"Keep watching…" Sarah whispered.
"Don’t look away," Grace replied.
They sat on the bed, nude, limbs entwined. They were slick with sweat, and the room stank of sex. The air was hot, wet, and thick. The images on the TV were blurry and confusing. The picture seemed to flex, expanding and contracting, dilating, drawing the viewer in. The girls stared at it, and the spoke to each other, softly.
"Don’t think," Sarah said.
"No brains," Grace groaned.
They had been there all day. Possibly longer. Time didn’t mean much anymore. They had no awareness of anything outside of this room. They went in cycles - they’d watch the video, sinking into a deep, hazy trance. They’d speak to each other, both encouraging the other to do deeper, become blanker, get wetter. Eventually, they’d fall all over one another, kissing and stroking and licking until they both dissolved into a limp post-coital puddle. After a while, one of them would notice the video again, and the whole thing would start over.
"You’re so horny," Sarah murmured.
"You’re so wet," Grace whispered.
Sarah’s hands slowly crept around Grace, cupping her breasts. Grace’s nipples stiffened, and Sarah began tugging on them, gently, in time with the pulse of the video. Without realizing it, Grace started to stroke her own clit.
"Just a dumb, horny slut," Sarah whispered.
"Can’t think… need to fuck," Grace moaned.
Grace shifted around on the bed a bit, craning her neck back to nibble on Sarah’s ear. It was tough to get the right angle to allow her to do that and still watch the TV, but they shifted around until it worked. They couldn’t take their eyes off the screen, after all.
"You’re a lesbian fuckslut," Sarah purred.
"You were born to lick pussy," Grace said.
Before long, they forgot about the screen, falling into one another again. Sarah buried her face in Grace’s pussy, making her scream with long, slow licks. Grace returned the favor afterwards, and both of them were lost in the sweet pink cloud of orgasmic oblivion for a while. Then Grace spotted the TV and started to watch again. Soon, Sarah joined her. They cycle began again.
"You’re a bimbo whore," Grace said.
"You’re a brainless slut," Sarah said.
Neither of them could remember who had set up the video to brainwash who. Neither of them cared anymore.
We both knew what just showing up tonight meant….
Nothing I did would be a surprise. From our conversations you knew I’d tease you. You knew I’d make it hard. You knew I’d tie you up. You knew there would be some pain. You knew I’d make you beg and probably cry and twist and moan…none of that would be a surprise.
What would surprise you is how it felt. Not in the physical sensation sense. In the emotional one.
You see, what I used all these tools for, each little spank and tease that I did to your soaking pussy or pulsing clit, was for one purpose: I wanted to wake you up and prove beyond a doubt to something to you. I wanted you to feel, deep down inside to your core, like a sudden bell ringing in your mind:
"Oh my god, I’m such a slut…!"
We both knew that when you decided to come here tonight, it was because your sex and your need drove you. But after the first 3 hours it was real to you.
I stopped. I asked you how it felt to make that realization. I listened to you after you put your clothes back on and had regained your composure. You were headed back home and felt 100% satisfied exhausted and wrecked. You stood and moved to the door with this vague feeling like you were escaping something…
"Before you leave, one question" I said as I held the door open for you. Standing there you looked me in the eyes with a look that was fear and anticipation.
"Yes?" you asked. Your voice sounding far more shaky than you’d like.
"You know next time I’m going to make it even harder on you." I said in a matter-of-fact type fashion. "How long, even though you know that, do you think it will be before that little pussy of your’s betrays you?” “Will it be a week before your back?” “A few days?” “Or is that little pussy of your’s starting to ache again right now?” “Will you even make it to the bottom of the stairs?”
You looked down the steps from my roe-house and out into the street. They were longer then when you came, it seemed. The summer night air turning cool reminded you it was late. Past 3 am. You looked back again from the steps to me.
You were completely unable to answer. You hadn’t even taken a step.
"If you want to come back inside, you’ll need to take your clothes off." "All of them." "Then, put them in the mail box by the door." "Ring the bell."
I turned and went inside, shutting the door.
What were you doing? You had almost laughed when he asked how long it would be…almost. But something inside you clicked. IT happened again the moment I told you I’d be harder on you next time. And again when you knew you weren’t going to just get to knock and come back in.
Your were not sure you ever even decided what you were going to do. You were just going to see if your shoe would fit in the box…and then your panties were coming off. Then your dress…then you were naked in the night air on a deserted street.
The sound of your hand on the door was the loudest sound you had ever heard.
TLDR: Making Master cum, internet roleplaying, intense submission ~*feels*~ and lots of edging as usual.
I have to admit, I’ve always disliked the word “subspace” because it kind of strikes me as a quasi-scientific word that the BDSM community made up to seem psychological…