Master of Her World

by Lily Harlem

  “I wish to ask you a question,” Gast said. “And I insist upon an honest answer.”

  “Of course. I will always tell you the truth, Sir.” She kept her eyes closed, enjoying the relaxation that had washed over her.

  “That pleases me. I wish only for the truth from you.”

  He was silent and she wondered if she should prompt him for the question but decided against it.

  “When your name came up in the register to come to Roun as a slave, did you have a choice?” he asked. “Did your parents allow you to make the decision or was it forced upon you?”

  “No, it wasn’t forced upon me,” she said quickly, remembering the relief on their faces when she’d been picked. “Not at all. My parents are intelligent people and they love me dearly, but they knew Roun was my only hope for a healthy and long life.”

  “Even though you’d be a slave, bound to do the bidding of another for the rest of your days?”

  “It seems a small price to pay for the gift of your semen.”

  “Would you not wish to take the synthetic semen? Live in a different way here on Roun? There has been talk in some circles of that happening for Zoid women.” He shifted on the bed and it creaked.

  She wondered if he was looking at her now, but kept her eyes closed, lost in her own little world and enjoying the deep timbre of her master’s voice.

  “No. This is the life I chose. The synthetic stuff, it doesn’t make me feel the same way you do… and…”

  “And… go on.”

  “I’d be scared, Sir. How would I fit in here? I have nothing except the clothes I stand in. Like all women from Zoid I have little in the way of skills; concentrating with low blood oxygen levels wasn’t easy. Only the most privileged children on Zoid are given smog-free air to breathe when studying. Those expected to go on to be scientists and have ideas to save Zoid.” She sighed again. “But it’s beyond saving.”

  “That’s without doubt.” He paused. “Look at me, slave.”

  She opened her eyes.

  He was sitting on the edge of the bed, fingers curled around the blanket, staring at her. “So,” he said, his thick eyebrows pulled low, “you want to be here? With me?”

  “Yes, Sir, very much. It’s my dream come true.”

  “It is?” He raised his eyebrows.

  “Yes. You’re a kind master, a handsome master with lots of strong semen. Your dome is beautiful, the views, the birds, the suns. I feel very fortunate.”

  He nodded slowly. “And you enjoy your medication?”

  “Yes, Sir. If it pleases you, that is?”

  “Of course it pleases me, medicating you is pleasurable for me; if it wasn’t, my cock wouldn’t get hard for you.”

  “Oh, I didn’t know that.”

  “You have a lot to learn.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “And I will teach you in many ways.”

  “Like the clamps, Sir.”

  “Yes, and the flogger and my hand.” He held up his palm, the one he’d injured. “Come here.”

  She hesitated.

  “Now.”

  “Yes, Sir.” She quickly stood, clasping her hands before her.

  “I wish to check the poppy balm has worked.” He flexed and unflexed his fingers as his attention dipped to her breasts. “If not I will apply more so I’m healed by morning. Tomorrow I have much to do.”

  “Yes, Sir.” She curled her toes on the hard floor. How was he going to test the health of his hand?

  “Lay yourself over my knee.” He straightened and drew his legs together.

  Briella stayed rooted to the spot. Did he really want her draped over his lap? Her breasts against his thighs, her belly squashed against his leg?

  He tipped his head. “If you’re a good slave, I will allow you to ask me one question. I can see that many are swirling in that pretty head of yours.”

  “Yes, Sir.” One question? She stepped up to him, then gingerly, not wanting to hurt him, settled face down on his lap.

  “I won’t break,” he muttered, with a tinge of impatience. He pressed between her shoulders, pinning her to the bed, and dragged her hips so that she was flush with his body.

  Gasping at the sudden swift movement, she gripped the covers and pressed her cheek onto the sheet.

  “Ah, such a sweet ass,” he said, skimming his hand over both buttocks.

  She was still tender from the flogger but she could easily tolerate him touching her there now.

  “You pinked up quickly when I flogged you for the enforcers.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “But now I’m going to pink you up for me. To see if my hand copes with spanking you, slave.”

  “Yes, Sir. As you wish.”

  “I do wish.” He stroked up to her hairline then down her back to her thighs, then behind her knees. He tickled and caressed, the hard calluses on his palms scratching her slightly.

  She writhed, enjoying his touch and the adoration he seemed to put into each movement.

  Suddenly it hit; one hard, resounding slap on her right buttock.

  She cried out as the pain bloomed over her skin, then jerked, trying to get away from it. The sting followed.

  “No, keep still.” He gathered her hair in his free hand and tugged.

  She stilled as her scalp complained. “Oh, Sir…”

  “I wish to see my handprint come alive.”

  She bit on her bottom lip. Did all masters on Roun wish for this? She wasn’t sure. Maybe that should be her question.

  He was rubbing her buttock again, exactly where he’d hit. “Here it comes. My handprint on you. Beautiful.”

  “Does that mean your hand is well, Sir?”

  “I believe it does.” He gripped her hair tighter. “Keep still. One more.”

  She screwed up her eyes and tensed her butt cheeks.

  “No, relax. Don’t do that.”

  “Sorry, Sir.”

  It took great effort to release the tension in her buttocks. But as soon as she did he struck her again.

  She’d been aware of the air shifting around her opposite buttock a moment before a fire-like slap hit down. And when it did, the heat burned against her nerve endings. He’d put solid muscle behind the slap.

  “Mmm…” Gast said, pulling her a little closer. His cock was hard against her and his body as warm as hers. “There we go. Good girl.”

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  He chuckled. “You are thanking me for a spank?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Good, that means you will get more of them.” He chuckled again. “You obviously like it.”

  She swallowed tightly. She wasn’t sure how many spankings she really wanted, or if she liked it. But his hand was better than the flogger.

  But lying here, she was so open to him, somehow more vulnerable tipped over his lap like this, with her ass in the air for his enjoyment, than when she was on the cross.

  What did she look like to him? A slim girl with moon-white buttocks squirming on his thick lap?

  He appeared in no rush to release her and continued to caress her body, paying particular attention to her patches of smarting skin as though admiring his handiwork. He slipped his finger through the cleft of her buttocks, sliding to her anus and hovering there for a moment.

  She held her breath and squeezed the sheets tighter.

  “This will be soon,” he said, pressing very gently at the center of her pucker.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “The enforcers will check that I have medicated you here.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “And if it hasn’t happened, they will do it.”

  “I don’t want that, Sir,” she said quickly. “Really I don’t.” The thought of the mean enforcer driving his way into her tender hole sent a shiver of fear up her spine. She knew he wouldn’t be considerate or gentle, he’d just take her fast and hard, get the job done.

  “Shh…” He carefully pulled her upright and maneuvered her onto his lap.r />
  “You said you wanted the truth from me, Sir.” She looked into his eyes.

  “Yes, slave, always.”

  “I’m afraid of it, Sir.”

  “Of the enforcer?”

  “Yes, I do not want him to do it. And also…”

  “Go on.”

  “I am afraid it will hurt no matter who medicates me there.” She glanced away.

  “I understand your fear. But you needn’t be worried. I will make it good for you.” He stroked her hair back from her face and angled her jaw so she was looking at him again. “Ensuring my slaves aren’t harmed is my top priority.”

  “Thank you, Sir.” Her heart swelled with gratitude, even as her ass stung as it pressed on his thighs. She knew he’d make it right and do it with consideration. It would hurt, she had no doubt about it, she’d heard many stories from the girls at the camp. But with Gast, she wouldn’t be so scared. “May I have my question now?”

  “Yes, slave, go ahead.”

  “I’m not your first slave, am I?”

  He glanced away, pulling his attention from her face. His lips pressed together into a thin tight line.

  “I’m sorry, Sir. I’ve overstepped the line.” She wanted to curl up, make herself invisible. A dart of pain had crossed his beautiful eyes and she hated that her words had put it there.

  “You do not need to apologize. None of it is your fault.”

  “No, but…”

  He pressed his index finger over her lips to silence her. “Yes. I had another slave, once. Her name was Skylar.” He tipped his head, his long hair falling over his shoulder. “I know you have more questions, because it’s unusual for a master of Roun to have had more than one slave.”

  She nodded, just a little. Questions were backing up in her mind.

  “But all you really need to know is that she’s still alive. That her leaving was not of my doing.”

  “Okay, Sir. I understand, Sir.” She itched to touch his hair again. Comfort him. Clearly Skylar leaving had hurt his heart.

  His heart?

  Had he loved her?

  “She was well medicated with me, and told me she was happy here.” He stood, resting Briella onto her feet. “But that’s enough of the past. Now we have our future to think of.”

  She could resist no more and took the ends of a thick strand of his hair between her fingers. “Yes, Sir. A future I’m looking forward to, with you.”

  He watched for a moment, as she fanned the thick, dark strands between her thumb and index finger, then, “Sleep now, slave. In your bed.”

  He gave her a final, swift hard slap on her right ass cheek.

  She gasped and released his hair. The sting spread over her flesh as her buttock wobbled. “Yes, Sir.” It wasn’t unpleasant, the heat of his hand, and she allowed the warmth to settle in her belly, her nipples, and her clitoris as she curled up on her low bed once more.

  Chapter Nine

  “Open up, slave.”

  Briella took a second to remember where she was, then her master’s hand at her jaw and the scent of his flesh brought her right back to the present.

  He squeezed her cheeks slightly, forcing her mouth wide as she blinked to the daylight.

  He was right in front of her, his erect cock a few inches from her mouth. He was working it in his fist, the flared, rouged head bobbing in time with his movements.

  A giddy sense of excitement went through her.

  What a way to start the day.

  “Take me,” he said, his voice low and gritty with sleep. “Take me the way you did yesterday, into your mouth. Suck me, take my semen down your throat.”

  He didn’t wait for her to respond, simply slid his cock over her tongue as he wrapped his other hand around the nape of her neck, pulling her to meet him. He kept on going, so far, so deep, until he touched the back of her throat.

  Hugging him with her tongue, she exerted a gentle suction.

  She stared up at him, enjoying the blissful expression that washed over his face.

  “Oh, slave, that’s so good.”

  Her clitoris was tingling, as were her nipples.

  The sheet was gone and she lay naked on the bed with him kneeling at her side. The air was cool but her skin hot and goose-bumped. She tugged her nipples, wanting the erotic feelings to grow, then slid to her clitoris and rubbed the hard little bundle of nerves, the way the pad did when it was in place.

  Would he tell her off? For touching herself? He had done before. But she considered it worth the risk. Something inside of her, vibrant and demanding, searing through her blood, made the act worth the gamble.

  Withdrawing, he sighed, then slid back in with a moan.

  She kept on sucking him, not so much to tug his delicate cockhead, but enough so he’d feel her mouth wrapped around his shaft.

  The feelings in her clitoris were multiplying. Her heart was thundering in her chest. Still she looked up at him, marveling at his beauty. The way his tight abdominal muscles looked from this angle. How his body hair was a little damp with sweat. The acute angles of his face as he concentrated on the task at hand.

  He opened his eyes and stared down at her, his lids heavy and his lashes creating shadows on his cheeks. His attention was caught by her shifting shoulder and his gaze went to between her legs.

  Still she held him in her mouth, massaging him with her tongue, reveling in the first salty drip of semen she could taste.

  “Yes, yes…” he said. “Like that, give yourself over to the erotic pleasure as I spill my semen into you.”

  Relief washed through her. He didn’t mind her touching her clitoris while he was medicating her. She hadn’t broken any of his rules; rules she was still learning.

  His shaft thickened. The pressure grew in her pelvis.

  A slick of dampness leaked from her pussy.

  She sped up, rubbing her clitoris over and over. Her toes curled. Her cheeks bulged with the size of his cock in her mouth.

  The pressure—the wonderful, boiling, satisfying pressure—was about to overspill.

  “Now, swallow, slave, swallow.”

  Gast’s cock pulsed in her mouth. She guzzled hungrily and allowed the burst of ecstasy to shoot from her clitoris and around her body. Groaning around his cock, she closed her eyes, lost to sensation, lost to everything except the wonder of having her master making her feel so alive.

  “Yes, yes, yes…” he hissed, pumping in and out of her mouth. “Yes, that’s it!”

  His jets of semen seemed never ending and she took it all, the thick fluid slipping down her throat in luxurious waves of medication. Tightening his fingers on the back of her neck, he eventually pulled out. He dropped down so he was face level with her.

  “Master,” she gasped, lifting her fingers from her clit. Her pussy was thudding the way her pulse was in her ears.

  “Slave.” His eyes were a little glazed, his mouth slack.

  She smiled, joy washing through her.

  Suddenly he was kissing her. His tongue was stroking hers and his breaths were hard on her cheek. His chin was sharp with bristles and felt so beautifully masculine scraping against hers.

  Feeling bold, she reached for him, clung to his wide, hard shoulders, and enjoyed both the kiss and waking with air rushing into her lungs.

  On and on he kissed her. Until she was giddy with it. Until she wondered if they’d actually do anything else all day.

  Finally he broke away. Smoothing his hand over her hair, he studied her eyes. “Today,” he said. “I’d like you to plant your seeds.”

  Had she heard him right? After the trouble she’d been in the day before, was he really going to allow her to go along with her illegal plan?

  “Master?” she said, searching for signs that he was tricking her with his words, setting up a trap for her to fall into where more punishment would be needed.

  “You heard me,” he said, the right side of his mouth twitching into a half smile. “Plant your seeds. What’s the point of having them he
re if they never come to life?”

  “Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.” She couldn’t keep the excitement from her voice. To see those seeds grow, bloom, would be a dream come true and the first time she’d ever bear witness to a real flower and not one from a book or old-fashioned photograph.

  Suddenly he stood and turned.

  Briella drew her legs up, creasing the sheet, and admired his naked behind. Her master truly was incredible from all angles, and not just that, he was kind and generous, too.

  * * *

  After she’d ensured Gast had been fed, and then eaten his leftovers, Briella retrieved the seeds from the bedside table.

  Wearing just her short skirt, she wandered into the heat of the suns. For a moment she paused at the edge of the outcrop of land her master had built his home on. The view was spectacular and she was sure she’d never tire of it. The sky today was a mixture of lilacs and pinks with a few streaks of dark citrus orange hovering over the mountain tips.

  An unusual caw caw sound came from her left. Turning, she saw it was the bird she’d spotted the day before.

  “Hello,” she said, stepping toward it.

  In an instant it took to the air, its glossy feathers catching in the sunlight the way a slick of oil would. A shard of disappointment tugged at her. Briella would have loved to get closer, to maybe pet the creature. But it seemed birds were untrusting of women from Zoid and she’d have to make do with admiring it from afar.

  Gast was in his work area at the front of the dome. With his hand well and truly repaired—as he’d proven the night before—he was sanding a long piece of wood.

  He alone was a particularly pleasant view. His muscles danced beneath the surface of his tan skin as he crafted the timber smooth. He was hot too, the long strands of hair on his back stuck in tiny curves against his flesh.

  Briella felt her heart speed up just from looking at him. A strange swelling sensation in her chest made her breathe deeply. She wasn’t sure what it was but it felt more than physical. It was a tug, a longing, a need for him to be close.

  Turning away, seeds clasped in her hand, she was aware of a smile stretching her lips. She didn’t recall it arriving. It simply was.