Telepaths Don’t Need Safewords
“Age of Majority” Ebook Edition
by Cecilia Tan
Circlet Press, Inc.
Cambridge, MA
Copyright Information:
Telepaths Don’t Need Safewords and other stories
Copyright © 1991, 1992, 2009 by Cecilia Tan
Original Cover Art © 1992 by D. Cameron Calkins
All Rights Reserved
Originally printed in chapbook form, March 1992. Released in ebook form in November 2009.
This ebook edition does not replicate the original printed book. It contains the same stories but does not have the same introduction or other matter. It was prepped for upload in-house at Circlet Press and then converted to multiple ebook formats by the Smashwords "Meatgrinder."
Published by
Circlet Press, Inc.
39 Hurlbut Street
Cambridge, MA 02138
www.circlet.com
Please do not support online piracy of copyrighted works. Copies of this ebook may be purchased through the Amazon Kindle Store, Fictionwise, Barnes & Noble.com, Scribd, Smashwords, All Romance eBooks, and many other online sites, as well as from the publisher s own site at circlet.com.
Selected Other Titles also by Cecilia Tan
Edge Plays
Royal Treatment
The Siren and the Sword (Magic University, Book One)
The Hot Streak
Mind Games
White Flames
Black Feathers
The Velderet
Contents
Introduction
Telepaths Don’t Need Safewords
Cat Scratch Fever
Heart’s Desire
About the Author
Introduction
I know it is hard to believe, but Telepaths Don’t Need Safewords is now 18 years old. Yes, that’s right, people who were born when the story was are now old enough to read it. Scary.
The story had its initial release into the wild in 1991, onto an Internet newsgroup called alt.sex.bondage. The reaction to the story, which was posted in four separate parts, because in those days of the early text-based Internet a thousand words was considered a long post, was overwhelmingly positive. I decided perhaps a printed version was in order.
But once I had decided on a printed version, I decided to go all the way with it, and start a whole publishing house. I went out and got a PO Box, an ISBN prefix, and a Very Big Stapler.
Yes, I hand-stapled those first 100 printed copies of Telepaths, on the floor of my Boston apartment. Why the floor? Because the apartment was too small to have a table, and my desk was taken up with my computer.
The rest, as they say, is history. I sold out of copies at the first convention I brought them to, Lunacon in Rye, New York, in March 1992. The second printing was done at a commercial printer, 500 copies. Then a thousand. Then two thousand.
In the meantime, Circlet Press had begun to take off, too. What was then a ground-breaking idea, to combine the erotic with sf/fantasy, excited many readers and writers besides me, and the press grew to a peak of at one point doing 10-12 trade paperbacks per year.
Then came the “returns crisis,” the bankruptcy of our distributor, 4500 independent bookstores went out of business over a span of just a few years, leaving us with only 500, then our next distributor went belly up, and so on. Circlet’s output trickled to near zero. We had to beg for donations to print Best Fantastic Erotica in 2006.
But a funny thing happened. Although the book retail and book printing world has gone through massive upheaval and decline over the past 18 years, writers and readers didn’t change all that much, and the changes that did come were for the better. Readers opened their minds to more combinations of the erotic with the fantastic. The genre of paranormal romance was born and has become the dominant category in romance right now, spilling over into other genres like young adult (Twilight) and traditional fantasy and science fiction (The Last Hawk, Sebastian, and many more). But with the bookstores dwindling and the big chain bookstores clueless about what readers actually want, the readers turned to the place they originally found stories like “Telepaths Don’t Need Safewords.” The Internet.
So here we are come full circle, as this ebook edition of Telepaths Don’t Need Safewords is now on your screen.
I have refrained from changing the story from its original form. In 18 years, my writing style has matured and refined, but too many people have told me over the years that this is the story that changed their life, changed the way they thought about BDSM, changed the way they thought about love, for me to muck around with it now. I didn’t know when I wrote it that I was bucking the conventions of erotica writing, that writing an “established relationship” instead of an “encounter story” was radical and different, nor that writing a story that limned the difference between “scene-aware” consent and nonconsent had rarely been done. I just wrote what I would have enjoyed reading myself, the fantasies that I had which included not just whips and chains, but concepts like “true love.” In fact, all three stories in the original chapbook involve that theme. (Perhaps it shouldn’t be a surprise that the winding path of my writing career has recently led me to writing romance novels.)
There are a few people I should thank, before I close. The original printed edition thanked Ian, corwin, D!, Lauren P. Burka, Elf Sternberg, Regis, and Flynn & FF. Thanks to you all again. This book, and who I am, wouldn’t have been the same without you.
Cecilia Tan
November 2009
Telepaths Don't Need Safewords
Arshan tugged on the leash and gave me a bare-toothed smile, insistent and yet as catty as if he had winked. I replied with a sullen look, half a sneer really, saying with the look what I thought—You know how much I hate this leash and you know how much I love this scene. He dangled the leash over his shoulder, leading me across an open plaza toward the Hall. I kept my eyes down, not out of submission but to watch his feet. Arshan stands about 6'4". With the leash over his shoulder, I didn't have much room to avoid his long legs. I may have been playing the slave, but the last thing I wanted was to look like a klutz. I could feel him smiling.
At the door we exchanged looks again, and he thought, It's been a while.
I know. But I'm up for it if you are, I assured him, making a last mental check on our costumes. He carried no weapon, no instrument, no tool, save pieces of his costume which had more than one use. We'd worked hard perfecting it, the belts, the waist length cape, the boots. His colors, as always, were black and dark green. My own costume had fewer elements, just a basic black halter stretched over my breasts and black mid-calf dance tights, bare feet. Oh, and the leash. I draped myself against him as he presented our pass to the door man. We donned simple eyemasks, and proceeded down the carpeted hallway. Think people will remember us?
* * * *
The ceiling of The Hall is at least fifty-feet high, perhaps higher, with one long wall made entirely of glass, overlooking the Galdarin River. Echoes of laughter came down from balconies on the opposite wall, and crystals and lights and chandeliers flickered everywhere. Arshan made his way straight for Cleopatra, one of our old friends.
She dripped with black beads, completely covered, yet not covered at all by a complex network of beaded strands, hanging in long wings from her arms, and cascading down her back from her black hair. She turned from the conversation when she saw us, throwing up her hands and kissing Arshan on the cheek. "Arshan! You've arrived! We've missed you, you know. And you, Mriah." she added, turning to me. "It got very dull here for a while." She sighed, fluttering her eyelids. I
love Cleo's act. And she loves ours.
Arshan smiled. "It's good to be back."
"Easy for you to say," I said, tossing my head.
He turned on me, shortening up the leash and speaking harshly. "I am trying to converse with the Lady Cleopatra. Now, will you be quiet or will I have to cut your tongue out?"
I gave no answer at all except to nod my head toward Cleo.
She smiled. "As I said, it was getting very dull around here."
* * * *
We were lounging by the pool later, with some people we knew and some we didn't, when Arshan slapped me at last. Maidi and Bivon had been taking turns whipping Danielle, and when they were done, she thanked them for it on her knees. Gallen, a blond haired fop that Cleo favored started in with "She's a proper pretty one. All slaves should behave so well, don't you think, Arshan?"
"She's very beautiful," Arshan said to Cleopatra.
Cleo swallowed a bit of plum. "I believe she's for sale."
"Oh?" Gallen sat up a bit in his lounge chair. "Maidi, how much?"
Maidi and Bivon sat on the grass, coddling Danni between them. "No, she's not for sale," Maidi said.
"I'd say she's worth 40,000," Gallen continued. "Whereas I wouldn't pay more than 5000 for one like yours, Arshan."
"Not that I would go with you, anyway." I replied from where I sat at Arshan's feet. Arshan jerked on the leash.
"You haven't broken her, yet?"
Cleo laughed. "Arshan likes them with their teeth intact."
Gallen was unfazed. "Imagine that. I think she needs a lesson."
I sneered. "From you? I'd rather put out my own eyes."
Arshan jerked the chain so hard I pitched forward onto my hands. "That will be quite enough, slave." He sat up in the lounge chair a little, then settled back, shortening the chain so I remained on all fours. "I can handle her myself, thank you." He smiled obsequiously at Gallen.
"Oh, it's no fault of yours, I'm sure." Gallen picked up a plum from the bowl between Cleopatra and him. "Still, I can see why she's talking back. You don't even have a bat for her."
"I've never needed one."
Cleo applauded the point by tapping her own crop in her gloved palm. "Arshan has many methods."
"Still, I wonder how she would respond to some of my own." Gallen stood, placed himself in front of me, snapped his fingers. "Look at me, slave."
I drew my eyes up his leg, stopped at his crotch. I let half a smile onto my face.
"I said, look at me."
"I am."
He lifted my chin with his boot. I held his gaze for a moment, then dropped back down to admire his groin again. There wasn't much to see really, at first. But as he grew more angry, he grew. I watched the bulge thicken as he made a fist. "You have to put fear into her, Arshan. Like this." He drew back his foot to kick me.
Arshan was up in an instant, between us. "Think again."
Cleo laughed, tugging on Gallen's velvet sleeve. "No one strikes her but Arshan, dear, and she obeys no one but him."
"Well, what good is she, then." Gallen said sullenly, sinking back down into the chair at Cleo's side. I was already holding onto Arshan's leg. I let my hands run up and down his thigh. I closed my eyes and rubbed against him with my cheek. That was close.
He's obviously an asshole. I'd let you bait him more except I think he's dangerous.
I don't know... I drew my hand between his legs to caress his crotch, letting the heat from his stiffening penis flow into my fingers. Shall I show him what good am I?
Arshan made some meaningless small talk with Cleo as I came around his leg to kneel in front of him. The loose fitting pants he wore didn't end in seams on the inside. And Arshan never wore underwear. I had his cock in my mouth then. "You see," he was explaining, "she is extremely loyal. And always grateful." I would have added something of my own, but my mouth was full. Using my lips I squeezed some pre-come into my mouth and swallowed. I let my tongue work the underside, the tender cleft just at the base of the head until he was having trouble keeping up the conversation. I felt him start to go, his hips began to buck, and then I ducked.
Semen shot out over the grass, a fair bit spattered the golden edge of Gallen's green waistcoat. Arshan recovered immediately. He grabbed me by the chin and scolded me harshly. He gripped the halter at the center and pulled it over my head, with two knots he tied my hands behind my back using it instead of rope. Then he knelt in front of me, holding my head still by the hair at the base of my neck, and slapped me with his right hand across my cheek.
Do it again, I thought.
He raised his hand high this time, and I tried to flinch, but his other hand held me still. "Don't you move, now" he said, almost growling, as he brought the slapping hand down to fondle my bare breasts instead. He squeezed the nipples between the knuckles of his first and middle fingers, then forced my head down to the grass. The blades prickled against my chest, cool and rough. "Are you ready to apologize?"
"I'm sorry, Master."
"You needn't apologize to me. Apologize to this gentleman, whose finery you've ruined."
I kept my mouth shut. Gallen was on his feet now, towering above us. Arshan stood, picking up the end of the leash again. "Slave." He gave it a jerk and I sat up. But I kept my head down. "Slave," he repeated.
"Screw you," I said.
You're pushing it. "Maybe I haven't made myself clear," he said, wrapping the leash around his hand, until he held me fast by the neck. "I think you owe this man something, and I intend to see he gets it." He lay me on my back in the grass, leading me by the neck. "Gallen, may I borrow your knife?"
"Certainly."
He handed down his pearl-handled dagger. Arshan slipped it deftly under the waistband of my tights, and with one stroke, ripped them open from my bellybutton downward. Uncoiling the leash, he wrapped the other end around my right ankle, binding my foot near my head. The left leg he bound with one of the belts from around his own waist, by wrapping my knee to my shoulder. I felt my own wetness drip down the crack of my ass as my pussy was now open to the wind. "Gallen, I believe this slave owes you something. So long as you do not strike her, you may do as you will."
What? I started to object. But Arshan didn't answer me. Gallen opened a cockslit in his own tights and brandished his penis. "With pleasure," he said, as he motioned for two male slaves to lift me up onto the table. He pressed the head of his cock against my ass. "I will gladly spill some seed in return." he said, and with that he rammed into me. He got about an inch in, holding me by my thighs. His cock was so dry it burned as he thrust deeper in. I saw his face twist and wondered if it was unpleasant for him, too. But then I felt his balls against my ass, and he started pumping. I clenched my teeth tightly, staring him in the eye as he worked. I don't think he liked that, but it didn't matter because soon his eyes were shut. The motion became smoother as pre-come leaked out of him, but I kept my teeth bared and didn't relax. As he began panting, I growled, and he came inside me, shooting hot white blood up into my insides. I looked away while waiting for him to recover. He opened his eyes, and nodded to Arshan. "Well," he said, his dick still inside me. "She is good for one thing." I opened my mouth to speak, but he clamped a hand over it. He pulled his leather gauntlet off the other with his teeth, and began stroking my pussy. His index finger probed down between our stomachs. He brought it out from my vagina, moistening my labia with the juices there, then stroked my clit upward a few times, smiling as I shivered involuntarily.
He worked his large, rough thumb, back and forth. I tried to fight him, but struggling only increased the contact. My hips began moving with him as I hungrily sought my release. I bucked forward, trying to increase the pressure, when I felt his shrunken penis slip from my ass. "Ohh, looks like I'm done," he said, stepping back from me. "I hate you," I whispered between clenched teeth. With my hands behind my back, there was no way I could finish the job he started. He was laughing. "The poor little thing, look at her struggling. Ha!"
Arshan
released my legs and made me stand up. I trembled, tried to rub up against his leg, but he slapped me, again. "Down. You're a mess. I think you need a walk through the pool." As he led me to the edge of the water, he asked me How are you doing?
Loving every minute. I still don't like Gallen, though.
He winked. Yeah, but at least I got the knife away from him.
* * * *
We mingled near the buffet for a while. Arshan picked at bits of bread and fruit. Occasionally he would drop something into my mouth as he made his point or changed the tide of a conversation—when he wanted me shut up. My thighs hummed with the energy Gallen had built up. It made me quieter than usual, all I could think about was Arshan's penis, which I had held in my mouth not so long ago. From time to time, as we circulated though the crowd, I met the eyes of guests, willing them to touch me. Look at me, how can you resist me? My breasts bared for you, my hands tied, the gaping rent exposing my mound, how can you not bring your hands to me? But they only touched with their eyes, some with curiosity ("Wish I'd seen that scene") or disdain. Very few were masked like us, I realized. Perhaps we were outdated. Finally, bored, I began nuzzling Arshan's shoulder. I rubbed my breasts against the woven fabric of the short cape, feeling the nipples contract to become rock hard.
"I think the civil unrest will resolve itself," he was saying to a man I didn't know, who also had a slave on a leash. The slave, a male, was wearing nothing at all, and posed and pranced after his master like a show horse. Arshan held me still with his gaze. "Haven't you had enough? No favors for you until I'm finished eating."
The other man chuckled. "Poor thing, she looks like a hungry one."
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