Tales From Subspace

byNIGHTQUEEN1963©

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."

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