by Sadie Marks
"And you'd never met me before the first time I touched you, Kenzi," he said with deliberate gentleness. "I know this isn't what you'd choose, but it's the way it will be."
She glared at him. How could he have been so kind the night before and still do this to her. "I hate you!" she snapped.
"You don't hate me," he corrected. "You just hate that you're not getting your way." He straightened and pulled her closer to him, forcing her to stand between his legs so he could talk. "Your need for pain was necessary for you to be accepted, your enjoyment of submission was not. There are Pain Receivers who submit only because they have no choice. They crave the pain. They want it or need it, but they are fully independent people who follow orders only because they are given no choice. You, however…your files say you've always dreamed of being a submissive. They say that your arousal doesn't come from the pain itself but from being dominated while you receive it. Do you think that assessment is accurate?"
She stared at him, unwilling to answer until he gave her a little shake, and then she nodded grudgingly.
"Submission won't always be a pleasant thing, girl. If I only ever made you do things you already wanted to do, then there would be no need for you to be dominated. You're a slave, bought and paid for. I own you for five years and I can make you do anything I want within the rules we agreed to—but that would be passive submission on your part. Is passivity what you choose?"
She frowned, her eyebrows drawing down as she tried to understand what he was saying. Didn't submission mean being passive? Wasn't that what obeying was? "I don't know what you mean," she said finally.
"There are submissives who enjoy being manhandled and forced through every rule. They misbehave on purpose to earn punishment because that's the kind of dominance they desire. Their submission is passive because someone else is making them take each step, forcing them to obey. You haven't struck me as the passive type so far. You have fire and sparks, but I've not found you to be purposely difficult often."
He waited for her to say something, but she was silent, her eyes fixed slightly to the side to avoid looking at his face. After a long moment, he sighed and continued. "The passive submissive is highly prized by my people since it gives them ample excuses to inflict punishment. Those who are actively submissive are often overlooked because they are doing what they are supposed to do with less effort. You need to decide which kind of submissive you want to be," he said.
"I don't know," she snapped. "I just know I don't want to do this." She bit down on her bottom lip as tears sprang to her eyes.
"Which kind of attention do you want most, Kenzi? Because, one way or the other, you will obey me. You will be shared whether you like it or not. Your only choices are I'm going to drag you through the ship with a red ass, humiliated for the crew's entertainment, or you will walk obediently at my side," he said in a firm tone that made it clear he meant exactly what he said.
"I hate you," she repeated in mournful voice.
"You are repeating yourself. Do you submit willingly, or will you be forced, Kenzi? Choose or I will," he said. His voice was hard and cold, showing no signs of mercy.
Her shoulders slumped, and she stood there, thinking. She didn't understand why she was fighting this so hard. She knew she had no choice in the matter, and fighting it would only make it harder. He wanted this. No, he demanded this, so there was no guilt here. Her body had already made it obvious that she'd enjoyed being touched and tormented by other hands, so why did it feel wrong to enjoy it?
It wasn't because she was human. Monogamy wasn't nearly as common as it used to be back on Earth. She knew plenty of people in group families or triads, and polycules were entirely normal where she'd lived. It was just that she had never really tried to love more than one person at once, and she'd never understood the point of casual sex, either. Of course, she'd never felt like she could relax and be her real self with even one person, so maybe that was part of what had held her back.
Like everything else in her new life, it seemed she was going from zero experience to expert in one leap. It had become a constant mental refrain that she'd chosen this, that she wanted this, but sometimes that was harder to hold onto than others. He was right, though; she did want to submit. In her heart and in her fantasies, she'd always offered herself willingly. If she turned away from that just because things weren't the way she wanted them to be, was it truly submission? Wasn't part of the lure the feeling of not being the one in charge?
Well, if that was the case, this was ideal, because she clearly was not the one in the driver's seat when it came to the general. She sighed and looked up at him. Their eyes met and locked as he waited for her answer.
"I'll try for willing, but I'm not promising to like it," she said finally.
He pulled her into his lap and kissed her forehead. "You don't have to like it; you just have to obey—but I suspect you will find some parts of it very enjoyable. Even today, you found much of it arousing, despite the punishment," he reminded her.
"That's different—I was drugged," she pointed out. She didn't have the energy to raise her voice at him, not because she was tired or sad, but because having already said she was choosing to willingly submit, she didn't want to turn around and be a brat.
"The drug only increases what's already there," he said, snorting. He gave her an amused look that made it plain he'd seen at least some of her wanton squirming while spread for an audience. "It also couldn't have lasted even half the time you were displayed," he added—to her extreme embarrassment.
She flushed and dropped her eyes, but she couldn't deny it. Though she knew very well that they'd gone out of their way to arouse her and bring her to orgasm over and over, her body had been entirely cooperative. And there had been something exciting about never knowing who would be next or what new and inventive things they had planned for her.
"It just feels… it feels wrong to get pleasure from strangers," she whispered softly.
"Pleasure is never wrong, little one, and you are part of the crew now. It's your job to receive pain, why shouldn't you enjoy it at the same time?" He shook his head with a rueful chuckle. "You humans have always tried to deny yourself the fun things, but trust me, before long, you'll be settled into your place here and you'll learn to adapt, and then you'll be happy like the rest of our humans," he told her.
She was skeptical about that. Silla hadn't seemed very happy. She'd seemed just short of miserable, actually, but then Silla hadn't chosen this. She'd been kidnapped, and maybe that was what made the difference. Kenzi was sure of one thing, though, she had five years of this new life to get through, and if she was going to be passed around like a party favor, she really should take his advice and let herself enjoy it if she could.
That's what she kept telling herself an hour later, when he walked her through the halls to her new, temporary, Master. She was very conscious of his threats, and she cooperated fully with the exchange. Her demeanor must have pleased him because, before he left her, he pulled her into his arms for a deep kiss and then whispered in her ear, "Remember that you're still mine and that you will return to me. Behave yourself so I can be proud of you."
He left then, but she hardly had a moment to watch him go. Her new companion was eagerly pulling her inside of his much-smaller quarters to get a look at her. He seemed younger, and his name, Garnos, was without the distinct accent pause that tended to indicate rank. That probably explained his eagerness to please her.
She was like a shiny new toy, and he couldn't wait to play with her. Her clothes were stripped from her, and for a while, he simply made her turn and pose in different ways, so he could admire her, occasionally pinching or stroking various spots to get a reaction. He seemed almost afraid to do more.
After a hesitation, she had to ask, "Have you ever been with a human before?"
"Not like this. Not under my control. I've visited slaves on display," he explained.
It was hard to tell when a Sadec was nervous; they were exper
ts at controlling those kinds of emotions, but she felt like he was. She was relieved that he had at least that much experience, but she suddenly realized that she probably held the power in this situation. She might be a slave subject to the will of her Sadec overlords, but this inexperienced warrior didn't seem to know where to go next.
She reached out and stroked his cheek with the back of her hand, offering him a nervous smile. "I'd never, uh, received pain, before I came on board, so I'm still new to this, too," she said, hoping that would give them a basis to bond.
She found herself slowly walking him through the most basic things. Of course, he was eager to hurt her, but he also wanted to give her pleasure, so he could brag that he'd been able to cause her pain but still make her orgasm on his first try. He was willing to let her lead him toward the things she found more fun than painful, and she was shortly draped across his lap for a long spanking.
It stung and burned, and like all of his kind, the pain excited him, which encouraged him to spank harder, but she was able to draw his hand between her thighs by giving him teasing glimpses of her plump, wet sex. He couldn't resist pausing to stroke the slippery folds and, with a little more urging, under the guise of pleading, she got him to finger her to orgasm quickly.
It was something of a mistake on her part because he knew he only had a limited amount of time with her and had no intention of stopping there. No sooner had she panted and mewled her way through her release, but he returned to spanking her sore, red ass again. It hurt more the second time, and inexperienced or not, he was picking up on things fast. When something made her yelp with surprise, he made note of it and would return to that unexpectedly.
That she became so much more sensitive after her orgasm seemed to amuse him greatly, and he brought her to another peak quickly to see if it was cumulative. It was. After the second orgasm, her begging was no longer feigned to encourage him to do what she wanted; she really was ready for him to stop. The creams the clinician had rubbed into her had done a lot to erase the effects of the day before, but she didn't think she could stand another day of non-stop orgasms.
Luckily, he allowed her to crawl off of his lap after a mere three, and then, for a while, he entertained himself by giving her orders. She crawled around on her hands and knees, went through the slave poses she'd been taught, and then he decided he would no longer hold off his orgasm and she was told to use her mouth to please him.
He had a hyper-eagerness and energy that reminded her of a puppy, but his strong body and muscled physique was all man. He lacked her general's height, but he was a warrior, and there was no doubting that. He patted her on the head, promising more games before he left for his work shift, and she collapsed on his sleeping furs with a sigh of relief. She needed a nap after all of that.
She spent two days with him, and they weren't unpleasant, especially since he was easily guided toward her favorite things and seemed yet to develop any specific desires of his own that might conflict with that. As he brought her to the next temporary owner at the end of their time, he looked so sad that she had to give him a goodbye kiss. "You were a wonderful first," she said to him, and at that, he brightened considerably.
It wasn't until after he'd left that she wondered if Tal had arranged him to be first because he wouldn't be too taxing on her. Or maybe it had just been luck; if that was the case, her luck had run out because her second experience was far from the light and fluffy play she'd had with the young warrior. He was an older officer and very stern. It was obvious he had plenty of experience in dealing with slaves, and he wasted no time in putting her exactly where he wanted her.
He bound her into uncomfortable positions that stretched her body, and then he used those devious chemicals they could secrete to ensure that there would be no release until he chose to allow it. For hours, he alternated whipping her with plunging into her body with deep thrusts that had her screaming and begging him to let her come—all of which he ignored.
She forgot her intentions to be good as the stubbornness of her needy frustration set in. He had no patience at all for disobedient subs, and although he untied her when he had to report for duty, he gave her no remedy for what he'd done to her, instead, touching her again to ensure the hormones would last for his entire shift. She couldn't stop herself from trying to reach orgasm, but it was an exercise in futility that left her feeling chafed and sorry for herself.
When he returned, all her attitude was gone, and she clung to his leg pleading with him to fuck her until she came. She hated herself for it but couldn't stop herself from being grateful when he slathered on the neutralizing cream and then told her she could come…by humping his boot, and no other way. It was humiliating and degrading, but she needed the release so badly by then that she obeyed, straddling his foot. With tears running down her face, she ground her soaked sex against the leather until she finally reached her climax. The only consolation was that she was so hypersensitive by then, it couldn't have taken more than a minute for her to topple over the edge into pleasure.
He stroked her hair as she clung, chest heaving and face flushed with exertion and embarrassment, to his leg. She wanted to pull away, to spurn his comfort—he wasn't her general! But she couldn't force herself to do it. She blamed herself for being weak, but she needed the reassurance and small crumbs of affection he gave her.
She was with him longer than the first, three days, she thought, although they seemed to blur together. He pushed her to her limits in every way, and by the time she left him, she was tired—not physically but emotionally. Tired of the whipsawing emotions caused by reveling in her place as a slave but hating herself for giving in at the same time. Something inside of her broke a little as she moved onto the third warrior she'd been promised to. She was trying so hard to be the willing submissive, trying to accept and enjoy the experience since she had no choice, anyway, but underneath all of that was a growing feeling of misery that she couldn't escape.
She loved Tal, but he couldn't love her back. If he did, he wouldn't be able to push her off on others to enjoy. She knew that was just emotions, not logic. He'd explained their customs, and they did make an odd kind of sense to her, but knowing that and feeling it were two different things. Her experience did not leave her open to being loved by someone who didn't try to keep her to himself. She couldn't understand it.
She had trouble focusing. She didn't sleep well. The third one, she hadn't even learned his name, didn't seem to care. He punished her for not hearing him. He punished her for not obeying him. He didn't seem to notice that it wasn't deliberate disobedience. Most likely, he just thought she was a slave who wanted to earn more punishment, because he gave her plenty.
In a way, that was easier for her. The harsh bite of a whip, the heavy thud of the paddle snapping across her ass, these were things she could grab onto. Pain, at least, always got through the miasma, and for a few minutes, she'd feel there again, present, instead of drifting on her own personal cloud of sadness.
The fourth was a woman, and that was interesting. It was different, not unpleasant. Actually, it was the first time she'd gotten close to a Sadec female, and the curiosity pulled her out of her fog of emotions. She was very different than the men in how she approached the slave. There wasn't anything like the raw sexual energy there; instead, it was an almost gentle experience. The pain, when it came, wasn't with a fierce, biting sting—it built ever so slowly so that Kenzi couldn't actually say when it made the shift from discomfort, to pain, to unbearable agony.
The female warrior did things to her that took her by surprise, but it wasn't softer or easier than what the men had done. She'd thought a woman would be gentler, somehow, but that wasn't the case. It was only how the pain was reached that differed, but there was more. The warrior knew how a woman's body worked, from the inside, and she used that knowledge to do things that men would never even think of. Kenzi was relieved when the time was up; though, at least she'd satisfied her curiosity about the females of the Sadec race.
They say change is as good as a rest, and she went to her final Master with a renewed energy, sure now that she could make it through the ordeal and get back to Tal, and he would be proud of how well she'd done. But it didn't end up working like that. The fifth warrior reopened the cracks that had formed earlier, and the sadness returned full force.
It wasn't that he was cruel or anything he did at all, really. It was just that in too many ways he reminded her of Tal. Like the general in size and demeanor, but not the general. Everything they did together was a constant abrasion against her soul and a reminder that she wasn't with the one she wanted to be with. She lost the ability to accept. She became taciturn and stubborn. She lost focus again, often having to be told things repeatedly before she understood and then reluctantly obeyed.
She was powerless to stop her body from reacting as it always did. The pain and touching brought arousal. Her body's needs forced her to beg for the pain to stop, for release, for whatever he wanted her to beg for—but it was just autopilot. She wasn't really feeling any of it emotionally. Maybe he could sense that, because he seemed dissatisfied with the experience.
He stopped trying to make it enjoyable for her and simply concentrated on giving her as much pain as she could handle. She actually preferred that, because there was no need to feel guilty about it and she could just let herself drift in a haze of pain. She still got aroused at times, but when he wasn't trying to make it pleasant for her, it didn't feel so much like he was a lover.
He must have gotten some enjoyment out of her because he didn't seem angry, but when her time was up, he simply told her to return to her quarters. It was perfunctory in comparison with how the others had acted at the end of their sessions. Each one of them had escorted her to the next, taking the time to give her a little affection. But this one simply let her go, and so she found herself alone on the ship, unsupervised but with permission for the first time since her arrival.