He covered his ears and she raised her hand again.
“Wait,” I said, grabbing her wrist. As our eyes met I could not tell what she was thinking. I did not want to play this wrong. “Duchess, how much do you want for him?”
She raised her eyebrow in surprise. “Oh, he’s not for sale.”
“I thought you said he meant nothing to you.” Corwin sobbed silently in my lap, his voice spent. Perhaps it was true.
“You are right.” She stood up and tapped him with her boot. “I suppose I could set a price.”
“Name it.” I swallowed, unable to tell where this scene was going next.
“Twenty five lashes, hard enough that we might hear them in the next room.” she said, her voice cold. She held a whip out to me, daring me. “On him. You deliver them.”
I looked into his eyes.
He nodded. I began lifting him up. “Give me the whip.” They put him back up in the frame and Marella went into the other room to keep count.
“I do this,” I said, drawing my arm back, “because I love you.”
My first stroke wasn’t hard enough for Marella to hear, but it was hard enough to make Corwin scream. I pressed the whip handle to my forehead, praying. I said “I love you,” and let the second one fall. Marella shouted “One!” from the other room.
On the next blow I drew blood. Corwin was whimpering. I let another blow fall. Tears sprang to my eyes as he bit down on a cry. Sweat broke out on his skin as I struck him. We were both crying. My arm began to hurt. By the time I got to twenty I didn’t know if I could give him the last five. I was panting, the whip hanging limp as I had to look away from his tortured skin. You have to do this, I told myself, or she’ll finish it for you. But I could not steel myself to raise my arm again.
“Cleo!” he said, his head hanging. “Finish me!”
By the time the last one was delivered, Glinda had already gone.
I let the whip fall and sank to my knees, unsure when exactly the line had been crossed between play and reality, waiting for the scene to end. But there was Corwin in my arms, kissing me.
Now I lie here at night, before I fall asleep, admiring his hair falling over the pillow. Some nights, like tonight, I’m happy to watch the moon shining on his skin, but other nights, I’ll wake him gently and make him talk to me. My prince.
FYI...
Arshan and Mriah do have a story of how they met. It appeared under the title “Master Spirit” in N. T. Morley’s Master/slave anthology, which first was published by the Venus Book Club, then had an edition published by Simon & Shuster. It can also be found under the title “Master Mind” in my ebook called EDGE PLAYS, which collects all the stories that take place in the “Telepaths” universe. EDGE PLAYS was originally a limited edition ebook from the Erotic Authors Association as a fundraiser for their awards program, and a new ebook edition of it will be out from Circlet Press imminently, if it is not already by the time you read this.
Arshan’s backstory, the prequel to Master Mind, is a novella called ROYAL TREATMENT, published in December 2009 by Torquere Press, another fine ebook publisher.
I still hope eventually to write a novel about them. It’s still percolating in the back of my mind.
About the Author
Cecilia Tan is the author of many, many books and short stories of erotica, science fiction, BDSM, and fantasy, and it’s much easier now to just Google her to find out exactly what. Recent books include Mind Games, White Flames, The Siren & The Sword, and The Hot Streak. She continues as editorial director for Circlet Press, Inc. and as a leather/BDSM activist. Find her at ceciliatan.com and on Livejournal, Twitter, Facebook, etc. She has several web serials ongoing as well, including The Prince’s Boy on circlet.com and a 1980s coming-out novel, Daron’s Guitar Chronicles (at daron.ceciliatan.com). By the time you read this bio, it will already be out of date.
Telepaths Don't Need Safewords, by Cecilia Tan Page 4