Master of Her World

by Lily Harlem

  “In, this way,” he said, opening the front door.

  She followed him inside, her boots tapping on the hard floor.

  “Pay attention as I show you around.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  He turned and unfastened the lead, hung it on a small silver hook by the door.

  “This is the eating area.” He walked into one of the rooms that had amazing views. It was sparse, clean, functional. A refrigerator with the usual drone entrance porthole stood by the sink—all food in Roun was delivered weekly by drone, the government providing equal sustenance to all inhabitants.

  “Here,” Gast said, walking to the far corner. “You’ll find your white cross. In each room there is one.”

  “Yes, Sir, of course, Sir.”

  “And you know what they are for?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “So tell me.” He folded his arms as he studied her.

  “It’s where I must stand, Sir. If I have completed my duties and have taken my medication, I will stand there until you require me to do something else.”

  “Yes, that’s correct. And you will face the wall, not the room. I don’t want to be stared at constantly.”

  “As you wish, Sir.” She clasped her hands and cast her eyes downward.

  “That is as I wish.” He let his colossal arms hang at his sides again. “Come, this way.”

  Again she followed him.

  He showed her the seating area, a beautiful room set with candles in alcoves built into the wall and a giant blue sofa with cushions she could imagine letting her body melt into.

  “Your cross.” He indicated to the white painted cross in the far corner. “Your place in this room.”

  “Yes, Sir.” She hid her disappointment. The thought of lounging on the sofa, staring out at the suns and the mountains was heavenly. She could stretch her limbs, yawn, sleep, daydream…

  But she wasn’t worthy of any of that. The gift of breathing was all she was owed here. As a Zoid woman, that was the most she could hope for.

  He turned and left the room.

  She followed.

  “Sanitation room with shower fall.” He indicated a door on the right. “And in here,” he paused and faced her, “is where we will sleep.”

  She raised her eyebrows.

  We?

  “I have shocked you?”

  “No, Sir. It is whatever you wish, Sir.”

  “It’s out of necessity. I built this dome for myself. Never expecting to share my life with anyone, it has only one sleeping area. But the king picked me to be a master, to help save the women of Zoid, and so it becomes a situation where I must share my dome.”

  “I’m sorry, Sir.” She looked at the floor.

  “Don’t be sorry. I felt, once upon a time, to be honored to have been picked by my king for this duty.”

  “Once upon a time…?” She gasped. “I’m sorry, Sir. I didn’t mean to speak out of turn. It just…” She couldn’t continue.

  He stepped close, so close she could smell him; heat and man, musk and leather.

  He lowered his face, his nose almost touching hers. “Be careful.”

  “Yes, Sir. Forgive me, Sir. I beg you.”

  A tendon flexed in his jaw and he narrowed his eyes.

  She closed hers, not able to look at her master now that she’d upset him.

  Suddenly his body heat disappeared. “Follow me,” he said.

  She opened her eyes, spotted his retreating back. Hurriedly, she stepped into the sleeping area.

  It took her focus a moment to adjust as it was dark and shadowed. There was no window in this room but a large oil lamp glowed amber in the corner. A huge bed was set against a stone wall, next to it a set of drawers. Beside that a white cross was drawn on the floor and beside a small, low cot with a single pillow and thin cover.

  She guessed that was her bed.

  But her attention didn’t linger long, because beside the cot was a wooden upright cross; star-shaped, it had leather harnesses at each end and was the perfect size for a person to be strapped to, arms and legs spread.

  “Sit on the bed,” Gast instructed.

  “Yes, Sir.” She was drawn from her study of the cross. “Er, which bed?”

  “This one. Mine.” He indicated the end.

  “Of course, Sir. As you wish.” She hurried to where he’d gestured, sat and placed her hands on her lap.

  He moved in front of her and cupped her chin in his palm, raised her face to his. “I’m sure they’ve told you that you’ll be medicated by me three times a day.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “And it’s up to me how I deliver the semen.” He paused and stroked his thumb over her lips. “In your mouth, your pussy, or your ass, it works the same; each delivery will give you the gift of breathing.”

  “Yes, Sir. That’s what I’ve been told.”

  He released her face, set the tools that hung on his belt to one side, then undid his buckle. “You’ll receive your first dose now.”

  “Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

  His belt hung limply from his pants as he released the buttons, each one spreading the yawn of material wider around his straining cock.

  Briella had never seen a penis before. She’d heard all about their healing powers, their almost magical qualities, and pictures had been pinned on boards at training camp. But this was her first time up close and personal.

  Her heart rate rocketed as nervous excitement fizzed through her body. Was he going to deliver her first dose in her pussy? Her ass? Although she had no experience of any of those entry points, she knew she’d have to get used to them all. But right now she just wanted that elusive sensation of being able to breathe deeply. To allow air to sink to the base of her lungs, for her diaphragm to expand and contract and pull into her body what she needed most.

  He shoved at his leather pants until they bunched at his thighs. He did the same with the tight undergarment he wore and his cock sprang free.

  It was all Briella could do not to gasp in shock.

  It was huge. Much bigger than she’d been told or ever imagined. The huge rounded head was glossy and deep red, the shaft long as well as wide and covered in thick twisting veins. It rose from a mass of black hair that traveled up to his navel.

  He took hold of it and stroked root to tip.

  She glanced up at his face. He was watching her closely. Quickly she dropped her gaze.

  He stroked his cock again, quicker this time. It seemed to bob and twitch in his grip.

  “Open your mouth,” he instructed.

  She stretched her jaw wide.

  He stepped in close, real close, so that the tip was almost touching her lower lip.

  “Keep still. Very still.” He sounded a little breathless.

  He was working his cock faster now, rubbing it in his fist. The sound of flesh on flesh, the friction of his actions, sang around the room.

  The slit at the end of his cock widened, a gleaming drip of moisture glinted in the light of the lamp.

  Briella squirmed; a strange tugging sensation was pulling between her legs. Heat had built there too. Watching her master prepare his semen was fascinating, exciting, thrilling and she’d never expected to feel so tingly and alive before the medication was even delivered.

  “Open,” he said harshly. “Keep your mouth open.”

  She realized that her lips had drawn together and quickly widened them again.

  “It’s here…” he said, his voice strained. “Take it, slave. Take it all. Every drop.”

  He pressed the tip of his cock against her lips. He didn’t shove it into her mouth, just rested it there as semen shot onto her tongue.

  “Ah, great stars above,” he groaned. “Yes, drink it up, slave.”

  Briella didn’t need telling twice. She swallowed greedily, taking each precious drip of semen Gast gave her. On and on it came, spurt after thick spurt. She swallowed it all, wanting to work his cock more, see if she could tempt additional precio
us fluid out. But it was not her place to touch him without permission.

  “That’s it, that’s your first dose,” he said, pulling back.

  Words tumbled into her brain; she wanted to object, tell him to stay right there. To keep spilling semen into her mouth.

  But already she could feel the healing effects. It was as if her airways had been quadrupled in size. Cool air was flowing into them, journeying to the very base of her lungs.

  He pulled up his undergarment and pants, refastened them, and buckled his belt.

  “How do you feel?” he asked.

  She sucked in a breath and looked up at him. His cheeks were a little flushed and he was gathering his own breaths quickly.

  “I feel… clear.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Go on.”

  “As though a pipe has swept into my chest, cleaning as it went, sweeping away dust and cobwebs.”

  The right side of his mouth twitched, almost into a smile. “Really?”

  “Yes, the soot of Zoid, the carbon and pollution, it’s been brushed away.”

  “That pleases me to hear.”

  “I want to please you, Sir.”

  “Stand.” He hooked his hands beneath her arms and pulled her up. He brushed his left knuckles over her nipple. It was hard and tight, not in its usual soft state.

  She looked into his eyes, hoping he wouldn’t berate her for it. But she needed to see if he was speaking the truth.

  “We, the men here,” he said, “take each breath for granted until the last. I believe it’s our duty to the galaxy to sustain life however that may have to come about. While you are here in my dome, you will always be sustained, do not doubt that.”

  “Thank you, you’ve made me very happy already, Sir.”

  “I’m just stating facts.” He released her and stepped away. “And now, as the government has mandated, I must make you aware of your punishments if you are disobedient.”

  She swallowed and the lingering taste of his semen slithered down her throat. “Yes, Sir.”

  “Stand by the wooden cross.”

  Of course. She’d always known this would happen. It had been spoken of. Only she’d thought, hoped, it was an unsubstantiated rumor, and that perhaps it wouldn’t be true.

  But it was.

  With her heart plummeting and her new breaths quickening, Briella walked up to the cross and stood facing it.

  Gast was quickly behind her. He reached for her arms, harnessed them to the top slats. Then stooped and did the same to her ankles with the base slats.

  With one quick movement her short skirt was removed, exposing her bare buttocks.

  She closed her eyes, clenched her fists so hard her fingernails dug into her palms. It would be over soon, this punishment. She had to take it, had to be brave. It was what her master wanted from her. It was as agreed between her king and his.

  Where he’d tugged her skirt away, an imprint of tension at her waist had been left. He’d snapped the skirt off; she hoped it would still be wearable. The clothing items she’d arrived in were her only possessions.

  He huffed out a breath as he smoothed his palm over her buttocks.

  She pressed her cheek against the top of her right arm. Her limbs were stretched, extended; she was so exposed, so vulnerable.

  He had her.

  She was his to do with as he pleased.

  “You’re a fine specimen of your species,” he said, his voice low and murmuring.

  She wasn’t sure if he’d required a response but she mumbled, “Thank you, Sir.”

  Suddenly something hit her—something hard and fierce and sharp that seemed to possess a thousand fingers.

  She cried out and twisted, desperate to see the implement that had raged fire on her buttocks.

  It was a flogger. Flame red, it hung loose and limp in his hand as though it hadn’t just flown through the air and licked wild heat over her skin.

  “Keep still,” he said, his voice stern. He awakened the flogger by flicking the thin, mean strands against his thigh. The sharp snap splintered through her brain.

  She had no damn choice but to keep still. He’d harnessed her to the cross. She was going nowhere.

  Again the flogger lashed over her skin.

  She bucked against the wood, her mound coming into contact with the joins of the wooden slats. Biting down on her bottom lip, she held in the shriek that had welled in her newly cleared lungs.

  Fuck. That had really hurt.

  Again she was hit.

  Then again.

  Again.

  She closed her eyes, groaned long and low. Screaming and crying would get her nowhere. She had to take a punishment as well as she could take her treatment. Without complaint, without protest.

  That was the deal.

  But she hoped punishments would be few and far between.

  As the burn extended over her skin, spreading from her poor abused buttocks, she vowed not to upset her master. She’d learn from this. She’d do her best to always obey. To be a good slave, worthy of his medication.

  She thought of what she looked like to him. Hanging there, wrists and ankles shackled, and legs spread. Her ass was bright red; she didn’t need to see it to know it. The breath in her lungs was expelled with each thwack.

  Finally the lashes stopped. Cool air basted her hot flesh. She slumped, exhausted, her body not her own. Happy to let blackness wash over her, she allowed her head to droop, the effort of keeping it up too much.

  “Hey, I’ve got you.”

  Strong hands slid over her body.

  Was she dreaming?

  Carefully, she was lifted from the cross. She found herself horizontal, her head on a soft pillow and a light blanket covering her.

  She breathed deep, the unfamiliar scent of orange rocks and Gast’s skin drifting into her nostrils.

  “Sleep now.” A gentle hand stroked over her crown. “Sleep now that it’s over.”

  She stayed locked in her world of pain. Her thoughts were jumbled. Images tumbled through her mind, disjointed and muddled.

  Where was she?

  What had happened?

  She could finally breathe.

  Chapter Three

  “Slave, wake up.”

  Briella twisted on the bed then gasped as her painful behind rubbed on the sheets.

  “Now. Open your eyes. Stand. They’re here.”

  She blinked, disoriented as to where she was. Then she saw her new master pulling on his trousers and doing up his belt buckle. “Yes, Sir,” she murmured, her throat dry and her chest tight.

  Who was here?

  “I need you up and in the eating room. On your white cross.” He clapped. “Now!”

  “Yes, yes, Sir.” She shoved at the covers of her low cot and stood. Her legs were a little shaky and for a moment the world spun. She was short on air; the effect of the semen the night before had worn off.

  But she couldn’t let her master down.

  He thrust her tiny skirt at her. “Be quick or I will thrash you again with the flogger.”

  “Yes, Sir. As you wish, Sir.” She wrapped and fastened her skirt into position, then stumbled from the room. Using the wall for support, she made her way down the narrow hallway.

  As she reached the eating room, she was aware of Gast’s arm around her waist, supporting her, urging her forward.

  She made it to the cross as a several loud bangs rattled around the dome.

  “Stand still and submissive,” he said against her ear, his breath hot and shivering over her scalp. “Or we will both be punished by the enforcers.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  He was gone.

  Voices.

  In the hallway.

  Then behind her.

  “She is in position?”

  “Yes, of course.” Gast’s voice.

  Briella clasped her hands behind her back and set her shoulders down. It was the way she’d been shown at the training camp. She also cast her gaze to the floor and kept her
feet hip width apart.

  Footsteps behind her.

  “She is behaving?”

  “Yes. No altercations thus far.” Gast was behind whoever else had spoken, his deep voice a fraction farther away.

  Briella breathed in as deep as she could, wishing she had a pill to take, or that Gast had medicated her as soon as she’d woken.

  “And you have shown her the punishment she’ll endure if she steps out of line.”

  “Of course,” Gast said.

  Cool air fluttered over her hot ass cheeks. Her skirt had been raised.

  “Well and truly thrashed,” Gast said. “As you can see.”

  “Yes, excellent.”

  Her skirt fell into position again. Briella wondered who and how many gazes had observed her beaten red buttocks. Was there just one enforcer or more? It had sounded like several footsteps entering the room.

  “And she has been medicated?” A different voice. So there was more than one of them.

  “Yes, naturally. Though she is due more.” Gast appeared to be holding his patience. “As soon as you are done here.”

  “We are almost done.”

  Silence.

  “What more do you need?” Gast asked.

  “Where is she sleeping?”

  “On the floor.”

  “In the same room you sleep?”

  “It’s the only place.”

  “It’s breaking the rules.”

  “It’s how it has to be. You can see that my dome is not big.”

  “This eating room would be adequate for her to sleep in.”

  “If that’s what you prefer, I will move her cot in here at night.”

  “Yes. That’s what we’d call sticking to the rules.”

  “Consider it done.”

  “It had better be.” The enforcer’s voice lowered. “You wouldn’t like to lose this one, too, would you?”

  This one too?

  Briella’s chest was rising and falling rapidly. She stared down at her bare feet.

  Had Gast had another woman from Zoid? And if so, what had happened to her? Had he thrashed her too much? Forgotten to medicate her?

  A shiver snaked up her spine and her teeth clattered. She held in a small whimper.

  “As you can see,” Gast said. “I really should get to the task of medicating my slave.”