "Relax, Anne. You're resisting me and I don't much like it." I felt him work the ring of my anus slowly until I relaxed working lube in much deeper than he had ever done before. "Breath slowly and evenly. You're going to love this." I felt the tip of the `toy' pushing between two of his fingers. It felt slippery slick with K-Y, and I pushed out hard. Feeling his warm human flesh replaced with firm unyielding rubber. The pressure built to a pleasurable plateau and went beyond into aching unrelenting strain for my body to accept this impossibly wide dildo. I groaned, trying to close my lips against the sound. "Come on, push out. It's not much bigger than I am around." He kept pushing, forcing my anus to stretch around the thing painfully. I felt tears in my eyes. It seemed to go in forever. Past any point of comfort, causing a cramping in my stomach much worse than anything menstrual. I bore down to expel it, get it out of me and felt Rob push it home. The base slightly smaller so it wouldn't slip out. He sighed with satisfaction. Nestling the base carefully between my butt cheeks and laying my legs flat with a jerk. I lay immobile, impaled by pain. He stroked my back and I felt the electric tingle of his touch along my entire body, arousing me in spite of the burning dilation behind me. "Hurt?" I nodded, not trusting my voice. "I'm going to take my crop to your sweet ass. Then pull that toy from you and give you something warm to replace it with." A quick shot of fear went through me. Fear of more pain. Knowing it would hurt but Rob would be so hard and so good afterwards. I wanted him to whip me. It was the least that I could do for his pleasure and, as I was discovering, my own, as well. He stood up from the bed, making waves in the water. Rob hit me then so hard across the buttocks that all air left my lungs in a surprised whoosh. I turned my face into the pillow and took it into my teeth, gagging myself with it so he couldn't hear my pain. This time was different for me. The phallus, the feeling. The total surrender of my body to the punishment that I was allowing him to inflict on me. He was hitting me harder than he had ever done before and it seemed like for longer too. I lost all self-control. I went totally beyond thought, trying to free my hands, but unable too. Yet, never using my voice to tell him to stop, it was too much. I felt the pressure, building in my arms and legs. The fire on my buttocks, spreading its warmth all over my body. I gasped with the extent of his power over me in that one enlightening second and surrendered to it. Trying to pull air into starving lungs by raising my head. I tautened, bucking upwards and pulling on the bonds. Sensation sweeping over me and through me. Churning against the phallus impaling me and pushing me over the edge of the abyss. I came against the bed, beyond thinking. A low animal growl tearing from my throat as my body wrenched into heaven. Rob suddenly forcing his fingers into my sex as the last of my orgasm clenched around his hand. His soft reassurances breaking me open further. I came while being beaten. I was annihilated on a spiritual level. How could I have ever orgasm while he was beating me harder than he had ever done in the past? Something had clicked into place inside my head. Some deeply buried connection between Pleasure/Pain was forged inside my head and I inexplicably started to weep. Deep quiet sobs as I realized what had been done to me with my complete cooperation. I was changed. Eternally and profoundly different from all the Vanilla people that I knew. I was weeping because I knew that the possibility existed that I could never go back to the way I had been. My arms were released and he pulled me up off the bed. Leaning me against the dresser that had the big mirror behind it. I looked up and saw my red tear-stained face reflecting back at me. When Rob leaned down to slide the phallus out of me, it resisted removal. He stroked my buns and told me to push it from deep within myself. I was bearing down against it with determined steady effort until I felt it being drawn out of me. Leaving me empty until Rob's cock took its place roughly. His hands holding my hips steady against his driving jabs into my canal. Fucking me hard and fast. I was so open that it didn't even feel unduly indelicate to me. He was stroking my wet clit at the juncture of my sore thighs. My backside burning from the beating he had just given me. His breath harsh, hot and animal-like against the back of my neck. Suddenly, he drove into me hard. Pinching my clit sharply so I came as well, to a lesser degree than before but still an orgasm. Rob collapsed over my back, his breathing harsh. Cock still jerking slightly in reaction to our passion. His weight against me almost collapsing me to the top of the dresser. Gradually he came to himself and slipped his cock from my ass with a swift pull. Patting me gently and wiping the tears from my face. I closed my eyes and didn't move, hearing the sound of his condom hitting the garbage can. He took my arm and led me into the master bathroom. I was weak with exhaustion. My muscles pulling with hurt and exertion. I let him lead me into the bathroom and sit me on the toilet while he started the shower. He pulled me in. Washing my hair with rough hands, nice. Using ivory soap gently between my legs, slipping one soapy finger into my anus to get the lube out. He said something. "What?" I asked, and then gasped as he pinched one of the marks on my butt. I rested my arms on the tile. "I didn't tell you to speak, precious." Oh, God, he wasn't finished yet! His hands soaped my breast, tormenting the nipples. Taking care with every part of my body, leaving me squeaky clean. He stepped from the shower, letting me rinse thoroughly as he dried. When he took me from the shower he led me to the kitchen table and made me sit on the edge. "Don't fuck with me, you know how I want you." His voice was cold. My hands balled into fists as I lay back. He pulled my hips to the edge as he brought a ladder-back kitchen chair up between my spread legs to sit on. Close but not too close. I put my ankles into the notches on the back of chair, hating every minute of this position. Coldly reminiscent of a gynecologists office. The once a year torture that all women go through. Rob opens the outer labia, heedless of my humiliation and dryness. His fingernails scraping against the delicate tissue roughly, yet deliberately. He spread my knees wider and played with me. Tracing the parts of me gently. Clitoris, urethra, vagina, anus. Slowly methodical. Tiny delicious pressure against the tender parts of me. "There are parts of you that I have never explored, Anne." I answered his comment respectfully. "I like watching you orgasm, but only when I tell you too." Suddenly his hands had a meaning. I felt a tear well up in my eye. I was in trouble. He put his face against me, starting to eat me with expert flicks of his tongue against my flesh. He kissed my crotch tenderly until the juices started to flow again and I hungered for release. Rob stood up and slid his fingers into the willing tunnel. "You came without my permission. You ever come without my express permission again, and I will keep you like this for a month. Do you understand me?" "Yes, sir." I whispered absolutely miserable. He pulled away suddenly when my breathing deepened and the involuntarily clenching of my sex told him that I was really enjoying his attentions. "Take your legs down. Go to the bedroom and wait for me on your side." I did it. He came in and tied my arms to the headboard so I couldn't take care of my hungry orifice myself. He lay down beside me and went to sleep. Pretty prudent of him. I was tempted to relieve myself and would have done it if he hadn't tied me. I'd done it before when I wasn't secured this way. Taking some satisfaction in the fact that I was getting off in the same bed as a man that thought he controlled that kind of thing. This was different because I was in such torment. Pain from my buttocks throbbing with my pulse cause a chain reaction to move straight through my sex. I needed more attention. Craved it and along with the craving I had questions running through my head. How had Rob known that I would like this kind of sex? How had he known that I wouldn't balk at the whips, chains and phalluses that he used on me? How did he decide to introduce me to this delicacy on the menu of sexuality? It came to me suddenly. He didn't know. He had studied me, worked at my resistance. Figuring out how he could get what he wanted from me. My eyes caught sight of my riding crop on the floor. He had broken it while beating me. It's expensive leatherhead hanging from the shaft. I almost came just from the sight of it, then closed my eyes and shivered in fear. This is part of me now. The link had been forged between pleasure and pain. They were inexorably connected inside my head. I would never be the same again. >>>> That was only one night of many. Routine and ritual Role-playing and rape scenes. Anything that Rob wanted I gave to him without question. Nothing he asked for repulsed or sickened me. At least, not that I ever let him see. Some of the things that he liked baffled me. Like his fascination with controlling my bodily functions, but since he liked it I let him do it. Sex was good with him. A head-trip as well as body. I found myself trying to please him. I was punished enough without deliberately courting disaster. All good things must come to an ended however. Rob and I really ended on my 23rd birthday. He asked me what I wanted and I told him. I wanted one night on top. He was beautifully stunned by my request but he agreed. It was almost as though he simply could not believe that such a statement had come from me. Since he had mapped out my psyche. I could have no desire for such a thing. It was unthinkable. Surprise. I don't know why he agreed, he was obviously uncomfortable with the whole idea, but he did. It was a real revelation for me. I liked it. I liked pushing limits. I liked having to pay attention to what I was doing, not just being done too. It wasn't a real good scene. Rob was uneasy and couldn't really surrender to it. More importantly, Rob couldn't take it. He balked. Suddenly, I was the one that had more self-control. Higher limits. I thought less of him for that. From that moment on I absolutely coveted punishment. Rebellion at every turn. I never even let him see me cry after that night. The frustration was driving him insane because I don't think he could figure out what had happened. He just knew that every time he tried to knuckle me under, I stiffened my spine and took it. My seed of contempt had become a big old tree. His lack of discipline had broken the bond between us, forever. He broke up with me, 3 or 4 months later. I wasn't really sorry. He lacked mettle, you know? I just figured that a chapter in my life had closed and moved on. I'd just go back to the way I was before Rob and be okay. I am okay but I missed something. The problem was that I couldn't find it in the white-bread Republican world that surrounded me. I went out with a 32 year old virgin and married an abusive SOB that couldn't figure out why I fought back when he attempted to do real violence to me. I rapidly developed backbone. Not something that I needed before then. It has, however, stood me in good stead. P.D- post-divorce. I discovered that I was not the only pervert on the planet. They actually wrote books for people like me to read. Exit to Eden by Anne Rambling, The Story of O, The Beauty Trilogy by A.N. Roquelaure. Pat Caliphia, Laura Antoniou. The whole gamut of sexual diversity available at the local bookstore for feverish reading at my home. Intoxicating. It was while reading these books that I felt something that I hadn't felt in a long time. Desire. Considering for the first time that this was why I was not satisfied with dating Vanilla men. I was not like that anymore. I was too hot for them. Too diverse. Too willing to explore the dark side of my sexuality. My husband liked missionary style, period. I just assumed that the older you got. The more boring sex became and since I did not want to be boring. I would be alone forever. A martyr before the throne of business, neutered sexless. The only problem was that I didn't feel neutered I felt... horny. I didn't want a 32-year-old virgin or a wife-beater. I wanted someone like Rob, or better yet. Someone like me. A focus for all this repressed sexual energy. I was only 27 years old. Luck was with me. I found Eric. A 32-year-old artist. We car-pooled to college together. We were both older than the kids who went during the day and gravitated together. He was intelligent and funny. Eric was good to me. One weekend Eric's mom went away and he asked me to dinner. I got over there and we started to laugh. Having a riot and drinking wine, discussing the movies available for viewing. When, as though it was meant to be, we ended up on the floor. Kissing. We were pulling pieces of our clothes off, but when I reached for his zipper, he stopped my hand. "I have a problem." I felt my heart sink. I figured he was impotent, or HIV, something catastrophic. I schooled my features to neutrality and waited. "I have a real hard time reaching orgasm. Sometimes I can't at all." He looked embarrassed. "I want you to know that before we go any further." "Do you get hard?" He nodded, and I responded by reaching back down for his zipper. Let's see how much of a problem it really is. Part of me thinking that a hard man that has a difficult time coming could be a lot of fun. I gave it a try. Tales From Subspace Seven hours later I was still trying. He ate me twice. I was on top, on bottom, on all fours, on the counter, in the shower. Standing, sitting, oral, manual. I tried every thing that I could think of to get this guy off, and no go. I finally made him stop. Sitting on his mom's marble coffee table with my legs open, dripping and pumped raw. I can't even remember how many times I came. I like a challenge, but I was so frustrated that I wanted to draw blood. He waited on the floor as I frowned at him, playfully mean to assess the situation. I wasn't going to give up even if it killed me. When I frowned and narrowed my eyes at him. I saw his cock stir, stiffening. No, it couldn't be this simple. I growled, low in my throat. More movement. I laughed, and ordered him quickly. "Come here." He crawled over. I widened my legs so he could get between them. "Put your hands on my thighs." He did it, trembling softly. I took his nipples with my nails, and pinched them. He looked at my face and was suddenly embarrassed. I touched his cock. Letting the little eye wink at me as I examined it. "I've worked at this for seven hours." He swelled. I knit my eyebrows together. "It needs to be punished for not giving me what I asked for." I felt a flush of heat and was surprised the return of my desire. I figured that I was well fucked now. I lost track of how many times I came beneath him. This sudden return was inexplicable. I thought that I'd be done by now, finished. I rested my toes on the floor. I twisted his nipples, making him moan. "I like to fuck, Eric. I like the feel of cock in my sex. You have a nice cock that needs a lesson in manners. Put it inside me, but don't move it." He knelt up and guided his cock in. I started flexing my sex around it with strong clamping force. Milking it. Telling him how to move, when to move. I pulled him against me, digging my fingers into his shoulders with brutal force and ordered him to come in me. Right fucking now. He did. Bucking into me and filling the air with the scent of sex. Collapsing finally over my sweaty body. I ordered him to lay on the floor. Straddling him. "Open your eyes." I said stroking his hair, quietly pleased by his compliance. "Why didn't you just tell me what you really wanted?" I asked. "Because it's kind of weird." He blushed. "I've never come the first time with anyone. I didn't want you to think that there was something wrong with me." "Why would it be weird? Everybody needs some type of special attention to make it good for him or her. You need to be ordered around. I can take control from you. Does that make me weird?" He shook his head. "You just can't ask for it. I figured it out." I was very surprised that he felt so bad about what he needed. He kept talking. Fear making him shake and softening his words. I felt bad for him. "I like strong women. I like to be talked too. Told what to do." His voice trembled with what could only be fear. "Why are you ashamed of that? Are you thinking that you aren't entitled to ask for what you want? I wanted you to eat me. Should I have kept quiet?" Another slow shake. "I like you. You're funny, caring, and talented. You're good to me. What we do together is our own business. If you need more than talk, you let me know." His hands trembled, and I could feel him getting hard again against my thigh. "Naughty boy." I teased, and took his hands to hold them over his head. Pinning his shoulders with my elbows. I bit his neck, and then licked it. Whispering. "I feel you getting hard again. I have it in me to tease you until just before you come again and leave you in torment. Should I?" He shook his head. "I would love to lay you over my lap, and warm those strong buns of yours, but I'm pretty sure you'd come against my leg, wouldn't you?" He shook his head, protesting he didn't like to be spanked. "But I would want too, and you would let me." His organ jerked making me laugh. "You'll let me do what ever I want to with you, because I can give you pleasure." I traveled down his body, and nudged open his thighs. Running one hand under his butt. "Virgin territory, I'll bet." He twitched. "I have you now. I can tie you up. Make you beg. Make you come in my mouth so I can taste you." Fluid leaked from the tip, and I licked it off. "Make you eat your juice out of me, slowly. Any thing I want." I leaned up over him and put his cock in me. Leaning up on my arms and moving like a man does. "Oooh, you are so hard, again. So ready, so easy." His breath was short and he looked like he was in pain. "I feel you, deep inside me. Hard and full. Ready to shoot that big load into my sex before you eat me to orgasm. I will make you eat me. Slowly, deeply. Pulling all the cum from my deep well with your fingers so I can lick them clean, so you better cum for me soon honey. I want your face against me, right now." Eric arched off the floor and shot into me for what seemed like forever. Spurt after spurt of hot fluid. Jetting into my wet clamping sex. His face a study in animal rut. I came again then I worked him until he was soft. Laying against his sweaty body in perfect satisfaction. I really enjoyed Eric, and I think he enjoyed me. Okay, he did. He said that I was one of the most sensual people that he had ever met. He would make love anywhere, any time. All I had to do was call, tell him I was on my way and he'd meet me at the door with a smile and a hard-on. He cooked for me. Painted my toenails and gave a great massage. He got transferred to Chicago and we didn't last long after that. He wanted me to go, but I had just gotten a great job with room for advancement. I was happy. Knowing what I know now. I would have gone. I still miss him. Finding someone else to play with has not been easy. Well, impossible is a more accurate word. I went out with a couple of straight men. They were less than adventurous than I and even less amenable to suggestion. Hell, they wouldn't even tell me their fantasies so I had nothing to work with even. I gave up, totally and I thought, completely. The convent was starting to look pretty good. It's a human thing really. Everything on the planet is different. Emotionally and psychologically we are all diverse, yet even now most of us are afraid to say anything about our diversity. Afraid of what people will think of us. I went on this way for years. 6 to be exact. It got so bad that I named my shower massage. It became a great joke at work, when they weren't calling me a Lesbian. That the reason it was unsafe to cross me was that I had not had sex in so long. I was a major Bitch. There were advantages in that. It eventually made them give me an Urban Times. The local underground newspaper. That was where I finally came into myself. They had ads in the back for people like me, to meet other people like me. Us, the perverts. I never answered any of the Ads, but I sure got mileage out of them. For someone with an I.Q like mine, anything that inflames the imagination is appreciated. That and the fact that I could pick out an ad and build a scenario to match it in my head. Nice. The most embarrassing thing was buying the equipment. I bought a really nice whip the other day and the only reason that I got away with it was that it was so close to Halloween. I still had to put up with S/M jokes, but I didn't care. It became an obsession. The thoughts whirling through my head with breakneck speed. I found the ad that I answered in the back of the paper. Not an out-call service. It read like a support group. I could do that. I needed the support. I was lonely. I was so hot that I felt like I was going to explode. So I did what any prudent closet case does. I screwed up my courage and made myself do what I truly wanted to do. I called the number. SEEK AND YE SHALL FIND Fantasies even good ones don't hold a candle to real flesh. The problem, as always, was how to meet like-minded people. I wanted to meet people who play the game, but also play by the rules. I can't afford to end up with injuries and trying to explain how I got them. Bruises are a hazard, but so are welts. Not always, but sometimes. `The best times.' Came that little voice from inside my head. Most people think that it's a question of getting off on pain. Wrong. It's sensation, attention, and limits. It's the master or mistress focusing complete and total attention on the most profound way to make you feel. I may be submissive, but I'm really the one in total control. I'm the top. It was that way last weekend when I started my new life. I was in just enough control to feel again and just desperate enough to be reckless. I had to have somebody watching out for me upstairs, because I struck gold. THE PHONE CALL It was an absolutely miserable night. Cold, wet. The phone like ice in my hands and the numbers hard to see. The call itself was almost impossible to make. I could barely breath. I felt like someone had kicked me in the chest, hard. I'd prepared myself like Rob had taught me. I was as ready as I would ever be, so I steeled myself and dialed the phone. A woman answered. "Hello?" "I'm calling about your ad in the Urban Times." I tried to keep my voice steady and hoped that I succeeded somewhat. "Do you have any experience?" [Does years of living inside the three ring circus of my own mind, count as experience?] Probably not, so I recounted what I did know. "About six years ago I had a boyfriend that did this kind of thing." Humiliating to speak of this forbidden desire that kept me awake nights. "Do you have any costumes?" [Costumes?] That was a new one on this naked kneeling girl. I spoke the truth. "No, I never needed any on my end." That was accurate enough. There was a pause on her end of several seconds and I got the impression that I was on a speakerphone. The tone had that weird wind-tunnel effect that those phones have. "I see. Can you describe yourself briefly?" I did. I'm average, normal height and weight. Brown-hair, hazel-eyes. She seemed pleased by my description and I heard a male voice in the background speaking. "Have her come in." "Can you come in on Monday?" Monday was bad for me. I had my real life on Monday. Separate from this fantasy life. "I'm sorry, I work." Another pause from her end. "Oh, you have a job?" I was kind of puzzled. [Don't most people have jobs or some way to make money?] "This is not my real life." [Just a hobby.] Came the little voice again. [God, what a smart-ass.] They were conferring in the background, but too low for me to hear. "Can you come by tonight?" Overdrive on my pulse. "We close in about an hour." [Close?] Oh well, time for questions later. I agreed and got directions that I repeated back to her. [Wouldn't do to knock on the wrong door now, would it?] It was her last words to me that ran through my head on the way over like a time loop. "Be ready for anything." I debated whether or not to even go. My palms were wet and my breath came in short pants. I pulled the shreds of my dignity together and prayed for some sort of guidance. It came from within me. That little voice that I usually ignored. `What do you have to lose?' That was it. I had nothing to lose. Nothing but the empty, boring sterility of my waking world. >>>> I made it on the expressway in twenty minutes. I found a place to park on the street. I was kind of surprised to find myself in a residential neighborhood with an address in my hand. I found the right house. A three-story Victorian in the Indian Village area. High-walls surrounding the property. A real nice house actually. I sat in my car gripping the steering wheel. Mouth dry. Panic circling my lungs. God, don't let me knock on the wrong door. I took a deep breath and got out of my car. Walking up to the door and knocking softly. A woman answered it. "Yes?" The voice from the phone, without the echo from the speaker. I cleared my throat. "I called a little while ago and you asked me to stop by." She smiled pleasantly, moving to clear the doorway. "Come on in." I did so. Noticing the foyer and hallway had been expertly restored to their turn-of-the-century splendor. We walked towards a big oaken door that she opened to reveal a study done in shades of cream and ivory. A real fireplace graced the room, a leather sofa [ivory] before it. Cream plaster walls with hunt prints. Bookshelves with titles that I recognized. The only thing that looked out of the ordinary was the umbrella stand with riding crops in it, instead of umbrellas. [About ten of them] "My husband will be here in a moment." [husband?] I must have looked surprised, because she said. "It helps to have both of us in the business." She smiled at me, motioning me to sit down on the sofa. "This is how we make our living." Pride shone through her every word. She checked the clock on the mantle. "He'll be just finishing up." Very hard not to ask who, or what, he was finishing up. I managed it. She left me alone with my thoughts, going back out the door that we had entered to the main hallway. I wasn't sure what to do. How to sit even. [What would they want?] I was nervous. I rolled my head and shook out my arms. Doing some deep breathing. Saying to myself. "Grace and perfect obedience. Perfect silence and flexibility." I'd just finished when I heard the door opening up behind me. I didn't turn. I looked straight ahead. Hands on my knees. Hearing the slow steady tread before me. A man's tread. He came to a stop before me. I glanced up to about waist height and noted the black leather pants with studded boots. He put out his hand. "Hi, I'm Jon." I looked up into his face as I gripped his warm fingers. Standing up from the couch as I did so. Business habit. [Carnegie Grad, you know?] "I'm Anne." Firm grip of my hand in his. He introduced his wife, Traci. Inviting me to sit back down on the sofa. I was slightly uncomfortable. Unsure of what he wanted of me. I knew that he was master here, but did not know their protocols. "So how did you hear about us?" I swallowed down the fear and answered honestly. "Your ad in the paper. I called from a pay phone." I had no idea why I volunteered that little snippet of information to him. "Why?" He asked directly. Face sincere. Intelligence in his dark-eyes. I noticed that he was 35-40 with just a touch of gray in the dark hair at his temples. Coupled with his commanding manner he was formidable. "Because I was tired of vanilla, when I'd rather have rocky road." I wanted to bite my tongue out, but they laughed. [Thank you, God.] She spoke. "I've never heard it put quite like that before. I like it." She sat on the end of the sofa and curled her legs under her body. "You'd better tell her about us, Jon." "You know about the code?" I nodded and the relief must have shown on my face. A certain tension leaving me in a rush. The code was a set of rules. Rules designed to set parameters and prevent accidents. I had hit gold, if they abided by it when they played. I kept my cool. "I did six years ago. Has it changed much?" "Just a safe-sex clause. You don't object to condoms, do you?" Another tension gone. I assured him that I believed in them one hundred percent. No one' is touching my body without protection. "Are you a dominant or a submissive?" This was the one question that I had been dreading. This was it. The moment when I stated out loud for the first time what I really was. Who I was. It was hard to get the words out around the congealing lump in my throat. Rob had never made me say it. He just took it for granted that I was his. This man wanted me to say it out loud. Express what I was craving. I had to force myself to say it and even then it was barely a whisper when it came out of my trembling lips. "Submissive." I felt hot color crawling up my neck and over my face. My hands clenched on my knees. Eyes down. I felt his presence as though he had just suddenly appeared before me. His voice when he spoke again had changed. It had hardened. "If you are a submissive, then you are in nowhere near the proper position to be addressing me." I didn't even hesitate. I dropped from the couch unto my knees on the floor before him. Hands behind my neck and under my hair. Legs slightly apart, eyes down. Thinking that if I did what I had done before and it was properly respectful that maybe it would be acceptable. He asked me questions. Rapid fire, trying to pin me to some kind of personal philosophy. "Voice trained?" "Yes Sir." I said, quickly. "Sexual Orientation?" "Heterosexual, Sir." Never ever tried it any other way. Why mess with what you like? "Have you ever been with a woman?" "No Sir." I felt color creeping up my neck. He waited and I made myself continue speaking, slowly. "Almost once, but I'm curious sir." "Wait there." I felt them walk away by the changing in the air around me, then snatches of the conversation they were having over in the other end of the room. Never a whole sentence, just snippets. Words like- Willing, Nice Manners, Not hard to train this one. Then I heard her say. "Well, we didn't have anything else planned for the rest of the evening now that Adam's taken the weekend off. We can ask." They whispered for a couple of minutes, and then came back to where I was kneeling on the floor. "We could really use a good submissive, honey." Nothing like being in demand. I heard them talk about fees, contracts, costumes, and hardware. I thought I was going to pass out it got so hard to breath there for a minute. My heart hammering in my chest at much faster than it's normal rate. I was dazzled and filled with a sudden sense of unreality. I heard one of them leave and one came back over to stand in front of me. "You can stand up." Traci, I did it, noting with some surprise that I was much taller than she was. "We'd like you to stay for awhile as a trial. If we like what we see, we'll include you with our regulars." I looked at her with curiosity shining in my eyes. "We have a fully equipped dungeon. Whips, chains, clamps. I do erotic body piercing. You will have an opportunity to pick your safe-word, if you agree to stay. Once you agree to stay, if you ask to leave it's considered an act of rebellion. If you use your safe- word to get out of a non-painful situation. That too, is considered rebellion. If you agree to stay we will consider you our property and use you as such." I asked her a question that was important to my answer to them. "Have you ever had an accident here where anyone got hurt? Really hurt?" She smiled with a great deal of pride. "No, We are more than careful here and have never had an accident with one of our people. We are always near and always watching." I looked her straight in the eye. "Are you secure here? I cannot afford to have even a whisper of this get out. It won't ruin me, but it would make my life much more difficult to live." She looked at me seriously, as though I had handed her a loaded gun. "This is the most discreet establishment in the city. We screen our guests very carefully here. If you become one of our regulars here by the time you return to us. We will know everything about you that is possible to know." I believed her. "I agree." I said it fast, so that I wouldn't balk. "Okay, I'll take you someplace to prepare for the festivities." I blushed. "I...umm. Already douched. Twice, both ways." She looked curiously interested in what I said. "Were you expecting?" I shook my head and sheepishly grinned down at her. "No, Ma'am. I'm only human. I had a date with Mr. Michigan, later in the night, if you know what I mean. I was planning on going home alone." She laughed. Understanding full well what I was saying to her. She walked over to a cabinet and got a blindfold. Tales From Subspace "You will wear this until we get downstairs." I nodded. Traci went behind me and buckled the blindfold carefully around my eyes, moving my hair out of the way. "You'll be able to walk until we get there." That was okay with me. I felt myself giving over to the slave way of thinking and knew that it was the blindfold. Erotic darkness covering my senses with velvet night. Nothing weakens your resolve like a blindfold. It softens you, robs you of will. She took my hand and led me slowly out of the study. I followed her. "Careful here." She said, guiding me a bit to the right of the corridor. She had me stop, putting my hand on the railing to some steps. Telling me that there were thirteen steps to the bottom. I went down, counting carefully. I could smell leather and rubber with the darker smell of basement. Jon spoke. "Bring her over here and strip her down. I want a good look at the merchandise." I quickly felt hands on the laces of my shoes before they were removed. Then my pants, pantyhose, shirt, bra and finally, my panties. I was naked. Another layer of vulnerability exposed to sight. No more false veneer of civilization. A hand took my elbow and led me forward. "Spread your legs." Jon commanded me. I did it. His hand taking my wrist and deftly securing it with a quick action to chains above me. Soft wrist cuffs holding it upwards. He did my other wrist. The heat from his body warming the front of me subtly. Body heat, very nice, especially in contrast with the coolness of the room. Hint of danger as I gave up control of my limbs. Pulse bounding. I heard him walking around me, slowly. I took the chains in my fists and held on tightly to their comforting solidity. I cocked my head trying to hear his motion and felt the sharp sudden sting of a strap against the backs of my thighs, surprising me, making me gasp at the unexpected delicious pain. It had been too long. I was instantly ready. "Head up, Anne." "Yes, Sir." I said, around the lack of air in my chest. He put his hands on my breasts and pinched the nipples lightly to make them hard. I sealed my lips shut. The one thing that I had learned very early on about the game was that the pleasure was never first. Tonight was to be no exception. I felt deft fingers closing clamps over the tips of my nipples. Tightening them expertly to the very threshold of pain. I fought to keep a groan inside myself. Sweat breaking out to form a sheen on my skin. Hands patted my shoulders and the added weight of the clamps on my nipples pulled maddeningly. I heard him step back to survey his handy-work. Moving once again close to me to whisper into my ear. Hand lightly traveling the curve of my buttock and upper thigh in a lingering caress. "Do you like Greek, little bottom? I do it very well." I shivered at the thought and couldn't answer because my mouth was suddenly too dry to speak. "Since you hesitate to answer my questions. I need to find no excuse to punish you, Anne. You yourself have provided it." "I'm sorry, sir. I beg forgiveness." "Then answer my question." "It's been so long that I am frightened." Truth was a scary thing. That was also one of the few places that your virginity actually does grow back and, sad to say, I had let it. I moved back into comforting ritual. "If it pleases you, Sir." He removed the blindfold and I looked around me for the first time at the dungeon. It must be some unspoken S/M rule that these places are always in the basement. I saw a large punishment cross in the corner. Several recessed cabinets and large open spaces. In one corner there was a bar that Traci was sitting at, sipping a tall glass of what looked like water. Jon drew my attention back to him. He put his large hands on my waist drawing my gaze back to the planes and angles of his face. A roughly handsome face in a rugged sort of way. He smiled kindly at me with teeth that looked very white and straight in the indirect lighting. "When we break a rule. That rule is explained." His voice was matter of fact. "You, as a slave, have no right to look me, as a Master, in the eye." I dropped my gaze quickly from his eyes. "Correct but futile. We call this the Rule of the Eye." I nodded. "Why will you be punished?" "This slave has broken the Rule of the Eye. I looked you full in the face. I beg your forgiveness and accept without question, your judgment." I watched his hands kneading my hips. Hoping that what I had said was ritualized enough to please him. Falling back into this foreign way of thinking more easily than I had imagined that I would. Much more easily than a small part of me hoped. "Very nicely put, Anne." "Thank you, sir." I answered. Waiting for him to continue with his will. "Tell us how your other Master had you act." I trembled then, burning with humiliation so intense it was almost like pain. I took a breath and spoke the words that Rob had taught me six years and a lifetime ago. "I am a submissive. Forever and always beneath my Master or Mistress. I am to be always graceful, willing and accepting of anything that the Master or Mistress decides. I will be punished for three reasons; Your pleasure, Infraction of the rules, or my Education. I am to show no preferences of any kind. I am merely here to serve." I managed to get it all out without stumbling over any of it. They seemed pleased with it. "What was your safe-word?" Jon asked, flicking the clamps lightly in an effort to distract me from his words. It almost worked too, but I forced myself to focus on him and him alone. My body and my need, secondary. "Blue, Sir." I gasped out as the gentle motion of the clamps hurt me slightly, just enough to be almost luxurious. Traci went to a dry erase board in the corner and wrote the word `Blue' under a legend that read; Language Of A Quitter. I practically winced at the thought. I wasn't going to say it now, unless I absolutely had too. Never, ever. Not here at least, not tonight on my first night. "I will ask you some questions, Anne, so that our time together is fruitful to both of us. There is severe punishment for lying to me and Traci will be taking notes so that later down the road I can check your answers from tonight." He paced in front of me. I kept my eyes down and forward. "What repels you?" "Nothing really. I have not done very much. I have no interest in certain foul bodily secretions. I have no idea, Sir." That was honest. How was I to know what repelled me unless I actually did it? He was studying me. Touching my arms lightly, my back. Putting his body near enough to almost touch me, then drawing away. What was he trying to do? "Ever been in a sling before?" A fisting sling? My body stiffened with terror. "No, Sir. Never, Sir." I stammered with fear. "This frightens you?" He showed some real interest at the thought that I might truly be frightened of something. My heart trip-hammered. Surely he could hear it. "It is not my position to deny you, Sir." Traci said no accidents and I held unto that thought like I was drowning. "Would you have any objections to being pierced?" That was a trick question. I had almost had it done a couple of years ago, just to see if I would like it, but I chickened out. "No, Sir." I answered quickly. "Anyplace but my clitoris, Sir. I wish to risk no permanent damage to something that I am quite fond of in my own way." Jon pressed his body suddenly against my back. His hand slipping into the moist apex of my thighs, making me groan as he touched the small knot of feeling that we had been discussing. Fingers firm. My sex, wet and starving. "Quite the smart-ass, aren't we, Novice?" "Yes, Sir." I had to fight to control my words around the rapid surge of fever that flowed over me. It had been so long and he was so hot. "Forgive me, Sir." "You will come to know many exotic pleasures in my house, Anne. I am an explorer of the sensual." I was beyond wet. I could feel it on my thighs- thick, hot, moist. Smell the scent of arousal on the air like sweet perfume. "I will take the time to know you better than you know yourself." I believed him. "Your strengths, your weaknesses. I am always searching for new ways to open your soul...” His fingers slid into my sex deftly. "To my touch." My legs grew weak and I held tightly to the chains supporting me. His fingers feeding the desire that was growing inside me to unbearable proportions. I moaned against my will, softening all over as his fingers slid home. "I have traveled the world learning how to torment and treasure. I know the Fist, The Greek and the feel of slick tight cunt around my cock. I can safely take you beyond your wildest fantasies." His voice was a mere breath of sound against my ear. "Yes, please...” I begged, beyond shame. Hoping for. What? Orgasm? Acceptance? I closed my eyes in misery. My spread legs aching terribly. My head rolling into my arm, helplessly. I felt my heart in my throat. I ached with desire. A throbbing, pulsing heat. I tried to speak, but bit it off because I had not been spoken too. The last of rational thought in my head. "Speak, Anne." He ordered, never ceasing the gentle motion between my legs. This was so hard for me. I had never been very good at revealing secrets. Beat me, but don't ask me why I want you too. "I'm frightened of who I am, sir." Soft hands on my shoulders. Traci. The tenderness more of a horrifying shock than the brutality. More painful, inside, anyways. "Why?" Jon asked, his voice sounding almost intrigued by what my reply would be. "Answer me, and never, ever hesitate." "I fear punishment as much as I crave it. I fear because it has been so long and I am so hungry." Total honesty. Total submission. Letting light into the darkness that was inside me. The darkness that was my sexuality. Savagely suppressing the conservative voices of shame that told me this...wonderful feeling would damn me for all time to the eternal pits of Hell. "I fear the loss of control." The true crux of my problem. I felt tears then, filling my eyes and captured by the edge of my lashes. "I am not supposed to enjoy..." "You are bound." Traci said to reassure me. Attempting to ease the guilt that flowed through me. "We are in control." I whispered the secret that I had kept to myself so long that to reveal it was more intimate than the act of love itself. My voice was low. "I orgasm under the strap." Shame spilling the wetness from my eyes. Hands stroking me from both sides. Jon's low laugh from behind me then his soothing voice in my ear. "It's very difficult for you, almost unbearable. The guilt. The shame of it all. It burns your soul with searing intensity." I nodded. "Yet, even now you have the power to absolve yourself. There is nothing wrong with you and nothing wrong with us." I took a deep breath to regain control. His hands leaving my shuddering body. "Prepare her for punishment." "Yes, Jon." Traci answered him. Her hands falling from me as well. "Go with it, Annie. We'll make it good for all of us." Flush of desire. Yearning for this. Get the pain over with, so the pleasure could follow. Build my passion to an unbearable level of heat and need. Set me free. I set myself. Rational mind shut off. Dreading the next few minutes. No matter how much you crave it or want it. The whippings, paddles and spankings hurt, even when it absolves the guilt. Even when it makes the fire between your legs burn white hot. Even when it teaches you about limits, or your own soul. The bite of leather against flesh will eventually break you. Traci stood in front of me with the blindfold in her hands. "You will not see which one of us is instructing you tonight. Do you understand?" Her tone was matter-of-fact. "Yes, ma'am." I affirmed, keeping my eyes forward. The soft leather buckled over my eyes and Jon asked me. "Why will you be punished?" His tone was hard. The question direct. I answered. "I, a lowly novice, dared to look you in the eyes. Boldly and without humility." I felt my arms lowered to the height of my waist. Hands on my shoulders pushing me to my knees. I automatically kept my legs open while kneeling. When I was set very solidly on my knees with no pull on my shoulders. Someone took the bulk of my hair and laid it over my shoulder, smoothing it carefully. I remained still, with my head forward. The blindfold is an amazing device. It's surprisingly calming, yet every other sense you possess comes completely awake. I felt air on the hair of my skin as subtle shifts of pressure. My ears almost preternatural in their acuity. It still took me by surprise. The first hard stroke across my buttocks. I gasped, clutching at the chains with desperate fingers. The strap fell again and again. I sealed my lips shut and tried to maintain what was left of my dignity in extremis. Whoever it was swinging the strap was a real expert. The blows were evenly spaced, deliciously hard. Rapidly painful as the blood rushed to my skin, sensitizing it. I called on reserves of self-control I didn't know I possessed. My safe word a litany in my mind; `blue, blue, blue.' Yet still I remained silent. Silent even after the tears started to form in my eyes and wet the underside of the blindfold. Quiet even after I felt myself breaking open inside. My head back, body tensing with agonized passion. Orgasm threatening me with sudden violent release. My own breath harsh in my ears. Thigh muscles set like stone and trembling with strain. I never even realized the moment that they had stopped. I struggled against the pain. Fought not to cum on my knees. My skin slick with sweat. Hair damp and inarticulate animal moans coming from deep in my chest. "Easy now." Came a tender voice and gentle hands on the back of my neck. "Good girl." I collapsed, unable to support my weight even on my knees. Pulling great lungfuls of air into starved tissues. Feeling weak all over, soft. The hands freed my wrists. Letting my arms fall limply to my knees. I felt a collar being slipped around my neck. I pulled away and hands steadied my face. Low voices telling me to be still, calm. Just a collar. Wide, but not too tight. A chain snapped to it. The gentle tug to the right told me which direction they wanted me to go in. I remained on my knees, trying to keep up with normal steps. Feeling carpet under my knees. I ran into a low bench and waited to be led. "Climb up, lay on your back." Perfect obedience in my every gesture. I strove to be graceful around the weakness in my limbs. The air perfumed with the scent of sex from the warm fluids on my thighs. Need, a raw animal wanting, burning through me. They stretched my arms over my head and secured them. My ankles, as well. "Why will you be punished?" I couldn't remember a reason other than the last reason that I had given. My heart stopped and a spasm jerked my body. "One crime, one punishment." He said. "For my education, Sir, or your pleasure." Someone knelt between my legs and hands touched my sex. Opening the hot, wet folds. Exploring the opening just a little roughly, deliciously. Where was the pain? This wasn't pain. Long fingers entering me gently, deftly. I heard the soft sound of cellophane and the hard snap of rubber. A soft moan escaped my lips. Two fingers, then three. Testing the width of my opening, my resilience. Other fingers lifting the hard kernel of my clitoris and pinching it mildly, tantalizing it, making it grow hard with demand. A body moved between my legs. An organ rubbing up my cleft with the pull of dry rubber slowing it down, making me moan through closed lips. Resting briefly at the gate of my vagina. Hands rested at the sides of my face. The cock started to slide home, into my tight well. Breaking through the resistance of six years of celibacy with a thick wet scraping. Resting inside me with all the time in the world to fuck me. The ache of dilated flesh convulsing my cavern as it tried to expel the invading member. The stiff cock started to move in an age-old rhythm. Rocking my sex. Deeply in, almost out. Barely brushing the gate of my womb as the hard rhythmic thrusts roughly worked me to climax. My senses blazed. The inferno inside me coming quickly to critical mass. Hard hands took my breasts, changing my focus from my sex to my breasts. Releasing the clamps so the blood flowed into the deprived tips. Agony pushing me closer to the pinnacle. I heard Jon's voice near my ear, low. Floating from behind me. Confusing my senses. "Traci fucks pretty good, doesn't she?" Overdrive. It wasn't him pumping me. It was her. The Mistress expertly rocking my clitoris against my pubis in that endless, relentless rhythm that my body knew so well. "Yes, Sir." I gritted out between clenched teeth. `Don't cum. Not now.' I told myself, rolling my head upon the bench under me. Fighting to restrain the inevitable tide that would take me over the edge and into the abyss. "Go ahead, orgasm. Traci is." I needed no more encouragement to let myself go. Abandoning any attempt at self-control, I arched against the bonds holding me. Widening my legs as far as I could get them in the bondage to deepen her access to me. She pushed deeper and harder. The orgasm swept over me and annihilated me. Rocking the very foundations of my existence until my breath froze in my lungs. Heart beating as though trying to escape my chest. I cried out with it, moaning. Body twitching with sharp, violent jerks. Hands on my flesh, but whose? Hers or his? I couldn't tell and truly didn't care. Still she did not stop. Driving me higher to a new plane of sensual gratification. I cried out, shrilly. The litany in my mind becoming tumult- `No, don't stop this exquisite torment. I yield to you. I yield to you." "I yield to you." I whispered. "I am yours." I whispered as the next series of convulsions shook me. I went beyond thought into animal instinct. The point where only one thing has any meaning. Sex, pleasure, the pain of touch. Another orgasm swept me. Bigger, louder, more shattering to my body. Too much! They had to stop. I could take no more of this unbearable pleasure. I tried to free myself with uncontrollably frantic movements, but was unable too. I felt a cock by my lips and took it hard into my throat. Arching my head back to take all of it. Deeper into my shuddering mouth. Any distraction welcome to my fevered mind. Forced to concentrate on what I was doing to his warm human flesh. The pleasure became more manageable, all-encompassing. Almost fantasy to me. Romance in chains. The organ pulled from my vagina, leaving it clenching on emptiness. I longed to have my hands free. `Closer, master. Deeper. Cum in me, please.' I could feel the tension in him. Taste salt-thick fluid leaking from the tip of his organ like honey on my tongue. `Give it to me, your slave. Favor me by this simple service to you.' My thoughts a ménage of ritual submissive surrender. I felt him push harder and my hands were freed from their restraint. By touching him I knew he faced Traci above me. Fucking my face without choking me. I clutched his thighs as he quickened his pace. Shallowing slightly so he could cum away from my mouth. Thinking that he wasn't going to let me taste his release. I laughed and held fast. I was not some silly high school girl afraid to taste of a man. Much less the essence of the Master. My grip pushed him over the edge. He went absolutely rigid except for the sharp uncoordinated motion of his hips. He groaned and hot fluid rolled over my tongue. I swallowed and went to the very root of his organ. Feeling the twitches and spurts against the back of my tongue. Tears rolling from my eyes as I took him into me as far as I could. Devouring his release as though his essence was the sum total of his power over me. I became the one in control, because I had allowed him to have me. Tales From Subspace I sighed when he left me, hands falling to the bench limply. Hearing him breathing above me in a rapidly normalizing cadence. Someone was removing the blindfold from my damp eyes. Wiping them with gentle fingers, touching my gently swollen lips lightly. Ashamed of this surfeit of emotion, I turned away. "I know why you cry." Jon's velvet voice in my ear. "You weep for your innocence. Weep that you can no longer be content with what you consider `normal.' You've gone too far for that." Maybe I had gone too far. Forging the pain/pleasure link in bands of iron. "When you can consider yourself to be a caring, normal person. Someone who merely needs a harder touch in love-play than someone else. It won't be so hard for you to seek out what you need, Anne." Would it really? Could I learn acceptance of myself? I wasn't sure I could, but I wanted too. Desperately. Laying on the bench, broken open and drained. I felt closer to normal than I had in many years. Grateful to the people who had taken me where my body so wretchedly wanted to go. I felt them undoing my ankles and hands helping me to sit. "Go with Traci. She'll take you someplace to shower and then we will need to talk." "Yes, sir." "Call me Jon." I nodded at him, speaking slowly. "Yes, sir." Then Traci led me out of the dungeon and back up the stairs. CLEAN UP What they had done to me was over. Letting me up from my knees, out of the dungeon. I followed willingly as they led me towards a white bathroom with a shower. Traci smiling as I reached the plain white door telling me to clean up if I wanted. I nodded, silently thinking about the scene between us. Thoughts flowing like quicksilver in my mind. It was oddly kinky, that she, not him, brought me to orgasm practically passing out from pleasure. The fact that I found it kinky, kinky to me. My head was like a three ring circus at times. Perversity is in the eye of the beholder, is it not? I knew that I was not gay. I liked men too much to be a lesbian, but she had reached some unknown part of my response system. I was not sure what to do about it, but try to think it through. A difficult prospect. At least to my reasoning. The rationale for picking one sex over the other to `play' with, are not as clear as they used to be. It's no longer as hard to cross over that gender line. I had never done it, not even now. I did not truly think. Does having a woman fuck you like a man; mean you've slept with her? Had sex with her? Even my questions were unclear, or were they just a justification for having enjoyed having her take me to climax? The thought of putting my hand on her breasts, seemed, well, obscene to me. `You'd do it if they ordered you, wouldn't you?' That was the crux of the entire question, when I was in slave mode, and into it. Yes, I would, just to please them. It would be part of the whole S/M deal. Part of my agreement. My code of conduct. As long as they were protected by latex, and I wanted the action to continue. Yes, I would, willingly. So now what did that make me? Nothing replaced a man, though. I can't even tell anyone what indefinable quality it is that makes me like them. They are arrogant, bossy, mostly irritating, but utterly fascinating. There is nothing else like one, at least for me. I love the feel of big hands. Hot, hard organs inside my slick sex. The taste of the delicate pre-come droplets that leak from the cleft, after you start a really long session of hot oral sex. I love the way they grab my hair before they climax, holding my head into that concealing curly hair. The smell of secret sex that you only get from burying your head under their scrotum to lick their furry cracks. Big legs, and hairy buns. Skin both rough, and smooth. I love men. Women always seemed like equals. Even when a woman is on top with a man, there's the potential for annihilating violence, contained by lust and desire. A woman has power over a man. That's the difference. I had power over Jon, because of my willingness, my hot sucking mouth. Power because I was able to take that rough rock-solid organ into my throat and coax the release from within it, drinking the warm juices with unfeigned relish. Traci just made me come. Good head trip though, and I did like her. She reminded me of me. Good imagination and a hot body. I stepped quickly into steaming hot water, leaning my face against the clean white tile. Cleansing from my body the scents and sweat of sex. It was wonderful. Ivory soap, and astringent shampoo. Good everyday smells that brought comfort. My mind slowed to lazy, warm circles. It was all the same thought; had I gone too far? How far was too far, and would I know it when I got there? The spray was stinging, warm, and almost painful. Aches melting from my various limbs slowly in the mist. I washed myself slowly, carefully between my legs. Letting the thoughts clear my head as dirt cleared from my body. I stepped out of the glass door of the shower to find that Traci was waiting for me, with a towel. A soft terry cloth robe, held loosely in her hands. She was grinning at me, and I hid my hotly blushing face partially behind the towel. She laughed in delight at the visible crinkle around my eyes. I was grinning too. "Well, you recovered quickly." I shrugged, negligently. "We've never had anyone here handle as much of a mind-fuck as you did tonight. Nice job." I wasn't sure what to say. This was technically my first time in a situation like this. Were we on, or off? "You can just talk in here. It's safe." She said, and I marveled at her perception. She seemed to know what I was thinking, and it had to be from observation. I wasn't saying much. Okay, nothing. "Come out, and talk when you're ready." I was relieved to have a bit of privacy. "Thanks, Traci." She turned back to me, assessing me carefully, eyes filled with intelligence and open interest. "Did you like it?" Licking her lips, slowly. As if she couldn't wait to taste me. Her eyes glowing with remembered passion. I had never had a woman look at me like this in my life. She looked at me like a man does... Shrewdly assessing the erotic potential of my deep valleys and firm mountains. It was disconcerting and surprisingly arousing. "I loved it." I was telling the truth. I was sure sincerity shone through every part of my body. I meant it. I felt good. Calm, relaxed. A certain indefinable tension gone from deep within me, the way I always felt after a really good fuck. Ready to eat, drink, and think about what I had done. I put the cream-colored robe on. It was soft. A comforting heaviness that only good terrycloth has. The armor of the civilized... A veneer that changed the very way I walked. I know I stood taller in it. GENTLE LOVE Going out the way Traci had. I saw a room with low comfortable pillows and bright colorful Afghans. A low plain wood table near the floor had wine, and cheese, set upon it. The harem-like profusion of multi-colored pillows was wonderfully luxuriant. Every shape, every texture and style. It looked like a harem. Walls vibrating with a dark vibrant maroon hue. Moldings of natural woods, carved in delicately twining vine-work. The leaves no bigger than my thumb. The kind of turn-of-the-century craftsmanship that you only ever see in these renovated mansions in the heart of the city. Built before pre-fabrication became the normal way of building. The carvings were uniquely appropriate to the room. I saw Jon lounging against a small pile of fat pillows, smiling at me as though pleased. I smiled back. "Wine?" He asked, and I whispered yes, that would be lovely. "Sit, get comfortable." I did. Warm, damp from the shower. The glass of Zinfandel, he handed me, cool against my fingers. I sipped the wine, declining the cheese. Feeling one thing. This was heaven. For the first time, in a very long time. I felt I had a aspiration, beyond work. Here I could be myself and whom I was inside. I had no expectations to meet. I was free to be as I truly am. Jon was studying me carefully, as I looked at the detailing of the room. I was content, simply happy. Like I had no other prospects, beyond being content. Did I understand why I felt this way? No, but today the feeling was enough. "How do you feel?" He asked me suddenly. His sharp eyes searching mine. Strange to look the master in the face. "I feel great." Traci laughed in amusement at my reply. Her pale-eyes delighted. "She means it, Jon." Her hands together in a small tent. "She's not ashamed, or sickened. She's bone-deep, truly satisfied." I was a little puzzled, wasn't I supposed to be? I thought that was the point. He asked me another question, patting the low pillows next to him for in an inviting gesture for me to draw closer. "How did you feel when you cried?" were his words, as I moved next to him. His big hands opening the tie on the robe, exposing my clean body to his eyes. His hands moving as I watched them to slowly stroke my damp breast softly. "When I told you that it was a woman inside you, not me." My breath caught in my throat. "What did you feel?" It was suddenly hard to form coherent thoughts, to put into words the shattering of my personal preconceptions. His tone was commanding, and I didn't dare refuse to answer. Over the rapidly rising level of lust in my heart, I spoke. "I felt as if you had broken open my soul and peered into the darkness that I keep hidden from the light." Brutally honest, and horribly revealing. Panic circled my throat. `Tie me, Fuck me, but don't know me. Please don't open my spirit to view. Please.' I thought these things, but did not speak them. His fingers gently tantalizing my flesh, and soothing the rise of hair on my skin. "I loved, and hated, you both." This surprised him. His eyes reaching my face again, as his attention was captured by the elegance of what I was saying. How I was expressing myself. "Why?" He truly wanted to know. Traci was behind the table, moving the edibles to another place along the wall. Carefully out of the way of whatever purpose Jon had in mind. "Because you took some of my darkness, into yourself. I had no will and no thoughts beyond pleasing you were, everything else was gone. All that remained was pulse, flesh, and bone." I looked down at his hands, moving in lazy circles towards the apex of my now open thighs. "It was like you knew me better than I knew myself." I was practically panting with exertion. He patted the table, and in my visible, shuddering weakness I climbed upon it. Seeing his robe parting before his stiffening cock, rapidly growing rigid, once more. Jon knelt up between my open legs, taking a condom from his robe's pocket. I watched him open it, and roll it gently over his own organ. I was floating in the lazy warmth of the room... Pulse quickening... Skin tingling. His hot eyes meeting mine as he rubbed the excess lube into my fresh-scrubbed opening. I was stunned to stillness. Arms limp at my sides. This was not rough, or mean. His fingers were careful, even soft. Not hurting me, as he spread me open. Exposing me to his gaze. I was suddenly confused. Trip-hammer pulse beating in my breast, my skin heating under his hands. Traci a distant memory, fading from my thoughts. Panic in my eyes, as he smiled gently. He carefully slid his thick organ into me, stretching me until I groaned with rapture. "I do know you." He said, as he moved leisurely in and out of my moistening cleft. "A true slave can forget their humanity, and be merely the flesh. All thought suspended." He ran butterfly soft fingers over the tips of my breasts until I shivered. I had no idea what he was doing, or why, but it was taking me to a new plateau for agonizing abandon. "Even in tears, your spirit never broke. In the very center of your being is a core of ice that no one has ever touched, have they?" I shook my head, looking away, and closing my eyes. This was more humiliating than anything they could even contemplate doing to me in the dungeon. "Look at me." He commanded and I did. "Traci and I have interviewed many people in this house. Very few can give us the honesty that you have given us." His deliberate thrusts were making me wet again. His unhurried hands on my clean skin driving me almost crazy; his lazy voice an undercurrent to the perfect fit of his penis inside me. "Most Submissives like the pain or the humiliation, but not the subtlety of a good mind trip." He picked up the pace. His hard fingers joining his cock, at the gate of my womanhood. Pinching the clitoris, making it throb with voluptuous sensuality. Working me softly, so delicately, that my mind filled with white-hot yearning. "I want to try something different with you." Hard to breathe at the absolute erasure of thought at his words. "I want the scene to start the night before... The week before... We want to prepare you, open you. Lay the foundation layer by layer." His big hands rested on my thighs as he pumped into me furiously. His face starting to darken with the approach of his climax. I watched him in breathless, eager anticipation, trying to feel it with him. The power of intimacy. Wondering at the metamorphosis of ecstasy that changed a man in control to a ravening beast. It was endlessly fascinating. I writhed beneath him, helping him to cum. The strong internal muscles of my vagina squeezing his thick organ mercilessly. His hands becoming hard and urgent. His thighs hitting my pubis at just the right spot. I was not surprised to feel our movements pushing me beyond the very edge of restraint. He was making me orgasm with unadorned vanilla words and gentle fingers. The master using me as a real woman and not some abject pet or thoughtless slave. That was when he leaned over, and really kissed me. Sliding his tongue into my open mouth plumbing my very depths. Twining his tongue around mine sweetly, like a lover. I felt myself rupture in my soul. My hands hesitantly rising from my sides, finding his back. Clutching hard at his buttocks with reckless abandon. Running my sweaty hands desperately up his searing flesh, holding on for my sanity. Gratification like this had been unheard of for me for many years. Soft hands in my hair, and slick indulgence in my deep cavern. I bucked beneath him, like a mare under a stallion. Opening my legs wrapping them around his waist to give him more access. `Deeper, Master. Faster.' Moans coming from deep inside me, in mindless profusion. I whispered his name over and over. A litany to remind myself of where I was, and what was really going on. That was when his velvet lips again silenced my words, my very ideas. His hands cradling my face to bury it against his hard chest. "Come on, Baby. Let it go." He whispered into my hair. "I want to feel it. I want your climax, Baby. Come for me. Come for me, now." I couldn't stop it. It flowed from somewhere so deeply buried in my psyche. It practically shattered me. When I let myself go, I came in his arms as an equal. Back arched, heart stopped, a scream of raw animal ecstasy tearing itself from my throat. Vagina quivering around him, and clenching him tightly, mindlessly. Feeling the bold shuddering pinnacle of his own pleasure by the strong hot jerks of his cock against my sex. He clutched me against him hard, and pushed a couple of times deeply into me. Pulsing against that elusive little ridge of clitoral tissue buried deeply inside a woman, making me react to him once again. He whispered against my hair. Patient easy words meant to soothe me. Quiet my racing heart, and still the tremors inside my soul. `What had I done?' A sob caught in my chest, almost sound, but not quite. He touched my throat, as I turned my face away from him. More truly tormented by this simple act of normality than by any elaborate bondage fantasy they could do to me. His tone was bittersweet, and sad, as he spoke into my ear. His breath making me shiver. "It's not all pain. Making love, to one, or the other of us, will be expected of you, tender one." Tears again, running silently down my eyes to be kissed away. "You can take the agony and the orders. It is the tenderness that moves and scares you, touches you in places that you thought long buried." He was right, and terror moved inside me. `Don't be right! Leave my heart alone!' It hurt to have him this close. Knowing that my hands had pulled him near. My lips had whispered his name. His instrument had taken my vanilla virginity. "You want to be here with us. You need to know if this life is what you want, or only a dark fantasy for you. Answer me, Anne." "Yes." I whispered painfully. I wanted, no, needed to know. I opened my tear-filled suffering eyes into his loving trusting ones. Nodding slowly. "Yes, Jon. I need to know." New calmness coming over me. He grabbed the base of the condom, and pulled his softening flesh from mine. Still laying over me protectively as he tossed the rubber neatly into a small trash basket. I took a deep breath suddenly shy. I had no idea what to do now. I looked around the room. Traci was gone. "Where?" I started to ask, but he just laughed. Pulling me off the table, and holding me against his hairy chest tightly on a nest of soft warm pillows. Pulling an afghan over the top of us. Tucking me in. "I can handle this on my own, dear." I shook my head. "Not what you expected?" I shook my head again. "I find that the ones who come to us out of a certain internal desperation." I stiffened, offended, to move away, but he stopped me. Arms tightening their hold. "Not that kind of desperation, but someone treated to a pleasurable taste of the strap. The barest amount of bondage or servitude. Often think that in order to enjoy the Life, they have to give up the sweet gentle tenderness of vanilla sex." This astounded me. Although why I had ever thought of my sexuality as a sacrifice, was a concept beyond me. The thing was that I had accepted the loss of `normal' lovemaking as a matter of course. I spoke up, interested in this idea. This intriguingly foreign concept. "You make love to everyone who comes here?" I asked my voice low. Curious to what he would say to me, because everything that he was saying had the ring of truth to it. Logical progression. "Had you been a lesbian. You would be in Traci's arms right now, but yes. I make love to all applicants gently at least once in the first week here. Your willingness to partake of this `delicacy' has given me some valuable insight into your mind. This is very hard for you, isn't it?" I nodded. He hugged me tighter until I relaxed against him. Almost enjoying the simple closeness he was giving me. How long since I had just been held, and not pushed away after an empty act of sex? The hurried oral sex in a car, the quickie? I allowed myself to bask in his presence near me, touching some empty place in my heart, that I knew he was filling. He continued speaking. The simple elegance of his mind, flowing into mine. "Pain is always easier to bear, but not all is pain. When I give you to a guest here, this may be the service that they require of you. A simple act of love." "What is love?" I asked suddenly, angrily. The mercurial thoughts flowing like water out of me. "How can you tell? Is it you coming inside me? Is it the simple human act of touching another person and feeling the essence of that person? Is it not judging another person when they wake in the morning?" I sighed. "I have never had love. This simple act of love that you describe is beyond me. Laying in your arms, right now is so profoundly kinky to me. I barely know how to act." He laughed a little sadly. "Love is what you make of it. It is weak and strong. Firm and soft. I love Traci and cannot imagine not rising to her every day. We think alike, and enjoy the same things. We don't deny each other's sensuality or desire for others. I love some of the slaves I've trained, and let other masters, or mistresses, have. I love you." I shook my head, and laid it against his chest in mild disbelief. A long sigh escaping me. "You don't understand?" Not really. Well, maybe I did on some lower level. "I love every person who ends up here. The outsiders searching for acceptance." Tales From Subspace "Is that what I am?" I said it so haughtily, that Jon laughed out loud. I did too. It was true. All my life I had felt like the kid on the outside of a birthday party, looking at all the other `normal' kids having fun. Wondering what set me apart from them. What made them normal?" "I understand, and you're right." I sighed. "For all my life. I've tested the limits of acceptable behavior. Just so far, and no more. Hiding, terrified." He nodded in complete understanding. "There is steel inside me. Forged by holding back from every aspect of my life. Never giving up control. Unable to let go." I played with the tangled hairs in the center of his chest. "Tonight felt good. I cannot guarantee to be perfection, or good all the time." I took a deep breath. "The thing is. I like you both. I would like to do this with you. If you'll have me here. I never expected what I got here, and I enjoyed the surprises." There was an easy silence between us now. I could hear the slow steady beat of his heart under my ear. Feel his pulse under my fingers. Alive, warm, feeling. "You've seen a contract?" He asked, as he rubbed my back under the robe. My mouth went dry at the sudden business-like hardness in his voice. "Yes, One form of it." My voice was small. It was a safeguard, a surety against accidents. An agreement with a checklist attached to it that had limits and preferences, for the dominant to play with. So far, no more. I felt an undefined tension melt from my shoulders. Another layer exposed by a firm set of rules. "I'll give you a copy to memorize, and you will be tested on it. The rules we operate under here are very strict. We train slaves, and find them a place with a master to love them." His voice was very matter of fact, and precise. "Like a dating, matchmaking kind of thing?" He roared outright at this, hugging me closer to him. As if I was some kind of rare treasure that he had found on the street in a lucky twist of fate. "For three months, as our schedule and yours allows. We will train you in our ways of pleasure. It will be difficult, and uncomfortable. Be prepared for that, and always remember it. It is what we do, and who we are. Be very clear on that part of it. This kind of `normal' love is a rare occurrence for us." I nodded. "At the end of that time, we will either find you a master or mistress to subsidize your visits here, or send you on your way to someplace where you can get what you need. Do you understand?" Slower nod this time, as fear again shook me. "Read the contract this week, learn what you can from it. Think about it seriously. I am hard, and demanding, but I turn out artists. Traci is the same way. Our people are in demand in the Inner Circles, and I have seen some of my people live the life full-time after my teaching, but it will not be easy." Inner Circle? Full-time? Dazzling possibilities. "Nothing worthwhile ever is." I said, simply. I meant it. He patted me absently. "I cannot go on, just thinking about what I might be missing. Everything you've said has had the ring of truth to it. I will do what you suggest, and think about it carefully, Jon. I do not think I'll change my mind. I have always had these feelings, and I will go absolutely crazy if I have to deal with one more amateur, or unsafe situation, in order to have the kind of mind-blowing orgasm I had when you told me it was Traci in me tonight." He chuckled in my ear, and leaned up to grab the glass of wine on the floor by the table. He offered it to me, and I sipped it. "What you have described to me sounds good. I would like to have the opportunity." "There are some rules that you'll have to follow this week, and come back next weekend to start." I sighed in gratitude. My head bobbing in assent. "Your orgasm is mine, no private stimulation. No outside contacts, and no talking about our existence here. Can you agree to that?" He sounded very serious about this, and it was easy to agree. Who would I tell? My mom? That's a pleasant thought. She'd have me at Maumee Valley Psychiatric before I had the words out. No, I could be silent, easily so. "Yes, I think so. The no private stimulation will be the hardest part, but I won't disappoint you." He smiled good-naturedly, eyebrows together in a playful little frown over his dark-eyes. "I know you have your own toys, so to speak. All beginners do. Bring them here to avoid temptation. You will have a locker and a bath servant assigned to you on Friday night. He will be in charge of you when you are here. He will bathe you, cleanse you internally, and generally prepare you for any activities that we have planned for the night." His tone was matter of fact. Business-like. "You will be the lowest of the low here. Every single person will have access to you. They will be able to use your body, your hot little mouth, or your hungry tight ass, if they want too. You will have no choice in the matter. If you resist them, or try to use your safe-word to avoid satisfying them. You will be forced. Can you truly accept that, Anne?" I did not know how to explain what his words had done to me. The sudden tightening in my sex. The first wave of eager anticipation flowing wetly unto my thighs, so I took his hand to lead it down to the burgeoning slickness. He found it, fondled it. Smiled in pleased amusement at it. Putting his drenched fingers in my mouth so I could taste my own smoky arousal. I practically swooned. "No more for you tonight, little one. I want you eager, and ready for me next week. Like you are now. Traci will want a taste of you next time, and you will need to accept the fact that your own heterosexuality has no meaning here. Slaves cannot choose." I accepted that. Part of the job. "I think you'll do pretty well here, and at the end of the training time I will find you a master to torment, and love you, as you need to be." His words gave me a frisson of anticipation. Something to look forward too. I wanted to belong somewhere, have people accept me for what I was. I was tired of hiding my true nature all the time. I wanted out of the darkness that I was trapped in. His words would have shocked the straight, repressed people I dealt with every day, but to me they were like someone had main-lined a powerful aphrodisiac, pumping the blood straight down to the apex of my thighs. How could I spend a week like this without? Well, taking care of it myself? Sweet torment, but then he knew that, didn't he? I lay quietly in his arms, talking softly for the rest of evening. Acquiescing to the fact that he was going to hold me until he tired of it, and that part of me liked the gentle male attention for a change. I continually surprise myself in the most shocking ways. That night when I finally went to my home. I slept truly well for the first time in at least a year. Dreamlessly, easily. I had with me a packet of papers to look at, and attempt to memorize. Traci grinning knowingly at me, when Jon led me to the door to say good night. There was no malice in her face, and the kind light in her eyes told me that what had occurred was a normal and accepted thing with them. Extraordinary people. I liked them, a lot more than was good for me probably. Considering my new position. I drove home slowly; listening absently to an erotic book on tape I had just bought that week. Tonight it was not going to be a problem, Tomorrow, well maybe. By Friday? Torture. I slid into my big, soft bed, after another quick shower. Sated, abraded and very satisfied. I fell asleep quickly, and did not dream. REALITY DRONE I awakened the next day anticipating the weekend to come. They had taken my name and number, made an appointment for me at a local doctor for the next week, which was associated with them somehow. I didn't want to think about that too much. Too big a mind-blower. I wouldn't want to be tortured by someone that knew as much about the human body as a doctor. They had given me a copy of the contract to sign, and I felt a shiver of anticipation. Half dread, half-lust. My life was already changing. Taking on a new erotic luster. I knew I needed to explore this side of myself, and I considered myself pretty lucky to have found Jon and Traci so easily. Many were not as lucky. They spent their lives denying the reality of their lusts. Denying themselves and suffering needlessly. I didn't feel like I wanted to do that. I would rather face myself straight on than attempt an end-run around my psyche. You can never escape yourself anyways. You are there in the mirror everyday. I signed the contract that night, using big bold strokes from my favorite pen. The flamboyant letters jumping out of the pages at me. I started filling my journal with the flashes of lusty heat I was feeling in ever-increasing increments. It felt good. It felt real good. To say that work sucked that week would have been putting it mildly. It is very hard to concentrate on facts, and figures, when you're thinking about your sexual fate. I did think about it, almost every minute. I played by Jon's rules but I regretted it. Yes, again, almost every minute. Usually just about the time my thoughts would wander for the fortieth time in as many minutes, when I wondered if I would need a spatula to stand up from my chair. Something to break the suction with. Every maddening, tormented second, I regretted being a `good girl.' All I thought of was sex. Not the regular kind, no that would be too easy to dismiss. The kind of sex that I liked was what I thought about. Every man I saw was a fantasy. Every woman a sex object. Questions floated in lazy erotic rhythm through my fevered thoughts. How do these nameless strangers taste? What kind of orgasms do they have? Do they moan, or cry out? Could I make them come? Dangerous thoughts, not so easily dismissed from the rapidly increasing pulse of desire that was moving them to the front of my mind. I was wet and horny, all week long. I filled my journal with these wandering thoughts. Fantasies that haunted my imagination all day long at the very edge of cognizant thought. My world became an erotic playground. There was this one particular little number that wandered quietly into my brain that I had to repeatedly push away. It's quite a trip. OPEN DESIRES: FANTASY We had been talking about sex for days as we drove together on the open road. The hows, why's, and when's. The unusual, and the common. On the Net, and in the home. Innocent conversation, or so I thought. Erotic wordplay. Maddening, especially for me. For five years I had gone without by choice. It had been offered to me and refused, on several occasions. The wrong time, or someone I had no interest in, or someone that wanted more of me than I wanted to give. They wanted to control or break me. Things I would not allow. Nothing personal. I could feel it building inside me to almost unbearable proportions. A time bomb, and, then, he said something so uncommon, I could barely respond. It took the breath from my lungs and sent my pulse into heated overload. "You know I go home, and take care of this myself." I knew what he was talking about, and, God, what a waste. I felt the intoxicating pulse of danger flowing through my veins. "No one will see us out here." He said, voice low, raw with lust. It was true and tempting. I wanted it, too. Looking out the window and assessing the risk over the rush of adrenaline in my body. I could suddenly smell him. Hot, willing, male animal. A savage scent. Five years of living with women. Surrounded by them and their delicate sensibilities. Missing the scent, touch and feel of male. Strong hands and hard thighs. I was instantly aroused, lust blossoming between my thighs in imperative wetness. Darkness around us. No buildings. No people. Feeling the temptation of Sex without Strings. Release without Regret. Flesh alone speaking to me. I looked at him, puzzled by my inexplicable hunger for him. Why him? He who had angered me beyond reason. Enraged me past all thought before he even knew me. Why would he tempt me? How could he be the cause of all this... heat? Suddenly, I didn't care. I crossed the line from civilized to bestial. My eyes narrowing with determination. "Let's go in back." Asking for what I wanted for the first time in a long time. "I want to give some head." I know my voice had that edge to it. The `let's do it now, before I lose my nerve', edge. We did. Quickly climbing back into darkness and faceless anonymity. I practically raped him. Feeling sexual power flowing through me. I wanted my hands on his flesh and more I wanted his cock in my mouth. Letting him kiss me and touch my face. His lips hard, sweet. Breathing in the smell of cologne, tobacco and skin. Running my teeth down his neck sensing his eagerness. Savoring the salt of flesh against my tongue. Too long for me. It's been too long. I want fast and hard. Needed to take the edge off before I could slow down. He let me, saying nothing, not protesting my speed. Not protesting the driving urgency that was energizing my hands, my body. I was the one holding back so I wouldn't mark him with my lips, my nails. It was an effort of pure will. His hands cupping me through my clothes, creating a burning need. Hands finding my breasts through my shirt and under my shirt. I know I moaned, a low animal noise of want, escaping my clenched teeth. I murmured I wouldn't mark him. Promise, no one will know, but us. I wanted to bite the buttons from his shirt and bare his skin. Fighting for control through a haze of red-hot craving. I started pulling his belt free with quick efficient movements of my fingers. Opening his pants and ignoring the sensible voice in my head that whispered he was dangerous. Hazardous because of his willingness to play. His enthusiastic arousal of the beast inside me. Making me hot and wet. Willing to revel in the feel and taste of the flesh. I pulled him out with hands that shook and found him hard. Ready. Musky clean tang of his body filling my head. Droplets leaking from the tip of his cock, begging to be tasted tantalized. Dewy moisture that flowed over my tongue as I closed eager lips over his organ taking as much of him as I could into my throat, practically coming as he filled me. Gripping his thighs, his lean hips, with my hands. Teasing him with my lips. Flicking my tongue and creating a deep pulling suction as I descended on him fully. Hearing him moan my name above me as I searched for his rhythm. His hands finding my hair as he tensed. I could do this, I remembered this. The feel of cock in my throat and the pulling moisture I felt between my legs. My mouth inflaming him. His thighs flexing under my hands. Holding my head and gently guiding it for full effect. Long minutes of willing passion building to zenith. He was going to come. I could feel him hardening and filling more of my mouth. I took him deeper, faster. My own orgasm building between my legs. Part power, part need. His fingers flexing against my scalp. `Come for me.' I thought. `I want it.' All this anticipation moving through my head, until I had no thoughts but the release. Following instinct to its climax. I felt soft jerks in my mouth and followed it down. Burying him deep in my throat as he swelled inside me. Filling my mouth with the salt and sour of his essence. I swallowed his gift. Teasing all of it from him, licking it softly. Orgasmic on my knees before him. Trying to catch my breath, as it swept me. My fingers digging helplessly into his thighs. Immobilized for several long moments. Spent, head resting against his knees. Uncaring of anything but the pleasure sweeping my body. Wishing for more time and more room. I came back to myself slowly, helping him cover himself. Tucking, zipping, buckling. Fighting the urge to do it again and this time, letting his fingers find my wet flesh. Almost losing control and giving into it. My shaking fingers stroking him through the dense, rough wool of his pants. Maddening. I felt a small burning ridge on the inside of my upper lip; it sent a shiver of desire through me as my tongue stroked it. The taste of him still on my tongue. Desire forming a knot inside me. My body soft and mind whirling, as we drove off into the blackness of the road. Talking softly as if nothing had happened. No change in the everyday scheme of things. Not love, lust. Pure release and no small amount of danger. Out in the open, and away from the everyday garbage that ruled our lives. No future and no past. Would I do it again? Yes, I would, for one simple reason. I want too. GIRL'S NIGHT OUT Very hard to get rid of that one. Subtle, pleasant. A little vanilla. Implied bondage. I thought about that particular tidbit quite a lot. What else could I do? I was playing by the rules, because I didn't want to blow it. I was looking forward to an experience well beyond the everyday scope of my existence. The boring, mundane, 9-to-5 drill I went through five/fifty-two/twelve. I'm still not sure how I did it. It was Thursday, the day I regularly went out with some of the girls from work that reality hit. I had been a little bitchy that day. I'm thirty-two, and hitting my peak if you know what I mean. I wasn't even getting the mild relief I gave to myself. Janie, my secretary, was practically drooling on this Yuppie banker type across the bar. At a Yuppie bar, in a Yuppie neighborhood. Three executive women sipping white wine, and making jokes about the lack of love in our lives. Work, work and more work. The thing was. This guy was nothing special, and I was so frigging horny. I would have laid him on the bar in a second flat. My whole week had been that way. I had more sexual energy at my disposal than the Milky Way has stars. I spent all week dripping, drenched, and thoroughly saturated. My world having an erotic undertone with every passing fantasy I constructed in my brain. My very out-look had changed. Not so just everyone would notice, but some of them did. The eyes of some of the men at work followed me in a puzzled sort of way. Liking, and repelled, by what they sensed in me. I put on underwear that showed off my body. Make-up that accented my hot-eyes. I attracted more attention than I ever had in my life. The thing was, I had promised not to do anything about it. What surprised me most was how I was looking at other women now. I had always been a solid Kinsey three. Fantasizing about men, and women equally. I had just never really wanted the hassles of crossing the gender line. I was to middle of the road. I just always chose men as sex partners. It was the easier, socially acceptable, cowards way out. It was also a personally preferred choice. Men are hard. Harder than we are. Hard organs, hard hands in your hair. Rough palms on your breasts. Thick fingers in your sex or your ass. It's feeling helpless under their strength. Hairy chests, legs, and openings. Being mastered physically, and not through the delicate intricacies of a head-trip. This new point of view frightened, and excited me. All at the same time. Lending an air of carnality to everything that I did. Every word I uttered. Every gesture. I was thinking about this one concept so hard, that I missed Janie's question. "Jesus, Annie. You've been on Mars all fucking week. Are you PMS?" I shook my head, no. "How often do you fantasize?" They appeared eager for my response. "All the time." Smiling sweetly. They laughed, drawing attention to our little group. "A good orgasm, releases a lot of... tension." They really howled at that. "You are more like a man, than any of us." Janie said, with a giggle. They all nodded in agreement. I asked her to explain herself. I was puzzled. She replied. "You don't think like we do. You enjoy watching us, and you enjoy our company. However, a lot of what we, as women do, puzzles you." True, but I remained quiet, listening intently. "You take less shit than most of the guys we work for, yet seem to be more of a woman than they could handle." Lydia twittered, adding jokingly.