Sub Space Sale

"Sub Space Sale"

"Oh man, I hope nobody sees me like this..." I thought to myself, nervously, glancing at the tall, six foot wood fence surrounding the back lot, hoping no drivers whizzing passing on the street would glance down the long driveway leading down the side of the complex. At least the tall fences and cinderblock wall on the west side of the building would afford me some privacy from "The Outside."

This was, after all, a private play space. A safe space, She had said. Discreet, secluded, out of view from the public, and what went on behind closed doors here was nobody's business. Nobody but Hers, Her friends, and us, their clients. Their submissives.

Was it secluded enough? Was the wall high enough? I could see the plants and juniper trees over top of the cinderblock wall separating the back lot from the street, and behind the six foot wood fence was, if I remembered right, some industrial space behind us, a medical clinic of some kind on the left, and I think, one of those ubiquitous "Payday Title Loans" places on the right. The medical office would likely not be open on a Saturday anyway, and people needing loans would be minding their own business, and in and out quickly; likely too busy (or hard up for cash) to peek over the fence. Plus, it was after hours; don't those places usually close by 6 or 7?

So yeah, I probably was pretty secluded from the prying eyes of the public. I hoped so anyway. The facility was discreetly disguised as a hair and nail salon. Well, "Disguised" wasn't entirely accurate. Most of the time, during daylight hours, it was exactly what it appeared to be. Heck, She even did cut hair, part time anyway. Including mine, by the way. Nobody would have known the place was anything more than what it was advertised to be, except...

Except that when I had come in for my regular hair cut appointment a few months ago, and seen her dressed in a tiny leather skirt and knee high leather boots, my jaw hit the floor when I realized how drop dead sexy She really was. She being Erica, my once and future hairstylist, and at the moment, my tormentress, dream BDSM goddess, and Mistress.

She must have seen my reaction, because she even said, "Hey, you like my outfit huh?" And I had stammered, "Yes! Oh my God you look great!"

"Sit down, and I'll whip you into shape."

"I'd like that!" I said, jokingly.

Then she asked that fateful, life-changing question:

"Would you, now. Do you mean, literally?"

Blushing, I had answered, "Maybe I do."

"Careful what you wish for, then. If you really are serious, come by the salon Saturday evening, around 8, and we'll see what we can do with you. Slave."

At the time, I wasn't sure if She was serious or not, but man! I had always had a secret fetish for being dominated, used and abused. And I always did have kind of a crush on Erica, to be honest. So after the haircut, which was stylish and looked great by the way, I asked her, half-jokingly, "So maybe I'll see you at 8 on Saturday?"

"Maybe if you're a good little obedient boy, you'll see ME on Saturday. Maybe even dressed like this. And if you're good and 'obedient...' I won't have to punish you."

So that conversation, so seemingly innocent, had led me to a lot less innocent activities. Well, technically She had led me to it, but it was my own doing, too. I had in fact rolled up to the salon two days later, that Saturday evening. Not really knowing what to expect- would it be a formal date? A big laugh with her and her friends having a joke at my expense? Or me simply wasting time pulling up to a closed business on Saturday, and nobody would be there. To be honest, I was expecting this last thing more than anything else.

So I had actually been a bit surprised when I pulled up and noticed the lights were on inside. The door had been locked, but when I knocked, She had answered. Looking, if anything, even sexier than she had two days ago. She was wearing a skimpy leather bra in addition to her tiny leather skirt and boots.

"Come on in! Are you really ready to be my little slave boy tonight?"

"YES!" I said, eagerly. A mix of emotions: Sexual lust, nervousness, and a little bit of anxiety, had swept through me. Was She ("She," rather than just "she," I hoped...) about to make my darker sexual fantasies actually come true?"

"Yes MISTRESS!" She snarled, angrily. "Then, come in, sit down, and let's talk about your interests, your kinks, fetishes, and what you are looking for in a session. What kind of stuff are you into?"

I liked that she had been professional about it, and that put me at ease. She clearly was experienced and knew what She was doing. And I was both excited and nervous at the same time to explore the darker, hidden parts of my sexuality with this amazing goddess of a woman.

One session, and I was addicted to Her. Addicted to the way she talked harshly to me and degraded me. Addicted to being tied up and powerless in front of Her, addicted to kneeling naked in front of Her. Enchanted by her leather boots, long dark hair, and leather outfits. Addicted to Her paddles, Her commanding voice, the humiliating things She put me through, and the intense highs I experienced while going through them. It was like, imagine being intimate with YOUR high school dream crush, in a way that was more powerful and intense than any prom night kisses could ever be, stripped to your most vulnerable self, your darkest secrets exposed- the high was incredible. So was She...

Her two friends, also hairstylists, manicurists and beauticians by trade, also moonlighted here on weekends. All highly trained and skilled by the supreme Domme herself- Goddess Erika. And then there was Steve. A big, burly dude, who served as sort of a bouncer, bodyguard and, if required, a hot hunky male stud. For the extra special scenes.

Like the one Erika had been preparing for me tonight.

It was, as luck would have it, a warm, late May evening. Not yet dark, and still nice outside. There was a slight breeze though, that I would occasionally feel as it lifted the tiny pleated skirt She had made me wear, and gave me weird goosebumps on my newly-hairless legs, now covered by those slutty fishnet stockings.

"Strut around a bit, if you get bored. Show us what you got," she had said. I was just getting used to wearing these high heels. They didn't really make these things in my size, which wasn't too surprising I guess, and my toes felt pinched. It had taken me a while to get used to wearing them but, well, I learned quick. Any teacher with a paddle and a whip will make you learn ANYTHING really quick. Including, how to shave your legs and chest, and apply make-up. She was the stylist- and the wax hair removal specialist, after all, so she had done this part during my hair appointment the previous week. (At extra charge of course.) But the rest had been up to me.

Man, these things are going to make my ankles sore tomorrow, I thought. People walk in these things all the time? Wow... Sore ankles, sore ass... This was the price of submission. Part of it anyway.

Tonight, there was the literal price too, that I had to remember.

I saw a guy quickly exit out the back, averting his eyes from me as he scurried to his car. I blushed. Whoever that was, I hope it wasn't someone I knew or who recognized me... but I'm wearing this silly wig, and totally dressed in drag, so why would he? I think either Mistress Scarlett or Mistress Leasha had just finished having her way with him. Leasha, who normally went by "Alicia" when she was gossiping away with ordinary housewives while cutting their hair. By house rules, they didn't gossip about what happened here after hours, at least I HOPE not... "Scarlett" of course also had another more common name, I believe it was Jill (though I didn't know her that well.)

The night had started like many others. Erika had first ordered me onto my knees, in front of her.

"No, not even that, you aren't even worth kneeling for me. Lie on the FLOOR! Face down." She said. She ordered me to lick her boots, all the while, mocking and degrading me as Her "Pathetic boot licking cuck slave." So delicious, so degrading... I was already buzzing with the need to just bask in her power, when she had suddenly asked me:

"Have you been practicing with your butt plugs like I asked you to? Your ass should be ready for the real thing now."

"Yes mistress." I replied.

"I see you are wearing your cock cage like I asked you to. Good boy. Not like your pathetic cock can do much anyway, hee hee!" she laughed, in that evil (yet sexy) laugh. My cock was already straining with trying to get hard, and this tight metal thing I was wearing for her was getting uncomfortably tight.

"Do you like sucking cock, you little cocksucker?"

"Yes! For you, I would, Mistress. I love big cocks, can't get enough of them!..."

And right then, it was true, I really WOULD do the unthinkable, for her. If only to get me out of this wretched cock and ball contraption...

We had talked about this before, but I had never, yet, been asked to go through with it. But I wondered to myself, would I really be able to, if it came to it?

"Do you want to suck one now slave?"

"Yes, Mistress!" I replied, thinking of her big rubber toy she had made me service before. I had thought that was where this session was going, but...

"Well too bad! You need to be punished first, for your cock lust! You naughty cock craving fag. Get against the wall NOW!"

Their "Play space" was in the rooms behind the salon; and each one of them had a separate "Dungeon." Only, up till now, our session had taken place in front of her chair in the main salon. She said it added to the humiliation factor. It certainly made it much spicier for sure. But now, she led me into the back. Her exclusive domain. She handcuffed me to two rings attached to the wall.

I am no pain slut, but she seemed to be pulling no punches this time. She was really letting me have it. Both my legs and arms were shackled. In these situations, you can only wait, with anticipation, for the next strike, the next explosion of pain. And she was exquisite, the way she could mind-fuck you. I'd hear a whoosh, then only a slight gentle brush- followed by a sudden, unexpected loud whack so hard that I would literally scream like a girl. Which of course only seemed to encourage her sadistic side, making her giggle. She grabbed her leather cat o-nine tails. Gently brushing my backside with it, tickling me with it... almost making me relax... Then POW! A screaming, stinging blow made me gasp.

Sweat began to bead my eyes. The sweat of fear and adrenaline, and the anticipation of the next blow. Two more whacks with the leather flail. I couldn't see her, but could almost feel her arm reach back to deliver the third, with full force. Hard enough to make me cry out. Then, I felt her hand grab my ass, then reach around and grab my cock, still caged. "What can we do with this useless little thing... ha ha, I know!" Suddenly she reached around with a thin, fiberglass rod and gave it three whacks, almost making me double over, that is, if I could. My arms were handcuffed over my head and my legs were shackled. I was helpless, immobilized against the wall.

Reaching for her paddle again, the hits came harder and harder, no longer stinging but almost bruising. I wanted, though, to be strong. For Her. To be a good sub and take what She gave, not wuss out and use the safe word. But it was getting to that point where I couldn't take much more. My head was spinning, my heart was pounding, and she was starting to really hurt me... until mercifully, she stopped, reached up, and uncuffed me.

My head was spinning, and heart was pounding, but it was like I was somewhere else, in another body. She was so powerful, painful, and had never looked more beautiful in that skimpy leather outfit...

"That's enough, slave. Are you ready to serve me now?"

"Yes Mistress!"

"Then good. Over on the desk there are some fishnets, a dress, and a bra. There's your outfit. Go get dressed."

I dressed hurriedly for her. "This skirt is a little skimpy..." I told her.

"That's the idea! You look so good in it! You're almost a hot little girl!" She said. "Almost... but one more thing... Sit down. HOLD STILL!" she growled.

She applied the makeup, then gave me the wig. A typically slutty blonde wig, with long hair and bangs. "I've got these shoes that fit you too. Try them on."

I did so, though they were pretty tight and my toes were pinched, but they mostly fit.

She also handed me a small sequined purse, draped over my shoulder, to complement my outfit.

"Now, walk towards me. No, shake your ass, swish it as you walk. Like me, watch!" She said, giving my butt a loud whack as I strutted past her. She demonstrated how she wanted me to walk: Kind of a saunter, just giving a little shake as I strut by. I practiced this for a bit, and when I had "The Walk" down to her satisfaction, she stopped swatting my already sore ass when she walked by, and said I was finally ready.

I admit, it did take me a while to get used to walking in those heels, but once I got used to it, it wasn't that bad I guess.

"I guess I'm ready. Ready for what?" I asked.

"Walk this way." She said, leading me back out to the salon room, and leading me to the full length mirror.

"Wow! Look at YOU! You look like a girly girl! Do you like it?"

"I look like a groupie at an Aerosmith concert," I told Her, suddenly thinking of the song "Walk this way."

"That's good! You look great! A lot of men would pay good money for a good lay from an Aerosmith groupie! Follow me, and I'm gonna put you to work."

Uh oh, this can't be good, I thought, as I followed Her through the shop, past the dungeon rooms and clear out to the back door. She opened the door and led me outside into the secluded back lot.

"Okay, here's the deal." She said, suddenly lapsing into some sort of accented street slang. "You are the ho, it's fiddy for a blow, a hunnert for a throw. Go out and make me some money, honey!" She said.

"What do I do now?"

"You're on my street. Strut around, shake your ass, and maybe you'll have some customers... and they'll tell you what to do." And gave me a non-too gentle shove (which almost sent me sprawling, since I was still getting accustomed to wearing heels) and slammed the door behind me.

But that had been at least ten minutes ago. Now here I was, standing out in this parking lot, dressed in drag, like a hooker, wondering what was supposed to happen. This was, if nothing else, an interesting session. But was she just going to leave me standing out in this parking lot for the rest of the hour? That would be rather boring. But of course, she had plenty more in store. At the end of it all, I really admired how sweetly she had all planned it. While waiting, I heard a car drive slowly past on the other side of the fence and it gave me the willies. What if that was a cop? Maybe just security checking on the warehouse behind us, but what if he got out and peeked over the fence? Or what if it was partying teenagers trying to sneak a quick smoke-out or drinking session without being caught? That would be bad, because the kids probably WOULD peek over the fence, if only to chuck some beer bottles. But the car drove on by and I was relieved.

A few minutes later, I heard the gate to the back log open and shut. This was unmistakable; someone was actually coming. A client? They might understand but it would still be a bit embarrassing. Suddenly a car pulled into the lot. I began to get REALLY paranoid. Who was this? It was one of those late model BMW 3-series cars. I thought I recognized it, but I wasn't sure. The car pulled into the middle of the lot, then stopped. The window rolled down, and I heard someone whistle at me. "Hey" a deep voice said, but it sounded oddly like a fake deep voice. "Hey baby! Looking good! Come on over here!" The man said.

Gingerly, heart pounding, I walked over to the car, really not knowing what to expect and not having anything else to do. In the driver's seat was a man in a business suit and a fedora, but something about the way the suit fit, and about his face... my mind was racing and I quickly realized it wasn't a man at all, but it was Jill, or rather, it was Mistress Scarlett (certainly NOT Jill the hairstylist in this setting) dressed as a man, with her red hair pulled back into a tight bun under the hat.

"So, how much for a blow?" Scarlett said

"Fifty bucks for a blow, a hundred for a throw!" I said, smiling and leaning into the window, somewhat relieved that it wasn't some random strange guy.

"Great! Get in the car! I wanna do a quick car date. I'm Brock, by the way," Jill/Scarlett/Brock said, still in the fake-deep voice.

"Brock" parked the car and slid over into the passenger seat, opening the passenger door for me. "He" slid the seat back, then leaned the seat back as far as it would go, and waved me in. "Get on your knees, ho. That's right..." Still using that fake-deep voice.

"Brock" unzipped the fly of the business suit and began fumbling around, and soon, I saw a black plastic appendage in my face.

"Well, you know what to do..." Jill aka "Mistress Scarlett/Brock" said.

My legs and feet were scrunched up in the car's foot well, straddling "Brock's" legs, and I needed to brace myself with my right arm, as it was pretty cramped. I had never had a "Car date" like this from any of my girlfriends before, so I never realized how the ergonomics of it all worked, but I did understand one thing.

Erika had had me practice it many times, to her satisfaction. So I took "Brock's" toy into my mouth and began servicing it, longingly and hungrily sucking it, slurping it. Erika had told me to imagine how I would want a woman to service me and do the same ("Assuming your cock was big enough, small bones make me choke" she had always said, as a way of degrading and mocking me in that erotic way she had.) I forced as much of that thing down my throat as I could and began bobbing my head on it hungrily.

"You are a little slut!" Jill, I mean, "Brock" said. "Look at you GO!" I wondered how long "Brock" wanted me to go. My arm and legs were starting to cramp. But eventually, I felt Brock's lap start to buck upwards and she let out a grunt and a big sigh, simulating that "Brock" had just blew "his" load- into my mouth. (And I did I not catch a whiff of that wet, musty hot girl smell, and a glimpse of her red thong, underneath that business suit? Yum...)

"Ahhh, that's nice" "Brock" said, pushing the fake plastic appendage back into his suit pants and zipping them up. "You got some jizz on your face, here wipe it off," he said, grabbing a tissue and gently rubbing my face. "Fifty Bucks you say? Here, how about a tip. Here's sixty. Have a nice night!" Brock opened the door and gave me a shove, out onto the pavement. Then, Jill/"Brock" put the BMW into reverse, pulled a u-turn and drove back out through the gate.

I didn't know what would happen next, or what else to do after my "customer" drove off, so I resumed standing around. The sun was starting to go down, but it was still fairly warm. Then after a couple minutes, I saw Steve, the bodyguard guy, strut out into the parking lot towards me.

He whistled at me, "Hey there, looking good!" he cried.

"Thanks!" I said, not knowing what else to say. I was in a safe place though, and this gave me some confidence, especially after my little play-time exchange with Jill, err, Scarlett. Or "Brock" as she had called herself. Steve wouldn't judge me. He knew what was going on. He probably seen guys in all sorts of compromising and embarrassing situations.

"Hey man, you are one hot looking ho! Say, how much for a blow job? I'm pretty horny."

"Fifty bucks for a blow..." I said, automatically.

Oops. Maybe I shouldn't have said that...

"Great! Let's go over here. To that side alley. So we're not out in the open."

Uh oh, wait a moment...

"You know this is a game, right?" I said to Steve.

"Yeah sho'. And I wanna play. I got fiddy bucks, and I'm down. You don't wanna piss off Erika, do you?"

"Well no, but..."

I had to make a mental assessment right then. Clearly, Erika was testing me. Would I go through with it? COULD I actually do this? Did I want to risk disappointing Erika? She was really pushing my limits here... and she knew (Because I had secretly confided in her) that for her sake, I WOULD suck her lover's cock, if for no other reason than the humiliation factor, and to prove my ultimate submission to her by breaking this ultimate taboo.

But like this? Now that the opportunity was here, would I really be able to do this?

I was still reeling from the intense feelings I had, after she had taken me to the limits of endurance with Her discipline. The endorphins had not worn off entirely, and I was, I guess, still in that subspace buzz. In hindsight, maybe that's why she had been so harsh this time.

So She COULD push my limits.

"All right," I said. "Let's see what you got!"

"Great! Let's go."

"ON your knees bitch! Suck it!" Steve commanded. And he suddenly pulled down his shorts and boxers.

He snapped his fingers impatiently.

Not knowing what else to do, I kneeled in front of him.

His cock there was waving in my face.

When it had been Erika or Jill commanding me to do this, I had loved the humiliation and submissive aspect of it. But this was different, it was the real thing. So all I could do was pretend it was Erika and she was the one commanding me, as before. So, I steeled myself, and got down on my knees.

My mind was spinning fast, and I kept thinking of being that kid on the high dive for the first time, and the coach's advice: Don't think about it, just jump. The longer you stand there, thinking about what you are doing, thinking about how far down it was to the water, how cold it will be, the harder it is to work up the courage to just jump off that diving platform. That's how it often is, with my sessions with Erika. She pushes my limits, and when I turn off my brain, it makes it so much more intense- and better.

So I just stopped thinking, turning off my brain... and I took him in my mouth. "The things I do for Her..." I thought to myself.

I pretended I was sucking Her 10 inch strap on; Steve was hung just as large as that. It even FELT like that. Long, warm, hard and fleshy, never mind the weird taste. Again, I took it deep in my throat, bobbing up and down on it, sucking it as hard as I could, imagining Erika on the other end, laughing and mocking me. Except... after several moments of vigorously bobbing up and down and stroking the shaft, trying to get it off, it jerked and shuddered, and suddenly a flood of warm, sour, salty spunk filled my mouth and spurted onto my face.

"Swallow that!" He ordered. It was disgusting, but somehow I managed to do so. Then, he pulled up his shorts, and reached around and grabbed my ass under my way-too-short skirt, and gave it a hard squeeze. "You done real good! Your pimp Anton would be proud of you! Oh wait... here's fiddy bucks!" he said, handing me two twenties and a ten from his wallet.

I stood there, in shock and disbelief of what I had done, trying to block it out of my head. And who the fuck was Anton?

I waited around, strutting around the parking lot in my slutty prostitute get-up in a daze of adrenaline and the intoxicating buzz of sub-space, wondering if I would regret any of this the next day. I was waiting for a reprieve. How much longer would She keep me out here, and what else had She planned?

Then "Anton" showed up. "Anton" was no longer dressed in that tiny leather outfit and boots She was wearing earlier, and that had so often teased my lusts. Now, She was dressed in cowboy boots, loose-fitting denim jeans, a Dallas Cowboys jacket and an extremely loose fitting button down shirt, with no bra. I could tell that She had "Augmented" her typical feminine form by stuffing something, probably a pillow from one of the couches in the reception lounge, under the shirt, to simulate a hefty beer gut.

And She was wielding a harness with a huge black plastic strap on.

I was fully in character too, and so I sauntered up to her, saying "Hey hun! Looking for some action? I'll show you a good time..."

"Name's Billy" she said. "I wanna fuck you up the ass, bitch! How much!"

"Fifty for a blow, a hundred for a throw! And aren't you Anton?" I asked.

"Who the fuck's Anton? I said muh name's Billy. And ahm horny as fuck!" "Billy" said. Much like Mistress Scarlett had earlier, she was talking in this gruff, deep, fake-man voice, only with a decidedly deep-south accent. "A hundred bucks huh? Y'all don't look like a hundred dollar lay. Ya got jizz on your face. Y'all been used already tonaaaht, ah see. How 'bout sixty?"

"That will do I guess," I said.

"Okay, sixty dollahs for a cheap lay, by a cheap ho! Works for me. Y'all wait a sec 'fore I put on a condom."

"Billy" handed me three twenties, which I tucked into the purse along with the other bills my "customers" had given me.

"Let's go inside." I suggested.

"Naah, I wanna fuck you out in the open, 'Cause ah like it in case someone wants to watch. Because Ahm Billy and Ahm a big fucking stud, and ah like it rough and outta doors!" Mistress Erika aka "Billy" replied in Her fake manly southern accent.

"Ohhh... kay... whatever..." I said, meekly.

"Billy" then grabbed me and forced me against the wall. I felt my skirt being pulled down, along with my pink panties I was wearing. My bare ass was exposed to the evening sky. She bent me over. I was literally kneeling in a flower bed. I could hear her lubing up that large plastic appendage. Then, while she held me down, I felt something probing my ass, grinding against my butthole, and forcing it's way in. I steeled myself, feeling that familiar sense of being stretched out, probed, and violated, as it worked its way in deeper.

This was the biggest one I had ever been pegged with. We had always done it inside, on the bed, but outside, out in the open under the dark evening sky, my vulnerability and humiliation factor shot way up, and the sensation of being "Taken" was off the scale.

"Billy's" prosthetic cock pushed deeper into me. I could feel it filling me, splitting me. I uttered a moan as it excruciatingly worked its way deeper in. But I would be strong and take it for her. Like I always did. I felt the familiar pressure on the nerves of my bladder as the full length of it reached into me. Then She began to rock against me. The sensation of being full and stretched got painful and I let out a moan. In response, She slapped my bare ass cheeks to shut me up. That ultimate humiliation almost sent me over the edge. Her hips started gently grinding against me in a rhythmic fashion, slowly gyrating, deep into me. In spite of myself, I started to moan louder as she continued to buck against me. She eventually began to moan herself, as the bucking and thrusting into my nether regions reached a crescendo. I wanted Her to get off, to feel satisfied, for "Billy" to get "his" rocks off, and I heard a gasp and a moan from behind me as I could almost imagine a load of spunk being shot into me...

The rhythmic rocking stopped. I felt the familiar pulling sensation as She pulled out of me.

"Aaaah, that was nice! You sure are a good ho!" "Billy" said, in the fake deep voice, still panting.

I lay there, in that flower bed, in the deepest depths of sub space, under the darkening sky, reduced to a quivering pool of submission, wanting only to lie at Mistress's feet. She went inside, though, returning a few minutes later, having changed outfits again.

Now she was dressed in a loose fitting plaid suit and plaid khaki pants, with men's leather shoes, and like Jill aka Mistress Scarlett aka Brock, her hair was pulled back in a tight bun and was stuffed under a felt hat. She was wearing a fake mustache. Several long gold chains were draped around Her neck and dangled on Her chest. THIS must be "Anton" then, I thought.

In character, in a fake southern accented pimp voice, Erika aka Anton barked, "Hey, yo, bitch!"

I strutted over to her.

"Bitch, I needs ta get paid! Gimme mah money! Where's mah money! Gimme mah damn money!"

I reached into the purse She had given me, before She was "In Character," and handed her the money. One hundred seventy dollars in total.

"Where's the rest of it?" "Anton" asked.

"It's all there!" I replied.

"You're thirty dollars short. Remember, fiddy bucks for a blow, a hunnert for a throw, every time you get laid, your pimp gonn' get paid. You gave two blows, and got one throw, so you owe me two hunnert dollahs!"

"But... but..."

"SHUDDUP bitch, and GIMME MAH DAMN MONEY!" "Anton" screamed.

"What do I do... I don't have..."

And then She slapped me, hard across the face.

"Gimme mah damn money. Where's mah damn money! Gimma money yo stupid ho!"

Another hard slap across the face brought tears to my eyes.

"I'll be right back..." I said, meekly. Then went and retrieved my wallet from my street clothes, reached in and handed my pimp thirty dollars.

_______________________________________________________________________

"So, did you have fun tonight?" Erika asked.

We were both sitting in the front parlor, casually chatting as we typically did at the end of a session, and tonight's had been especially intense. By then, I had freshened up, and was dressed in my street clothes. She was back to being dressed in her usual character, only was laid back and casual, friendly, as the session was over and we could now chat as friends.

"Yeah! That was pretty fun. I admit, it was pretty intense, but yeah, it was actually fun!"

"Well, it was fun for us too. I got to admit, this was probably the most fun we've ever had in a session. Thanks for playing along with us!"

This actually made me smile. I had hoped it would be more than just a job for them, and I loved the recessed places in my psyche that Erika had taken me. Now I was coming down, though, like coming down off an intense buzz.

She gave a serious look and then said, "So, I just have to ask, were you okay with everything tonight? I mean, especially with Steve."

"Well yes, I guess, that part; I mean, it was kinda weird, but honestly, I didn't mind doing it. The thing is, I'm just worried that he'll judge me and all. He knows I'm not gay, and everything, right?"

"Don't worry, he knows you're not, and he isn't either. And WE know you aren't! Steve won't judge you. You know he and Mistress Leasha are married, right?"

"I didn't realize that; I had overheard Alicia mention her husband Steve before once or twice but I guess I didn't make the connection. I didn't realize that OUR Steve was her husband."

"Yeah, and he's clean, disease and drug free and all that, so you don't have to worry about anything there."

"That's cool."

"Well, I had thought you were ready for this. You'd told me you had this fantasy of being "Forced," and so I came up with the idea. And after watching you with Mistress Scarlett, I had a chat with her and we figured you were ready. But don't worry, if you hadn't gone through with it, if you had backed out, we wouldn't have been upset. A lot of guys don't go through with the fantasy, but you did. We were impressed!"

"I was just in such a head space. Were you watching?"

"Yeah, Jill, Alicia, and I were watching the whole thing on the closed circuit security cameras. It was actually pretty hot! We loved watching you guys. You did him good!"

One thing, I had totally forgotten about those cameras. But it also made me glad; it reinforced the fact that this WAS, in fact, a safe space. One in which I had gotten to explore some of my darkest fantasies with this amazing woman- with whom I also had a hair appointment the next week.

"Well I had a great time and I loved playing with you guys. You are AWESOME Mistress Erika!" I said beaming.

"You are awesome too, slave Mike."

"But I was just thinking. You WERE in a safe space. But what if those WERE some random strange creeps? What if it wasn't Mistress Scarlett, or Steve, or me? What if I wasn't your pimp, but it was some psycho who just got you hooked on meth and left you with nothing for yourself? And you wouldn't know what or who you were doing, or what they would do to you? We get to know and trust our clients, and we are in charge at all times. Even you can always say no. But street walkers, they don't, and aren't. So if you ever are thinking about getting involved with one..."

"I wouldn't! Not my thing at all!"

"... Good, Then don't. Because what is fun for us would be hell for them."

It was a sobering thought indeed.

"Well, I guess I better head home then..." I said.

"I'll see you on Thursday then. For your hair appointment. Then if you want, next Saturday... I've got some plans for you!"

She gave me a hug which made me smile, a smile that I carried with me all the way home. Erika was so sexy and beautiful she really COULD make guys do things they never thought they would, and that was awesome... but there are a lot of people out there in horrible situations with no Erika, and no safe words, and no joy in doing the degrading things they are forced to do.