“You are with me,” he repeated, continuing to hold her by the back of the neck until she felt calm enough to step away.
“Thanks. Sorry about that. Master,” she quickly added.
“I take it this club is not a replica of your Earth?”
“Is it supposed to be? Huh. No. Let’s just say, it might be some people’s experience, but it’s not my experience of Earth. I’m sorta vanilla, Master.”
He cocked his head to the side as he looked at her and she fleetingly wondered how her collar had translated her words. “No. No, I can see that now.”
Before she could ask him what he saw, a hostess approached and offered to conduct her master around the premises. Though never acknowledged by the hostess, she stuck close to her master’s side. Several other club members introduced themselves to him as the tour progressed. These people were much more relaxed around her master than people normally were. She wondered if that was because he wasn’t wearing his ribbon-y insignia thing.
These same people were pointedly unpleasant to her, though. Only after many glares did she realize she probably should be following behind her master, not glued to his side. But since he hadn’t said anything, she didn’t change her position.
One of the rooms they passed was doused in darkness. From within she heard harsh breathing mixed with panted exhortations and punctuated by the slap of flesh against flesh. Pretty obvious what was happening in there.
The last room the hostess ushered them into she announced as their destination. While the hostess handed them over to a sneering male with dusty brown hair and what looked like a frilly-fronted brown tuxedo, she glanced at the décor. It probably passed for Earth’s French Provincial on this planet. A circle of twenty oversized white-upholstered chairs occupied the center of the space.
The man explained that this would be where the new members and their slaves were introduced. He was called Ballaj and she gathered he was the head of this club, or the master of ceremonies or something. She just wanted to stay as far away as possible from him and his hungry eyes.
Her master settled into one of the chairs and motioned to her. “Sit.” She instantly dropped to her knees at his feet. He looked taken aback at her alacrity. She didn’t know why. She’d promised to be the perfect slave. Yes, all right, she kept forgetting about the two-steps-behind deal. But she could sit with the best of them.
She glanced up at his face and was rewarded with a swift, conspiratorial wink and a grin she could have basked in for days. Oh, he was gorgeous. It was ridiculous how his approval warmed her heart.
One by one the other new members entered and slowly the circle filled, masters in chairs and slaves kneeling on the carpeted floor. At least they had carpet. Not that some of them looked like they cared what they knelt on. Did she have that embarrassing expression of adoration on her face when she looked at her master? Probably. But hers deserved it. These others needed to buy their slaves some clothing.
When everyone was present, Ballaj arranged himself in the final chair and began to speak. At first she tried to ignore him. Then he said something about whipping and she realized she should have been paying attention.
“Thus, to symbolize your joining us, each of your slaves will be disciplined by me. Then one of you will have the honor of executing a bit of performance art.”
Inwardly she groaned at Ballaj’s words. She hadn’t liked that Lagi from the moment she’d set eyes on him. All his talk about whips and discipline…She should have known he’d never send them someplace good. If only they could go back to her master’s flat. If only she could go home. If only this were a dream and she could wake up. Now. Now!
CHAPTER SIX
Dzer-Jin frowned to himself and wondered if they could leave now. It was an ungrateful thought. Lagi had paid for his membership in this club as a gift. He could hardly walk out on his first meeting without insulting his friend. But this club was not precisely what he had expected and, more to the point, his pet was not having any fun.
Shoulders hunched up to her ears, her body unnaturally stiff, she pressed against his leg and flinched every so often. No, definitely not having any fun. With the state her back had been in, he couldn’t blame her.
He reached down to stroke her hair. She leaned into his touch hard, as if desperate for his comfort. He wondered how much of that was acting and how much was real.
That normally wasn’t a concern. You broke your slave until it lived to serve you. Until it yearned for any attention you gave it, including punishments so severe its consciousness would retreat into a hazy endorphin high. That was a proper reward for a good, submissive slave.
But this one rejected that dynamic. She’d only ceded temporary control. Her thoughts were still her own. To have such a creature sitting at his feet was decidedly odd. And, he had to admit, exciting. Her reactions were not entirely predictable. Not like the other slaves here.
He surveyed the gathering. Almost all the Tellurians were female and naked, and every one of them wore the same expression on their face, a sort of eager devotion mixed with the anxiety to please. No question they’d do as told. His pet barely remembered to call him “master.”
The announcement of another new member’s name broke into his thoughts. Dzer-Jin watched as the man named ordered his slave to stand. He was portly, with antennae on his crown and bristles on his face, while she was tall, fair, and wore nothing but her collar. Likely twice as much blood in him as in her. The assassin in Dzer-Jin thought of three different ways to kill them before he stopped himself.
On her master’s order, the fair slave walked to Ballaj’s chair. She moved gracefully, quick and light on her feet, but her head remained always bowed. When she reached Ballaj, she stopped and presented herself in front of him.
“You know why you are here?”
She nodded, eyes lowered. “Please correct me, Master.”
Ballaj bent her over his lap so her bright yellow hair touched the floor and her arse stuck high in the air. One of the night’s assistants brought a paddle, of the sort Dzer-Jin thought were normally used to tenderize meat, and Ballaj made her kiss the broad plank before he began to spank her with it.
Each strike cracked sharply upon her pale skin, bringing a blush that speedily burgeoned into a wondrous red. Raw, purpling bruises like rare blossoms would soon form, stark upon that white hide. The blonde squirmed and screamed. Upon Ballaj’s orders, she fought through her sobs to form broken words, describing the stinging, burning torment she felt. Her tears flowed freely, yet she also pleaded for more, begging to be smacked harder.
Both Dzer-Jin’s hands sought the ornate wooden arms of his chair. Their raised carvings jabbed his palms while the skin of his knuckles turned white. Dark thoughts that normally concentrated on cataloguing threats and responses now sharpened their focus on the pale skin displayed before him. Because his pet had pale skin like that.
He’d seen it when he worked on her back. Felt it. Firm. Tender. Delicate. He could imagine how her skin would turn a similar red beneath his punishing hand. How hot to the touch her smacked flesh would feel. How she might struggle and kick, draped over his lap, since she wasn’t tamed yet. But that effort would just grind her deliciously against him and she would stay his captive, unable to get away, dependent upon him for mercy or pleasure.
She would cry prettily, too. The sweet scent of her fear would tickle his nostrils while she sobbed his name over and over. He would strike her round arse until her pale flesh was bestrewn with those red blossoms, until her overloaded nerves confused pain with pleasure, and she began begging him for more. Which he would oblige. And she would make the most musical, keening whimpers in gratitude.
He glanced down at his pet. She was curled bodily against his leg, face hidden, wincing with every slap of the paddle.
A cold, sick feeling instantly invaded his gut. Was that… guilt? An unfamiliar, unpleasant and uncomfortable emotion. He hated it but it wouldn’t leave. And he knew why. He had been aroused by a sce
ne that was terrifying his pet. He should be comforting her, not fantasizing.
“It’s all right,” he whispered to her, forcing one hand to release the chair arm and reaching down to stroke her hair again. “That Tellurian likes it.”
“Please don’t make me do that, Master,” she mumbled into his knee.
She shivered. Pressed against him as she was, her tremble shook his leg. The jittery motion darted straight for his already aroused cock. Excitement coiled at the base of his spine.
Gritting his teeth, he inhaled through his nose, long and deep, and attempted to regain control. But the air smelled of fear and pain, delightful scents that only stimulated him more. As if it had a mind of its own, his hand buried itself in the thick waves of her hair, grasping a fistful at the back of her head. She had such soft, glossy hair.
He could imagine pulling her up by it, directing her with a twist or a yank, using the coppery tresses to wrench her head back and force her to expose her throat in submission. By the seven suns of Hyrax, he wanted her submission. Heat coursed through his body. But he managed to relax his hold.
Ballaj shoved the yellow-haired girl off his lap, called out the next name as she crawled back to her master, and the show continued. The scene was the same with the next slave, and the next. The same plea for correction. The same crack and slap of the paddle upon abused skin. The same delicious squeals and the same wanton begging for more.
Dzer-Jin’s unfulfilled desire was starting to transform into physical pain. He tried to shift surreptitiously and palm himself. Didn’t work. And now his trousers were actively trying to strangle him.
Meanwhile his pet cringed and covered her face. He swore under his breath. He was traumatizing his pet. Of course, it could get worse, much worse, if she stopped hiding her face and actually looked at him. She didn’t realize how different their species’ arousal systems were, and here he was, with his basest instincts exposed. She’d see him for what he was. Then she’d never trust him again.
Mouth dry, he watched her huddling against his leg like he was her sole protection in the universe. She needed him. He had to be strong. He had to maintain control. He had sworn not to hurt her.
He reached down to his pet and, with a few quiet words of encouragement, pulled her up onto his lap.
She came willingly, tucking up her legs and curling her body like she hoped she could make herself unseen. He felt the quick, ragged puffs of her warm breath as she hid her face against his neck. Pleasure spiraled up from his groin and his abdominal muscles twitched.
“Ah, yours is shy!” someone called out.
“She won’t be after tonight,” another yelled and a wave of giggles snuck through the room.
A tremor shuddered through her once, but she said nothing. No pleas, no crying. She didn’t make a sound. Just huddled against him like she wished she could press right through and hide behind his chair.
Without thinking, he wrapped both his arms tight around her. She sighed and relaxed into him.
“Thank you, Master,” she whispered. Her breathing evened out.
The girl had been on the verge of panic several times tonight, yet she had never given in to hysterics nor acted out in any way. The other members had no idea how frightened she truly was. Her deportment was a credit to him, though he did not deserve it.
“Vonn! Your slave’s turn. Send her over here.”
Her breath caught in her throat and her entire body tensed.
The gathering all looked to him, eagerly awaiting the next performance. Ballaj was fingering the large paddle and eyeing her like she was a prime cut of meat. The greedy bastard.
Dzer-Jin’s distaste for the man was irrational. None of the other masters had a problem with Ballaj punishing their slaves. So why did he want to chop off Ballaj’s hands and feed them to him for even thinking of touching his girl?
They were all still waiting for him to send her over. He wondered what she’d do if he gave the order. Would she obey, as the perfect slave, or would she remind him of his duty not to let her be hurt? They were both valid responses, according to their agreement. He wondered which would win out, loyalty to him or self-preservation?
“Would you go?” he whispered to her, curiosity getting the better of him.
She whimpered against his throat. “Please, don’t.”
“Would you go?” Dzer-Jin repeated, his voice harder.
CHAPTER SEVEN
She’d made a promise. He had saved her life and he hadn’t hurt her, and in return she’d promised to obey him absolutely. If she broke her word, he could start beating her—or worse. She could end up at the shelter again. Cast aside once more. Waiting for death because she was useless. No. She had to prove she was worth keeping. She had to keep her promise.
As a storm of frenzied butterflies invaded her stomach, she straightened her legs. Her limbs didn’t want to obey. She felt mired in quicksand, her every movement a chore. But he wanted her to go up there, so go up there she would.
Her heartbeat thundered in her ears. She sighed brokenly. “Yes, Master.”
She hopped off his lap and stepped forward. Suddenly she found his arm wrapped around her middle, a steel band halting her. He pulled her back up on his lap and pinned her in place.
“No,” he called across. “I don’t think so.”
“What?” Ballaj’s shock was clear in his voice.
“No one touches her but me.” Her master’s voice was gruff and the tone final.
She gripped his arm like the safety bar of a carnival ride, listening to the company’s complaining groans and noises of disapproval. He didn’t relent. Relief surged through her as they reluctantly moved on. Ballaj called the next new member’s name and the paddling started afresh.
Swiveling on her master’s lap, she clutched hold of his shirt while her body, flooded with adrenaline, quivered uncontrollably.
“You’re safe,” he murmured, wrapping his arms about her and holding her close. His chin rested on the top of her head. “That was wrong of me. But I wanted to know how far you’d carry out your obedience.”
Anger at the test flashed within her and quickly died. After all, he hadn’t ordered her to do anything until tonight. How would he know if she’d obey him or not? She really wasn’t fulfilling her part of the bargain, being the perfect slave. He hadn’t made her do any of the things slaves normally did, like have sex with him. She should probably clean his apartment or something.
The punishment parade continued. He was the only owner who didn’t order his slave to go. She nudged her nose against his neck. He smelled nice, like a mixture of spices and musk. She closed her eyes and just breathed him in, ignoring anything going on beyond their chair. So successful was she at shutting out the rest of the room that she missed when the paddling stopped and Ballaj started addressing the company again.
She started paying attention when a circular platform with two evenly spaced tall posts was carried into the room. Heavy manacles hung from the tops of the posts and more cuffs were attached to the bases. She had the unhappy thought that the space between the posts was just right to position a human, standing spread-eagled between them, ankles chained to the bases and wrists hanging from the tops.
“Tonight’s theme is knife-play.” Ballaj flourished a knife that had apparently been brought in with the platform. “Your slave’s body is a canvas just waiting to be drawn upon, just begging to flourish in varying hues of crimson. Will you shave off the skin, one snip, one tiny layer at a time? Or will you push against tensed muscles and force in the penetrating blade?”
He called over one of the men who had carried the platform and the slave immediately came to his side. “Will you draw out the agony?” He dragged the knife down the man’s arm, the blade moving slower than the rivulets of blood it created, and the slave whined between gasps of breath. “Or will you go straight for the screams?” He stabbed into the man’s thick shoulder muscle and she covered her ears at the slave’s shriek of pain.
B
allaj waved the slave off and began to stalk the circle of chairs. “What style shall we see tonight?” He slowed as he approached their chair. Silently she pleaded for him to keep going, her heart plummeting through her stomach as her veins filled with dread. This was so much worse than a spanking.
The universe ignored her pleas. Ballaj stopped in front of their chair and held out the dripping knife to her master. “As you did not participate earlier, Vonn, I give you the honor.”
To her everlasting gratitude, he shook his head. “I have honor enough.”
Ballaj stared at him, eyes narrowing quizzically. “I don’t understand. I can tell you want to. Everyone can tell you want to.”
She’d been trying to ignore it, but she could tell he wanted to, as well. His excitement lay hard and unyielding against her hip. Any time she shifted on his lap the movement caused a hitch in his breathing.
Glancing at his face, she could see what they saw—the twitch of the muscle in his tightly clenched jaw, the slight sheen of perspiration on his skin, and the way his desire-dark eyes flicked between her and the knife.
Nonetheless he gamely answered, “I don’t know what you mean.”
Whispers swirled around the circle. The other masters were looking at him funny. Her stomach felt cold and her heart started to gear up to fight or flee.
Ballaj snickered. “You should have told us if you have a bodily infirmity preventing your participation, Vonn. Or are you one of those citizens with…abnormal urges?”
She wanted to scratch Ballaj’s smug eyes out. She hated Ballaj. She hated this world, where having scruples was considered deviant. But she knew what she had to do.
Her master was fighting against his natural instincts, and revealing what this pack of hyenas would call weakness into the bargain. Taking such a course was perilous on this planet. She couldn’t let him continue.
After all she’d suffered at the hands of her hated first master, she could go through at least as much for this one. He was trying to protect her. He deserved her protection in return.
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