She was right before—when Elder was only seconds from arriving and bringing disaster—right about her chosen profession saving slaves from cruel masters and having a baby around. Either the women were too fragile to see such innocence or they only saw evil in the infant from their own past. It had the potential to pour salt into festering wounds and make them worse.
Like me.
Torn apart by a bastard never to conceive.
Fading back against the doorway, I held my breath, eyeing another way to leave the house. The front door beckoned as Suzette’s French accent reached my ears. “Another bruise worn with pride, huh, mon amie?”
Tess’s soft laugh echoed. “Another for the collection, I guess.”
They giggled together, whispering something that, even soft and murmured, vibrated dirty with sex.
Tess spoke louder as they laughed again. “I know, I know. I should play harder to get. But my God, Suzette. He really knows how to make me lose myself.” Her feminine lilt teased with something sinful. “I should be used to the man by now. But nope…he still manages to surprise me.”
“You think I didn’t see what happened between you two before you managed to make it up the stairs?” Suzette snorted. “He has you so well programmed you sink into subspace the moment he gives you that look.”
I really shouldn’t be eavesdropping on this.
I wasn’t exactly comfortable being around those who were in a sexually explicit power play. I’d never judge those who enjoyed domination but with a past like mine…it made me wary.
My feet itched to leave, but my body swayed forward to listen. Naughty, disgusting habit to spy on others’ conversations, but I’d heard that word before.
Subspace.
It prickled my skin, making old memories come back. It made me wonder…
“What look?” A baby rattle sounded while Tess couldn’t hide the smirk in her voice. “There’s no look.”
“You know exactly what look.” Suzette added a flirt to her tone. “The look that ought to terrify a normal person. He’d just had a fight. He was covered in blood. That look he gave you said he wanted you to be the one covered in blood. And what do you do?” She sighed dramatically. “Fall into subspace like a good little esclave instead of run for your life.”
Tess lamented theatrically. “Ah…yes, that look.”
The two women dissolved in a fit of laughter.
Tess lowered her voice. “But it’s so addictive, Suzette. It’s scary at how quick it happens. He just alters my mind until I can barely see and definitely can’t talk. All I want is him.”
“You’re hopeless.” Suzette snickered.
A baby’s chatter interrupted the very adult conversation and the topic switched to if it was too soon for Lino to learn how to build skyscrapers with the Legos Franco bought last week.
I stayed where I was, lurking in the foyer, thinking over what Tess had mentioned.
Subspace.
Did she engage in sexual pain to capture such a thing?
I’d heard of it before I was kidnapped. Stumbled on a blog or two that broke down the physiological and psychological pros and cons of being in a Dominant/submissive relationship.
My mother was fascinated with the idea that a human’s brain could have the power to switch off sensory reflexes if it reached an oversaturation of pleasure.
She had a wild theory that hypnosis worked on the same principles as subspace. That triggering such a mind state was similar, if not entirely related to the cataclysm of sexual depth.
I slammed to a stop.
Elder…
Did he reach subspace last night?
Was that what happened to him? He hadn’t made any sense. His eyes didn’t focus on mine. His lips couldn’t form words. All he could do was fuck me then snuggle close as he passed out.
In one of the studies my mother made me read, it mentioned entering subspace for the first time required a careful balance of prolonged pain and heightened erotic pleasure.
Well, he had copious amounts of pain running in his system. Couple that with his OCD on needing to reach three orgasms, it could be possible he’d slipped. He could’ve entered a singular focus and forgot to care about anything else.
And if he had been in subspace…could he enter it again? What was it like?
Could he teach me to do it?
I wouldn’t deny the thought of giving up all motor and cognitive control terrified me. But to have someone I trusted with utmost certainty take care of me while I gave in….
To have someone show me nothing but mind-stealing bliss?
The idea was intoxicating.
I looked over my shoulder, debating if I should run to him and climb back into bed. But the front door opened and in walked the older woman Q had kissed in the kitchen carrying grocery bags with a fresh baguette sticking out the top of one and celery sticks from the other.
She looked me up and down as if she fully expected me to be lingering, uninvited in the lobby. “Ah, you must be Pimlico.”