And there were all those Khyrian toys I'd never dreamed of. Like this massage glove that sent mild electric waves wherever it was applied. Gentle shocks would ripple under my skin, provoke erotic shivers, and end their journey between my thighs. I particularly liked it when Khiru wrapped the glove around my breast, with intensified pressure on my nipple, and left it there until a whole ocean of vibrations had washed over my belly and flooded my sex with such unbearable desire that I would thrash in my bonds like a madwoman. Did I say I liked that? I know. My sensations had become very complex.
But it was nice to surrender and let Khiru take me to places I would be too terrified to visit on my own. After each intense session, when much crying, yelling, thrashing and coming, had worn me out, he cuddled me for hours. He was always pleased with my reactions to a scene and resented it if I thought otherwise. I wasn't to judge whether peeing on the sheet in the middle of a cataclysmic orgasm, or biting through a gag until it broke, were bad things. First of all, they weren't. And second, he was the only one who could pass judgment and take necessary action to avoid repetitive incidents. A lush towel under my bottom and a thicker gag would nicely solve these minor annoyances.
In parallel to my bondage training, Khiru continued to take increasing control of my life. I had accepted the fact that he prepared my clothes in the morning, that he decided when to go to the Therms and when I should get a professional massage, or how he started supervising my preparations for Vhar. As usual, his maneuvers were subtle and kind, but they inevitably led me to a state of submission that I had never considered adopting for anyone.
I accepted it all as part of a temporary game, one that kept me diverted during a space trip that had become tedious, even to me. Khiru's permanent control was charming and sexy. On the surface. I couldn't conceive he would expect the same obedient attitude on Khyra. Or maybe I could, but I liked to think I would talk him out of it. After all, he loved me.
Everything went splendidly. My sexual drive had never been so strong, my spirits, so high. The more we played, the more I wanted to play. I became addicted to bondage, both physically and mentally. Soon, the bedroom was no longer enough.
Chapter TWENTY-THREE
"Your obedience has much improved, Megan," Khiru said one morning during breakfast. "And although patience is not your strongest skill–"
I grimaced.
"You've made progress there, too. So now I want to work on another important rule: trust."
"That one's easy," I started to tell him.
"Hush. You think you trust me, and you do to some degree, but I will prove to you that trusting a person is extremely difficult when that person is the one who puts you in trouble. And you're going to be in a lot of trouble, sweetie, so I expect unconditional trust from you."
He sipped his herbal tea while I waited for the scary conclusion of his lecture.
"Examples are better than words. Today, I'm going to put you to the test."
Strangely, the test required clothes as well as leaving the bedroom. I immediately thought of the Twilight and its dungeons, but instead of going down to Skeda, we took the elevator up to the first deck.
Without stopping, we walked by Khiru's office and the engineers' room and made it all the way to the bridge cafeteria, which was conveniently closed for cleaning.
"Khiru, we can't go in there," I warned when he pressed the buzzer by the door.
"Oh yes, we can."
The door slid open, and we walked in. The hall was empty. Not even a bucket of dirty water in sight.
"Why?"
"Because I wanted the room to ourselves so we wouldn't be disturbed. Now, come over here."
He led me to a table with nothing special about it. It was a low eating table, longer than large, surrounded by couches that would accommodate six guests. It was set in the middle of the room, amongst similar tables and couches.
The only intriguing piece was the small box that seemed to be waiting for us on one of the seats.
"Get undressed," Khiru ordered, "then go to the bathroom and come back."
I glanced at the entrance before stripping, then rushed to the adjacent bathroom.
When I returned, Khiru had opened the upper panel of the table, which now looked like a shallow, but broad coffin. The hooks and rings that decorated its interior suggested an altogether different use.
I knew my body would fit in there.
And it did. Once I lay inside, Khiru strapped my wrists to the sides of the table, with enough room to avoid contact between my thighs and hands, and did the same to my ankles, spreading my legs as widely as the table allowed. Next, he placed a belt around my waist and connected it to rings on the sides. He concluded my bondage with a trainer that he also firmly attached to the table. The head harness was fitted with a pump gag, but no blindfold.
Testing, one, two, testing. Can't move my legs, can't move my arms, can't move my body, can't move my head.
And once Khiru inflated the resina ball inside my mouth, I couldn't produce much sound, either.
Perfect. But in the current setting, quite daunting.
Khiru knelt down and looked deep into my worried eyes.
"This could be a very intense experience, Megan. Remember what we're learning today: trust."
I attempted a semblance of a nod.
"Now, to put you in the mood, and also because you might wait a long time before things get interesting, I'll leave you with a good friend."
Out of the box came my favorite vibrator: a thick dildo with a mobile head that had already caused much harm to my G-spot during past sessions.
"I'll leave it on random. I know you like that."
Oh, right, the way it stopped when I was ready to come, or how it woke up when I dozed off.
After securing my "friend" inside my vagina, Khiru lifted the panel off the floor and fixed it back on the table.
It was transparent!
And Khiru had the nerve to smile, then wink, then leave.
Without thinking, I struggled with the rage of a trapped beast. If the table hadn't been so sturdy, it would have tilted, but it didn't budge. All I managed was to make my shoulders and hips sore.
After that brief, intense rebellion, I was stunned with disbelief. I had nothing against the idea of a public scene; Khiru had probably gathered that much after hearing my fantasies about Aztec temples and Indian war totems on Earth. Also, I admitted with an acute sense of my own stupidity, my whipping scene with Lodel had been an all-out public event. But we all knew that it had been a terrible mistake for which I was still paying the mental consequences. Surely, Khiru and I were playing at a lower, more sensible level.
He could have discussed it with me, or started slowly.
"But you've been naked in front of people before," said a little voice inside me. Yes, but of my own choice, in the Therms, and not in bondage.
"And you're safe: nobody can touch you," the voice added. True, but being exposed crudely as a table ornament for strangers didn't appeal to me. I felt ridiculous.
The vibrator chose that moment to buzz to life, and I forgot my schizophrenic debate while the whirling head gently stroked my insides. The cafeteria was still empty. Come to think of it, Khiru would probably rescue me before anyone entered. After all, wasn't this a lesson about trust?
Satisfied I had figured him out, I allowed my body to respond to the dildo. When it accelerated, I was already well on my way to climax. A few more minutes, and I'll be there.
Of course, the vibrator deserted me just when I needed it most. I clenched my muscles in a vain attempt to start it back, then patiently waited for its next outburst, knowing well it wouldn't take me so long to reach the same stage of arousal.
But action first occurred outside. Much to my unpleasant surprise, people came in the now open cafeteria and settled here and there, close but still invisible. Distant chatter reached my ears, growing ominously louder, and sweat pearled on my forehead at the thought of someone sitting at my table. However, I
persisted in waiting for Khiru to show up at the last minute and drape me with a veil. Something like that.
I went through two series of vaginal vibrations and one gratifying orgasm before terror got a new face, that of a middle-aged woman who laid down a glass above my ankle and sat in front of me, staring at the middle of my body. I was so hot, it's a miracle I didn't combust. Before I could cool down, a gang of noisy engineers joined her – and me – and I was surrounded by evil grinning faces.
My instincts willed my legs to close and my arms to cover my breasts, but my only pitiable relief was to close my eyes and pretend it was nothing but a nightmare. I couldn't escape their laughter and cheerful banter, and imagined the cause for their amusement. I must have looked so stupid down there.
When the conversation got quieter, I squinted to take a better look at my audience, which was now partially hidden by a clutter of glasses and bowls on the table. At least they were also partially covering me, though not the parts I would have concealed.
Most of the engineers were still eating. Every now and then, one of them would take a longer look at me (my sex, my waist, my neck, my breasts), and comment to a friend. They would often laugh, always smile.
I was confounded. Remembering the happy behavior of fellow victims I'd seen everywhere on the ship (the man under the fruit mountain, the girl naked in the elevator), I bravely tried to survive the incessant succession of stares, but it was all I could do to refrain from crying.
My friend, the vibrator, saved me from more embarrassment. Thanks to its merry buzzing, I forgot everything that wasn't my G-spot. I came quickly and strongly. Then I postponed my return trip to a degrading reality until another ride kicked in. Thanks to the subsequent orgasms, I felt drunk enough to stop caring about people around me. I even took mercy on them, poor deprived workers who were forced to watch me bathe in pleasure. Why did none of those guys hit on the woman? Were they all gay?
Just as I was starting to lighten up and have fun, everybody left the room and silence returned.
So did Khiru. Despite my advanced state of sexual inebriation, my anger towards him remained vivid.
He removed the panel, deflated the pump gag and untied my restraints one by one, leaving the head harness for last.
I took a deep breath.
"Before you say anything inappropriate," he said, "watch."
I stood up clumsily and watched him drop our bondage accessories inside the table, then fix the panel back onto it. I stared through it, leaned closer, then sat on a couch to get a better angle. I couldn't see the restraints. The panel was wooden again.
"I don't understand. When I was inside–"
"It's a one-way panel. You could see through it, but nobody could see you."
I wasn't convinced so easily.
"They were watching me and laughing," I insisted. "They must have known I was inside."
"There are two tables of this kind in here. As you've noticed, they're not different from regular tables, so no one knows where they are. If people guessed there was a Southie on display, they wouldn't know where. Nor who it was."
"But the stares..."
"They were staring at the table, not you."
He might be right. They had never met my eyes, nor reacted to any of my moves. My nascent tears had left them cold; so had my many climaxes. I thought they didn't care, but they simply couldn't see me.
"Great," I sulked, "now I feel ridiculous."
He brought me closer to him and kissed my lips.
"It's okay. I expected you to be mad at me. Now we have something to work on."
* * *
Thus started my public training. After a thought-provoking prologue, Khiru slowed down the pace drastically. My first real public experience with him involved nothing more than lilk handcuffs chained in front of me. I was fully dressed, but my wrists remained connected all day, making my gestures awkward. The next day, Khiru bound my ankles, forcing me to take tiny steps whenever I walked.
One evening, he wrapped my hands into a single mitten behind my back and fed me dinner at the cafeteria. Our friends were there, but none of them laughed at me. Myhre smiled encouragingly, Jova winked, and Naari sighed with envy. They all made me feel comfortable, and I thoroughly enjoyed the experience. Repeating it with bare breasts proved more of a challenge, but the true test was to walk into the hall naked, my hands tied up behind my back, and my breasts adorned with golden jewelry.
When I shivered with stage fright, Khiru placed his arm around my waist and kissed my neck.
"Do it for me, Megan. You have no idea of how proud of your body I am."
He kissed me again, and I straightened up perceptibly.
"There," he continued. "Go to Naari's table, kneel, stay silent, and wait for me."
I hastened to join our friend and, without a word but answering his smile with one of my own, knelt down on the other side of the table, next to an empty couch. Khiru brought our food and fed me patiently while he chatted with his friend.
I felt amazingly peaceful and safe, as if I'd been waiting for this to happen all my life, which in a way I had. I belonged there, at Khiru's feet, and never wanted to leave.
* * *
A few weeks later, Khiru decided to make me submit to the trust test again. That time, I was more than ready and willing. I couldn't wait to make up for my first embarrassing failure, especially when Khiru had proved, again and again, that he would never push me beyond my limits, nor jeopardize my safety.
He took me to the Therms during the afternoon. After a gentle swimming session in the main pool, we went to the floating basin. I had tried the high-density pool before and had been fairly disappointed. You could sit and float, but then what? Once you overcame the surprising buoyancy effect, the experience became boring. When it came to special physical sensations, I much preferred the bubble baths or the massage benches.
However, I could rely on my ever-thoughtful lover to spice up the experiment.
Three large steps led into the small, dark blue pool. Khiru asked me to lie on the first step where the shallow water barely lapped against my ears. He wrapped me from feet to shoulders in resina straps, arms pinned to my sides.
Though I was getting nervous, I continued to smile.
"I'm not going to gag you," Khiru said, "but if I hear a single sound coming from your pretty mouth, I will. What I want to cover, however, is your eyes."
I couldn't help moaning. My primal instincts overruled my best intentions and strongly opposed the idea of being mummified and blindfolded above a large volume of water. Even with outstanding density, drowning remained a potential option.
"Calm down, Megan."
Easy for him to say, was my first reaction. But when I looked into his eyes and saw how much he loved me, it was easy for me to do.
Khiru tied a soft blindfold around my head. Then he entered the pool and slowly hauled my body away from the edge.
I felt like a fragile paper boat launched at sea. With Khiru's hand supporting my back, I drifted off to the center of the basin, holding off panic by focusing on the cool tickling of tiny waves around me. Khiru stopped dragging me, but left his hand under my body. Although its touch was elusive, it was my only lifeline. Without the mental comfort it provided, I was afraid of losing my precarious calm.
We stayed still and silent for a long while.
The liquid cushion underneath me was lulling me to sleep, while the air, which was colder than the water, brushed the exposed part of my body and excited my naked nipples. The conflicting, but pleasurable sensations troubled me, and delusions filled my mind. I was a goddess, a spirit free from the flesh, yet capable of feeling. Two men competed in their adoration for me. One was giving me a sensuous massage; the other blew a tantalizing breeze all over me. I made no gesture to acknowledge them, only savored their careful ministrations.
Against all rules, one of them spoke.
"Megan," he whispered, "I'm going to let you go now. Stay quiet."
The et
hereal vision disappeared when I recognized Khiru's voice and felt his hand lose contact. I didn't flinch. Supported by the dense water, I returned to my dreams where both lovers had the same face, dark eyes, dark hair and no ears.
I passed the test with honors.
Later that night, Khiru made love to me with the urgency of a sailor who's come back to his wife after a six-month journey, and his eyes took on a new expression. Besides love and passion, there was now tenderness.
And for the first time since I'd known him, a glimpse of happiness.
Chapter TWENTY-FOUR
We were only seven weeks away from Khyra. In ten days, our main engines, set to hibernate two months into the trip, would roar back to life, this time to slow down the vessel for the docking maneuvers in Khyra's orbit.
Those ten days were particularly eventful. I celebrated my first Khyrian New Year, performed a very intense public scene, and turned one year older. Oh, and I donned my first spacesuit.
The birthday party was a real surprise. Without telling me, Myhre had calculated my birth date on the Khyrian calendar. That she managed to keep it a secret for months was pretty remarkable and definitely worth it, according to her; the look on my face when I entered the lounge was "priceless."
Myhre had called me in the late afternoon while I was studying in Vazgor Park, and asked me to meet her and Jova in one of the quiet salons by the cafeteria. She said not to worry, but to dress nicely.
Back in my bedroom, I showered and put on my blue lilk mini-dress. Then I left a message on Khiru's mailbox and hurried to the other side of the ring on the second deck. I opened the door to the purple lounge and halted.
Myhre and Jova, but also Naari, Vhar, Phylla and Khiru were standing around a table covered with glasses and hors d'oeuvres, and mysteriously grinning at me.
"Happy birthday!" they chanted in unison.
"Thanks," I smiled, bemused, "but it's not my birthday."
"Yes, it is," Myhre said before explaining how she'd come to that conclusion. "And we thought we'd have a small party to celebrate."
Somehow that reminded me of another birthday party Myhre had organized. I mimicked a worried face and scanned the room.
Worthy of a Master: The Tale of a Perfect Slave Page 21