Tales From Subspace

"You will say it. I have no desire to be in your place and Jon told me to make you say it." I shook my head and swallowed a sob. He looked down at me for a long moment, and then walked away. Coming back with a bamboo cane. "Say it." My chin quivered, but I shook my head. "Last chance." He said, a bead of sweat falling from his forehead to land on my stomach.

"No, Handler. I will not. I have been rebellious, defiant. Unwilling to please any but myself, but I will not say it." That was going to be impossible and he knew it. "Okay, brace yourself." I felt liquid fire across my buttocks. The whistling scream of bamboo slashing the air, before the cutting impact on my shrinking skin. I lasted exactly four strokes without fighting the bonds for release actively. Ten before screaming out in extremis. Broken by his determination. His voracious tenacity.

"BLUE! BLUE!" Adam immediately stopped his movement in midswing. I collapsed in on myself, shattered and sobbing. So very sorry I would be leaving here. I had failed utterly. Pulling deep shuddering breaths into my lungs to weep them out brokenheartedly. The sudden quiet stillness of the room painful. Adam threw the cane, across the room and knelt over me. I turned my face into my shoulder, not looking at him. Not wanting to see his triumph at my expense. The warm room was quiet but for the noises I was making. I was absolutely miserable.

Instead of releasing my body in order to send me home. He knelt between my spread thighs and dipped his tongue inside my opening. Stunning me. His mouth bathing my wet stormy cleft. Plunging deeply inside the moist folds and pushing his nose against my clitoris until a wave of tremors shook me. Assaulting my senses with sudden heat. Unexpected impetuous need flowing over me. Need made all the more bitingly tender by the soreness of my inner thighs. His soft dark hair harsh upon my skin. The rapid flow of scorching inflammation over my body inexplicably arousing. I clutched his head in desperately shaking hands. Feeling it curl around my wet fingers as craving gripped the core of my body. A pinnacle of voluptuous sensuality, like nothing I had ever known before, had been reached. Its culmination rolled over me. Stretched my taxed body to its limits and tore a deep-throated cry from my throat. Unable to move. His thick hair brushing painfully against the sore spots on my legs. His large hands holding my sweaty hips to the bench with an even relentless efficiency. Neither my hands, nor my desperate movements, could dislodge him from my trembling grotto. Panic made me try futilely to do so, but it was hopeless. I felt my overflowing climax exclusively in the deep valley between my legs. Body taut, breath held rigidly behind clenched, aching teeth. Fingers in spasm. My heart trying to beat its way from my chest. Experiencing for the very first time. The annihilating drama of Le Petit Morte. The Little Death, in my supreme affliction. Pain rolling through me and over me. Pushing me farther than I had ever been before in pleasure. I couldn't take it. `It's too much!' I fainted, falling into blessed, merciful darkness.

The sudden limpness of my body must have alerted Adam to the fact that something was wrong with the person beneath him. I couldn't see for a couple of moments and my face was white. Feeling a queer whirling in my head. It was a momentary thing, but very strange for me. I had never ever in my life done anything even remotely like it.

"Annie?" I felt hands on my face touching me and knew that my arms moved weakly to feel them. "Are you okay?" I clutched at his shoulders, wrapping my arms around him. Realizing that in the few seconds that I had been woozy, my legs had been quick-released.

There was some comfort in that and in the strong arms wrapped around my weak body. I started breathing again. Heart-pounding. "Are you okay?" Adam asked again, insistently.

"Yes, Handler." I said as I took a deep breath. "Thank you for taking the time to correct me." He hugged me in relief and I could hear him chuckle deep in his chest. His big hand cradling my head against the thatch of thick dark hair on his sweaty chest. I closed my eyes and rested against him for a few luscious moments. When Adam moved away to stand up, he swung me into his well-muscled arms. I tried to protest, but he silenced me with a small assertive noise. "You're not going to start arguing with me now, are you?" His voice was warm. I shook my head and kept my arms around his neck.

"No, Handler." I lay quietly in his arms, wondering at the fact that he did not strain under my weight. Carrying me as easily as one would a child. I did not know where we were going, but did not ask. I was amazingly calm. I had made it through one of the worst ordeals that I had ever encountered. I had not broken until after the allotted fifteen minutes. There was some twisted pride in that fact. `How had I done it? Why had I done it?' There was an interesting question. Why? One of the most fascinating questions I could ask about myself. I was a responsible businessperson. I did not feel like a freak or anything. I just felt alive and tingly. Awash with sensuality. Was the only reason I was here because for so long I had been dead inside, and now I felt alive?

How, was easy. I had picked up a paper, dialed a number and met the most stimulating people that I had met in a long time. Was it that I simply refused to be held prisoner by the morality of other people? Was that it? Was it an act of ultimate rebellion? A safe outlet for the darker side of me that tormented me so completely?

I was too tired and too sore, to think about these things for very long. They were questions of personal philosophy that I would have to ponder over an evening when I had some solitude. Time enough for that later.

Adam came to a door on the third floor and opened it. A bedroom done in deepest forest green, but it looked lived in. There were books on the shelves and the spread was ruffled. A desk had paperwork and files on it. A computer, scanner, printer arrangement beside it on a lower stand. A closet in the corner, partially open, had suits in it. Nice suits of silk wool blend that shone with the fine quality of the fabric. How intriguing. He lay me on the bed and secured my hands above me by one single bond. I looked like I was praying, but I was comfortable. He tucked the spread around me and went over to the closet. I watched him taking off his clothes with interest. I had never seen him naked. Just partially revealed by the open fly of his pants and if what that revealed was any indication. I was in for a treat.

"Close your eyes, and rest, Anne. You'll see enough of me tomorrow." He smiled when he said it. The pillow crunched under my head, as I rested on my side. I felt him crawl into bed next to me. His big warm body against mine. A creeping lassitude stole over me. Created by his warmth, and the softness of the bed. I sighed, and let it flow over me. He started speaking quietly into my ear. Asking me a question so unusual I came almost completely awake.

"Do you hate me?"

NIGHT TALK

"Do you hate me?" Adam asked again in his velvet soft voice. I had been half-asleep, comfortably bound by the wrists to the headboard. Lazily relaxed in the after-midnight gloom. I could barely keep my eyes open. His question surprised me. He pressed tight against my back, one hand spread against my stomach. Fingers unfolded, radiating heat. I snuggled my buttocks backwards to rest on his manhood. Nice to cuddle for a change.

"Did you want me too?" I could feel his organ stirring, stiffening near the back of my thighs.

"No, but I wondered." His fingers pressed against the raised marks on my skin. Waking them so they pulsed faintly. "Why don't you?" Mild tone, and innocently curious.

"Let's see." I quipped. "You're gorgeous, sensuous, hung like a pony, and you have a good solid swing in your strap. A strap, I might add, that you like to use on my cowering slave body." He laughed, and pressed nearer. "Why should I hate you, Adam? You were doing what you were told to do. The same as I was. I would have to hate Jon, and I cannot hate him."

"Do I scare you?" His timbre was hoarse, raw sounding. As if these questions had been bothering him for most of the night, but he did not know how to express them. They were to intimate.

"You're supposed to scare me. That's the point. I said `blue and you stopped. How scared can I really be?" Adam's hands roamed over me, as if checking to see the extent of the damage he had done to me. Lazy pressure, calming.

"You are not like some of the people that we've had here." He sounded almost amazed. Why?

"How do you mean? I'm older?" That low smoky laugh from deep in his chest again.

"You smiled in the middle of a scene. Do you know how rare that is? You spend all of your time wide-awake, and not caught up in some romantic fantasy of love in chains." I liked the way he put that even if he wasn't speaking about me.

"If I didn't enjoy this. Why would I be here? This isn't like going to a movie, and thinking that Brad Pitt looks a little off-color. I can't really walk away when I'm tied to the table." I was a little puzzled. What else would bring someone here?

"Some people come, because they feel they deserve nothing better than punishment. They feel it more every time they climax. You don't, do you?" I shuddered with sadness.

"How terrible for them." I meant that in the deepest sense. "I look on the strap, most of the time, as a reward. It's the same even when its meant as punishment or I cry. If I really fuck.. OOPS. Screw-up. I get sent away, and I won't be punished so wonderfully anymore." I tried to put my thoughts together in a coherent way, so they would be easy to understand. "Literal violence is a terrible, soul-killing thing. I had that." A small sympathetic noise came from him. I pushed that memory away. "Maybe at one time I did too, but it's not that way now."

"How is it now?" He sounded like he really wanted to know, resting his cheek on mine. The feel of masculine beard, and male smells, floating over me in indolent circles.

"Now, it's just sensation. I had a boyfriend that did this kind of thing. Never far enough or long enough. Some kind of one orgasm rule with him. I had been so straight, and when he left me I never thought that I would miss it as much as I did." I could feel my eyebrows knit together in a little frown. "It was frustrating to go on a normal date, and try to ask for this? You ever try to explain this to a Catholic?" He laughed outright at that picture, and I knew he understood. "I'm scary enough to most men, because of the brain in my head, without a WHIP in my hand. Rob, for whatever reason, saw this inside me, and brought it to the light. I just cannot go back. Frankly, I don't really want too." Adam's hand moved to the backs of my thighs, and explored the deep valley between them. My voice fell to a whisper. "I can hide it, or enjoy it. I don't want to feel like an outlaw because I like this." I moaned under the pressure of his palm on the inside of my leg.

"There's no reason too, as long as you can find other players." I bent my knee to give him access, and felt two long thick fingers move into me from behind. I tried to remain still. "Hmm." He murmured, and his organ pressed upwards on my back. "I did promise you something exotic tonight, didn't I?" Yes, he had. How kind of him to remember. I gave him a ritualized answer to his words.

"Yes, Handler. If it is your wish to continue. I will gratefully submit to your attentions." He moved up, and back so I could roll over onto my stomach. My bound hands together before me. I relaxed on my arms, and waited with my knees bent. He fondled my back, silently. Reaching over me to the nightstand. I knew basically what he was reaching for, so I did not watch.

"Have you ever done this before?" He asked, as a thick semi-solid mass started to melt between my butt cheeks. His fingers following the moist path.

"Not in a long time handler, but the mistress opened me there earlier with a phallus." I felt a small twinge of embarrassed fear. Adam was much larger than that toy. His fingers felt larger than the phallus had.

"You like it though, don't you?" His voice was lower, and more demanding. I felt his thumbs in me, and the slippery lubricant being worked deep by his fingers. I groaned, as sympathetic wetness seeped from my vagina to run down my thighs. His fingers sure, and delicate, and gentle.

"Yes, Adam... Handler. I do." I could feel the tension growing in my jaw, as he rose behind me. One of his hands open on my lower back, and the other guiding his penis to the tight opening of my anus. I tried to remember how to do this. Feeling the pressure he was exerting to unseal my flesh becoming overtly uncomfortable. The organ being angled down, and into me, even as I tensed.

"You make your own pain here, Anne. You are resisting me." `I've forgotten!' My mind screamed. "Open yourself to me. I really have no desire to rape you right now." I bore down, and felt the tight little ring expanding around his hot hard meat. The hand on my back was joined by another. Both sliding over to the sides of my waist to grip my hips. "Here it comes, Annie." He whispered the customary warning. "It only hurts for a moment." Then Adam entered me smoothly. Stretching me impossibly wide to accommodate his organ with the familiar burning ache that accompanied any anal penetration. He was in, and I felt the incredibly strong muscles back there trying in vain to expel him. Making him groan with pleasure. Holding unto me hard with his hands. He started to move in me then, pumping me. Soft in, quicker out, the rhythm that told me he knew what he was doing. That this was familiar territory for him. I wouldn't be injured, but I would be opened. He started to speak, and I realized suddenly that the words were as important to him as the actions. The cries, and groans, part of the intoxication for him. I let myself go, as his voice primed the orgasm threatening to flow over me. "This is one of the most intimate ways to examine a slave. They create their own pain. This requires absolute compliance, and absolute resilience." I believed him. "Does it hurt good yet?" He asked, and I shook my head, around the tightly clenched teeth in my mouth. He grabbed my breasts with his hands, and kneaded them. Leaning his weight on my back until my legs quivered.

"I don't know how much more I can take." I ground out, and the words worked on him, he moved rougher, and meaner.

"You can't take it?" I shook my head. "If you really can't stand it, do not want me in you, then use those tight little muscles to keep me out. Your weakness is why I prefer men for this really. They can take more, and harder." I gripped the bars of the headboard. Pulling close, taunting him over my shoulder with a playful little growl. I pushed back hard towards him, and felt every last inch of him slide into me painfully, deliciously. Filling me to bursting. He laughed, a low menacing sound. "Hold still. You want to be cored like a man?" I nodded, and kept my eyes closed. "You think you can take it?" I nodded, and groaned loudly. My hands curled tightly to the bed for support. He took a hold of my knees, and lay me flat on the bed. Legs wide for access, his body following mine down. "You want to be fucked in the ass, little novice? You got it." His excitement came through his every word, and the quivering touch of his thighs on mine. The fact that he was so excited knocked my own excitement up a notch. Fever pitch, and poignantly degrading to have to beg to be fucked harder. My perineum was pulled taut, and the little muscles grew hard because my legs were flat against the bed. I grumbled deep in my throat from the discomfort. He spoke into my ear, and his tone meant business. "Do not cry out. I don't want to hear it. You asked for this. Now, all I want from you is your orgasm." I let a tear roll from my moist eyes, down my cheek. He ground into me, as every part of my nether regions tightened with the friction. He was practically grunting with the force he was having to use to get back inside me, when he pulled the flesh out of the opening. My legs shook with spasm, convulsive movements of tired aching muscles. Muscles struggling towards climax one last time. His flesh inside me burned with a fiery gentle pain. My breath shortened. My clitoris pulsed in tempo to my fast, panting breaths. I was going to come, and in my depleted state it was going to be agony. Adam started to speak to me, hands moving on every part of me he could reach from behind. Clutching at me, pulling me near. Fingers rough.

"You're ass is so tight, and you're so close to coming. I can feel it." He was absolutely right, and he knew it. Talking dirty to me, rough like he would talk to another man. "You're tighter than a man. I feel your need in my organ." Adam shoved his hand under my hips. Urging my body to crest under his prodding. Fingers handling my clit, and I rose up against his weight a mere inch to give him access to the suffering knot of desire at the top of my cleft. "It hurts, I know it does, and you're so good for taking it this way." Sweet caress on the back of my hair. The unexpected tenderness shot adrenaline into my sex. "You're going to come with it. Boil over, and flow with it. I'm going to watch you come, and it's going to be soon." He pumped faster, and the excruciating pleasure reached a new peak for me. I groaned, and cried out with it. His finger taking my clitoris and pinching it gently, until I exploded. Lifting up to my knees, and giving him free access. Eyes closed, head back. Mindlessly making incoherent animal noises. Feeling him in me. Achingly, impossibly hard. Filling me, and leaving me empty. He was so hot, so cruel and full. I put my head between my arms, and silenced the bestial scream of joy-filled torment that his spasmodic thrusting climax tore from my hoarse throat, by biting the bedspread until my jaws ached. That wasn't what Adam wanted. He twisted his hands in my hair. Pulling my head up high so he could hear my agony. Forcing his penis harder into me. Drilling me with his organ. Churning against me until every last bit of his orgasm, was released into the condom he wore to ream me. Slowly Adam collapsed on top of me, pressing me into his bed. His breathing a harsh rasp in my ear. Long fingers tightly grasping my damp skin. The abrupt hard jerks of his organ slowing to twitches in my now loose anus. He whispered against me.

"Jesus Christ, Girl. Jesus Christ." I didn't really understand what he meant by that, but before I went to sleep cuddled next to him in his bed. I realized something. I felt just about the same way.

MORNING LIGHT

I woke to sunlight slanting across my eyelids and the unfamiliar feel of another body against mine. For one horrifying second I thought that I had gone to a bar. Gotten drunk and made a ghastly mistake. The truth came to me after a moment. `Thank God, I was only in a house of S/M. Although why that thought should comfort me, I had no idea. I don't really do mornings. I much prefer the sweet velvet darkness, closer to the dusk than any type of sunlight. It's well, too bright during the day. The night seems to hide a plethora of sins that are too easily seen during open daylight. I did know one thing about this fine morning and that was that my bladder was full. I had to use the ladies in the worst way. I was also bound to the bed and didn't dare to release myself. I tried to keep myself distracted by going over work in my head, but that was no good. Work really had no place here and I couldn't concentrate because of the discomfort. All I kept seeing was Bob, trying to divine what I had meant on Friday. That irritated me. Why was it that a complete idiot like Bob, had managed to get the job as department head. When I, more qualified, had been passed up? He must have gotten the big boss laid or something. I really dislike the Bastard. Arrogant, ignorant and a business backstabber with a ton of friends. Enough of that subject.