Free Telepaths Don't Need Safewords, by Cecilia Tan by Circlet Press Page A
Authors: Circlet Press
The
Internet.
So
here we are come full circle, as this ebook edition of Telepaths
Don’t Need Safewords is now on your screen.
I
have refrained from changing the story from its original form. In 18
years, my writing style has matured and refined, but too many people
have told me over the years that this is the story that changed their
life, changed the way they thought about BDSM, changed the way they
thought about love, for me to muck around with it now. I didn’t
know when I wrote it that I was bucking the conventions of erotica
writing, that writing an “established relationship”
instead of an “encounter story” was radical and
different, nor that writing a story that limned the difference
between “scene-aware” consent and nonconsent had rarely
been done. I just wrote what I would have enjoyed reading myself, the
fantasies that I had which included not just whips and chains, but
concepts like “true love.” In fact, all three stories in
the original chapbook involve that theme. (Perhaps it shouldn’t
be a surprise that the winding path of my writing career has recently
led me to writing romance novels.)
There
are a few people I should thank, before I close. The original printed
edition thanked Ian, corwin, D!, Lauren P. Burka, Elf Sternberg,
Regis, and Flynn & FF. Thanks to you all again. This book, and
who I am, wouldn’t have been the same without you.
Cecilia
Tan
November
2009
Telepaths Don't Need
Safewords
Arshan tugged on the leash and
gave me a bare-toothed smile, insistent and yet as catty as if he had
winked. I replied with a sullen look, half a sneer really, saying
with the look what I thought —You know how much I hate this leash and you know how much I love this
scene. He dangled the leash over his shoulder, leading me across an
open plaza toward the Hall. I kept my eyes down, not out of
submission but to watch his feet. Arshan stands about 6'4". With
the leash over his shoulder, I didn't have much room to avoid his
long legs. I may have been playing the slave, but the last thing I
wanted was to look like a klutz. I could feel him smiling.
At the door we exchanged looks
again, and he thought, It's
been a while.
I know. But I'm up for it if
you are, I assured him,
making a last mental check on our costumes. He carried no weapon, no
instrument, no tool, save pieces of his costume which had more than
one use. We'd worked hard perfecting it, the belts, the waist length
cape, the boots. His colors, as always, were black and dark green. My
own costume had fewer elements, just a basic black halter stretched
over my breasts and black mid-calf dance tights, bare feet. Oh, and
the leash. I draped myself against him as he presented our pass to
the door man. We donned simple eyemasks, and proceeded down the
carpeted hallway. Think
people will remember us?
* * * *
The ceiling of The Hall is at
least fifty-feet high, perhaps higher, with one long wall made
entirely of glass, overlooking the Galdarin River. Echoes of laughter
came down from balconies on the opposite wall, and crystals and
lights and chandeliers flickered everywhere. Arshan made his way
straight for Cleopatra, one of our old friends.
She dripped with black beads,
completely covered, yet not covered at all by a complex network of
beaded strands, hanging in long wings from her arms, and cascading
down her back from her black hair. She turned from the conversation
when she saw us, throwing up her hands and kissing Arshan on the
cheek. "Arshan! You've arrived! We've missed you, you know. And
you, Mriah." she added, turning to me. "It got very dull
here for a while." She sighed, fluttering her eyelids. I love
Cleo's act. And she loves ours.
Arshan smiled. "It's good to
be back."
"Easy for you to say," I
said, tossing my head.
He turned on me, shortening up the
leash and speaking harshly. "I am trying to converse with the
Lady Cleopatra. Now, will you be quiet or will I have to cut your
tongue out?"
I gave no answer at all except
Internet.
So
here we are come full circle, as this ebook edition of Telepaths
Don’t Need Safewords is now on your screen.
I
have refrained from changing the story from its original form. In 18
years, my writing style has matured and refined, but too many people
have told me over the years that this is the story that changed their
life, changed the way they thought about BDSM, changed the way they
thought about love, for me to muck around with it now. I didn’t
know when I wrote it that I was bucking the conventions of erotica
writing, that writing an “established relationship”
instead of an “encounter story” was radical and
different, nor that writing a story that limned the difference
between “scene-aware” consent and nonconsent had rarely
been done. I just wrote what I would have enjoyed reading myself, the
fantasies that I had which included not just whips and chains, but
concepts like “true love.” In fact, all three stories in
the original chapbook involve that theme. (Perhaps it shouldn’t
be a surprise that the winding path of my writing career has recently
led me to writing romance novels.)
There
are a few people I should thank, before I close. The original printed
edition thanked Ian, corwin, D!, Lauren P. Burka, Elf Sternberg,
Regis, and Flynn & FF. Thanks to you all again. This book, and
who I am, wouldn’t have been the same without you.
Cecilia
Tan
November
2009
Telepaths Don't Need
Safewords
Arshan tugged on the leash and
gave me a bare-toothed smile, insistent and yet as catty as if he had
winked. I replied with a sullen look, half a sneer really, saying
with the look what I thought —You know how much I hate this leash and you know how much I love this
scene. He dangled the leash over his shoulder, leading me across an
open plaza toward the Hall. I kept my eyes down, not out of
submission but to watch his feet. Arshan stands about 6'4". With
the leash over his shoulder, I didn't have much room to avoid his
long legs. I may have been playing the slave, but the last thing I
wanted was to look like a klutz. I could feel him smiling.
At the door we exchanged looks
again, and he thought, It's
been a while.
I know. But I'm up for it if
you are, I assured him,
making a last mental check on our costumes. He carried no weapon, no
instrument, no tool, save pieces of his costume which had more than
one use. We'd worked hard perfecting it, the belts, the waist length
cape, the boots. His colors, as always, were black and dark green. My
own costume had fewer elements, just a basic black halter stretched
over my breasts and black mid-calf dance tights, bare feet. Oh, and
the leash. I draped myself against him as he presented our pass to
the door man. We donned simple eyemasks, and proceeded down the
carpeted hallway. Think
people will remember us?
* * * *
The ceiling of The Hall is at
least fifty-feet high, perhaps higher, with one long wall made
entirely of glass, overlooking the Galdarin River. Echoes of laughter
came down from balconies on the opposite wall, and crystals and
lights and chandeliers flickered everywhere. Arshan made his way
straight for Cleopatra, one of our old friends.
She dripped with black beads,
completely covered, yet not covered at all by a complex network of
beaded strands, hanging in long wings from her arms, and cascading
down her back from her black hair. She turned from the conversation
when she saw us, throwing up her hands and kissing Arshan on the
cheek. "Arshan! You've arrived! We've missed you, you know. And
you, Mriah." she added, turning to me. "It got very dull
here for a while." She sighed, fluttering her eyelids. I love
Cleo's act. And she loves ours.
Arshan smiled. "It's good to
be back."
"Easy for you to say," I
said, tossing my head.
He turned on me, shortening up the
leash and speaking harshly. "I am trying to converse with the
Lady Cleopatra. Now, will you be quiet or will I have to cut your
tongue out?"
I gave no answer at all except