by Jaye Peaches
Her routine was determined by Lalita, who controlled the timetable of activities for all jenjins—when to rest, eat, and meet with the overseers for lessons or take their exercises in the pool or gym and when they were to pleasure their clients. Instead of the blaring siren, a gong signaled the change of activity.
Nobody ran from room to room. Running was strictly forbidden. The prohibitions listed many other unsightly behaviors, which included loud chewing, fidgeting, and slumped shoulders and, as Freya discovered, giggling was frowned upon during tutoring about sex positions. Freya hadn’t intended to giggle nor roll her eyes upwards to avoid eye contact. Unfortunately, the overly serious tone of the overseer, who’d lectured the small gathering in great detail using elaborate anatomical words, simply caused the embarrassed Freya to lose control. The overseer had glared in Freya’s direction numerous times and made constant notes on her tablet.
Mealtimes were Freya’s favorite moments in the day since it was an opportunity to socialize without restrictions. As she was the governor’s jenjin she slept alone and missed out on the dormitory gossip. By the third day, the other jenjins had ceased whispering behind her back and started to talk to her. One young woman, Lucilla, was especially friendly. Freya had failed to extract from the timid and beautiful Lucilla why she was in the penal colony. Freya loved that Lucilla had translated her native poems into Vendian and would often recite examples during mealtimes.
Freya had still to discover why there were no books on Tagra. She also learned that dancing was unheard of in the Volta.
“Might I dance a little to some music?” she’d asked Lalita, who’d visited her room to choose Freya’s clothing for the day.
“Music is for quiet contemplation; nobody should ruin it by dancing,” had replied Lalita curtly.
When not meditating, Freya had often been left in the hands of her maids, who’d constantly sought to touch her up, as if she was a masterpiece in need of extra brushstrokes. She’d sighed repeatedly when they’d insisted on buffing her nails or shaving her privates. When Gellis, during a routine massage, had muttered under her breath about the hard life in the factories, Freya shut up. She often thought about Abby and Jean, wondering how they were coping. A little guilt had seeped in and she’d thanked Gellis.
She turned to complete another length of the pool and as she closed in on the far end, she lifted her face out of the water and touched the side of the pool with her outstretched hand. The room had gone silent. Brushing the drops off her eyelashes, she came face to face with a pair of shiny black boots. Slowly, she tilted her head back. What a colossus Marco was when he stood above her. He’d planted his legs astride and rested his hands on his hips.
She licked her lips, which had suddenly gone dry. Did he expect her to kneel in the pool? Everyone else in the room had knelt with their heads bowed; nobody had left. She and Marco had an audience—what did he plan to do in the presence of witnesses? She started to move toward the steps.
“Stay there,” Marco ordered.
She snapped her back straight and looked up at him again. He was undressing. Tiny gasps relayed around the room as the other jenjins sneaked a view of the governor’s fine physique.
He removed his jacket and shirt and exposed the lines of his tattoos, then without any sign of embarrassment, he dropped his pants. The length of his upright cock drew another ripple of exclamations.
Was he really going to do this? She froze to the spot and remained there as Marco stepped down into the water and swam toward her. Why hadn’t he dismissed the others?
Approaching her from behind, Marco looped his arms under her breasts and slotted his hard cock against her lower spine. He kissed the top of her head and at the same time, slid his right hand down over her belly and between her legs. He dove his middle finger inside her tight pussy.
Freya shivered, but it wasn’t because she was cold. She felt incredibly warm, yet she was covered in goosebumps. “We’re not alone,” she whispered in English.
“I know,” he replied in the same language. “You’re mine. I want to show them that you’re mine.”
“Why?”
He rested his chin on her shoulder. “Because I can. I’m the governor and you’re my beautiful jenjin. They will see how I cherish you. Need you.”
Freya couldn’t find within her the willpower to be indignant, nor was she inhibited by his openly flirtatious behavior. To hide her growing arousal, she clamped her thighs together and squashed his exploring digits.
Marco chuckled softly. “Open up, little jenjin. Open up for me.”
She nearly hesitated, but something about his stern, yet encouraging tone of voice wiped out her resistance. She slid her legs apart.
“Hold onto the edge.” He’d switched back into Vendian and spoken louder.
“I’ll hold the edge, sir.” She remembered the etiquette and obeyed, clutching the tiled rim of the pool.
Nobody had left the room. Thankfully, none of the women present were kneeling on her side of the pool. She had a clear view of the closed double doors.
Marco hitched her hips backwards and her chin dipped down, nearly touching the surface of the water. He sought out her pussy with the head of his cock and she braced herself for it, perhaps too much. When he thrust inside, it didn’t give around him; instead, she felt a pinch of discomfort. It reminded her of the night she’d lost her virginity. She shook her head, dismissing the unfortunate memory—it hadn’t exactly gone to plan.
Marco cupped her breasts in his hands and gently squeezed the nipples. She groaned—why was that sharp pain so enjoyable? He nudged his cock a little deeper and her tight channel stretched around his engorged head.
“Do this for me,” he whispered in English. “Make me complete. I can’t stop thinking about you.” He moaned as she opened up and welcomed his entire shaft. He kissed the back of her neck as he rose up inside her, claiming her pussy with one firm lunge. “Good girl.”
He pounded his hips against her bottom, forcing the water to part between them. Beneath the waves that splashed against the pool side, he fucked her with long strokes of his cock, while she clung to the side, gasping with each thrust. The sloshes of water masked any other sounds in the room. She dare not look over her shoulder, fearing that catching sight of the quiet voyeurs in the room might cause her to tense and ruin the delightful sensation of his cock exciting her g-spot.
He was the governor. He could do as he wished. The man represented the authority of the emperor. All governors of colonies, whether they were penal, military-based, or newly created home worlds, had the backing of the imperial house. Marco was the de facto ruler of Tagra, and she, the lone Earthling, had become everything to him. What more would he expect from her if he could fuck her in so blatant a manner without shame?
“I’m close,” she hissed. “Oh, please, sir. I beg you.”
Beg for it, Lalita had told Freya when she’d shown her how to kneel on the bedroom floor. “Show him your desperation and it will stoke his too. If he controls your pleasure, then you will make him happy.”
He embraced Freya tighter with one arm and used his other hand to slip between her legs and rub her clitoris. Her knees started to buckle, but he held her up, keeping her chin out of the water.
“Come, then,” he growled. “I want to feel it.”
She cried out. Afterwards, she’d probably find it mortifying that she actually screamed during her orgasm. But, she couldn’t help it. His spurting cock rocketed inside her, while the rough use of his fingers on her clit forced her orgasm to extend beyond its natural peak.
When he finished pumping his cum into her pussy, he pushed her against the side, sandwiching her between the hard wall of the pool and his beating heart, which thumped against his chest wall. “Leave us!” he shouted.
The other jenjin filed out with their heads bowed, but at least two of them had broad grins on her face.
“Oh, lordy,” Freya muttered in English, then she added another exclamation in French, b
efore capping the sentence off in Swedish.
Marco withdrew his cock and turned her around to face him. He brushed his lips against her mouth. “That was exactly what I needed. Today hasn’t been the best day. You make the sun shine in my heart once again.”
She liked that Vendian expression of joy. “I do?”
“Of course.” He pecked at her throat. “I’m still hard. So fucking hard for you. In a minute, we’ll get out and I’ll fuck you some more on one of those comfortable sunbeds.” He gestured toward one of the larger loungers situated around the edge of the room.
“Why did you do this?”
“I told you. I had a need. Does it matter that others watched? They will respect you for obeying me and submitting. Your submission is key to my pleasure, don’t forget that. However, from now on, I don’t want to feel any resistance from you, no hesitation, no questioning. My demands are simple, Freya—do as I ask and do it without fear.”
He placed a high demand on her, one she would never consider giving to another man. “I’ll try.”
“Try, yes, but more important, succeed. Now, out you get and lie on that bed over there with your ass raised. This time, I’ll take it. Would you like that?”
He spoke with such confidence and her pussy clenched. “Yes. Please.”
Chapter Ten
Freya woke to the sounds of soft snoring, which were so subtle they barely reached her ears. She turned onto her side to admire the man lying next to her in bed. He lay sprawled with his arms above his head and his nose pointing to the ceiling. He’d not intended for fall asleep; he refrained from staying with her during the designated night-time period, when the lights would be dimmed and the gongs ceased to ring out for a few hours. He claimed it wasn’t necessary and that his own quarters were better suited for sleeping.
She smiled, appreciating the gentle rise and fall of his chest and her gaze traversed his slumbering form until she lingered on his penis, which lay limp, but still remarkably substantial. What a beast stirred inside him when he claimed her for his pleasure. Every time he visited the Volta, he brought with him the baggage of the day and when he’d spent himself several times, he left the building with a noticeable bounce to his step. She took the credit for the transformation in his vitality.
He had planned to see her every day, twice if possible, he admitted, but the demands of his post kiboshed the idea. Instead, he visited every three days. Since he’d fucked her in the swimming pool, he’d established a pattern to his visits. That particular day had been a turning point in her acceptance of her situation. He’d made his point; she was his and his to do with as he pleased. The passion he displayed for fucking her was undeniable and even when he demanded her in ways she never thought she could endure, she readily submitted. He wasn’t a cruel man. He never hurt her, but neither had he assumed she was too gentle not to bear his rough ways.
What troubled her was not his sexual preferences, especially his adventurous nature when it came to sex—he enjoyed practicing the various positions she’d been taught—but his unwavering need to distance himself from any romance or declarations of love. He came close with some of his erotic pillow talk, but he codified it in such a way she was never sure if he was alluding to love or something less tangible.
How long would she be his jenjin? Retirement at least brought some benefits. Most ex-jenjins took up other posts in the city, usually as servants or cooks. Only at the end of their working day were they reminded there were prisoners—locked up in their quarters, a building on the fringe of the city. Would that happen to her? One day, would Marco dismiss her because he’d found another more attractive, or because he’d grown tired of Freya? What about his post? It wouldn’t last forever. He would be promoted and moved to a different location. She doubted he would take her with him—he’d no powers to commute her sentence. The idea of separation appalled her. She’d didn’t want to consider it.
She snuggled closer to him and traced the lines of his tattoos as delicately as possible, so not to disturb him. How she wished she could live with him and not in the Volta. She’d cook for him, greet him when he returned home from work, and massage his weary feet. She’d try her hardest to show him what love looked like, how it brought friendship and loyalty. Maybe she could convince him to give the prisoners stuck in the canyon a sense of hope and purpose; however, whenever he spoke of the situation down there, Marco implied things were no better. The drudgery of life fed the violence and lawlessness.
The Volta provided a different perspective on captivity. The demureness of the jenjin constantly surprised Freya. The women acquiesced to whatever demands were placed on them. Lucilla continued to service many men, but she refused to explain why so gentle a creature was sentenced to life on a harsh penal colony. She’d been sent to work in the Volta, she’d told Freya, because she enjoyed sex and because she had no issue with being available to many men. She’d come from a culture similar to Vendu—a warrior class who proudly defended their honor and where women were considered a commodity, and even traded to further alliances between clans. She alluded to the desperate war they’d fought against the Vendu and the constant uprisings that plagued any chance of peace. “My father is part of a clan that bears much responsibility for the ongoing insurrection.”
Freya didn’t want to pity her. It wasn’t fair to criticize another’s situation. However, Lucilla’s insistence that she should remain silent about her past was not helping her.
Marco’s hand shot out and snatched her wrist. He tut-tutted. “A jenjin is not permitted to touch a sleeping man in the Volta. Remember?”
She swallowed hard. “Yes, sir. But you’re so tempting.” She flirted with him, offering him a swift smile.
He released her and she moved away from him. He shot a glance in her direction and his dazzling eyes were wide awake. “I’ve received several reports from Lalita about your attitude and behavior since you arrived in the Volta.”
Freya’s throat constricted further. “Is there something you wish to discuss, sir?”
“A few issues have been brought to my attention. Lalita has been generous with you, allowing you some leeway. But this week, she decided you need to be reminded of certain rules. She has requested that I punish you.”
“Punish me?” Freya sat up. “Now?”
“I am rested.” He inhaled deeply through his nose. “It would seem the best time to deal with discipline.”
“Oh.” She hung her chin and glanced over to where he’d abandoned his clothes, hoping that the comms device might emit a bleep and send him back to work. It didn’t.
Marco eased himself off the bed and started to dress. Having him attired in his smart uniform reestablished his status. No longer her bedfellow, he was her disciplinarian once again.
“Freya. What are you doing on the bed still?” He straightened his collar.
She moved her trembling limbs, dragging them down onto the floor and there she knelt. What had Lalita told him?
He picked up a tablet and tapped the flexible screen, reading off the list sent by Lalita.
“Running twice—”
Her head jerked up. “I was—”
“Late for a lesson. Don’t interrupt me,” he said sharply. “Giggling. A lot of disrespectful giggling. What is it with humans and their need for humor?” He shook his head. “Don’t look at me, Freya. Head down, bottom up.”
She lowered her head and resumed the position.
“Answering back. Questioning decisions. Disregarding your selected clothes?”
“Might I say wearing just a thong is not clothing, it’s underwear. I felt bare.”
“I’d hoped you’d overcome your difficulties with nudity. I think we can address that issue today as well as your punishment.”
Heavens above, what had he planned?
He opened a drawer and fetched a few items, placing them on a nearby cabinet, then he blocked her view so she couldn’t see what he had picked. “I want to punish your bottom. By the time I’ve finis
hed spanking your ass, it will be bright red. Then, I shall insert a butt plug and you will walk naked to Lalita’s chamber and present your spanked bottom for her to inspect.”
“What!” she screeched. “That’s so—”
“A very hard spanking if you continue to answer back.” He settled himself in a low chair. “You will approach me. Remember the correct protocol for this is to crawl with your head lowered. Then ask to lie on my lap.”
Her mouth continued to open and shut, unable to find a suitable riposte to his instructions that wouldn’t involve her bottom paying the price. She decided to change tactics. Marco liked to discipline, it was part of his natural dominance, but what if she made herself so desirable, he would turn the spanking into something she might actually enjoy? Was that possible? To take pleasure in pain?
She crawled toward him, swaying her hips from side to side, and pretended she was an elegant feline stalking its prey.
He coughed. “Freya. What are you doing?” he asked softly.
She lifted her chin and batted her eyelids at him. “Obeying you, sir.”
“It won’t work. I know what you’re up to.”
It was still worth a try. “Please, sir, may I lie across your lap,” she said with as much seduction as she could muster.
He sighed as she draped her body over his knees, lifting up her bottom and dangling her head and legs on either side.
There was a long pause. “What should you be saying?” He drummed his fingers on one of her thighs and her scalp tingled in unison.
“Please, sir. Spank my disobedient bottom.” She couldn’t believe she just asked a grown man to spank her. The request made her feel childish and silly, but at the same time, she wanted him to touch and caress her, satisfy the awakening arousal.
This was the third time since she’d arrived on Tagra that a man had smacked her bare bottom and this time, she had to lie still and count the blows—protocol meant he had to report the exact number to Lalita.