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.