Worthy of a Master: The Tale of a Perfect Slave

by Chelsea Shepard

  "So you left him to wallow in misery for the rest of his life," I sneered.

  "Don't be so harsh. I've tried to talk to him on several occasions, but it's like something's broken inside. And he won't let anyone fix it."

  Men, I thought. Such proud creatures. But what did this ancient drama have to do with me?

  "Wait a sec … if I heard you right, Khiru won't allow himself to love me because of a girl he loved and lost ten years ago?"

  "No, my impression is that he won't love you because he's trying to punish himself. If he really betrayed Kalhan and lied about it, remorse and guilt must have eaten him up ever since. Of course, the longer he waits, the harder it will be to confess his wrongs."

  "And he's coping with guilt by staying a cold-hearted bachelor, and pushing away any chance for happiness," I concluded for him, always prone to play psychiatrist myself.

  Naari's theory made even less sense than Myhre's. He must have sensed it because he looked up and sighed.

  "Who knows? Maybe he simply doesn't love you."

  Oh, I hated that reason more than any other. Naari or Myhre, one of them had to be right. In any case, Naari had shed an interesting light on Khiru's past. There's no challenge I like better than trying to mend the broken heart of a fierce man. If only he would open up and let me.

  Despite more conclusive evidence that Khiru had reasons – good or bad – to avoid me, I was as infatuated as before. I needed some distraction.

  Chapter NINE

  Naari and I decided to stop having sex until I got over Khiru. There was no point in arguing, as I couldn't even convince myself. Khiru's ghost was definitely hanging between us, and neither of us were excited at the thought of a threesome. But we spent more time together during the day and our friendship got stronger.

  The next week, Myhre provided the distraction I needed. It was Jova's birthday, and she had special plans. Myhre didn't like playing in public, but Jova did, and for once, she would indulge him.

  Since I had updated her on my secret visit to the Twilight, she figured I was ready to take part in a kinky party, if not help organize it.

  Our first task was to find costumes. Jova and Myhre loved to dress up. Their closet was so packed with resina and lilk outfits, the pungent smell permeated the whole bedroom. Myhre also had a fondness for high heels, although she insisted it had nothing to do with her short size. "Being smaller than Jova doesn't mean I can't dominate him," she said. I believed her.

  But when she tried on black thigh-high boots in the first store we visited, she looked twice as impressive.

  "What do you think, Megan?" she asked as she paraded in front of a mirror.

  "Very imposing, but are you sure about the style?"

  She had chosen thick resina boots that looked more appropriate for fishing than partying. I picked up a pink pair made of thinner lilk from the shelf.

  "What about these?" I asked her.

  "I'm not looking for delicate footwear. I want sturdy, outdoor boots. These black ones will do wonderfully. Now, I need a corset."

  "A sturdy, outdoor kind?"

  Myhre grinned back at me.

  "A glittering kind. Like this!"

  She selected a red corset and asked the attendant to help her put it on. As the girl tightened the laces in the back, Myhre's waist diminished a size or two, a loss balanced by the bulging of her breasts. When my friend was all set, she stood under direct lighting that made the corset scintillate like a diamond.

  "Oh" was all I could say before she returned to the rack of clothes and retrieved a black jacket, bordered with red piping and cuffs.

  "This will match perfectly."

  "You look like ... a horse rider," I said before explaining what a horse was. They had no horses on Khyra, but another four-legged animal, the argali, was used for similar purposes.

  "Not quite an argali rider, m'dear," Myhre said, "but close enough. I'll take them all," she added for the benefit of the shop attendant.

  "I'm afraid you might have exceeded your quota, Myhre," the girl said. "You've acquired a lot of outfits recently. May I check, please?"

  Handing over her identity badge, Myhre was already pouting.

  "I don't understand," I said. "Can't you get everything for free on the ship?"

  "Yes, but not in unlimited quantities. I suppose the quotas are reasonable and sufficient, but I'm not very reasonable when it comes to erotic clothes."

  "I'm afraid I was right," the attendant said as she gave the badge back to my friend. "Your last selection was already beyond your allowance. I'll be in trouble if I accept this one."

  "Wait, use mine," I said, removing my badge off my shirt. "I've only used it once, so my quota should be high enough."

  "Actually," the girl said as she read the badge under the invisible beam, "you don't have a quota. Probably because of your special status."

  Ten minutes later, a delighted Myhre was dragging me into another store, thrilled with the unlimited quantity of extravagant garments we were allowed to spurge on.

  "Here's where we'll find Jova's outfit. And maybe yours," she said.

  While I was rummaging through racks of costumes that defined submission on Khyra, she searched the "animal" section.

  "Is Jova into pet scenes?" I asked out loud across the aisle.

  "Not particularly," she answered, "but like I care."

  She was lying. She cared a great deal about what Jova liked, but I let her play tough. She enjoyed it so much.

  I stopped wondering about her secret plan as soon as my eyes fell on a collection of adorable two-piece sets: a lace bustier and a long wide skirt, seemingly made of cotton. They were available in various colors.

  "Hey, this is quite unusual around here! Much too tame for you people."

  "What? Oh, it's the 'freegirl' look. You like it?"

  The ensemble reminded me of a pirate's wench, but 'freegirl' was appropriate enough.

  "If you wear this costume," Myhre warned, "beware of wandering hands."

  "Really?" I failed to see how a cotton skirt was more provocative than a resina suit. "I'll take my chances."

  "Suit yourself. Go for bright colors, then. They'll add a nice touch to the scene."

  After trying several combinations, I chose a white bustier and a red skirt lined with golden threads. Myhre added matching golden bracelets for my wrists and ankles ("to suggest manacles") and insisted I wear my hair loose and wild. Loose, I could do. Wild would depend on the velocity of the wind blowing in the party room.

  "What did you find for Jova?" I asked, pointing at a plastic bag in her hand.

  "A surprise. You'll see soon enough."

  I was going to look for sandals to match my gypsy outfit, but Myhre suggested bare feet to maximize the effect, so we checked out and ended our excursion at the Therms.

  That day, a giant blue planet surrounded by veils of white clouds was sweeping across the wide window. I waited until the ship had turned a full circle on itself to see the planet reappear, then walked on.

  It was the end of the afternoon, and members of the Blue Team spilled into the Therms. There was cheerfulness in the air as people tossed their work clothes on nearby chairs and dove headfirst in the water. Others would simply sit down and have a drink. Women, always a minority in this world of men, often preferred the smaller, floating basin, the hot baths, or the massage benches.

  I undressed without a thought and climbed down a ladder to enter the big pool. I swam on my own for a while, enjoying the cool sensation on my naked body. When I got tired, I left the main pool and strolled over to Myhre, who had decided she needed a massage more than exercise. She was lying face down on a bench while a young man karate-chopped her back. He wasn't exactly handsome, but his bare chest and muscular arms gave him an undeniable charm. The fact that he was completely devoted to my friend's pleasure made him all the more appealing. Was he a Southie? Did he enjoy serving her as much as she obviously enjoyed being served? Her eyes were closed, and she was smiling. I
thought she was asleep, but she looked up when I stood next to her.

  "Why don't go find yourself a masseur and join me?" she said.

  I looked at the desk she had vaguely indicated, and a tall woman smiled at me from behind it. She had very short hair and coarse features, but her breasts were impressive, especially by Khyrian standards, as if they were the only indicators of her female gender. Her gracious smile belied her formidable stature.

  I hardly hesitated. Submissives have a right to be pampered, too.

  "Hi," I said when I got to the desk, "my friend told me I could ask for a masseur here?"

  "Sure, I'll do it. Let me grab my lotions, and I'll be with you in a second."

  Forced into obedience by her not-to-be-contradicted tone, I grumbled to myself as I went to lie on the bench next to Myhre and felt a pang of jealousy as I watched the male hands rubbing her shoulders.

  "Don't worry. I'm as good as he is," said a voice behind me. "By the way, my name is Phylla."

  "Nice to meet you," I replied, trying to be as friendly as possible to make up for my visible dismay. "I'm Megan."

  "Yeah, I figured as much."

  I always forgot I was the "alien" on board. Obviously, it was hard to miss my physical differences, but since no one treated me like a stranger, I never felt like one.

  "You're very tense, Megan," Phylla scolded when she applied her hands to my spine. "Let's work on that."

  While I doubted she would make my tension disappear so easily, it was extremely pleasant to let her try. Her skilled fingers began to fiddle with the knots in my muscles. I closed my eyes and relaxed. I even managed to stop thinking of Khiru. This was a good day.

  "Isn't it nice?" purred Myhre beside me.

  "Wonderful," I concurred, actually relieved by Phylla's presence. After all a man would have excited me too much. This was definitely better.

  Until Phylla stopped paying attention to my back and moved to my legs. Up and down, and up and down. Then down the sides, in and out, and up my cheeks, and…

  I jolted when her hands slid down my cheeks and touched my sex.

  "Hush, relax," Phylla admonished me.

  "Well, if you go there, I won't."

  "I think you will. Don't fight me, don't think. Just enjoy."

  Easy for her to say. I'd never been touched by another woman. Certainly not there, of all places.

  Phylla continued to massage my legs and thighs, and seemed to wait until I'd drop my guard to strike again. She did. It was hardly perceptible, yet a violation I didn't consent to.

  "Don't tell me I'm going to have to tie you up," she joked. At least I hoped it was a joke.

  I looked at Myhre, now asleep or pretending to be. I would have liked to ask her if this was normal, or if Phylla was abusing of my ignorance. Her male colleague didn't seem to use his hands for evil purposes. Why was I singled out for abuse here? What would happen if I resisted, shouted and walked away? I would probably be ridiculed. I knew Khyrians well enough to realize that teasing someone sexually during a massage was hardly a reason for complaint.

  I resolved to be patient. Although there were dozens of people around me, none of them knew what was happening. I was also confident a woman could never bring me to a high state of sexual arousal, a state that would call for remedial action. Finally, I was in no mood for a fight that would annihilate the blissful effect of a long massage. I sighed with resignation and laziness.

  Satisfied with my silent submission, Phylla felt free to move her hands more decisively between my thighs. Her constant friction warmed me up. I waited for her to rub higher, but she didn't, and my frustration built up. I spread my legs slightly, and she accepted my invitation. Her fingers gently opened my labia and tested the hole they hid. It was damp. She pushed harder and I opened up for her. When she inserted her fingers inside me, I raised my head and grabbed the sides of the bench. I was getting aroused. By a woman. In public.

  But nobody cared.

  I lay back down and brought my arms around my head, determined to go through with it.

  Phylla caressed my vagina in the gentlest way. Her other hand lay firmly on my back to hold me still or pretend she was still massaging me. She was subtle and delicate, as if she plucked the fragile petals of a flower. There was no sense of aggression, only pleasure building up slowly. I yielded and contracted around her fingers. At the same time, aware of the crowd around me, I was careful not to give away any clue. I lay still and quiet. The effort made me even wilder inside.

  Phylla found my G-spot and pressed it. It was impossible to repress a moan. Maintaining the pressure, she moved her thumb to my clit and fondled it with the patience of an angel. I was ready for climax. When my muscles squeezed her fingers to the point of breaking them, she quickened the pace and rubbed my sex hard.

  I hid my face under my arms to choke a final groan, but couldn't control the spasm in my hips. That was good.

  Fully satiated, I exhaled the air I'd been unconsciously holding in. A happy smile formed on my lips.

  "Now you're relaxed," Phylla said.

  Indeed, I was so serene, I fell asleep.

  When I woke up, I found Phylla had moved two benches behind me to take care of a man, and Myhre was no longer next to me. Worried, I glanced around the room and finally saw her at the bar. She was already dressed and probably waiting for me to leave.

  Blushing at the recollection of what had just occurred, I got up unsteadily and picked up my clothes. I was struggling with my too tight pants when she caught up with me.

  "Did we have a good time?" she grinned.

  Oh dear. She knew.

  "Let's get out of here, shall we?" I replied testily. "I'm starving."

  Without another word on the subject, we headed to the cafeteria. We had dinner with Jova and Naari, who were unsuccessful in their attempts to extract information on the party we were preparing or our whereabouts during the day. Instead, they talked a lot about the planet we were shooting by. An unmanned probe had been sent and had started relaying interesting data on the atmosphere. My geologist friends couldn't wait for the probe to land and investigate the surface. When the conversation turned too technical, I withdrew to my bedroom. I needed a restful night before the party.

  When Myhre and I met for lunch the next day, I was finally ready to tell her about my experience with Phylla. I had no need to go into details, since she had first-hand knowledge of them all, but I was curious to hear what she made of Phylla's intentions.

  "Darling, you're such a treat. You're a mature woman with the charms of a bashful virgin."

  I laughed. I hadn't been called a virgin for years.

  "Your innocence is sweet candy for a Northie like Phylla who has a passion for young girls. With our experienced crew, the poor woman doesn't have much to play with these days. She simply couldn't resist you, especially because you didn't resist her, either."

  "I was afraid I'd look stupid if I did."

  She seemed shocked.

  "Don't ever submit to anyone if you don't want to, Megan. You'll never look stupid. You'll never be wrong. Remember: this is all about pleasure. No pleasure, no game. It's my rule. Please make it yours."

  "I will, but everything is so new to me. Sometimes it's hard to know what I want, or what would bring me pleasure. There are still so many barriers in me to pull down. See, I thought I'd let Phylla tease me because I didn't want to make a fuss, or to get on her good side, I'm not sure. Then I had a wonderful experience. What does that tell me?"

  "That you have a lot to learn and try. I agree. But always make sure you can stop a scene when it's going wrong. Speaking of which," she went on, "I'll have a serious discussion with Jova before the party. I'd like you to be there; there's a lot you can learn from our experience. But first, we need to prepare the party room."

  Remembering the names I'd seen on the Twilight map, I could hardly wait to see the theme she'd chosen.

  Chapter TEN

  Reserving a party room had an interesting advant
age. It gave us access to the Twilight through one of the elevators linking it directly to the other decks. It was convenient to avoid a long detour through Vazgor Park when you needed to bring special implements into a room or didn't want to show up in public in special attire. It also made it easier to keep the party a secret if that was your intention.

  All of Myhre's guests knew she was likely to book a private dungeon for Jova's birthday, but they would find out its theme at the last minute.

  The inscription on the door read "Spectacle." I followed Myhre into the room, big enough to accommodate fifty people, and was surprised it was practically empty. A few chairs, two impressive candelabras and old "happy anniversary" banners made up the somewhat depressing contents of the room. In a corner stood a cabin. We peeked inside. There was a table, a chair and a coat hanger, and around them, a mess of empty glasses and dirty napkins. Myhre got upset.

  "Some people are just too careless. Let's clear all this first!"

  "Do I leave the chairs?"

  "No, bring them here."

  Another door led to a storage room, as big as the first one and crammed full of equipment. When we had removed the remainders of the last party, Myhre pointed to a pile of large, interlocked blocks.

  "We'll need all of these," she said as she lifted the first one and moved it next door.

  The blocks were as big as TV sets, but very light. In five minutes, they were assembled in the center of the party room, forming a circle.

  "Now the ground."

  We fitted four identical carpets inside the blocks. One side was synthetic grass; the other side, the one we chose, was synthetic dirt.

  We had just built a training ring.

  I had a better idea of the kind of spectacle we were preparing. Our next task, which was to erect terraces around the ring, seemed perfectly logical. We struggled with the bleacher-style seats; the mechanics to unfold their three levels was blocked. I suggested using regular chairs instead.

  "No," said Myhre, "that's what everyone does. I want this to be special. Jova deserves it."