Tales From Subspace

"On your knees." I quickly dropped down and turned to him. Burying my face against his shoes. Silently begging him for mercy. The strap touched my cheek caressingly. I took it in my hands and kissed it. Remembering that I was supposed to thank him for taking the time to correct me.

"Thank you for your correction, Handler." I sobbed into his boots, trying to pull myself together and not orgasm all over the floor. He laughed, a low sound, as if he knew what I was fighting. A gentle hand in my hair petting me. I had done something right. I just didn't know what.

"Over to the side, on your knees. Time to clean you up for class." I shivered daintily with foreboding. As with every other gesture of dismay, it was pointless. He took care of everything that I thought disgusting, or personal, first. Humiliation making me burn with blistering emotion. The small nozzles he carefully inserted in my secret openings, maddened me with lust. I felt like a slave, as he purged my bowels, not once, but twice, for Jon to make use of. The warm water filling me and cleansing me. Softening me in a different way than the lash had. Opening me more fully as the narrow nether passage was cleared for penetration. It frightened me even as it excited me. The cursory examination of my body and its new bruises was a study in quiet compliance. I had to remain still as he massaged the welts, oiled them for viewing. He bathed me and washed my hair. Drying it then putting it into a fat pony tail that hung well down my back. Brushing my teeth carefully and placing Vaseline on them lightly, so my lips wouldn't stick to them. When he finally thought I was ready for use. Adam had me kneel before him and he placed a softly padded blindfold over my eyes. I could see nothing but the darkness inside me. I was effectively isolated, alone. He kissed me tenderly. His tongue playing with mine for several seconds. His fingers cupping my bruised buttocks, pinching the welts. Bringing my passion to the surface again. He spoke, sweetly low in my ear, as he buckled a collar around my neck loosely.

"I'll tell him how good you were, sweet. How tight and compliant. How slick and hot." My hungry cavern tightened as he spoke, teasingly into my ready ear. His lips finding my neck and nibbling there delicately until I shivered with heat. His big hand cupping my sex softly. I melted against him, knowing the only reason I was still dry in his hands was that I had been douched. "I'll see you after the trainer's little romp, and I'll warm those buns of yours with deep hard thrusts of my organ, Annie." `Why wait? I need you now.' "I get to use you whenever Jon doesn't have any thing else for you to do and I intend to take full advantage of your presence." Moisture flowed over his fingers as his words galvanized the appetite unreleased for the whole long week. I let a small sound of longing escape me. `Please.' My whole attitude begged of him.

As the knot tightened to almost gratification. Adam released me. Taking me by the leash and down to the training hall.

AMATEUR NIGHT IN THE TRAINING HALL

He let me walk and I was grateful. My knees, unused to such abuse, had begun to feel like raw meat. I followed him closely through the hallway and did silently whatever he told me to do. When the door opened I heard Jon speaking out loud. Explaining the link between pleasure and pain. I heard another voice asking a question. Low laughter, and Jon saying slowly.

"Good question, but it has no real answer. I like what I like and the hell with anyone who tries to make me feel like a freak. Deviance is only what one person perceives it to be. I will not feel that way because of the kind of sex I like." There was applause, at least four or five others. I leaned desperately close to Adam, clutching his arm. Remembering to late the rules about not speaking without being spoken too, but I could make a request couldn't I? I had to make this one. I would die without the granting of this request.

"Gag me, Adam." I whispered. "Please, for God's sake, gag me." I felt him start with surprise. "I'm here and it's working on me. Please don't let me disgrace myself here, not now." He said nothing, but led me into the room. Jon telling the others that the demonstration subject was here. I was almost in a panic. Hot blood pumping with fury through my limbs. I struggled for composure. Sweat breaking out all over my body as I fought the urge to flee this room, and all the faceless people in it. I could not see them and could only guess what they saw when they looked at me. My burnished naked flesh. My new welts. The blindfold. The visible fluids on my thighs from desire. I tightened at the picture my imagination gave me, almost had me needing nothing else to orgasm where I stood. Breathing in short hot bursts as if I had been running. I heard Adam talking to Jon.

"On your knees, Anne." Jon said simply. Grateful for his presence. My master of the deep voice. I kissed his boots, groveling. The perfect picture of suffering for the watching students. I would try to be perfection. He tilted my face up and ran the tip of his index finger over my lips. He said one word at the silent supplication of my body. `Please, master.' "Alright." `Thank you, Master.' My whole body said and I kissed his calves in gratitude. He tilted my face upwards and I felt the roll of hard rubber going through my teeth, silencing me. The buckle being tightened behind my head. "This is a novice. New to training. She has agreed to enter a three month, part-time, training program."

"Is she Bi?" Came a curious voice from the background. A young male by the sound. Nervous laughter from the others.

"According to her file, No. That sort of personal preference has very little to do with the training of a new slave. Her heterosexuality is a moot point. She has to be taught to focus on pleasing me. Her master. My wishes must always be first. If I want her to eat a woman, she eats her until I tell her to stop." The crowd liked that. "Until such a time as she thinks that way, she is subject to punishment. Like this." He stood me up and turned me around. Low gasps from the crowd. I must have some good marks. "After everyone has had a chance to examine the slave and feel her compliance to command. We will demonstrate the various types of whips and paddles. Any questions?" There was one.

"She's gagged, what about her safe-word?" That was a woman, older with a voice like melted honey. Probably a divorcee getting into it for the money it could bring in.

"Annie, did I gag you?" I shook my head vigorously. "Did you request to be gagged?" I nodded the same way. "Are you feeling blue?" NO! My hair moving in my vehemence, practically whipping me. "Are you ready to play?" YES!!! He touched the opening to my vagina the wetness seeming to get bigger. Syrupy thick. "She's wet. Periodically, during our play. I'll ask her how she feels. Blue is her safe word and I can incorporate it into meaningless sentences to enhance the torment." His hand left me in that self-same, sweet torment he was trying to explain how to do to the others. "Adam, Please." I was suddenly lifted and put on my back. My arms and legs spread on a hard surface, like a starfish and secured with heavy leather restraints at least three inches wide. These were quickly buckled and the sound of the D-rings being snapped to the table hooks was clearly audible to me. So audible that I barely heard Jon's words over the pounding of my heart thundering in my ears. Words softly spoken to the class about the roots of desire and expected responses. I relaxed into the bondage and felt big hands on the sides of my face. Adam's hands, I could smell him. I went beyond thought, beyond the room. Into the secret place inside me that was the true base of my desire. I surrendered. "See how the restraint enhances the submission. She has given up whatever mental struggle caused her to ask for the gag and eased her into the physical sensations she is expecting me to inflict on her. Her mind is free. She is no longer expected to control herself. I have taken that away from her." That was it exactly. The pure, undiluted essence of what I was feeling. I was beyond my own control and into his. Jon knew what I wanted and gave it to me. I felt the most profound surge of love that I had ever felt for anyone in my life for him. My master.

He called the students up to the front of the room with him. Asking for a one to volunteer for something. Adam's hands tightened on my face. Covering my ears to muffle the sounds around me. His thumbs stroking my cheeks absently.

I felt hesitant hands on me. Squeezing my breasts then lightly pinching the nipples until the tips hardened into little knots of pleasure. Moving slowly down my quivering ribcage to rest on my belly and the gentle sloping curve above my pubis. My hips twitched and the low laughter reached my ears even through Adam's hands. A hot blush creeping up my neck, prettily, I hoped. Lower the hands moved, more confidently this time. Just skirting the hot moist hungry triangle at the apex of my thighs. I moaned, a low miserable sound.

One touch of those fingers would send me over the edge. More hands touched me all over. My legs, my arms. Lifting my breasts again to roughly squeeze them. Little pinches on the insides of my thighs. My opening strained, clenched. Forcing the wetness out to run between my legs to pool on the table beneath me.

A hand moved to my opening. Separating the lips gently, widening the folds. Other hands pushing my legs apart as far as the bonds would allow. I arched my back off the table in spasm. Feeling the fingers sliding up the pubic lips, as they were pulled tautly open. Massaging them. Making me frantic with pulsing, throbbing heat. I struggled against the table. Make me come, or for heaven's sake, let me go! The tiny bud of my clitoris, impossibly full and fluttering visibly between my thighs. The quick fingers pulling on it to make it swell even larger and more obvious. Adam's voice broke through the fog covering my senses.

"Jon says it's alright. Come when they make you." I growled around the gag ferally. All thoughts of dignity gone between those words and the fingers being pushed into me slowly. Expanding the blood-filled tissues. Other hands cupping my thighs and teasing the welts under them. Two fingers in me now pushing in as far as they could. Knuckles grazing the pearl of longing in delightful bursts. Long fingers, thick fingers. Now three, rotating in ever increasing agility. The motion of it like a organ. I felt someone else brush against my clitoris with the gentlest of contact. A butterfly-feeling pressing upon it, barely felt through the thick fluids covering it. Fast light movements. Tighter and tighter, my passion wound in me. My senses whirled and I was entangled in the crude sensation between my legs. My heart palpitating in my chest, wildly caught in the sensations overcoming me. I barely felt the slick fingers become four. Going into me just a little roughly, yet so deliciously. Working me to climax. I was as tightly wound as a good bowstring, orgasmic tautness making my body rigid as I neared my peak. The ebb and flow from these hesitant fingers maddening me, driving me so slowly to the crest. I wanted to scream in frustration and when I did finally scream aloud, the blessed gag muffled the sound to nothing.

I came then. A weeks worth of unrequited passion spilling over the hand inside me and all the hands on me. The memories of the whipping fueling the fire. The almost remembered feeling of Adam's thick organ driving into me from behind. The complete surrender of my will by the bonds. The gag and the blindfold. The faceless strangers in me and on me. Shook my drenched cleft and my heated body in a surfeit of clutching, twitching, straining passion. The stretch of my body against the bonds when I came was felt throughout my whole being. Wrenching every nuance of feeling from my hot little opening. The hand squeezed tightly in the merciless clench of my vagina. My uterus spasming as well in fast, firm, powerful little jerks.

I came down slowly and was just starting to catch my breath. To come back into myself, when I realized the motion was continuing. Pushing me towards yet another higher orgasmic plateau. These fingers were coarser, just a bit cruder. The tender little clitoris starting to ache under the merciless assault of bigger, harder fingers. Rolling it and pinching it indelicately.

"That's Jon on your clit and he says that once is enough for right now, little one." Adam explaining to me in a calm clear voice that I must not come again. I must wait and fight against it. I sobbed miserably as Jon worked my tiny button. Feeding it to frenzy once again, not letting me even catch my breath from the last time. My now empty vagina, clenching on emptiness. I battled to contain the rising rush of orgasm. My muscles tighter than when I came the last time. My head trying to roll helplessly on the table, yet held still by Adams firm fingers. Breath almost suspended, a bare whistle between my lips and the gag. I tried to move my hips away from the thoughtless insistent fingers and couldn't. I was just making it worse. Just when I knew that I was truly lost. Just before I was going to be unable to contain it. When it was going to get out of my control and the frantic feeling of being trapped on that table threatened to overwhelm me. The fingers withdrew, pinching my wet labial lips closed once again. I was weeping with relief. My throat working around the gag to supply air to starved tissues. Swallowing around the lump in my throat. Misery and triumph at war within my soul. I had done what he wanted but it had been so difficult! My body craving the pleasure, but wanting to please. The hands left my face and I heard low laughter.

"Are you feeling blue yet?" No! Because then I would be left like this. Left with this burgeoning knot of unreleased feeling boiling inside me, or worse yet. Having to deal with it myself. The dry release that felt like nothing compared to this. This complete and utter subjugation to another's will. I would not stop now. I was at the point where I felt truly free from the daily reality that ruled my every waking minute. This was my ultimate fantasy. I would not be the one to stop it. I shook my head, sobbing behind the gag. I had the undivided attention of all the people in this room. They had touched me, felt me orgasm. Talked about what to do to me next. Played me like an expensive piano until I had exploded against their passions. Caressed my loins and my breasts. I had no wish for them to stop now. I loved everything they were doing to me. They were me. I felt... alive. "That's the big lesson, right there." Jon's voice was soothing and his hand stroked me with genuine affection. "The slave must feel that they have no choice and all choices." Something trailed over my stomach, slowly. I blossomed with a new and different heat. I knew the strap, craved it, wanted it. I wanted the hard ritualized whipping that I was used too. Just hard enough to climax too, but not hard enough to be punishment. My body knew the difference and responded with this new humiliating fire.

The thin leather bands tracing over me in a delicate teasing pattern. `Don't stop there, Master.' I thought wickedly. The little voice inside me becoming caught up in the heat of the moment.

"There are many ways to punish, or torment, your slave." A quick whistle through the air and the gratifyingly luscious stroke of thick unsparing leather against the soft unmarked curve on the inside of my thigh. I pulled against the bindings, feeling again the solid thump of the lash on the other tender thigh. Quick flash of rapidly dissipating pain. Wonderfully perfect. A multi-tailed cat, if I didn't miss my guess. One with enough heft to it to sting the way it was supposed too. "Note the responses of the slave as they become visible. Deepening respirations, and the quaint little hitches of the torso. It could indicate either tears, or passion. It's up to you to determine which. Adam, please." The blindfold was coming off! I was losing the safe darkness I was abandoned in. They would be able to see my eyes. My damp, suffering, eager eyes. "Taking the time to vary the environment also creates its own sensations. What was once in solitude is now revealed for all to see. Look her over carefully." The light was almost painfully bright and it raised small tears on its own. When I blinked, they rolled from the corners of my eyes to rest in the hair at my temples. Seeing what was above me for the first time was an experience all its own. The room was filled with subdued brilliance. The track lighting set in the corners away from the center of the room. One broad beam slanted across my body to light it to perfection. By raising my head I could see the people standing outside the periphery of the light and almost see the dark wooden paneling that graced the walls. The table I rested on was at waist height for Jon. I could see him next to me, leaning over. I looked, as much as I was able too through the light. He smiled down, in amused tolerance. His eyebrows meeting over his eyes in mock severity. Several others leaned over me and I met their eyes blandly, coldly. They were merely window dressing. Hands that Jon was using on me. Distraction from his true purpose. He wanted to see how much I would take before strangers. These uninitiated strangers. I knew that he wanted some deep intellectual/physical reaction from me. I wanted to go with the flow. If he had looked at my diary, he would know that crowds captured my imagination on some lower level, but that one-on-one was much more difficult for me to bear. I heard the crack of the whip and waited for the feel of it on my body. My eyes clenching shut, tensing for the pain that never came. Jon laughed and I heard one of the students ask.

"Are they any other safe ways to induce sensation without risking the kinds of injury the whip causes?" I saw this one asking his question and didn't want to hear Jon's reply. Of course there were many ways. Just as painful, but they left no marks. I much preferred to be whipped, if I had a choice. Thank you, very much. It's over quicker.

"Here try these, carefully." I heard the tinkle of chain and saw him handing small steel clamps over me to the young male. The good ones with the tension screws set in the tops so they don't do any real tissue damage, not like the kind from Radio Shack.

"They work best when they are tightened after application. They serve a different purpose than the whip." They did too. Restricting blood flow to whatever area they were applied too. They didn't even hurt until you took them off. "Go on, those were designed for the nipples." He handed others around the room and I didn't even want to know where they were supposed to go. I was still hot and ready for some action. Not this slow maddening head-trip. Where he explained ever-single thing that he did to me. If he wanted to work me why didn't he just get on with it? This was taking so long. The boy’s hands were shaking when he touched me with uncertainty. Adam stood next to him, gazing over his shoulder.

"Here, like this." He took a hold of my nipple and twisted it painfully, smiling at the quick painful jerk of my torso. Clamping the little steel torture device on the sensitive, pulsating tip. "The twist gets the blood coming to the area and when you clamp it, well, let's just say that it has a much harder time, getting there." The boy did the other one, but much more slowly. Harder pinch though. Tighter set on the clamp too. Adam loosened it. "Not too tight, now. Some blood must flow, or the area goes numb. They have to be able to feel it." One of the others asked how you could tell if they were tight enough, and Adam gave a solid wrench on the chain connecting my breasts to each other. Arching me off the table and bringing quick tears of pain to my eyes. "Tight enough. They didn't come off." I could hear the smile in his voice. "Do the ones between her legs, the same way." I felt the clasp of tight little steel teeth against the soft wet folds of my labia. Pinching me just firmly enough to be uncomfortable, not enough to bruise. They all gave little tugs on the trinket's chains and played with slick wetness seeping out of me in unfulfilled desire. Putting more little adornments on my earlobes and a quickly applied something in my belly button. Maddening me and distracting me. "They are used as reminders that her body is not her own. By binding the cleft closed and inaccessible. We are reminding her of my ownership." Jon was speaking to the amateurs softly. His voice cold and clinically arousing. "We can go into the other room now, and finish our discussion. Traci has something in mind for her and I promised to leave her in here, slightly heated, to await her." The students laughed nervously, then I heard them leave. All of them, even Adam. It wouldn't be too long. Nobody responsible ever left a slave truly alone and bound up.