Worthy of a Master: The Tale of a Perfect Slave

by Chelsea Shepard

  I told him about my lessons with Vhar, both serious and sensual; about Naari and our on-and-off bedroom relationship that had led to a strong friendship; about Myhre and Jova's birthday party; about Phylla; about Lodel, my parading day and our conspiracy.

  My long tale started easily, but got more and more disturbing, and I stopped before the last chapter at the Cabaret. I wasn't ready to go back there yet.

  Khiru listened attentively, offering only occasional comments. When I thought he'd heard enough about my adventures in erotica land, he opened Pandora's box, the one containing my fantasies.

  Although I had never shared my intimate visions with anyone, describing them to Khiru seemed natural. I quickly found myself giving comical or embarrassing details on the kidnapping scenarios that had helped me go to sleep for many years. However, once I'd depicted the bondage part, I remained evasive about the torture that would inevitably follow. In my wet dreams, there were always clamps and clothespins, floggers and whips. Sometimes worse. But I banished them all now. They were frightening. Painful. Especially the whips. I didn't want more pain.

  So I moved to one of my recurrent fantasies, the alien abduction. Avoiding Khiru's amused eyes, I portrayed a green-tentacled monster wrapping me up in its slimy appendages. Then a glass cage where I was confined when I wasn't being used for experiments. Of course, most of these had a decisively sexual nature. And, of course, I was always naked.

  Khiru finally surrendered to laughter, and desire made my heart pump harder.

  "You know, I almost wish you'd abducted me when we were in the cave," I confessed, my cheeks slightly flushed. "Myhre told me all about your challenge. What would you have done if I'd refused to come?"

  "First I would have tried to convince you with reasonable arguments. Then..."

  "Then?"

  He got up from his chair and moved to my side of the table. In a swift move, he pushed away my seat, grabbed me under the arms and lifted me up over his shoulder. I faked a fight and smacked my fists into his butt.

  He dropped me in the middle of the bed.

  "Then, I would have taken you without mercy."

  My smile turned into a moan when he retrieved a length of red rope out of his pocket.

  "Hands up."

  * * *

  The next day, Doctor Tryho removed my brain controller. My back would remain itchy until the scars healed completely, but the lotion applied twice a day neutralized most of the annoying effect. Without the lethargy induced by the beecee, I regained most of my energy, and my brain cleared out.

  Savoring a long, warm shower, I mused over the last days, spent almost exclusively with Khiru. He had been so gentle and caring. And so sexy. Making love with him was an express train to ecstasy. Even when he used benign toys like handcuffs or rope, and even when he used none at all, his sexual dominance was unquestionable. At the same time, he made me feel safer than ever. It was easy to let go and let him take control knowing that nothing bad could happen. I could have had sex like this three times a day for the rest of my life.

  A sudden distress interrupted my blissful reverie. What was I thinking? Khiru was a Rhysh Master. He would never settle for easy love bondage when he was programmed and trained to handle 24/7 slaves. He had taken it slow with me because I was recovering and because I was practically a virgin in those games. Now that I was cured, he would move on to more serious business.

  I should have been delighted. After all, he was my fantasy dom made flesh. But I wasn't. Oh, I was looking forward to more ropes and chains, lilk corsets, and maybe even boots. Bondage still appealed to me. What worried me though was what Khiru would do once I was helpless.

  While the air jets in the cubicle blew me dry, I realized my expectations had drastically changed over the last days. I certainly enjoyed being pampered while restrained, like Naari and recently Khiru had done so well, but that was hardly kinky, was it? How could I call myself a Southie when the slightest thought of pain freaked me out? Come to think of it, I wasn't even sure I still liked the idea of submission. That day parading with Lodel hadn't exactly been a thrill. Perhaps, like Myhre had once suggested, I liked sadomasochism as a romantic fantasy, but wasn't made for the lifestyle.

  What was I doing with someone whose life revolved around it?

  * * *

  Khiru joined me at lunchtime, bringing food and happier thoughts to my room. He placed a tender kiss on my lips, asked me how I felt without the beecee, and suggested I come with him on the bridge after lunch.

  My worries dissipated as quickly as they'd popped up. Khiru loved me, and he wouldn't force me to do anything I didn't want. The road ahead might look unsettling at times, but with him as a guide and a companion, there was no need to fear the unexpected. Reassured, I took his hand, and we abandoned the Blue floor for the first deck.

  Visiting the engineers' room with him was an exceptional treat. Patiently, he explained how 3-D computers worked, the purpose of holographic devices, and the intricacies of our itinerary. When real work beckoned, I sat in a corner and watched him solve problems, manage his staff and liaise with the ground crew.

  After that day, I returned to the bridge regularly, usually for lunch after spending the morning studying more history and geography with Vhar. I met Khiru in the bridge cafeteria – the first time was awkward since my memories of Lodel's punishment were still vivid – and we ate with his colleagues, all eager to impress me with details of their work.

  In the afternoon, I left him to his duties, and either studied in Vazgor Park, or resumed my pre-Khiru activities with Myhre. She was pleased to have me back, in such splendid mood too, and insisted she wouldn't let me dump her for a man, even if he was "The One."

  At dinnertime, Khiru would join us in the cafeteria, unless he had more romantic plans for me.

  After dinner and enough social banter to vindicate us, Khiru and I withdrew to his bedroom where the bed was large and appropriate.

  I had no further panic attacks. Khiru didn't always use bondage as a sexual incentive. He didn't need accessories to turn me on. And whenever he decided to keep me still, pleasure was his only goal. Not once did I feel the slightest threat of pain or even discomfort.

  Khiru‘s control came in light touches, both in bed and out of it. Always the perfect gentleman, he ordered room service for breakfast and dinner, gave me long and sensuous massages, brushed my hair. It was romantic and sensual, but beyond that, each attention was charged with erotic power because it was always Khiru's choice and I submitted to it. He never asked my opinion. I never challenged his decision.

  To an unquestioning eye, my behavior was absolute submissiveness; to me, it was just a game I played. My strong-willed personality was intact and would undoubtedly resurface the minute Khiru ordered something I didn't like. It hadn't happened yet. The way I saw it, Khiru had a unique talent to anticipate my wishes, and hid his willingness to please me under the disguise of dominance. Of course, I would never oppose a candlelit dinner in his bedroom, followed by voluptuous caresses and mind-blowing sex.

  But what if I did? What if I suggested an evening at the theatre instead?

  He answered my question two weeks later.

  It was the end of the afternoon, and I was working on my DAT. Khiru came in unannounced, as per his recent habit. While I explained I was looking for more information on the G-War and its outcome, he started massaging my neck and shoulders. I lay back in the chair and closed my eyes to better enjoy his ministrations.

  "Let's go to my room," he said when he stopped.

  I stood up, ready to follow him. Then I reconsidered.

  "It's still early. Why not go to the Therms before dinner?"

  At this hour, Myhre would be there, and Naari and Jova would join her after their workouts.

  Khiru frowned slightly. "I don't feel like swimming. C'mon."

  He walked to the door, but I stayed where I was.

  "What if I want to?"

  He turned around and reached out for my hand.


  "I have other plans."

  I couldn't resist his smile. And I didn't want to swim anyway. So I conceded defeat – although I didn't realize it at the time – and we went to his room.

  His plans included the bed, lilk cuffs for my wrists and ankles, and a blindfold. He fucked me until I passed out. Then revived me with kisses. And fucked me again.

  My sex was still throbbing when Khiru opened the door to a kitchen boy bringing in our dinner tray. In a reflex, I pulled on my bonds to cover myself, but found myself paralyzed in a most embarrassing position.

  I heard the faint sound of the wheels on the carpeted floor, but the door hadn't shut yet. Then a young voice spoke very close to me.

  "Will you be bringing it back to the kitchen, Khiru?"

  Damn him. How could he let someone see me like this?

  I swallowed my anger and tried to become invisible.

  "Goodnight! Have fun!"

  The door finally slid closed.

  My mouth opened instantly. "Khiru! How could you?"

  He laughed. "You didn't like it, huh?"

  I felt his finger tracing my body from my neck down to my pubis. A long shiver followed his mark. I couldn't remember how many orgasms I'd already had, yet there seemed to be more inside me.

  "If I want you to be seen, you will be. I actually enjoyed it."

  As if to make his point clearer, he pressed his thumb on my already swollen clit.

  "Oh, Khiru, no."

  My voice was hoarse.

  He pushed harder, then brushed his fingers up and down.

  "What did you say?" he teased.

  "I ... I meant, yes, sure, do what you ... want."

  "Exactly."

  Oh, the pressure building again, reviving the fire that had never really died.

  "P ... please."

  He sucked my right nipple, let it go...

  "Sure."

  ...and bit it just when I exploded one last time.

  I didn't fall asleep immediately that night. While Khiru breathed evenly next to me, I mused over the day. Despite chivalrous manners that would make a queen jealous, despite the innocent level of our bondage games, my dark knight was imposing his will on me, and not only in bed. But I had no complaint as to the consequences.

  I folded my legs to stifle the heat between them.

  I was so in love.

  Chapter TWENTY-ONE

  Once I was allowed out of my bedroom, my first visit was to Lodel. I found him in his Twilight office, updating the programming board on the wall. He didn't see me walk in, so he missed my surprise over his too casual T-shirt and pants. What happened to his flamboyant costumes?

  I cleared my throat.

  "Megan!" His smile was genuine, his hug sincere. "How are you, dear?"

  "I'm fine, thanks. And you? I heard some people gave you a hard time after the scene."

  He gestured for me to sit down, and positioned himself in front of me. This wasn't the same man who had pinned me to his desk the first time I visited him. He was so well behaved. Almost ... humble.

  "I deserved their anger, and by the way, I owe you an apology."

  We argued about who was most responsible for the incident, and decided we had both been stupid.

  "But you face a trial, Lodel. It's terrible. So let me know if I can do anything to help you, besides my testimony, of course."

  "Don't worry about court. I won't be charged as a criminal, just as an irresponsible Northie, which is fair enough. All I risk is working on a farm for a few months. That will help me get my feet back on the ground!" he laughed.

  Lodel was a good guy after all. His major sins were exaggerated self-esteem, which seemed to have vanished in my presence, and bad taste in clothes. Other than that, he would have made a fun friend. But we were both aware that our experience would make it hard, at least until we'd both gotten over our respective traumas. More selfishly, I also realized that Khiru would occupy most of my free time, and I didn't need to socialize with people who didn't interest me in the first place.

  Lodel agreed to call me once we got to Khyra to prepare for his trial, and we parted amicably.

  * * *

  With each passing day, Khiru's decisions intruded more and more on my so-far private matters. Like a tourist on a new beach who doesn't feel the sunburn until it's too late, I always saw things happen a posteriori.

  Food, for instance.

  Khiru started by making suggestions. Would I try the stew instead of pasta? Then, he placed dishes on my tray, insisting "you'll love this." Finally, he would direct me to a table when we entered the cafeteria, and went to pick up food for both of us. He returned with his personal selections: often delicious, sometimes surprising, never mine. I got used to the privilege of being served until Myhre winked at me the day Khiru laid down something weird, bright, purple and squishy in front of me.

  "It's gonsha, a specialty from the region I come from. A rare treat on board."

  While he settled next to me and savored his gonsha with obvious delight, I tested mine with precaution. The fork slid through the jelly-like layer, and revealed, underneath the purple coating, a colorful mix of meat and vegetables on a bed of ... blue lettuce? My stomach sent me a "no-thanks" warning.

  After comparing my plate with Myhre's appetizing entree, I looked at Khiru pleadingly.

  "Try it, Megan."

  His eyes were unyielding, and his tone was too composed to be peaceful.

  I couldn't bring myself to oppose him; not because I was afraid of a punishment, but because he expected me to conform to his choice, and I hated to disappoint him. I was also aware of our friends watching us, and I wasn't going to pick a fight in their presence.

  I ate the gonsha, all of it – it wasn't so bad once I stopped looking at it – and felt my whole body warm up in reward. I'd been a good girl, and Khiru would be pleased. But I had definitely lost my inborn control over food-related decisions.

  Worse than food, there was clothes.

  I've already mentioned the white tunic Khiru left for me to wear the day after we made out. The next sartorial items he brought back from the Galleries were ten flimsy G-strings, all in black or red. I found them in my underwear drawer one morning after Khiru had already left for the bridge, beaming with joy at the thought he'd shopped for me. Granted, I would have gone for something more practical myself, but I had to admit the panties looked gorgeous on me. For the first time in months, I missed not being able to wear a bra. A matching ensemble would have been stunning.

  For days, I wore them exclusively. After his initial compliments on the first night, Khiru stopped mentioning them. He didn't seem to care much. I did, though. The itchy thread between my legs was practically nonexistent, but sufficient to dig into my crease and constantly remind me of my sex, whether I walked or sat.

  One morning, I reached at the back of the drawer for more comfy underwear. By nightfall, I'd completely forgotten about it – a normal effect when it comes to panties, if you ask me – and didn't immediately understand why Khiru frowned while I stripped.

  "What are these?"

  "What?"

  His gaze went down and up.

  "Oh, the panties? Well, I got them from the Galleries with–"

  "I don't care where you got them. I want to know why you're wearing them."

  Although I recognized the threat in his voice, there were no spectators this time, and I was tempted to resist.

  "I like them, and I didn't know you'd mind."

  "Why do you think I gave you new ones? If you don't have enough of them, I'll get you more. As for your old stuff..."

  He removed the drawer and emptied it completely, leaving my preferred panties in a pile on the floor. Then, he searched for scissors.

  "Here, cut them for me, will you?"

  He sat in the chair while I knelt at his feet and proceeded with the cutting. There was something mortifying in the way he, fully dressed, stared down at me, naked, while I destroyed what seemed to be an extension of my
self. While my hands nervously slashed the smooth fabric, I realized that my training as a submissive had only begun. Who knew what else I would have to give up to please my special lover?

  As the last words flew across my mind, I drifted into an unusual state of peace blended with desire. I stopped thinking. All I wanted to do was obey.

  When the last panty was reduced to a series of strips, I lay the scissors on the floor, placed my hands in my lap and looked up to Khiru.

  That night, he took his sweet time with me. He tied my hands to the headboard, then chained my spread legs to the upper sidebars, pulling until they were in a vertical position. He didn't use the blindfold and the tape, which I saw as a punishment. I'd told him I felt less comfortable when I saw his dirty tricks, and that a gag helped me let go without worrying I might yell inappropriate curses. He wouldn't let me get away with it now.

  Several times, he brought me close to climax and stopped short of the prize. He licked and stroked and fucked me until I cried. When he gave me relief, I shouted my lungs out and shook for many minutes.

  After that, an important change occurred in me as I finally acknowledged his recommendations for what they were: orders. It thrilled and terrified me at the same time. Again, things were easy then. We were on a spaceship, and Khiru had responsibilities that precluded serious games. But as we flew closer to the Khyrian solar system, I wondered how a quieter life would affect my plight.

  Khiru had already told me that long holidays were the reward of space travelers. They could take one to two months off after a six-month mission. Following their four-year absence, the Noncha staff expected at least ten months, if not more. Officers like Khiru would have to file extensive reports with the Global Council and the Space Administration, then they'd be excused with honors and privileges. Recompenses for all space personnel included personal transportation devices, better housing and higher quotas. Myhre had already sent a request for unlimited clothes, shoes and accessories.

  As a pilot, Khiru already owned a PS1, a pilot-only shuttle that could take him anywhere on the planet. He had already applied for the larger version, a PS2, which would allow me to accompany him. Because of his status, his successful mission, and the fact that I'd be treated as a VIP, he had no doubt he would obtain whatever he requested. A two-bedroom apartment in one of the hip suburbs of Mhoakarta was also on our list.