Tales From Subspace

"Come here, stand up." He said, backing to the clear space in front of his desk. Waiting for me to do as I was told to do. "Put your hands up over your head so I can fasten them above you." When I raised them up. Jon fastened them quickly, until I felt the strain in my shoulders, as they were pulled taut very high above my head. "Hips forward, legs spread." He clipped my ankles as well. I was held immobile. I kept my eyes straight ahead and caught sight of myself in the mirror before me. The longhaired slave hanging behind his oaken desk.

I was more than amazed by what I saw. I saw a slave hanging there. Bruised, welted, obedient. Waiting calmly for instruction. He spoke when he saw where my gaze was.

"Keep looking at yourself and answer my questions." His tone brooked no refusal. "I read your diary. How do you feel about that?" I spoke quietly about how frightened I was of his knowledge of me. Explaining, carefully respectful, that some fantasies are not meant to be reality. Anymore than some people are meant to be dominant, or submissive. It was a matter of degree and my Diary was really out there. "Your diary is very detailed and concise. You've been thinking of bondage for many years, yet waited until now to seek it out. Why?" He came up behind me and put his hands on my waist lightly. I felt his breath on my neck, hot. There was desire in my heart but my freshly cleansed body was dry. I spoke slowly. Finding the paradox of dryness and desire intoxicating. If he kept touching me. I wouldn't be parched for very long.

"I did not want anyone to think less of me, Master. I desired what was not considered normal and yearned to lose myself in this life. My diary contains my thoughts as well. I was looking over a precipice that I was very afraid to go over." He laughed at the imagery, and seemed to understand what I was saying. He started speaking again.

"There are many levels of sensation. Infinite types, and variations. You learn very quickly, but you retain many of the prejudices that go with modern society and we must rid you forcibly of those." He grabbed some clamps from the desk before him and put them unto my nipples snugly. Taking two more and fixing them even tighter to the dry folds of flesh between my legs. The chains an irritating reminder of my lowly position. "We are especially vigorous on your first weekend here. The safe-word ordeal last night was a test. One you did remarkably well on. I was very proud of you." I was melting at the tenderness of his tone. "I wish to find the levels of discomfort that you function best at. Be they deeper, or constant, pain. Where is the place you suffer most enjoyably? Finding this place is the challenge. You seem to have many facets and to be very versatile. This may, or may not, be good for you." He pulled on the chains gently. "I will give you to many others and let you watch other slaves take the punishments to be inflicted on you." What a dazzling idea. I could see that watching what was to come could be devastating. "I do not have time for specialty work and prefer to merely observe the reactions created by the specialists. I leave the doing to the true experts and it networks favors I can call on." Adam had explained some of this. Masters that like to do one particular activity would come and do you. They either paid Jon, or simply had the use of the slave. It was like the doctor. They traded services. "I would however like to have Traci do some body piercing on you. Are you agreeable to this?" I explained that he could do it anywhere but my clitoris or my tongue. The tongue was too visible and the clitoris was much too dangerous. He nodded and explained that tonight I was going to have to watch "Terry" play with Adam, and then it would be my turn. I was going to be introduced to the other members of the group. All present tonight would be able to make use of me. Neat O.

There would be several other Masters, Mistresses and slaves in attendance. Saturday was a social day at this place. The regular night for spectacle. What it really meant was that it was a party. I was part of the show.

I asked what would happened if I ran into any of these people in real life. Jon laughed and told me to do whatever they told me to do, or bear the consequences the next weekend. `Great,' and then he said that nobody would ever ask me to get naked during a business lunch, but they might ask to meet me afterwards for some `slap and tickle.' Jesus, this guy killed me and I couldn't even laugh at his words. I knew that he could see the amusement shining in my eyes. That seemed to make him happy. He went behind his desk and sat down. Making notes on the computer with quick urgent fingers. I was trying to wait patiently, but fidgeted because of the growing discomfort in my arms. When he asked me if I was uncomfortable I answered ritualistically. So he would know that the answer was yes.

"As long as it pleases you, Master." He laughed, as he came over to me and lowered my arms, just a bit.

"Bearing up well tonight will please me more. This is like nothing you have ever seen. You will have to help Adam prepare you, and you, him." That was part of the task ahead, he explained. I would have to learn to take care of other slaves and my Owners as well. I had plenty to learn and little time to learn it in.

He buzzed for Adam and by the time the Handler appeared, my shoulders were on fire. Jon let them down completely. I had barely the strength to let them fall from the ceiling to my sides. I followed Adam on my knees. When we arrived at the bath chamber, I let him massage the ache out of my arms. He left the clamps on me for the longest time. Removing them only when he went to put me in the bath.

THE LIBRARY

They put me in the library for the better part of the day. The library was like nothing that I had ever seen before. Shelf after shelf of books on Erotica and social science. Remarkably enough, plenty of the books I had already read. I recognized authors from my childhood and my college years. Several Authors that I had read in my search for autoerotic literature. Pat Califia, Laura Antoniou, Sara Adamson and Anne Rice, in her various guises. The S/M Classics, including the Devil himself. The Marquis De Sade, and his counterpart, Sacher-Masoch, AKA. Venus in Furs. I picked up a reference manual that I hadn't seen before and settled in to read. Fascinating stuff that set my pulse to pounding and raised my blood pressure. I looked over at the desk across the way and noticed my journal sitting there. I put down the book that I was reading and went to it. It was laying in shaft of golden light. The dusty blue cover almost glowing. I sat down at the desk and opened it to where I left off. My mind starting to wander. There was a heavy gold pen next to the book and I picked it up to twirl it around in my fingers. I let my mind wander for a moment, and then I started to write.

FANTASY: THE PLAYER

"Do you trust me?" He asked her, half-hidden in shadows. All she could really see of him was his eyes. Cold, blue, like ice on the water.

"No." She said as she looked at him. "I trust no man in this world, but they said you could help me."

"Who said?" He asked as she looked down at her hands. Away from him, and not meeting his eyes.

"Lee at the leather shop. Can I smoke?" He nodded. Her hands trembled as she opened her cigarette case. Pulling one out, then putting it between her lips. She took a deep drag on it as she was lighting it. Smoke curling around her head in the soft light. "I wasn't always like this." He leaned back further in his leather chair, stretching out his legs. His long blonde hair hanging over his eyes.

"What are you like?" He asked and his voice flowed caressingly over her like warm butter.

"I don't take a lot of shit." She said, as her eyes flashed fire. She laughed shortly, as he asked how this fantasy had started for her. "It started with a man. One night he doesn't want me to move when he's fucking me, then suddenly he's breaking a riding crop on my ass."

"You liked it." He said simply, smiling at her. Inexplicable tears welled in her eyes and she stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray before her. Her movements sharp, and impatient. He went to his knees in front of her and put his large hands on her open thighs. She tensed with sudden fear. Eyes going wide as they met his. Heat started coming from her legs and a deep muscle trembling. "You liked it and you're ashamed of it." Gently his hands kneaded her thighs. "Why should you feel guilty for the kind of sex you like?"

"It's not normal." Her breath was short, fast. Her voice tortured. "You're very strong, but you can't control this." His hands moved up her thighs. Her legs tried to jerk closer together. His hands moving under the brightly colored skirt that she wore. Her skin was like an inferno. Fevered heat flowing from the soft pliant flesh under his fingers. Easing up to the apex of her womanhood, just skirting the pleasure place at the woman's core of her. "What kind of fantasies do you have?" He asked, as he turned his eyes to her lap. Concentrating on what he was doing to her body for a few precious seconds. "Tell me. I won't tell anybody else." Running one of his digits up the side of her cotton panties to rub the outside of her damp opening. Her eyes had started to glaze over, her breathing grew ragged.

"I'm blindfolded and spread on a cold surface." He brushed against her wet opening, touching it with the lightest of strokes. "He touches me, opening every part of my body." She took a deep shuddering breath and forced herself to continue around the rising knot of need inside her. Her words coming faster, more urgently, as though a floodgate had been opened inside her. "He uses every device that he has available to him. Beating me on the inside of my thighs, on my legs." He understood her driving imperative words. He touched her lips silencing her, pulling his hands away from her hungry orifice.

"That's a start, my dearest." He was now ready to take her. "I want to give you what you need and in my service you will know complete satisfaction. The standard rules apply here, as everywhere." She knew the rules. "You decide and when you have. Go to that door. Knock and wait on your knees for me to come for you. I'll take you to the dungeon." He left her then. Going out the oaken door, leaving her in physical torment. Awash with aching blinding deprivation. Her body, so long cold. Burning with excitement. Fervent passion. She did what she wanted to do and knocked on the door. He opened it, cupping her face from above her. This truly sensual novice that had wandered into his care. He ran his hands over her face and turned from her. She followed him to his dungeon. The room itself was painted black and was meant to frighten. That was its purpose. It's reason for being. His `toys' hung openly on the walls. The whips, paddles and bondage gear that were his passion and his hobby. His life. Exploration of the extreme.

"Take your clothing off for me." She answered him respectfully, keeping her eyes down. Her hotly blushing face expressionless. The light shirt then flowered skirt, falling to the floor. She looked around discreetly as she removed her underwear. Pulse pounding with trepidation and arousal. Noticing the leather covered bench in the center of the room. The myriad beams and hooks strategically placed for easy usage. The canvas sling in the corner and all the toys hanging around the room. She kept her arms at her sides and her eyes down. "Climb up on the table and spread your legs." Immediately she did it. Her feet hanging off the end and her heavy breasts falling to the sides of her torso. He leaned over and took some thick leather cuffs. Tying her to the table, immobilized, helpless. Taking a leather gag and sealing her lips. Bending her knees and tying them flat to the edges.

She burned with lust. Her skin so hot and moist, his hands practically stuck to her muscles. Muscles that flexed helplessly against the bonds. Fear shadowing her eyes for a brief moment. She did not trust him, but she would. Maybe after the fourth or fifth orgasm. When her body was so sore and tired that it responded by reflex alone. He studied her coldly. Not smiling, deciding the best way to explore her. He weighed her breasts with his hands. Palming them and pinching the nipples until she groaned. No little toys, just his flesh abusing hers. Watching her head roll helplessly on the black leather. Lovely.

Running his hands down her arms to the soft shaved flesh of her armpits making her shiver. Over her ribcage softly, then the gently rounded curve of her belly. Her hips struggling to remain still. Lightly moving to her dripping cleft and leaning over the end of the table to look down at her sex. He opened her folds, massaging the inside of her vagina with slow deliberate movements. Her breath caught in her throat as he rolled the hard kernel of feeling with maddening slowness. The thick moisture coating his fingers. Not enough for what he wanted to do to her, so he lubed up his hand to the wrist. Massaging her slick opening with three of his fingers. Watching her face change color and expression, as he worked inside her tight flesh.

She felt him going into her so softly he could barely be felt. Just a sweet low pressure that filled her deliciously. Easing the tension from every other part of her body and concentrating it into her loins. Her respirations deepened and flowed softly from her lungs. `Yes,' She thought. `Do me, just like this, then beat me for my pleasure. Hurt me when I dare to release this passion against your hands.' Her eyes closed in helpless response to his ministrations.

He saw and was pleased, adding the fourth finger to her opening. Hearing a low animal moan and feeling her legs start to shake with reaction. He leaned up over her to watch her. Pushing his thumb into his palm, so his hand was smaller. Massaging her stomach and the inside of her thighs. She tensed momentarily, but relaxed when he made low sibilant sounds to ease her fear. Feeling her melt around his hand until it slid home, forming a fist that reached all the way to her uterus. Her hips rose from the table with tension and he simply stayed within her. He whispered as he leaned over her.

“I'm all the way in you. My whole hand. Can you feel me?" She nodded, shuddering when he rocked his fist by the barest fraction. She pulled on the cuffs holding her arms, and moaned. He looked at her red suffering face. "Don't come, or let go of any bodily functions on my nice leather table. I can feel the pressure on your insides. Suffer with it. Hold it, feel it grow more uncomfortable. I want to rub your insides raw with this arm, then fuck the shit out of you until you scream out loud enough to be heard upstairs." She arched against the table when he started driving his arm inside her with sharp piston-like motions. Motions that felt large to her, impossibly big. Yet was in actuality only the depth of a millimeter or two. She fought against the orgasm, flowing over her. Fought to control her passion and her pain. She went rigid, almost pulse less. He ceased moving and she felt him pull from her gently. She groaned, her whole attitude pleading with him to continue. `Don't stop.' She rolled her hips and tried to pull free.

"Useless, my tender one." He wiped his hands on a towel and took a large headed riding crop from the wall behind him. "I want you too orgasm. I'm going to beat your clitoris with this crop until you do." She shook her head, vigorously. He laughed at the shock blooming in her eyes. "Like you have a choice?" He swung the whip softly, using light swings that were both rhythmic and accurately placed. Talking to her as her hips went unbending and fixed in the air. Her breath suspended. Face blood red and rolling helplessly. "You want to come and you deserve the pain. The agony of the fist and the whip." He continued to tap her clitoris with deeper, damper strokes. Her juices wetting the head of the instrument of torture, making it sound soaked. Wetter and crueler, than dry leather. "That's it, baby. Come for me. Hips in the air. Face flushed, body pounding with excitement." She whimpered and he continued, deftly stroking her passion higher to another level with his words and his hard punishing strokes. "When you come, I stop hitting your little love button and fuck you. I promise to give you more pleasure with my organ, or my tongue, than you can bear. Just let it go for me and I'll show you." He could see it working on her and went faster, upping the pace of his strokes. She was about to orgasm. He could see it creeping over her body with a practiced eye. `Here it comes.' He thought and he was right. She boiled over before him. She bucked, eyes closed. Teeth clenching the gag between her hardened jaw as she attained her release. He threw the whip away quickly and rubbed her slick cleft. Hearing the muffled cry of pleasure from behind the gag. Pushing his fingers into her as she writhed in her bonds. Drawing every bit of her orgasm from her until she was a limp twitching wreck on the bench before him. Unable to catch her breath around the tears running freely from her eyes.

He was oblivious to them, as he freed his organ from his pants. Climbing on top of her to get himself off. Pushing seven inches of painfully hard organ into her tender quivering opening. She screamed behind the gag, as her raw cleft rebelled against his intrusion. Trying to free her hands, and thighs. Shaking her head, no. He took her face in his hands and opened the gag. Pumping his organ into her. Feeling his need rising to flood her. Taking her lips in his and kissing her deeply. Her tongue moving to twine with his in little open circles. The moans coming from her in gasps of pain. Wonderful to his ears. Her flesh tightening around his as he expertly stroked the tender places deep inside her. The head of his dick rubbing the g-spot at the top of her vagina with practiced precision.

"You are so good, honey. Even in pain you did as I wanted and now I want something else from you. Come again and I'll let you rest. One more for your Master and I'll oil your sore little honey-mouth. Gently ease your aches and pains." She shook her head, voice weak and trembling.

"I don't think I can." She whimpered against his throat. Her voice desperate to please him, but not able too. He stroked her hair and leaned up on his forearms. Hand moving to touch her clitoris.

"I'll help you do it. I want you too. I need you too. I want to come with you. Fill your sweet sex with my man juice and watch it run from your cleft in a steady stream." She let his words intoxicate her senses. Flow over her thoughtlessly driven flesh. His thick organ a burning punishment that tantalized, moving her inexorably to the brink of completion. "You'll come for me, baby. Come on. It's okay too do it. I want you too. Need you too." Soft words, and hard flesh. She let it go and while the release was less than the last one. It moved her and him, to total completion. His organ jerking inside her. His body going rigid in ecstasy. His sweaty flesh rubbing against hers. His breath harsh in her ears and his moist kisses rough on her soft throat. His hands clasping her firmly to his body.

The hard twitches of his organ becoming slower and more random. She could feel his penis moving weakly inside her and opened her eyes into his. He smiled down at her and spoke softly. His words heavy with meaning. "You're a player now and I'm your Master." She nodded at him. Eyes wide and softly wet with tears. "You'll come to love this life and I in turn, will love you." She turned her face into her arm. "There's time for you to believe me and time for us to learn the cycles of your flesh." She turned to his voice. Emotions in turmoil. "You are mine." She spoke, voice heavy with truthful innocence. She smiled.