Subspace

by Sierra Cartwright

  Alyssa, however, had the only friend she needed, loaded up with fresh batteries the day before her arrival. Discreet, silent and waterproof, her faithful vibrator never let her down. Unpacking the toy, she slipped it into the drawer of her nightstand before hanging her clothes in the closet and changing into her robe, ready for her facial. Now the relaxation could begin in earnest.

  * * * *

  Thornton Hall’s dining room was barely a quarter full as Alyssa was led to a table for two, over by one of the large picture windows. The few guests already seated tucked into their food, chatting amicably while they ate.

  “Now, we do have a policy here of seating single guests together for dinner,” the waiter told Alyssa. “Unless you’d prefer to eat alone, that is?”

  At the table next to hers, a middle-aged woman turned the pages of a paperback romance, forking up salad and popping it in her mouth as she read. She’d clearly chosen not to have company tonight, but Alyssa felt more sociable. Her deep cleansing facial, followed by a relaxing session in the hot tub, had left her glowing and full of high spirits.

  “No, I’d be happy to share.”

  “Of course. I’ll be back shortly to take your order.”

  Perusing the menu, torn between choosing the grilled tuna or the pasta with fresh pesto, Alyssa glanced up to see a man being led to her table. She couldn’t help thinking she recognised him from somewhere. Or maybe it was just that, if the guy on the stairs hadn’t been her type, this newcomer most certainly was. Blond hair fell over one eye, nearly obscuring its stunning blueness. Light stubble prickled on his soft cheeks, as though he hadn’t bothered to shave for a couple of days. He walked with an easy lope, his posture suggesting he’d be more comfortable with a skateboard under his arm.

  No, make that a surfboard, Alyssa thought as the stranger came closer, realising she did know him. He was an actor, she was sure of it, and he’d had a small role in a romantic film comedy based in a Californian beach resort. Kay’d rented the DVD the last time they’d had one of their girls’ nights in together. The movie had been cheesy and predictable, and he’d definitely been the only good thing about it. While the waiter pulled out the man’s chair so he could sit down, Alyssa sought to remember his name.

  He saved her the effort by sticking out a hand in greeting. “Hi, I’m Drew.”

  Drew Jefferies. Now it came back to her. She took his hand, feeling a little tingle of electricity as she did. “Alyssa Morton.”

  “I’ll give you a moment to decide on your order,” the waiter told them, even though Alyssa had already made up her mind.

  Drew scanned quickly down the menu, before settling on Alyssa. “So tell me, what brings you to Thornton Hall?”

  There was an appealing gravelled tone to his voice. As she recalled, he’d only had to use it to deliver lines like, ‘Are you sure you know what you’re doing, man?’ Not the best use of his abilities, she sensed. But why did she suddenly picture him in parts where he was giving orders, expecting them to be obeyed at once?

  “Oh, I’m just here for a spot of pampering. My friend was supposed to come with me, but she’s ill.”

  “I’m sorry to hear it. But this seems like the kind of place where you can have just as much fun on your own.” He pushed his fringe out of his eyes.

  Something inside Alyssa melted at the gesture.

  “So what about you? I don’t want to sound nosy, but you’re an actor, aren’t you? You were in Heartbreak Cove.”

  Drew chuckled. “You’ve seen that piece of crap? Man, I thought they buried it under landfill after the reviews it got. But everyone’s got to start somewhere, right?”

  Before he could continue, the waiter appeared, clutching a pad and pen. “Are you ready to order?”

  “Yeah, sure,” Drew replied. “We’ll both have the spinach, avocado and tomato salad, followed by the seared tuna with a side order of minted new potatoes and the medley of vegetables. Oh, and a half-bottle of the Sauvignon Blanc to share.”

  For a moment, Alyssa was speechless. She’d never had a man she didn’t know order dinner for her before. His attitude should have infuriated her. Instead, she was amazed how accurately his choices mirrored those she would have made, given the opportunity.

  “Now, where were we?” Drew said, half to himself. “Oh, yeah. Well, I’ve just wrapped up a shoot at Pinewood Studios. The new Masked Avenger movie.”

  Alyssa nodded. She’d seen it mentioned in the gossip columns. Come to think of it, she’d seen Drew’s name there, too, linked with that of Bianca Anderson, who played Velda Valmont, the Masked Avenger’s girlfriend.

  “And how did that go?”

  Almost without being noticed, the waiter had returned and was pouring wine into Drew’s glass for him to taste. He took a sip, rolling it around his mouth with obvious relish before nodding his approval. “Great. My first big role, my first shot at playing a villain, and I loved it. Professor Fate gets all the best lines.”

  Now, that was why she’d pictured Drew barking out orders. Must have been something else she’d picked up from that newspaper report. Nothing at all to do with the image that flashed into her mind, where she knelt obediently at his feet, waiting to be told what to do next.

  Where had that come from? Alyssa wondered, gulping at her wine. Five minutes in Drew Jefferies’ company and her imagination was running wild. Not only that, she could feel a distinct and growing wetness in her panties. Good job she’d packed her vibrator. Come bedtime, she’d need it.

  “Did he get the woman, too?” she couldn’t help asking, as her salad was placed in front of her. “Mm, this looks delicious.” Studded with plump cherry tomatoes, lightly dressed with walnut oil, it tasted even better than it looked.

  Drew stabbed at a slice of avocado with his fork. “You mean Bianca Anderson? Let’s just say that didn’t end well.”

  “Really? I’m sorry. You’d have made a gorgeous couple.”

  “And we probably will do again, when the film premieres. Bianca’s strictly in it for the publicity. As long as we were generating a buzz for the production, she was all over me. Once we wrapped, she didn’t want to know.”

  “You must be very upset.”

  “Not really. It didn’t take me long to realise it would never work out with her. She wouldn’t be able to give up control.”

  Alyssa placed her fork on her empty place. “What do you mean?”

  “Tell me, how did you feel when I ordered dinner for both of us?”

  She thought about it for a moment. “To be honest, my first thought was, ‘What a cheek!’ Like it was something the old chauvinists of my dad’s generation would do. Then I realised I kind of liked the feeling that, just for once, I didn’t have to be responsible for a decision. That it was nice to have the choice made for me.”

  “And what if sex was like that?”

  Alyssa glanced round, wondering if anyone had overheard him, but the table to their left was still unoccupied, and their neighbour to the right was still engrossed in her book.

  “You mean, if my choices were being made for me. Like a domination and submission thing?”

  “Exactly like that.” Drew topped up her glass, his gaze never leaving hers. “What if you were with a man who, every once in a while, decided what you ate for dinner, what you wore…”

  His expression made Alyssa acutely aware that all she had on now was the robe Thornton Hall provided for guests and her black lacy panties.

  “Even when you came. Or whether you came at all.”

  “I—I don’t know.” You’d like it, whispered a small, unexpected voice in the back of her mind.

  Though she’d never admitted it, not even to Kay on those girls’ nights when a couple of potent home-made cocktails had been downed and secrets spilled, Alyssa’s private fantasies revolved around being dominated. Maybe she was afraid to confess those fantasies for fear of being thought a doormat, in bed as well as out. After all, didn’t her boss already believe he could walk all over her? The
way she’d accepted being turned down for promotion without a murmur?

  Before her thoughts could become too maudlin, Drew chipped in, “Tell me it doesn’t turn you on to think of being controlled—of being restrained.”

  They were interrupted by the smooth removal of their used crockery and the arrival of two plates bearing generous servings of tuna. As if to emphasise what they’d already discussed, Drew took charge, ladling potatoes and vegetables on to Alyssa’s plate. He gave her a moment to savour her meal, before saying, “Let’s try a little experiment. Give me the belt of your robe.”

  “I’m sorry?” Alyssa thought she’d misheard.

  “Unfasten it and hand it over. You won’t regret this, I promise.”

  “But—”

  Without it, the robe would gape open. Anyone passing, guest or waiter alike, would have a clear view of her body all the way down to her panties, would be able to catch a glimpse of her breasts, crowned with nipples that poked forward cheekily against the soft towelling. She couldn’t do as Drew asked—not here, not in public. So why, then, were her fingers working on the knotted belt, untying it and pulling it free of the loops holding it in place?

  Praying no one had noticed, Alyssa passed the belt over the table to Drew. She clutched at the edges of the robe, holding them closed.

  “Good girl.”

  Normally, she hated those words. Her boss used them without sincerity, as a way of putting down her ideas, but the way Drew spoke them… His tone was full of praise, admiration even, for the way she’d followed his instructions so promptly.

  Where did it come from, this core of decadent sexuality, concealed within his easy surfer-boy exterior, like potent liqueur within a sweet milk chocolate shell? She couldn’t deny the contrast intrigued and excited her.

  Without warning, Drew knocked his napkin from his lap as if by accident, then eased off his chair, disappearing under the hem of the starched tablecloth.

  “What are you doing?” Alyssa whispered, even though no one appeared to be paying them the least bit of attention. Her question was answered as she felt Drew taking hold of her ankles, pulling them together so he could loop the belt around them. Working quickly, he tied the material in a secure knot, then emerged from under the table.

  “How does that feel?” he asked, grinning at the outrage Alyssa guessed must be obvious in her expression.

  She tried to wriggle free of the makeshift bondage, but the knot held firm. Until Drew decided otherwise, Alyssa wasn’t going anywhere—unless she tried to make the least dignified exit in history, hopping out of the dining room.

  “How does it feel?”

  Drew was persistent, she had to give him that.

  “Strange.” She lowered her voice to a whisper, not wanting anyone to hear what she had to say next. “But exciting.”

  “Really? So being in bondage turns you on?”

  Alyssa felt her face flame, sure her cheeks must be scarlet. “Yes.”

  “I knew it.” Drew’s eyes glittered with the quiet triumph of breaking through Alyssa’s defences. “Come on, finish your tuna. Once we’ve had dessert, I was thinking of an early night in my room.”

  It wasn’t a suggestion, Alyssa knew that. Drew intended to take her upstairs and teach her more about her fantasies of being dominated and controlled. And, despite all her promises to Kay that she wouldn’t get involved with anyone during her stay at the Hall, she had no intention of stopping him.

  Chapter Two

  Drew was staying in one of the Hall’s two luxury top-floor suites, one of the perks, Alyssa supposed, of landing a major film role and the elevated celebrity and wealth that came with it.

  “Make yourself at home,” he said, gesturing to the large, overstuffed sofa in the centre of the room.

  Alyssa curled up on it while Drew filled the coffee maker with water and poured beans from a packet of French Roast into the grinder.

  Soon, the appetising aroma of freshly brewed coffee floated towards Alyssa’s nostrils.

  “Cream, no sugar, am I right?” Drew asked.

  “Yes, please.”

  Sitting there, bare feet tucked beneath her bottom, it was hard to believe they’d played out a scene in the dining room. Once their dinner plates had been cleared away, Drew had taken a while deliberating over their dessert choices. Alyssa was sure he’d done it purely so she would have longer to experience the feeling of being restrained in public. Thanks to the floor-length tablecloths, only the two of them knew her legs were tied together, but that didn’t stop her pussy creaming at the thought of strangers finding out. It would be so easy to let them in on the secret. Maybe Drew would lift the tablecloth when their waiter returned, giving him a glimpse of the towelling cord binding her ankles, leaving him to ponder how these two strangers had made such a strange, instant connection.

  Instead, Drew had chosen to expose her in an even more intimate fashion. At last, he’d ordered peaches poached with cardamom syrup for the pair of them. As she and Drew had waited for their dessert to arrive, the two men Alyssa had passed on the stairs that afternoon were led to a neighbouring table. She’d happened to mention how one of them had eyed her up, only for Drew to say, “Give him a treat, then. Show him your tits.”

  “I can’t do that!” Alyssa had responded, careful not to raise her voice too loudly in the quiet dining room.

  “Sure you can. More than that, you want to. Deny it all you like, the thought of flashing yourself at him is making you horny.”

  The certainty in Drew’s tone was infuriating, but he had been right. Alyssa had shifted in her seat, feeling the crotch of her soaking panties slip deeper between her lips. The teasing friction had almost had her whimpering with need as, under his careful instruction, she’d pulled the robe open a little way, giving her dark-haired admirer a perfect view of her left breast. That man couldn’t fail to notice how her nipple peaked, more in response to his curious gaze than the cool air. In that moment, she’d known if Drew asked her to take the robe off entirely, or to make her way to the men’s table and offer herself to the two of them for the night, she’d do it without question. Not that she wanted any man in the room apart from Drew, but in this strange new game of control and submission, his will was law.

  Drew’s discreet cough had alerted her to the waiter’s imminent approach. Pulling the robe back tight around her shoulders, Alyssa had found it easy to act as though nothing out of the ordinary was happening. Just two people who’d discovered they had much in common and were enjoying each other’s company.

  Only when Drew had devoured his last mouthful of juicy, subtly-spiced peach had he burrowed under the table once more, releasing Alyssa from her makeshift bondage. Taking a moment to flex her ankles, delighting in having the full range of movement once more, Alyssa had risen from the table. Following Drew out of the room, fastening the robe securely around her waist as she did, she’d caught the eye of the man she’d been ordered to flash. He’d muttered something to his friend as she passed. All she had been able to make out were the words, ‘Lucky bastard’.

  “Penny for them?” Drew asked, handing Alyssa her coffee mug.

  “I was just thinking about the guy you made me show myself off to. What he must have thought of me.”

  “Believe me, Alyssa, he loved it. He’ll be lying on his bed tonight, jerking himself off to the thought of your perky little tits on display. I mean, that’s half the attraction of coming to a place like this for some of the guys. They say they’re here for a spot of R and R, but they just want the chance to ogle women in tight-fitting leotards or bikinis that leave nothing to the imagination. You simply gave him what he wanted.”

  “So is that why you’re here?”

  Drew shook his head, coming to sit on the sofa beside her. “Nah, I really do need to recuperate. I did most of my own stunts on set, and it’s going to take some good deep-tissue massage to ease all the kinks out.” He grinned. “And here you are, helping me ease some kinks in. Speaking of which, I think you�
��re more than ready for your next lesson in obedience.” Setting his cup down on the coffee table, he said, “I’m not going to lay down too many rules for you to follow, Alyssa, but one thing is very important. Whenever we’re together, in my room or yours, I want you naked at all times. So strip.”

  Alyssa didn’t object. The thought of baring herself for Drew’s appreciative gaze had her unfastening her robe, pushing it off her shoulders. Standing, she slowly peeled down her panties. Drew took the sodden garment from her, inhaling the strong feminine aroma exuding from the thin lace.

  “Delicious,” he murmured. “There’s no question this excites you, is there?”

  Alyssa shook her head. “No, Drew.” He hadn’t asked her to call him ‘Sir’ or ‘Master’. Somehow, such excessive formality didn’t fit the dynamic between them. The nature of their relationship was perfectly captured in the way she stood before him naked while he hadn’t so much as removed his canvas deck shoes. Brown eyes downcast, she waited for her next instruction. Pronouncing his name with all the respect she could muster seemed to satisfy him, so that’s what she’d continue to do.

  “Look at how wet your underwear is. I bet I could slip three fingers into your pussy with no effort at all, right?”

  “Yes, Drew.”

  “Why don’t we try it, eh? Bend over the arm of the sofa, Alyssa.”

  Adopting the position he requested, Alyssa realised he’d placed her so she could see herself in the free-standing antique mirror. She looked, to her own eyes, the very model of submission, bent over and waiting to be fucked. Legs spread wide, belly and breasts pressed against the wide leather arm of the sofa, face half-hidden by the dark tresses of her hair. He smoothed his hand over the expanse of her bare back, moving lower to caress her soft, round arse cheeks.

  “You’re gorgeous,” he said.

  From a man who until recently had been dating one of the most beautiful, high-profile movie stars in the business, this was high praise indeed. Glancing again at their reflection, Alyssa noticed the way Drew’s cock tented out his grey marl tracksuit bottoms, the hard length of it seeking to be free of his clothing. She itched to wrap her fingers round it, excited by how big it looked. But as if to remind her who was in charge here, Drew brought the flat of his palm down sharply against her arse cheek.