Telepaths Don't Need Safewords, by Cecilia Tan (5 page)

She
did not answer him.

“Milady
please stop. Ah!” His eyes were shut tight and he sucked his
breath through his teeth as he tried to keep speaking. “Milady,
please!”

“He
means nothing to me,” she said to the rest of us, the motion of
her arm continuing. “He is but a spoil of war, like a good
horse. A fine possession which I will use, or misuse, as is my
privilege.”

His
chest heaved with pain, and also I could see, anger. I suddenly
wondered what their safeword was. He opened his eyes again and I
looked away. Was she drawing blood?

“Come
on Glin,” I said. “Let us see the rest of your prize.”

She
stepped back, smiling. He hung limp for a moment, resting, while she
stripped the leggings down to his ankles. There was an appreciative
sigh from us, the rest of him was as perfectly formed as the upper
half, his strong legs lightly dusted with hair, and the family jewels
hanging delectably between them. In the light I caught the glint of
metal. He wore a ring around them that matched the circlet in his
hair. His legs quivered as she stepped him out of the leggings and
then reattached his ankles to the door frame.

“May
I?” Marella stepped forward, dangling her cat from her hand.

Glinda
bowed graciously and stepped back. “Please. Make him sing.”

Marella
was even more graceful than Glinda, with more variation to her
rhythm. My palms were sweating. I felt my teeth clench as each blow
fell. He did not open his eyes now, trying to melt into the pain.
Glinda tweaked the nipple clamps with her fingers and he screamed.
Marella gave him no breath to go limp. My heart jumped as she gave
him a final extra-hard whack. I wanted to leave the room, but at the
same time, I couldn’t bear to leave his presence. Dara got up
next and went to work on him with clothespins. Each of the women had
a turn with him, Glinda making suggestions as they went along, as
though they were setting a table or making a flower arrangement. They
blindfolded him. They chatted among themselves as they marked him.

Glinda
flicked the nipple clamps off and he screamed. But she had turned
away from him, to look at me. “Would you like a turn, as well?”
she was saying, but I barely heard it over Corwin’s song of
agony. My goosebumps sprang up and I could barely maintain the act to
nod my head.

“Take
him down, onto his knees.” They released the collar first, then
his hands and he slumped forward into me. He tried to regain his
feet, but I lowered him gently to the carpet. I could feel his back
with my hand, hot, corrugated. I held his head back with my hand
wound in his hair and whispered into his ear.

“You
are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen.” I pinched a
very sore nipple and he shook in my arms. “You are truly, truly
a beauty. Do you know why I do this?” I slapped him on the
thigh and he gasped.

“No.”

“Pain
is a gift from me to you,” I continued, working on the nipples
more. “In exchange for your beauty. At this moment, you are the
most precious thing to me on Earth.”

I
held him to my chest then, as he broke down sobbing.

“You
are a prince,” I whispered. I looked up then and met Glinda’s
eyes. She glared, a hint of disbelief on her face. I don’t
think she’d heard anything I said.

She
broke character for a moment. “Well, Cle’, do you think
he’s had enough?”

I
shrugged. “Ask him.”

She
raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms.

I
spoke into his ear, “Corwin, Corwin are you alright?”

He
would not look up from where his face was buried in my chest. I
shrugged at her.

She
walked over, knelt down, her hair sliding down her shoulder to touch
his. “Come on, Corwin, let’s go.”

He
clung to me. She said again, “Let’s go.” This time
she used her bare hand on his back. He wasn’t the only one who
gasped. “That is an order, princeling,” she added, as if
that could reestablish the scene’s rules. But it was she who
had broken them.

He
covered his ears and she raised her hand again.

“Wait,”
I said, grabbing her wrist. As our eyes met I could not tell what she
was thinking. I did not want to play this wrong. “Duchess, how
much do you want for him?”

She
raised her eyebrow in surprise. “Oh, he’s not for sale.”

“I
thought you said he meant nothing to you.” Corwin sobbed
silently in my lap, his voice spent. Perhaps it was true.

“You
are right.” She stood up and tapped him with her boot. “I
suppose I could set a price.”

“Name
it.” I swallowed, unable to tell where this scene was going
next.

“Twenty
five lashes, hard enough that we might hear them in the next room.”
she said, her voice cold. She held a whip out to me, daring me. “On
him. You deliver them.”

I
looked into his eyes.

He
nodded. I began lifting him up. “Give me the whip.” They
put him back up in the frame and Marella went into the other room to
keep count.

“I
do this,” I said, drawing my arm back, “because I love
you.”

My
first stroke wasn’t hard enough for Marella to hear, but it was
hard enough to make Corwin scream. I pressed the whip handle to my
forehead, praying. I said “I love you,” and let the
second one fall. Marella shouted “One!” from the other
room.

On
the next blow I drew blood. Corwin was whimpering. I let another blow
fall. Tears sprang to my eyes as he bit down on a cry. Sweat broke
out on his skin as I struck him. We were both crying. My arm began to
hurt. By the time I got to twenty I didn’t know if I could give
him the last five. I was panting, the whip hanging limp as I had to
look away from his tortured skin. You have to do this, I told myself,
or she’ll finish it for you. But I could not steel myself to
raise my arm again.

“Cleo!”
he said, his head hanging. “Finish me!”

By
the time the last one was delivered, Glinda had already gone.

I
let the whip fall and sank to my knees, unsure when exactly the line
had been crossed between play and reality, waiting for the scene to
end. But there was Corwin in my arms, kissing me.

Now
I lie here at night, before I fall asleep, admiring his hair falling
over the pillow. Some nights, like tonight, I’m happy to watch
the moon shining on his skin, but other nights, I’ll wake him
gently and make him talk to me. My prince.

FYI...

Arshan
and Mriah do have a story of how they met. It appeared under the
title “Master Spirit” in N. T. Morley’s
Master/slave
anthology, which first was published by the Venus
Book Club, then had an edition published by Simon & Shuster. It
can also be found under the title “Master Mind” in my
ebook called EDGE PLAYS, which collects all the stories that take
place in the “Telepaths” universe. EDGE PLAYS was
originally a limited edition ebook from the Erotic Authors
Association as a fundraiser for their awards program, and a new ebook
edition of it will be out from Circlet Press imminently, if it is not
already by the time you read this.

Arshan’s
backstory, the prequel to Master Mind, is a novella called ROYAL
TREATMENT, published in December 2009 by Torquere Press, another fine
ebook publisher.

I
still hope eventually to write a novel about them. It’s still
percolating in the back of my mind.

About the Author

Cecilia
Tan is the author of many, many books and short stories of erotica,
science fiction, BDSM, and fantasy, and it’s much easier now to
just Google her to find out exactly what. Recent books include
Mind
Games, White Flames, The Siren & The Sword,
and
The Hot
Streak
. She continues as editorial director for Circlet Press,
Inc. and as a leather/BDSM activist. Find her at ceciliatan.com and
on Livejournal, Twitter, Facebook, etc. She has several web serials
ongoing as well, including
The Prince’s Boy
on
circlet.com and a 1980s coming-out novel,
Daron’s Guitar
Chronicles
(at daron.ceciliatan.com). By the time you read this
bio, it will already be out of date.