Subspace

by Sierra Cartwright

  “I deserve a spanking, Sir.”

  “Well, we know that. Be more explicit.”

  “A hard spanking on my bare…uh…backside.”

  “Very politely expressed, Ailish. Okay, we’ll see how hard you can take it, shall we?”

  A flurry of sharp smacks surprised her with their relative painfulness, but she managed to keep her bottom high and her legs from kicking too much, even though she was tempted to put a protective hand over the rapidly heating danger zone. He had fooled her, with his initial salvo, into thinking she could withstand hours of his treatment, but now he was bringing out the big guns, using all of his arm, landing burning handshapes all over her helpless cheeks.

  All too soon, she lifted an arm to cover her bottom, but he caught her wrist and held it in the small of her back.

  “You can stop me by asking,” he reminded her.

  But, despite the mounting discomfort, she didn’t want to say the words. She wanted to prove herself in some obscure way. She didn’t want to disappoint him.

  He stopped when her skin was tight, letting her feel the burn for a moment of respite before picking something up—the hairbrush-type thing?—and slapping it in his palm.

  “You’re doing well,” he said, and she glowed inside as well as out. “Let’s try you with a paddle.”

  The cold slap of the leather was both startling and sensually satisfying.

  Oh, more of this, yes.

  And more of it was duly provided. With each stroke, each step towards her limit, Ailish reminded herself that she could end it whenever she wanted by the utterance of a simple ‘stop now’. That knowledge gave her the strength to bear more than she thought possible, arching her back and breathing through the strokes, moaning with mingled pleasure and pain until eventually Rod’s arm must have tired and he put the paddle down.

  He exhaled deeply before rubbing a hand over her tender bottom, cupping the curves and delving into the crack.

  “Good,” he said, his voice a little tight, even slightly hoarse. “You’re good. Good at being spanked. You didn’t want to safeword?”

  “I didn’t need to.” Ailish felt proud, as if she’d single-handedly won the pub quiz again.

  “That’s a very good sign. But it did hurt?”

  “Oh yes. A lot. I still didn’t get the sense that you were being mean, though.”

  It sounded like a criticism and she felt Rod stiffen, not that the swollen part of him beneath her stomach needed to do so.

  “Sorry,” he muttered. “I was too busy assessing how much you could take. I got carried away with my calculations.”

  Ailish twisted her neck to look up at him, finding the act of conversation in this humiliating position a little bizarre, but nonetheless enjoyable.

  “You’re a scientist through and through,” she said. “Did you complete the equation?”

  “I suppose so. I was trying to work out which combination of force and speed would equal your tipping point. I didn’t reach it, so I suppose I’ll need to add duration of spanking to the formula. Then we can repeat the calculation with implements of differing severity, you see. And there are other variables we can throw in as our studies progress.”

  Ailish’s laugh pealed into the gloom.

  “Are you laughing at me?” Rod the scientist was replaced once more by Rod the Dom.

  “You make it all sound so sexy!” she exclaimed.

  “Have you forgotten where you are, young lady?” asked Rod, his hand twitching dangerously on her sore skin.

  “No, Sir, sorry, Sir,” she said more soberly. Her capacity for the absorption of pain had been tested enough for one day.

  “I should think so. Right then, next phase of the experiment.”

  “Oh. What’s that?”

  “Arousal level. I need to test it. Part your legs.”

  Ailish inhaled sharply, feeling like Alice in Wonderland, growing and shrinking. She seemed to bounce from submissive to confident and back again with a speed that made her head spin. She was conscious, at the deepest level, of allowing Rod an intimacy that she wouldn’t grant anybody else, and yet they were not really ‘together’ as such. How did this work? What was its context? Were they friends, lovers, partners, travelling companions on a voyage of discovery? She supposed the last description was as good as any, except the voyage wasn’t new to him. Back to partners, then. Lab partners. Minus the white coats and safety goggles, but with altogether more interesting equipment.

  Obediently, she opened her legs, cringing at the knowledge that he would find her soaking wet down there. For a moment, she was scared and wanted to clamp her thighs shut, but she remembered what he had said on the way downstairs—I’ll look after you, I promise—and trusted him to understand that her emotions as well as her deep tissues were implicated in that covenant. She held her legs apart and shut her eyes to fully imbibe the ravishing sensation of his fingers sliding down, filling her nerve endings and blanking out her rational thought.

  “You’re very wet, you know.” Now his voice was slow, an attenuated drawl. “Your clitoris feels large, almost as large as my thumb tip. I’m hypothesising that it isn’t always that size. Is it?”

  “Nnnoooo, think it’s…mmmm.”

  He rubbed his thumb, very slowly and gently, against the fattened central nexus of her clit. “I have another theory, and that theory is that you’d like to come. Am I right?”

  “Oh yeah.” She ground her hips, willing him to press harder, rub faster, but he wouldn’t take the hint.

  “I’m sorry, Ailish,” he said, and the very tip of one finger circled her vaginal opening, teasing with light pressure, causing her to whimper. “I’m not going to let you. Not yet.”

  Bereft, her howl of woe was loud enough to make him tut sympathetically as he withdrew his hand, but not enough to deter him from his course.

  “Stand up and remove your underwear.”

  He helped her to her feet, but she couldn’t look at him, certain her face was bright red and her eyes laden with lustful guilt. Instead she concentrated on trying to undress elegantly—something she rarely found easy. This occasion was no different, and by the time the garments were off and discarded, she was self-conscious, hot and bothered, still sore from the spanking and wet from its aftermath, wanting to curse Rod for getting her into this state. But then, if she did, perhaps he would end this. And that wouldn’t do at all.

  So she stood, shoulders hunched, staring at the floor, waiting for the next stage on this head trip into surrendered oblivion.

  “Look at me,” said Rod.

  He must have seen a spark of defiance or sulkiness in her eyes, because he put his hand under her chin and squeezed.

  “I understand this is new and must be hard for you,” he said, his voice unexpectedly gentle given the pressure of his hand. “You must tell me if you feel anxious or uncomfortable. Well, in a bad way, I mean. Some of the anxiety and discomfort is what trips the sub switch, I realise. You will tell me, won’t you?”

  Ailish swallowed.

  He bent further towards her, his face grave.

  “Won’t you?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “A good D/s relationship stands or falls on communication, you know. I won’t have you leaving important concerns unsaid because you’re embarrassed or scared or whatever. Now, if you’re ready, I’m going to start the inspection.”

  She stretched her lips into a smile, reassured by his level-headedness and bluff concern. He was okay. It was all okay. There was nothing to fear.

  “Raise your arms above your head.”

  She put them up and he pulled her chin down, opening her jaw, looking at her teeth as if she were a horse at a fair. This, more than the spanking or the nudity, reinforced the reality of their dynamic so that she felt small and objectified, a thing for sale or rent. Her clit felt heavy between her legs and she longed for the moment when his inspection would reach the most intimate level.

  But he took his time, playing with her hair,
twisting it this way and that, making her open her eyes wide and move her head about on her neck in endless different configurations before he was satisfied and ready to move down to the rest of her body.

  He spent ravenous minutes on her shoulders, then collarbone, then breasts, weighing these last in his hands, pressing and pinching, twisting and breathing over her nipples, bringing them to a state of such eye-watering stiffness that Ailish could not help hissing.

  “They look good,” he said, “but how do they taste?”

  Then came a long, languorous oral inspection of her nipples, sucking and licking, flicking the ends with his pointed tongue-tip until she was pressing her thighs together and panting, wanting to touch herself but not daring to risk it. She could see he was drawing out the torture in response to her obvious discomfort and she tried her best to mask it, but the sensations were too intense. She was under his thumb, in his power, and unable to help herself. Perhaps if she begged…?

  At last, at last, the outline of her ribs and hips were traced by both of his hands and he dropped to a crouch, his bespectacled gaze fixed on her pubic triangle. But first he attended to her legs, patting and stroking them, lingering over her calves then inching up her thighs so slowly she began to twitch with expectation.

  “You’re in a hurry,” he reproved, pinching the inside one thigh. “I can smell what a hurry you’re in. Olfactory evidence. One of the best indicators.”

  Unsteady on her feet, Ailish wondered what Rod would do if she lurched forward and fell onto his bowed head. He seemed to take that thought from her and act upon it, putting two hands beneath the curve of her buttocks and holding her in position while his breath gently warmed the higher reaches of her thighs, moving up, up again, right…to…the…top.

  He let out an exhalation that breezed through her pussy lips and bathed her clit. She whimpered.

  “All in good time. Now what do we have here?”

  Sensitive fingers traced the edges of the triangle with its neatly clipped hair. Did he require an answer? Surely it was pretty obvious.

  “How do you like your pubic hair?” he asked. “Do you shave or wax or…?”

  “Depends how much of a hurry I’m in,” she said croakily.

  “You do it yourself?”

  “Mostly.”

  “Are you embarrassed about showing yourself to a stranger?”

  “Not really…well, yes. I suppose I am.”

  “Yet here you are.”

  “I know I’m weird.”

  He craned his neck and smiled up at her. “Not at all. Nothing weird about it. I might challenge you to have it done professionally before our next meeting, though.”

  “Really?”

  “Not because I prefer it that way. Just because I like the idea of you taking off your knickers and showing everything you have to an antiseptic-smelling blonde in a white uniform. I think in my mind she will be a bit of a Domme and might make you squirm a bit. In fact, in my mind, you are going to have to tell her that you are there because your Master ordered you to get a professional wax. She’ll see that the lower part of your bottom is bright red, so she’ll know that you’ve been spanked just before your appointment—especially for her to see and comment on. She’ll comment on it in detail. She’ll ask you all kinds of intimate, embarrassing questions. ‘How does he position you for a spanking?’ ‘What implements does he use?’ ‘Does he make you stand in the corner?’ ‘Does he make you come while he spanks you?’ On and on, the questions she asks go, until she notices that you are glistening wet between your legs—rather like you are now, in fact—and that’s when she smothers you with the hot wax… Anyway.”

  He stopped rather abruptly, his breath having become increasingly laboured during the exposition of this little fantasy. Ailish guessed he was trying not to peak too soon. She only hoped she would be able to exercise as much control. She thought she might explode into orgasm the moment he touched the spot.

  “Is it safe to touch you?” he wondered. “You’re not to come yet, you know. Do you understand that?”

  “Yes, Sir,” moaned Ailish, wanting to double over and give in to the needy demands of her clit and cunt.

  Somehow she maintained her posture, sucking in a breath as he parted her lips and moved in as close to her clit as he could without burying his face. He seemed to spend ages just looking at it, keeping his breath level, holding her lips wide.

  “You really are extremely desperate to come, aren’t you, Ailish?”

  “Yes, Sir.” It was almost a sob.

  “I’m not sure when I last saw a clit this engorged. And as for your cunt…”

  He circled her vagina with a forefinger, making quick and easy work of slipping inside.

  “My goodness, you do want it, don’t you? How much do you want it, Ailish?”

  “A lot,” she whispered.

  “Hmm. Turn around and bend over.”

  He retracted his head and hands, and for a moment Ailish wondered if more spanking was on the way, but once she was bent with her hands on her knees and her thighs wide, she realised it was just the final phase of the inspection.

  In this position, he would be able to see both lower orifices spread and ready for penetration. He put his hands against her still-warm buttocks and squeezed.

  “They’re a lovely colour,” he remarked and ducked towards her, pressing his mouth against her pussy, kissing it, or…tasting it? “Almost ready,” he promised.

  He opened her arse cheeks and rummaged between them so she squeaked and almost fell forward. Nobody had handled her this rudely before, nobody had ever presumed they were permitted access in this most inviolate of spots.

  He found the puckered ring of muscle and pushed his thumb against it. “Here, Ailish? Has anyone ever had you here?”

  She shook her head vigorously.

  “Wonderful experiments to be had in the future,” he said, continuing to exert gentle pressure. “I can show you all kinds of pleasures, if you want me to. But not today. I don’t think you’re ready yet.”

  Ailish almost pouted; the sensation of his thumb at that darkest, most secret place had been frightening at first, but as he’d rubbed and flexed, it had turned to something else, something intriguing and flavoured with deepest decadence. Something she wanted to pursue.

  He took his thumb away, though, and led her by the arm, still bent over, to the chair he’d spanked her in. Placing her palms flat down on the cushion, he made her stand, legs wide, arse up, awaiting his next move.

  “I’m very pleased with what I’ve got here,” said Rod.

  He picked something up. The vibrator?

  “I’m going to perform another experiment now. My hypothesis is that you will come within the next five minutes. A simple hypothesis, I realise, but we can move on to more complex work in time.”

  She felt his palm first, flat against her trembling inner thigh, holding it still so that he might get a clearer path to her pussy. With a couple of fingers he lubricated her, not that she needed it. His attention to detail and to her comfort was reassuring, though, and her muscles relaxed, ready to accept what was coming next.

  The blunt, broad tip of something smooth and cold—surely the vibrator—was lined up, ready for the big push forward. She wanted to tense, Rod stroked her clit, distracting her enough that he was able to insert and lodge the thick vibrator inside her with one shockingly smooth motion.

  “There,” he said with satisfaction, still twiddling her clit. “I picked the right size for you, though I think you could take a bigger one. That’s a game for another day. How does it feel to be stuffed full of latex cock?”

  “It’s big,” she panted. “God. I want to come, Sir.”

  “Easy does it,” he murmured, switching the vibe on.

  Ailish twisted her hips, fighting the inevitable, wanting to delay the moment of orgasm for as long as possible in a perverse desire to prove Rod wrong. But Rod was rarely wrong, she suspected, and he was right once more. Once the vibrations we
re doing their dastardly worst, he got to work in earnest on her clit, rubbing and digging until, just as Ailish tensed, feeling the far-off, long-awaited first quiver, he spanked her again with his free hand, heating the already warm cheeks, smacking and smacking while she bucked and yelled and came hard, on to the vibrator, on to his fingers, giving herself up to him completely.

  Her elbows crumpled and she fell face-first into the velvety upholstery of the chair.

  “Good,” she heard Rod say from what seemed like an immense distance. “That was three and a half minutes.” He switched off the vibrator, took his fingers away from her clit and unzipped something. Trousers, presumably.

  Buried in her giddy, post-orgasmic exhaustion, she wondered if she could take a fucking just now. But there was no retraction of the vibrator, which remained seated inside her while Rod rustled and grunted at her rear.

  Her bottom was sore and tight again. He must be looking at it, masturbating over it. Her clit twinged again at the thought. His belt jingled and clanked. She thought of him taking it out of its loops and cracking it across her arse. The vibrator felt loose and slick inside her and she contracted her muscles, holding it tight, amazed at how quickly she was ready for sex again.

  She rotated her hips, begging him to come in, but he ignored or misread her invitation, and soon a hot splash landed on her warm behind, dripping down into the cracks, marking her as territory to be possessed.

  She sighed, a little disappointed that a hard fuck seemed out of the question.

  Rod knelt beside her, putting an arm around her shoulder, kissing the back of her neck, letting the sensation of his seed, congealing on to her heated skin, sink in for a moment before he took a tissue from his pocket and dabbed the remnants off.

  He pulled her up, then sat on the chair, bringing her into his lap. Once more, she felt intensely naked next to his full work suit. She wriggled a little, wanting him to use his hands on her throbbing pussy, but he held her instead, close to his chest.

  “You want more?” He didn’t sound surprised.

  “I just…I feel like I can’t get enough…that was so powerful. I feel I could go on and on…”