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Oh, Ira, say my name like that some more…

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” Ira snaps her fingers in front of my face. With a clink of the handcuffs, my wrists are freed, but I can’t bring myself to move. I rely on Ira hoisting me up under the arms and dragging me to her bed, where I’m unceremoniously plopped like a doll.

I don’t care. I’m giggling like a drunken idiot because that’s basically what I am.

Ira all but confirms it when she snaps her fingers again, trying to get my attention. “Fucking hell.” She sits up, exasperated. “You’re in sub-shock.”

Can’t tell if she’s impressed or not. Annoyed? Definitely. Frustrated? Probably. Being sub-shocked doesn’t help Ira Mathison get the experience she’s after. A shocked sub like me isn’t going to get much training accomplished.

Don’t know what it means? I’m not sure if it’s used outside of our circles, but it’s a word we use around here to describe the phenomenon of submissive partners losing their fucking minds and becoming delirious. It’s not the same as subspace. Subspace is when you’re so entranced by the scene that you achieve a submissive’s trance-like nirvana. Sub-shock is different. It represents me, Kathleen Allen, a woman who got such a good spanking and fucking that she’s laughing at the ceiling and doesn’t care that her Domme has other plans for the evening. Fuck off, Ira! I’m having a good time!

“Katie,” her voice is stern, her breath on my cheek as she climbs onto the bed and kneels next to me. “Come back, darling.” Her hands part my legs and rub my mound. Hey, honey, I had that waxed a few days ago, so be gentle, okay? Nah, it wasn’t her request. I enjoy going into spas and having women named Prudence rip out my pubic hairs.

I’m fucking laughing.

“You’re filthy.” Ira bites my ear and touches the top of my slit. Bouncing around like this makes my bruised ass hurt, but my brain doesn’t even register the pain now. “Not only did you disobey me, but you made a mess all over my floor.” Her tsking is only turning me on again. Go ahead, Ira. Get me ready for your round two. Assuming you can handle it.

She opens the nightstand and pulls out individual tissues. They’re shoved into my hand, which I look at with great amusement.

“Clean yourself up.” Ira keeps my legs open, as if she’s putting my pussy and all its delectable contents on display. “Seriously, Kathleen, you’re a mess.”

“Why don’t you do it?” I toss a tissue at her, giggling when she doesn’t bother to catch it. “Maybe I like it the way it is.”

“Well, it didn’t take long for that opinion to spring up.” I can’t quite read Ira – then again, I’m a bit busy in my mind here – but if I didn’t know any better I’d think she didn’t know what to do with me.

“Mf!” Her lips are hard against mine. Probably because she didn’t realize we were kissing until I pulled her down by the shirt. Oh my sweet hell, this is the hottest thing in the world. I’ve got her lips on mine, and the last of our mutual orgasm tearing me up inside. Who am I kidding? It’s not the last of it. I’m being greedy and holding on to whatever I can.

Ira puts her hands on my shoulders and pushes me away.

“No.”

“No?” I pout, attempting to close my legs on her. “Why not? Don’t you want me?”

She shoves the tissues back into my hand. “You don’t get to decide what goes on around here. You’re acting like a Domme. A selfish one. Pull yourself together.”

I’m sobering up, and I don’t like the tone in her voice. Come on, Ira, don’t you find me hot? How many women like me do you get all to yourself? Don’t lie to me. I’m one of the first.

Now get over here and make more love to me.

“Kathleen!”

Gradually, I come back to my senses. I realize what I’ve done, and the reaction on my face is immediate. The only good thing to come out of my sudden embarrassment is that Ira’s countenance softens. I doubt she wanted to get stern like that with me. Ever.

“Oh, my God.”

“Yeah, Katie.” Ira is still standing beside the bed, one hand clamped on my nearest thigh. “Oh, my God.”

I was wrong. There was one other good thing to happen.

My whole body is relaxed. Not just my body. My mind. My soul.

Being sub-shocked jostled something within me. Now when I look at Ira, I don’t see someone trying to control me. Well, okay, yes, I do see that, but it doesn’t scare me.

It comforts me.

She has seen me at some of my lowests. Not only professionally, but here in the bedroom, where I’ve screamed in anger, cried in fear, and collapsed in exhaustion because I’m pushing myself to limits I never even knew existed for me. Every time I got emotional, she stayed by my side.

I knew that Ira was a patient dominant. Stern, but good. She doesn’t want to hurt me. She wants to tame me until I can play these scenes as they need to be played out. It’s not only erotic fantasy. There’s a reason this is a lifestyle for many people more hardened than me.