Tales From Subspace

OPENING

I started with a phone call. A pay phone call to a number found in the back of a new-wave newspaper that advertised Alternative Lifestyles. [Alternative Lifestyles. I had never felt like an alternative anything, but maybe I get ahead of myself.] It was not easy to make the call. My fingers could barely find the numbers on the keypad in the dim light. My breath came short and fast. Sweat slickened my palms and I was wet. Moist heat between my legs, throbbing with my pulse. Pounding emotions I thought long dead, forcing the very center of my being to vibrant flaming life. My skin heated up slowly in the cool air and my eyes blazed with this ill-concealed inner fire. Dark passions filling my body with need. I wanted pure physical satiation again. Hands, lips, cock, on me and in me, once again. It had been six long years of self-imposed isolation. I was ready to reach out but did not want true commitment. The thought of the traditional world of dating turning my stomach. I needed what I had been fantasizing about for so many years. Taking a deep breath, I dialed the phone.

10 Years ago...

Nobody ever just falls into the life. It is a long torturous process that for some of us covers many years. It is an enigmatic tour through the dark recesses of your own mind. A journey not for the timid or shy. I have always believed that these cryptic images were always inside me. I just suppressed or hid them. Like most of us. It did start about ten years ago. I was an innocent. Weren't we all once?

I was back from Karate class. Bag slung over my shoulder, sweaty, hot, hair plastered to my forehead. I walked into the small house that I shared with my boyfriend Rob. He was waiting for me. My riding crop tapping restlessly against his knee. I dropped my things and put my hands behind my neck. Falling gracefully to my knees, careful to keep them apart. Eyes away from his face and trained to his belt. My face was burning with embarrassment.

“Come here.” He cooed. I crawled the distance necessary to place myself at his feet. The thick cream wool carpeting was harsh on my knees. I looked straight ahead at the dark tweed pants that I had bought him for his birthday. Cut full in the crotch to accentuate how gifted he was there. It was tempting to raise my eyes but I didn’t want to see the slow smile of triumph my breaking of the rules would bring over his handsome face. I tried to empty my mind of anticipation. [What would he want of me this time?] Any number of menial humiliating tasks awaited me. Things I would have to do on my knees without complaint. He addressed me again. His voice had changed, becoming huskier, more breathless.

"Open my pants." I did it, undoing the zipper with my teeth. "Make me hard with your lips only." I freed him and took him into my mouth. Smelling musky salt. A unique aroma that was all his own. My hands snaked around his thighs to his buttocks. I kneaded them softly, as I balanced my own movements. Swallowing him down until air no longer moved into my lungs. He wasn't enormous, by any means, but easily on the high side of normal length. It was that Rob dripped sex. Every look, glance, touch was an assessment of someone else's erotic potential, mostly mine. Suddenly, he backed up. His hands gently forcing my mouth away. "Go into the bedroom, remove your clothes, lie face down on the bed. Wait for me." I went as quickly as I could. My hands trembling on my clothes, until finally I was nude. I lay face down on the waterbed. Feeling the cool percale sheets rubbing against my breasts, hardening the tips. Making me shiver as I spread myself like a starfish. Arms reaching, legs spread. My face lying to the right. Eyes closed, as always when there was any chance of seeing him while we played. It wasn't that we never had vanilla sex. At one point, that was all we had. Until we got engaged. Suddenly that diamond ring became a band of iron. Every orifice I owned was his to play with. Yet so slowly did he introduce these delicacies that I hardly noticed. One day he was holding me down to make love to me. The next, it seemed, he was breaking a riding crop on my virgin buttocks and taking me that way. No one ever knew except an uncle who brushed against me inadvertently and felt the garters that Rob made me wear without underwear. My uncle started to make a joke of it, but my furious blush made him back away quickly in confusion. The family could never know. I insisted upon that. They still don't and if they do. Well, they don't say anything. Rob came in. I could hear him. He secured my wrists, but left my ankles loose, so I could bend my knees. Just how he liked me, easily accessible. "Open your eyes!" He commanded and I obeyed. I looked into his dark eyes, noting again the intelligence there. Not truly handsome, his features were arresting. His hair cut almost military short. His smile endearingly crooked. When we were in High School together, I thought he was sweet. "Did you enjoy your class?" He asked carefully.

"Yes, Rob." His hands moved to my spine. His long supple fingers wandering to the cleft between my buttocks, which tightened involuntarily.

"I bought something new today." He walked away from me then. I heard the water in the bathroom running and knew that he was washing whatever it was that he had bought before using it on me. He kept the new toy behind his back and opened the drawer for the lube. He sat between my legs, Indian style, and ordered. "Bend your knees for me." I complied, feeling my buttocks separating to give him access. Rob really knew Greek. It had to be one of his favorite things to do. Not once during our two-year affair did he ever damage me back there. I never bled, not even the first time he took me that way. A thorough douching softening me, weakening my resolve, my fear.

I felt his fingers, wet with lube, opening me. That was one of the few lasting gifts that Rob gave me. The gift of orgasm that originates somewhere other than my clitoris. I tried to relax as I felt that first finger, become two, then three. Rob taking his time, never in a hurry when he had his favorite orifice before him. I felt four fingers slide in and involuntarily clenched against him. I had never had four fingers in my ass at one time.

"Relax, Anne. You're resisting me and I don't much like it." I felt him work the ring of my anus slowly until I relaxed working lube in much deeper than he had ever done before. "Breath slowly and evenly. You're going to love this." I felt the tip of the `toy' pushing between two of his fingers. It felt slippery slick with K-Y, and I pushed out hard. Feeling his warm human flesh replaced with firm unyielding rubber. The pressure built to a pleasurable plateau and went beyond into aching unrelenting strain for my body to accept this impossibly wide dildo. I groaned, trying to close my lips against the sound. "Come on, push out. It's not much bigger than I am around." He kept pushing, forcing my anus to stretch around the thing painfully. I felt tears in my eyes. It seemed to go in forever. Past any point of comfort, causing a cramping in my stomach much worse than anything menstrual. I bore down to expel it, get it out of me and felt Rob push it home. The base slightly smaller so it wouldn't slip out. He sighed with satisfaction. Nestling the base carefully between my butt cheeks and laying my legs flat with a jerk. I lay immobile, impaled by pain. He stroked my back and I felt the electric tingle of his touch along my entire body, arousing me in spite of the burning dilation behind me.

"Hurt?" I nodded, not trusting my voice. "I'm going to take my crop to your sweet ass. Then pull that toy from you and give you something warm to replace it with." A quick shot of fear went through me. Fear of more pain. Knowing it would hurt but Rob would be so hard and so good afterwards. I wanted him to whip me. It was the least that I could do for his pleasure and, as I was discovering, my own, as well. He stood up from the bed, making waves in the water. Rob hit me then so hard across the buttocks that all air left my lungs in a surprised whoosh. I turned my face into the pillow and took it into my teeth, gagging myself with it so he couldn't hear my pain.

This time was different for me. The phallus, the feeling. The total surrender of my body to the punishment that I was allowing him to inflict on me. He was hitting me harder than he had ever done before and it seemed like for longer too. I lost all self-control. I went totally beyond thought, trying to free my hands, but unable too. Yet, never using my voice to tell him to stop, it was too much.

I felt the pressure, building in my arms and legs. The fire on my buttocks, spreading its warmth all over my body. I gasped with the extent of his power over me in that one enlightening second and surrendered to it. Trying to pull air into starving lungs by raising my head. I tautened, bucking upwards and pulling on the bonds. Sensation sweeping over me and through me. Churning against the phallus impaling me and pushing me over the edge of the abyss. I came against the bed, beyond thinking. A low animal growl tearing from my throat as my body wrenched into heaven. Rob suddenly forcing his fingers into my sex as the last of my orgasm clenched around his hand. His soft reassurances breaking me open further.

I came while being beaten. I was annihilated on a spiritual level. How could I have ever orgasm while he was beating me harder than he had ever done in the past? Something had clicked into place inside my head. Some deeply buried connection between Pleasure/Pain was forged inside my head and I inexplicably started to weep. Deep quiet sobs as I realized what had been done to me with my complete cooperation. I was changed. Eternally and profoundly different from all the Vanilla people that I knew. I was weeping because I knew that the possibility existed that I could never go back to the way I had been.

My arms were released and he pulled me up off the bed. Leaning me against the dresser that had the big mirror behind it. I looked up and saw my red tear-stained face reflecting back at me. When Rob leaned down to slide the phallus out of me, it resisted removal. He stroked my buns and told me to push it from deep within myself. I was bearing down against it with determined steady effort until I felt it being drawn out of me. Leaving me empty until Rob's cock took its place roughly. His hands holding my hips steady against his driving jabs into my canal. Fucking me hard and fast. I was so open that it didn't even feel unduly indelicate to me. He was stroking my wet clit at the juncture of my sore thighs. My backside burning from the beating he had just given me. His breath harsh, hot and animal-like against the back of my neck. Suddenly, he drove into me hard. Pinching my clit sharply so I came as well, to a lesser degree than before but still an orgasm.

Rob collapsed over my back, his breathing harsh. Cock still jerking slightly in reaction to our passion. His weight against me almost collapsing me to the top of the dresser. Gradually he came to himself and slipped his cock from my ass with a swift pull. Patting me gently and wiping the tears from my face. I closed my eyes and didn't move, hearing the sound of his condom hitting the garbage can.

He took my arm and led me into the master bathroom. I was weak with exhaustion. My muscles pulling with hurt and exertion. I let him lead me into the bathroom and sit me on the toilet while he started the shower. He pulled me in. Washing my hair with rough hands, nice. Using ivory soap gently between my legs, slipping one soapy finger into my anus to get the lube out. He said something. "What?" I asked, and then gasped as he pinched one of the marks on my butt. I rested my arms on the tile.

"I didn't tell you to speak, precious." Oh, God, he wasn't finished yet! His hands soaped my breast, tormenting the nipples. Taking care with every part of my body, leaving me squeaky clean. He stepped from the shower, letting me rinse thoroughly as he dried. When he took me from the shower he led me to the kitchen table and made me sit on the edge. "Don't fuck with me, you know how I want you." His voice was cold. My hands balled into fists as I lay back. He pulled my hips to the edge as he brought a ladder-back kitchen chair up between my spread legs to sit on. Close but not too close. I put my ankles into the notches on the back of chair, hating every minute of this position. Coldly reminiscent of a gynecologists office. The once a year torture that all women go through.

Rob opens the outer labia, heedless of my humiliation and dryness. His fingernails scraping against the delicate tissue roughly, yet deliberately. He spread my knees wider and played with me. Tracing the parts of me gently. Clitoris, urethra, vagina, anus. Slowly methodical. Tiny delicious pressure against the tender parts of me.

"There are parts of you that I have never explored, Anne." I answered his comment respectfully. "I like watching you orgasm, but only when I tell you too." Suddenly his hands had a meaning. I felt a tear well up in my eye. I was in trouble. He put his face against me, starting to eat me with expert flicks of his tongue against my flesh. He kissed my crotch tenderly until the juices started to flow again and I hungered for release. Rob stood up and slid his fingers into the willing tunnel. "You came without my permission. You ever come without my express permission again, and I will keep you like this for a month. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir." I whispered absolutely miserable. He pulled away suddenly when my breathing deepened and the involuntarily clenching of my sex told him that I was really enjoying his attentions.

"Take your legs down. Go to the bedroom and wait for me on your side." I did it. He came in and tied my arms to the headboard so I couldn't take care of my hungry orifice myself. He lay down beside me and went to sleep.

Pretty prudent of him. I was tempted to relieve myself and would have done it if he hadn't tied me. I'd done it before when I wasn't secured this way. Taking some satisfaction in the fact that I was getting off in the same bed as a man that thought he controlled that kind of thing.

This was different because I was in such torment. Pain from my buttocks throbbing with my pulse cause a chain reaction to move straight through my sex. I needed more attention. Craved it and along with the craving I had questions running through my head.

How had Rob known that I would like this kind of sex? How had he known that I wouldn't balk at the whips, chains and phalluses that he used on me? How did he decide to introduce me to this delicacy on the menu of sexuality?

It came to me suddenly. He didn't know. He had studied me, worked at my resistance. Figuring out how he could get what he wanted from me. My eyes caught sight of my riding crop on the floor. He had broken it while beating me. It's expensive leatherhead hanging from the shaft.

I almost came just from the sight of it, then closed my eyes and shivered in fear. This is part of me now. The link had been forged between pleasure and pain. They were inexorably connected inside my head. I would never be the same again. <<<<<>>>>>

That was only one night of many. Routine and ritual Role-playing and rape scenes. Anything that Rob wanted I gave to him without question. Nothing he asked for repulsed or sickened me. At least, not that I ever let him see. Some of the things that he liked baffled me. Like his fascination with controlling my bodily functions, but since he liked it I let him do it. Sex was good with him. A head-trip as well as body. I found myself trying to please him. I was punished enough without deliberately courting disaster.

All good things must come to an ended however. Rob and I really ended on my 23rd birthday. He asked me what I wanted and I told him. I wanted one night on top. He was beautifully stunned by my request but he agreed. It was almost as though he simply could not believe that such a statement had come from me. Since he had mapped out my psyche. I could have no desire for such a thing. It was unthinkable. Surprise. I don't know why he agreed, he was obviously uncomfortable with the whole idea, but he did. It was a real revelation for me. I liked it. I liked pushing limits. I liked having to pay attention to what I was doing, not just being done too.

It wasn't a real good scene. Rob was uneasy and couldn't really surrender to it. More importantly, Rob couldn't take it. He balked. Suddenly, I was the one that had more self-control. Higher limits. I thought less of him for that. From that moment on I absolutely coveted punishment. Rebellion at every turn. I never even let him see me cry after that night. The frustration was driving him insane because I don't think he could figure out what had happened. He just knew that every time he tried to knuckle me under, I stiffened my spine and took it. My seed of contempt had become a big old tree. His lack of discipline had broken the bond between us, forever.

He broke up with me, 3 or 4 months later. I wasn't really sorry. He lacked mettle, you know? I just figured that a chapter in my life had closed and moved on. I'd just go back to the way I was before Rob and be okay.

I am okay but I missed something. The problem was that I couldn't find it in the white-bread Republican world that surrounded me. I went out with a 32 year old virgin and married an abusive SOB that couldn't figure out why I fought back when he attempted to do real violence to me. I rapidly developed backbone. Not something that I needed before then. It has, however, stood me in good stead.

P.D- post-divorce. I discovered that I was not the only pervert on the planet. They actually wrote books for people like me to read. Exit to Eden by Anne Rambling, The Story of O, The Beauty Trilogy by A.N. Roquelaure. Pat Caliphia, Laura Antoniou. The whole gamut of sexual diversity available at the local bookstore for feverish reading at my home. Intoxicating.

It was while reading these books that I felt something that I hadn't felt in a long time. Desire. Considering for the first time that this was why I was not satisfied with dating Vanilla men. I was not like that anymore. I was too hot for them. Too diverse. Too willing to explore the dark side of my sexuality.

My husband liked missionary style, period. I just assumed that the older you got. The more boring sex became and since I did not want to be boring. I would be alone forever. A martyr before the throne of business, neutered sexless.

The only problem was that I didn't feel neutered I felt... horny. I didn't want a 32-year-old virgin or a wife-beater. I wanted someone like Rob, or better yet. Someone like me. A focus for all this repressed sexual energy. I was only 27 years old.

Luck was with me. I found Eric. A 32-year-old artist. We car-pooled to college together. We were both older than the kids who went during the day and gravitated together. He was intelligent and funny. Eric was good to me.

One weekend Eric's mom went away and he asked me to dinner. I got over there and we started to laugh. Having a riot and drinking wine, discussing the movies available for viewing. When, as though it was meant to be, we ended up on the floor. Kissing. We were pulling pieces of our clothes off, but when I reached for his zipper, he stopped my hand.

"I have a problem." I felt my heart sink. I figured he was impotent, or HIV, something catastrophic. I schooled my features to neutrality and waited. "I have a real hard time reaching orgasm. Sometimes I can't at all." He looked embarrassed. "I want you to know that before we go any further."

"Do you get hard?" He nodded, and I responded by reaching back down for his zipper. Let's see how much of a problem it really is. Part of me thinking that a hard man that has a difficult time coming could be a lot of fun. I gave it a try.