The Sevarian Way

by Justine Elyot

  “And down here…” murmured Paul, spreading her cunt lips and crouching to peer into the dark valley. “Aha. Haven’t you been fucked enough for one day?” He grinned up at her, all white teeth and blazing blue eyes. She rolled her hips, desperate for his firm touch to move in and find her clit, or poke a finger or three up inside. He had used her there, but she was far from used up.

  He dipped his fingers in her juices, mixing and swirling, coating them luxuriantly before the cruel withdrawal. Standing straight, he offered his sex-scented digits to her mouth. She lapped at them greedily, sighing, wanting them back down there.

  “Taste yourself,” he whispered. “You love it, don’t you? You love to be tied up and used.”

  “Mmm,” she confirmed, mouth filled with his strong, large fingers.

  “Let’s see if you’ll still love it when I’m done.”

  He moved swiftly out of her line of sight and she watched his shadow recede, back to the treasure chest.

  What next? Her throat tightened and her stomach lurched as the reality of the situation sunk in. She could only get out of this by surrendering. And if she surrendered that would be her chance to live this life with this man scuppered. Whatever he was going to do to her, she was going to take as much of it as she could. She was going to win this.

  She felt his body behind her again, then she gasped as a hand reached rudely between her legs and appeared to snatch at her pussy. It took a few seconds for Suka to realise he was attaching something—two somethings—on the inner wall of her labia, just where they made contact with her puffy, swollen clitoris.

  “What’s…that, Sir?” she panted. A mild buzzing sensation began to fill that wet, slick channel, and there was a constant pressure on her clit from both sides.

  “Stimulant patches,” said Paul. “They’ll keep you coming. And coming. Until you can come no more.”

  “Oh God.” Suka could already feel the first tremor building. Punishing me with pleasure. You’re even smarter than I thought.

  “They’re not the strongest,” he said with satisfaction. “I could attach the real super-strength version if you’d prefer.”

  “I think…these are strong enough.” She wanted to rotate her hips violently, to reach down and rub, and fill her cunt with something long and thick and hold it there. It would take less than a minute for her to start climaxing, she thought. Then her thoughts were stopped in their tracks by a sharp smack to her bum.

  She swung forward in her bonds, surprised, but Paul’s hand kept falling, heavy and hard, over and over, while the furious whirligig of sensation continued to fill her pussy. The swats seemed to intensify the action of the stimulants and Paul had barely delivered a dozen before the first orgasm spent her spinning on her wire, round and round. Paul spanked her all the way through it, showing no quarter, just laying handprint after handprint on her burning arse.

  “That’s one,” he said. “Now let’s add a little something.”

  Seconds later, Suka moaned as a long, thick object with a rounded head nudged at the entrance to her still-spasming vagina. The clit buzzers hummed away, accompanying the slow progress of the dildo—for presumably that was what it was—inside Suka’s wet, tight channel. It was quite wide, and she had to stretch to accommodate its girth. She thought it was about the same size as Paul’s cock, from the way it made her work to accept it. She puffed and gasped at each extra inch of incursion, wanting to bend over to make it easier but not having that option.

  “How does that feel?” asked Paul, one hand holding her still on her hip while he continued to feed the dildo to her hungry pussy.

  “Oh…I’m full…really full…and I’m going to come again in a minute…those darn buzzy things…oh, oh, oh.” The fat fake cock made its way to the end, and she came again, so quickly it took her by surprise, a warm wave of pleasure rippling outwards while her muscles clenched around the invasive presence.

  Paul smacked her bottom again before retreating to the chest and returning with something he laid against her tingling cheeks, something flat and rectangular and made of a cold, smooth material, maybe wood.

  “Now for that paddling you’ve earned,” he promised.

  Suka wished she had a gag. She knew she was going to howl, all dignity long gone. Just the memory of the whip was enough to make her wince.

  The paddle met her flesh with a substantial whap, and at the same time as her yell of pain filled the room, the dildo inside her began to thrum, joining in with its clitoral equivalents.

  The pain and the pleasure were so close, yet so different, and yet one seemed to set off the other. Suka’s mind began to disintegrate, it was all too confusing. Which was pain? Which was pleasure? What was making her say ‘ouch’ and what was making her say ‘ooh’? It all seemed the same, one giant sensation made up of these conflicting parts—the deep, shocking jolt of the paddle, the insistent vibrations around and inside her pussy, the straining of her muscles, the clenching of her jaw.

  She came again after twenty hard strokes of the paddle, knowing her bottom must be deep, deep red and would likely be bruised for a while. Paul certainly didn’t hold back, but somehow this was good, this was right. If he’d gone easy on her, she would have been disappointed. This might be their last chance to do this—if so, she wanted her marks of memento.

  Paul wielded the paddle through her climax, concentrating on the overhang of her buttocks and the tops of her thighs. “I want you to feel this when you sit,” he told her. “I want you to remember this and learn from it.”

  “Yes, Sir,” she managed to say between smacks. Not much chance of ever forgetting this. And I’ve learned from it all right. I’ve learned that this is what I want. This is how I want to live.

  It wasn’t until he put the paddle down that she realised her whole body was trembling and her chest heaving fit to burst. The storm between her legs and on her behind had completely focused her, to the exclusion of lesser events, like the increasing soreness of her wrists and the discomfort of her feet in the high heels.

  “Don’t want to numb these cheeks,” said Paul, stroking her raging rear. “I’m a long way from finished yet.”

  Suka made an inarticulate sound that she didn’t even understand herself. Her own feelings were slipping away from her, becoming cloudy and unidentifiable. She did not know anything except that she wanted this to go on and on, even though her pussy was starting to feel wrung out and her whole body ached. She was falling through a wide dark sky of inner bliss. A word from her Academy project flew through her mind. Subspace. Was this it?

  “Are you feeling this, Suka?” asked Paul gently, behind her shoulder, massaging it. “Are you feeling punished yet?”

  “Mmm,” was all she could say, pushing back into him, inviting him. Her bottom pressed into his rock hard thighs, and the vibrating dildo met the resistance of his firm flesh, increasing its potency. Rocking back against him, Suka came again, and he bent his lips to her neck and sucked through the orgasm.

  “That’s four, isn’t it?” he murmured. “Though I think you’re a bit beyond keeping count. I’m working you hard. And it isn’t over. Not by a long way.”

  He stepped away and she fell back, as far as her tight leash would allow, soon righting her posture, keeping her legs apart, rolling her hips in time with the vibrators, trying to keep another orgasm away.

  Then his hands were on her again, parting her red hot butt cheeks, stroking their tender insides before placing a lubricated fingertip against that tight pucker.

  “Ah!” she exclaimed, tensing her sphincter.

  “No,” he admonished, wiggling the finger, making her feel the pressure. “This is all part of your punishment. You don’t get to pick and choose. Don’t forget, let me know when you reach your limit. You can still speak, can’t you?”

  “Just…about…” she gasped, shimmying violently as his fingertip made it through the tiny ring, opening up her most private space to his intrusions.

  “Are we at your limit, Suka
? Do you want to stop now?”

  “No!” she exclaimed, relaxing into the odd sensation, revelling in how utterly owned and surrendered it made her feel. This was another dream realised, never mind the discomfort his prodding and poking around in her bum was causing her. He had that right. He held all rights over her. She belonged to him, in every respect now.

  Another finger spread her wider. She struggled to retain a semblance of composure, but the buzzers defeated her and she wailed aloud, sure that another unwanted climax couldn’t be far off. This felt so uniquely sinful, so decadent.

  “You can take this, Suka,” he said, softly, keeping her calm, tamping down her rising panic. His fingers scissored inside her, then they met the solid resistance of the dildo, just a thin stretch of flesh separating them. He pulled out and Suka released a long exhalation, only to yelp anew as a larger, wider, colder substitute took the place of Paul’s fingers.

  “You know about butt plugs, don’t you, Suka?” he asked, easing it carefully between her cheeks and into the circular aperture. “They are especially necessary for bad little ensigns like you. They keep them in their place. You won’t be able to forget you are wearing one of these. I’d like to take one of these back to the ship. It would be nice to know you were squirming in your seat on the bridge with one of these stuffed inside your tight pants every time you broke a rule. Beats loss of Association Time privileges. Bending you over and spanking your arse, then filling it up with one of these would work wonders on you, I think. Don’t you agree?”

  “Yes, Sir,” she moaned, twisting her hips as the widest part of the plug tested her endurance.

  “I think we’d soon have one very obedient, very well-behaved little ensign, wouldn’t we?”

  “Yes, Sir.” The plug seated itself fully and then, to Suka’s mingled ecstasy and despair, it began to buzz in unison with its pussy-bound counterparts.

  “Ohh.” Suka’s moans were low and throaty. The vibrator in her arse added a mind-blowing power to the fifth orgasm and she crumpled in the bonds, a boneless doll, taken over the edge of heavenly darkness.

  “Stand straight,” commanded Paul.

  Somehow, she obeyed. Somehow, though her knees no longer existed and she was no more than a sticky mess of lust and exhaustion and submission.

  “I’m going to give you six. Count them.”

  “Can’t…”

  “This is your limit?”

  He put aside whatever he was holding and made to release her wrists.

  “Yes, I can!” she cried, delirious with the power her submission had given her. No amount of drilling on the Academy quadrangle had ever tested her tolerance levels like this, but, in the very kernel of her being, Suka knew she could take more. She could take as much as he could give. “Give it to me! Give me what I need!”

  “Since you put it that way…”

  She heard a low swish through the air behind her. It must be a cane.

  Fear and exhilaration coursed through her. This, she knew from her studies, was the most severe of implements. If Paul gave her this, he must think she could handle it. She had won! She had won his hand, the hand that would hold her in check.

  You have to take the caning first, Suka, she cautioned herself, realising a victory celebration might be pre-emptive. Marshal your strength. Ignore the vibrations. Breathe through it. Take it. It’s only six strokes.

  The slender rod tapped against the apple of her backside. She had had time to recover from the paddling and her bottom was no longer anywhere near numb, though the heat and sting were still very much in evidence. Her thighs were soaked with her own chilling juices, her clit fat and overworked, her cunt and arse straining to keep up with the relentless stimulation.

  The menacing swish cut through the air again, and this time it ended with a flat split of sound that, for a moment, Suka did not recognise as the cane’s contact with her bottom. But in a millisecond ferocious white-hot pain streaked a line across her cheeks and she needed all her breath control, every scrap, not to scream like a banshee.

  “Ohh, ohh, one, Sir,” she whimpered, trying to escape, trying to distract him with her swinging hips, trying to do anything that might get her out of any more of those breathtaking stripes.

  “Is that painful?” he asked, with pretend sympathy. “Poor Suka. I think we’ve found the implement for her. I think we’ve found the thing that will work. I’ll take this back with me too.”

  Oh, please do!

  His words spurred her on. Cheekily, she pushed out her bum, inviting the second stroke.

  It hit the end of the butt plug, causing it to shudder inside her and increase the intensity of the vibrations. Vibrations all over her, from the sting, from the plug, from the dildo, from the clit buzzers, she was one big vibration.

  “Two, Sir.”

  He laid the third and fourth vicious cuts on the ‘sit’ spot where she would feel them for days on end. She counted them, and went further than that, thanking him as well.

  “You’re thanking me?” he said in surprise. “You’re quite a girl, Suka. Quite a girl. Thank me for this.”

  It whipped down across her lower buttocks, adding its burn to that which already licked across her punished skin.

  “Five, Sir, thank you, Sir, oh, I’m on fire!”

  “Last one. Brace yourself. It’ll be a hard one.”

  He was right. It set her leaping from one extended foot to the other, yelping and yowling, powerless to do anything to douse that evil conflagration on her bottom. The vibrators made her come again, the sixth orgasm at the sixth stroke, a fusion of passion and pleasure and pain that left her shaking and tearful.

  “You didn’t count,” chided Paul, but he seemed beyond caring, hurrying to pull out her dildo and replace it with his stiff, thick cock. His thrusts were quick and powerful, his abdomen slapping against her throbbing bottom, reawakening the sting, butting the plug, making her scream through a final climax that lasted for minutes rather than seconds, multiple melting orgasms that didn’t end until Paul had come inside her, his fingers bruising her hips, his last words a reminder that she belonged to him.

  Suka trembled through the uncuffing and removal of the toys and fell against Paul, who gathered her close, lifted her and carried her to the one comfortable-looking prop in the whole room—an old-fashioned four-poster bed. He laid her down, then took off his boots and uniform and joined her, lying propped on his side. Through half-closed eyes Suka could see him looking down at her, his expression sombre, his face streaked with sweat.

  She felt limbless, floating in the ether, everything inside her scooped out to make a hollow, weightless shell. She could feel the angry throb of the cane welts, but they seemed irrelevant somehow, and far below her surface.

  “Who won that then?” wondered Paul aloud.

  “We both did.” Suka’s voice was dreamy and faraway.

  “I didn’t go too far for you, did I? You would have said something, wouldn’t you?”

  Suka lifted a hand and put it to his cheek, barely managing to keep her arm raised, it shook so.

  “Oh God, tell me it’s okay?” Paul sounded agitated. “You’re okay, Suka? I feel guilty. I’ve taken it over the edge.”

  “No.” Suka’s languid tones seemed to soothe him a little. “It was the best thing ever. It was just incredible.”

  “Really? You aren’t just saying that because you don’t want to go back to the ship?”

  “No. Not at all. I mean it. It was. You were. Just like the old-fashioned doms I’ve read and dreamed about. Fantasy come true.”

  “That’s…good,” said Paul, but he sounded troubled.

  “Good.”

  “Listen,” he said, whispering for some reason. “What are we going to do?”

  Suka turned her head, the fractional effort it took depleting her of what little energy she still had.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Do you think you can forget about this? Because I don’t think I can. Pandora’s Box. Well and
truly open. But a box of pleasures rather than ills. Perhaps it should be called Suka’s Box instead.”

  “You’re right. It’s too much to just leave behind here. It’s a part of us, Commander.”

  “Call me Azed.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t do that!” Suka’s hand flew to her mouth and she suppressed a giggle.

  “Oh, call me Master then, if that’s easier for you.”

  “In a weird way, it is. Master. I like that.”

  “It’s a part of us,” he echoed, musing. “Yes. We can’t lop it off and carry on as normal. So the question remains. What are we going to do?”

  “Sleep,” said Suka determinedly.

  “As a short-term plan, it’s a good one.” He slid an arm around her, pulling her close, cradling her head beneath his chin, and on the silent, deserted planet, they were the two lone dreamers.

  Chapter Five

  On waking, Suka almost expected everything to be different. Paul would have changed his mind, have slept off the intensity of emotion and be insisting on a swift return and a blotting out of inconvenient feelings.

  But, if anything, he seemed almost keener to retain the link than Suka was, kissing her eyelids until they opened, stroking her hair, whispering into her ear.

  “Sleepyhead. We have a decision to make.”

  She smiled into his hawkish face and impulsively pulled it down, her hand on the back of his neck, for a long, slow smooch.

  “Can’t we put it off?” she whispered, coming up for air. Her whole body ached, stung, throbbed, but somehow she was ready for him again, her juices gathering between her legs.

  “No,” he said sternly, tweaking her nose. “We can’t.”

  “So.” She sat up with a deep sigh, then changed her mind, and moved around to lie on her hip. Much less painful. “Back to the ship, I suppose.”

  “I suppose. I don’t know what I can do. I can ask to be relieved of command—”

  “No! They would refuse anyway.”

  “Well, the only other way is to synchronise leave and have at least a few weeks of the year to look forward to. But we’d have to keep it very quiet.”