Subspace

by Sierra Cartwright

  He’d remembered.

  In their first e-mail exchange, he’d asked her for a safe word. She’d never really used one before. It had been her agreement with the men she’d played with that stop meant stop.

  Master Rafael had explained that he wanted her to have the freedom to scream no and stop and let her continue with a scene. She’d come up with Sunday because it was Sunday when he’d asked. She wished she’d been a bit more creative, but he’d said as long as she would remember the word it would work fine.

  “If you overuse the word, sub, you will be sent home.”

  She blinked. “Sir?”

  “No topping from the bottom. Your safe word should be reserved for times—as I’ve mentioned—that you are beyond your comfort zone in a way that frightens you. You need to manage your reactions and emotions in order to go beyond what you’ve experienced before.”

  Beforehand, they’d agreed that she could ask to slow down by using the word yellow. Using that word would grant her only a short reprieve, a two-minute timeout. It wouldn’t stop the scene, it wouldn’t change the scene, but it would give her a chance to gather her wits.

  “Remove your blouse.”

  Her heart thundered from the sudden realisation she truly had no idea what she’d been in for when she’d entered the online BDSM site’s silent auction. There had been a host of items to bid on, from autographed books, to engraved floggers, to erotic artwork, to weekend escapes. She’d bid on several different items since the proceeds all went to charity.

  When she’d entered a large amount of money for a weekend retreat with one of the scene’s most reclusive yet respected Doms, she’d had no real expectation of winning. But the website’s picture of Master Rafael had inspired her. In a way he reminded her of a pirate with his pulled-back hair; smooth, brown, bare chest; low-riding black pants and black boots. She’d entered the secret bid and hoped, dreamed, even masturbated to images of the handsome man tying her to a St Andrew’s cross.

  But she hadn’t honestly believed the sum was large enough to beat everyone else who wanted a personal, private forty-eight hours in Colorado with Master Rafael.

  And if anyone else had known Master Eric had been added to the pot…

  “The blouse,” Master Rafael prompted.

  Her fingers shook as she unbuttoned her blouse from the bottom up. Feeling utterly self-conscious, she shrugged out of the silk and dropped it on the floor next to her right knee.

  “Now the brassiere.”

  He hadn’t even seemed to have noticed the lacy black material. She’d spent half a week’s wages on new lingerie for this weekend, and neither man had given her bra a glance.

  She unfastened the clasp then dropped the bra.

  “Lovely,” Master Eric approved.

  “We’ve spent the last week talking about your limits, Lindsey. I wrote down everything. But you’re going to go over them with us again for clarity. We’ll have no misunderstandings.”

  “Yes, Sir,” she told Master Rafael.

  Master Eric crossed to one of the end tables and picked up a piece of paper. She assumed he was looking at her contract. She tried to remember all the things she’d discussed with Master Rafael but knew it would be impossible Master Eric spoke. “Tell me your hard limits.”

  “Cutting.”

  He nodded.

  “Actually, anything that would leave a permanent mark is a hard limit, so that includes brands and tattoos.”

  “Piercings?” Master Eric asked.

  She nibbled her lower lip. “I’d have to think about that one. I don’t think I want to be pierced, but if it pleased my Dom, I might be open to it. But it would have to be in a permanent relationship, not a weekend thing.”

  Master Eric nodded again. “Any other hard limits?”

  She shook her head.

  “Soft limits?”

  “I’ve never been caned. The idea frightens me.”

  “You’re willing to try it?”

  Was she? “Could we negotiate that at the time? I want to say yes but I’m scared to.”

  “Of course. We’ll give you the opportunity to experiment.”

  Already she was starting to trust this man. He wouldn’t force her past her limits, but he’d encourage her to go past them.

  “What about other forms of corporal punishment?”

  Her stomach was tied in knots, but now it was more from tension and excitement than fear. “To my knowledge, they’re all fine.”

  He scanned the list. “And your favourite type of punishment?”

  Was she really being forced to admit all this out loud? It was one thing to write it in an email and talk about it over the phone. It was another entirely to discuss it with two men while she was on her knees and wearing nothing from the waist up. “Open-handed slap to my buttocks.”

  “How else do you like to be punished or beaten?”

  “Is there a difference?” she asked.

  Before answering, he glanced at Master Rafael, as if seeking permission before answering. Even amongst Doms there was a hierarchy?

  When Master Rafael nodded, Master Eric explained, “Beatings can be erotic and for amusement. If you’re going to attain subspace, it will most likely be from a beating, not from punishment.”

  Master Rafael added, “When you’re being punished, your comfort is a secondary consideration. When you’re being beaten, your enjoyment is a primary concern.”

  “In that case, I’ve never really been punished. One man gave me a spanking for misbehaving, but I really hadn’t misbehaved.”

  “More of setting up a scene?” Master Eric asked.

  “Yes.” It had been exactly like that, as if they were acting out a part in a play.

  “What implements have been used to beat you?”

  She realised Master Rafael was letting Master Eric take the lead. She and Master Rafael had gone over all this, but it was new to Master Eric. “I’ve had only a few experiences with a flogger but I really liked it.”

  “What did you like about it?”

  She thought about the answer for a moment. “The pain is spread out a bit. The flogger my Dom used had about a dozen leather strands and they were pretty thick.”

  “Have you been beaten with a belt or anything else?”

  “I’ve only played with a belt once. I found it a bit overwhelming, but I liked it, especially in retrospect.” She blushed.

  He continued to regard her silently.

  Pretending she wasn’t drowning in embarrassment, she continued. “I think about it a lot.”

  “Do you masturbate to the memory?”

  She closed her eyes momentarily before admitting, “Yes.”

  Despite her blush, Master Eric continued his questions, as if there were nothing to be embarrassed by. “Is there anything that wasn’t on the list that you want removed from consideration?”

  “Whips frighten me, but I’d be willing to try them.”

  He nodded.

  She felt lost in the depths of his kind, light blue eyes. He seemed to encourage her to open up in a way she hadn’t with others. With him, perhaps, it was safe not to feel ashamed of her longings.

  “Anything else? Ways of striking you that you’d like added to the list? Things you’d want removed?”

  “No. I’m willing to try almost anything.”

  “Butt plugs?”

  “I’ve only used small ones.”

  Master Rafael folded his arms across his chest. “Is there a reason you’re not addressing Master Eric in a respectful way?”

  Oh God. Master Rafael’s question dragged her back to reality. She was behaving as if she were having a conversation with a man she’d met at a bar, rather than a man who was, for all intents and purposes, her Master for the weekend. “I’m sorry, Master Eric. I beg your pardon.”

  “I was simply noting the lack of respect for later punishment,” Master Eric told Master Rafael.

  She dropped her gaze. The threat of the punishment sent blood skidding th
rough her veins.

  “I suggest the sub learn her lesson now, Master Eric. Better that she doesn’t forget her manners again.”

  “I agree.”

  Her breath threatened to strangle her. Now?

  Master Eric looked at her. “Stand. Remove your shoes and your jeans. Then get on all fours. Crawl over to me with one of your shoes and ask me to spank you with it.”

  He was serious.

  Serious and specific.

  Even though the discussion wasn’t over, both men were setting the tone for their upcoming time together.

  Despite her nerves and the flutter of fear, she wanted this.

  Both Doms remained silent while she stood and slipped out of her flats. She unfastened her jeans and slid the denim over her hips. Getting naked with a man for the first time was always unsettling and having two of them watching her made it all the more intense.

  She stepped out of the jeans. She’d never again make the mistake of not addressing either Dom properly, despite the fact Master Eric had seemed so approachable. “The thong, Sir? Shall I take it off?”

  “Leave it on. I’ll cut it off you when I’m ready.”

  She felt the colour drain from her face.

  “If I had wanted you to remove it, I would have instructed you to remove it. Do as you’re told, sub, precisely and perfectly, no more, no less.”

  “Yes, Sir,” she whispered.

  “I expect you to speak firmly and clearly.”

  She cleared her throat and tried again. “Yes, Sir.”

  “Anytime you do not understand an instruction, ask for clarification.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Is there a reason you’re still standing? I assume you understood the instructions since you didn’t ask for clarification. Do you need my command to be repeated?”

  The word command dragged her back to reality. Oh God. She was completely unable to think straight. They hadn’t been appraising her nearly naked body, they’d been waiting for her to do as she was told.

  Her mind reengaged and she gingerly lowered herself to her hands and knees. She picked up one of the discarded shoes.

  “Carry it in your mouth.”

  The order was shocking. Nothing she’d ever been through had prepared her for these two unyielding men.

  She put the shoe in her mouth and crawled to Master Eric’s feet. He took the shoe from her and slapped the sole against his open palm. The wicked sound made her jump.

  “How many spanks do you deserve?”

  “Are you asking me, Sir? Or Master Raphael?”

  “You, sub.”

  “Two? Three, Sir?” she whispered.

  “You were instructed to speak clearly and firmly.”

  “Three, Sir.”

  He raised his brow and waited.

  “Four, Sir?”

  He smacked the shoe against his palm again. “You were disrespectful, and you think three or four spanks is appropriate?” he demanded.

  “No, Sir. Five would be better.” God, was this really happening?

  “Five it is.” He hooked an end table with his foot and dragged it closer. “Drape yourself across it. Hold onto the legs to keep yourself in position. Breaking position by leaving the table in any way will add strokes to your punishment. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “You may leave the house at any time. But you may not come back if you choose to leave.”

  “I understand.”

  “Good. Now get into position.”

  She crawled to the table and positioned herself on top. It was more uncomfortable than she could have imagined. The wood dug into her hip bones. When she grabbed the legs, her feet didn’t quite reach the floor on the other side. She understood what he’d meant when he’d said her comfort was of secondary consideration if she were being punished. It didn’t seem as if he’d thought about it at all.

  Before she was quite ready, he hit her.

  “Jesus!” Nothing in her experience prepared her for the mind-numbing impact of the leather just beneath her buttocks.

  She reared up, letting go of the table legs. All of her other lovers had been considerate, making sure she was ready before touching her. She’d always received a few light swats to get the blood flowing and to get her in the mood.

  This was different.

  She wasn’t sure she liked it.

  She scooted backwards, trying to put her feet flat on the floor.

  “Get back in position and thank Master Eric for the punishment.”

  Thank him? She was supposed to thank the man she’d thought was going to be the nice one for the weekend? The one whose eyes were kind?

  She was faced away from them so couldn’t see their expressions. This was a moment of choice. She could do as she was told or she could get up and walk away. With the way her rear stung, walking away was a real possibility.

  She gulped a few breaths, trying to steady her nerves.

  Did she want this? How bad did she want it? Seconds later, through gritted teeth, she managed, “Thank you, Sir.”

  “Tell me when you’re ready to continue.”

  She assumed the correct position again. “I’m ready, Sir.”

  Master Eric landed the next spank directly on top of the first. She screamed.

  “Perhaps you should gag her,” Master Rafael suggested.

  When the pain receded and she caught her breath, she said, “Thank you, Sir.”

  “If I gag her, we can’t hear her lovely manners.”

  “Ah.”

  “I’m ready for the next one, Sir.”

  It landed immediately. This time, her right buttock bore the impact. She flinched, but remained silent.

  “Better,” Master Rafael approved.

  The fourth spank landed directly on top of the previous one.

  She closed her eyes against the sting of tears. “Thank you!”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  “We’ll add another for the transgression.”

  She whimpered. Instead of being on the last one, she had two to go.

  “Spread your legs,” Master Rafael instructed.

  She tried to ignore her throbbing rear and the pain still lancing her upper thighs as she moved back and parted her legs

  One of the men moved the fabric of her thong aside and stroked her pussy.

  She moaned.

  There was something ultra-erotic about not knowing who was fingering her.

  He continued the motions—long, slow, gentle.

  She no longer noticed the ache in her rear.

  Her mind might have protested the spanking, but there was no doubt it had aroused her.

  She writhed in response to the sensations singing through her. An orgasm stirred deep inside.

  She needed just a bit more pressure, just a bit…

  The unknown Dom moved his finger away.

  She shook with frustration. “Damn it.”

  “Your pain and pleasure belong to your Doms. And you need to express your gratitude for both,” Master Rafael said harshly. Was there no end to his demands? She was supposed to thank them for spanking her and for playing with her just long enough to push her to the brink? She had no idea who’d tortured her. She only knew she couldn’t win. “Thank you, Sirs.”

  “She’s a quick study.”

  Master Eric had spoken to Master Rafael, talking about her as if she were not there. She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to say something so remained silent.

  She heard footsteps, then moments later Master Rafael crouched in front of her. He dug his left hand into her hair and pulled her head back, forcing her to meet his penetrating gaze. The man overwhelmed her.

  He held his hand up, showing her the moisture glistening on his finger. “Lick my finger clean.”

  The dirtiness of the suggestion nearly made her come. She’d read about things like that, but she’d never experienced anything close. “Sir?”

  “Have you tasted
your pussy juices?”

  She shook her head.

  “You were instructed to speak clearly and firmly.”

  “No, Sir.” She cleared her throat. “I’ve never tasted my pussy juices.”

  “Until now.”

  “Until now,” she repeated.

  “Open your mouth.”

  She did. He stuck his finger inside, and she closed her mouth and sucked on his finger.

  “You like being spanked.”

  She nodded.

  “Good. Now you’ll take the other two strokes.” He withdrew his finger.

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  “Good sub.” He released his hold on her hair and stood. “Back into position.”

  Moments later he was out of view again.

  They’d given her enough time to recover. Her breathing was almost normal by the time she grabbed hold of the table legs. She was more prepared for the spanking this time. She knew it would hurt and also knew she could take it.

  Her shoe blazed against her exposed ass.

  She cried out, even though she’d told herself she was prepared for the stroke. In reality there was no preparing for Master Eric’s punishment.

  He’d landed it on her left buttock, making sure, evidently, that both were equally abused.

  She took several ragged breaths. “Thank you, Sir.”

  “How many more, sub?”

  “One, Sir.” Nothing could make her forget to count down the promised strokes.

  “Why did I add the last one?”

  “So I would remember to address you correctly, Master Eric.”

  Time dragged, seconds ticking into minutes. She kept her buttocks clenched, as if that might help lessen the pain of the impact.

  Not knowing when it was coming or where it would land unnerved her.

  She heard sounds but didn’t dare look over her shoulder.

  Then she felt a firm touch on her lower back.

  She heard another sound and realised her thong was being cut away with no regard to how much the wisp of fabric had cost.

  Suddenly she was completely exposed.

  “Spread your legs wide, sub,” Master Eric said.

  Oh God, no. He wouldn’t… She couldn’t…

  “Expose your cunt,” he demanded.

  “Does Master Eric need to repeat his command?” Master Rafael asked. His tone was unyielding.