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witnessed a woman go so far into subspace that she loses herself to the point she ceases to exist as she does now. Where her body takes over, coherent thought stolen. My sub needs…this. Please indulge us as I give her what she’s requested.”
    The crowd voiced their approval, a few gasps and groans smattered amidst the low rumble. They wanted this as much as I did. To see the man who had given them this place bow to his sub’s needs. I wanted them to observe that side of him, to help him break through his own, self-imposed barrier, where he held himself back. We’d free each other this way, and he’d see that afterwards.
    I relaxed my body, eased into the state of mind where I heard the noise of the crowd but it was indistinct. Sent my mind into limbo, where I was neither here nor there. Hypnotized myself by listening to the rapid breaths—my own, the crowd’s and Master M’s.
    And waited for the strikes to begin.
    He administered them to the front of my body, snapping hits that eventually failed to hurt. My skin desensitized. The only reaction I felt was a dull thud, each one of them pushing me toward the euphoria I craved—and subspace. I was there quickly, hovering above the crowd. I broke my own rule and opened my eyes. My Master thwacked and thwacked, sweat beading at his temples, his cheeks flushing with exertion. He seemed to relax into the task, forgetting we were in company, that so many might be judging him and his performance. Expert that he was, he behaved impeccably, each strike landing in a different place. The thuds became harder, and I stared down at my skin.
    Red, so much red.
    The perfect color.
    I drifted away from subspace to dip back into reality, needing to experience the level of pain he was giving. It crashed over me for a second or two—raw and primal. It was all I needed to set me off. I convulsed, heard a scream that sounded as if it had come from someone else, someone far away. I gritted my teeth, the pain so intense it promised a blackout. One agonizing smack to my nipple and I hurtled back into subspace. I was aware of the manacles abrading my wrists. Of my toes scrunching on the stage. Of my body arching then caving in on itself. My mouth opened, my eyes widened, and I knew I was letting out the kind of scream that anyone outside Marshall Cottage would take as something to inspire fear.
    The faces before me seemed to bob in the sea I had likened them to earlier, swaying, eyes and mouths just as wide as mine. Some couples kissed, touched each other up, while others still openly fondled their cocks, cunts and tits. Dicks were pushed into mouths, between breasts, and oh, I was free, high on endorphins and the knowledge that I’d given my Master every single piece of me—that he had given that last piece of himself to me too.
    Darkness encroached in my peripheral. Silver lights sparkled. The sight of the crowd narrowed, until the only people left in my view were the kneeling couple. That was fitting—they’d been my first glimpse too. The woman smiled, nodding slowly, and I knew she understood. Whatever she and her sub had been through, she’d wanted something and had gotten it. She knew why I had done this, and I managed to smile back before their faces disappeared.
    Complete blackness.
    And it was then that I knew he finally owned me—and himself.
    Outright.

Chapter Four
     
     
     
    I had blacked out and woke naked to find myself in our private apartment on the top floor of the cottage. The sweet, floral scent of the salve Master M used after a whipping hung heavy in the air. I smiled, staring across at the window. The curtains hadn’t been closed, and I had the perfect view of a starry night, the sky as dark as my oblivion had been. The moon, the color of Devonshire clotted cream, had a glowing, fuzzy halo that bled into the surrounding sky until it dispersed into nothing. A light breeze floated through the slightly open window. It made me want to go out there.
    One day we’d