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.