His Human Mate (Captives of the Dominars Book 3)

by Stella Rising

  Despite how badly I’d like to slap Shaw in the face for that, I laugh. If she could see how I’ve spent the last few days, she’d realize how absurd it is to think I have any power. This phone call is the first thing I’ve done without Tamrys’s express approval in days!

  “I promise,” I pant, trying to focus on the conversation despite the vibrations surging through my pussy. “I took his offer of partnership… to help him make peace… which has been my… lifelong goal.”

  Finally, thankfully, the vibrations start to slow, denying me an orgasm yet again. I’d be furious at being brought to the edge for nothing, if it wasn’t for the timing.

  “Ms. Marchessault, if what you say is true, why were you brought to Weatherly’s forced resignation?”

  “As a guest,” I reply immediately, biting my lip and trying to keep my composure until the keeper shuts off fully.

  “A guest?” Shaw scoffs. “Because you looked rather uncomfortable, as if you didn’t want to be there. Maybe it’s because you knew the real reason Tamrys brought you there: as a prop.”

  “That’s not… what was going on.”

  “Then what?” she asks.

  I can’t tell them I had a plug stuffed in my ass, which is why I fidgeted and scowled my way through the meeting.

  “Tamrys is using you,” Shaw continues when I can’t think of anything to say. “He wants to be seen with a human as much as possible, especially one who likes him. You may as well be his pet!”

  “Fuck you, Shaw!” I scream into the phone. “Don’t you call me that!”

  “Thank you for calling in, Ms. Marchessault, but we can’t have language like that on our show,” Shaw replies, her voice slow and level. Then the line goes dead.

  Throwing my phone across the room, I bang my hand against the keeper. It’s finally stopped vibrating, but the damage is done.

  Furious at myself, I get out of bed and head for the kitchen, hoping I have a bottle of Zinfandel stashed away. When I step out of my room, however, I shriek: Tamrys is in my kitchen, leaning against the fridge.

  He shakes his head, glaring at me. “Is this what you meant by ‘a little privacy,’ pet?”

  Chapter Twelve

  Sabine

  “Tamrys, I’m sorry,” I say, taking a deep breath. The shock of seeing him here sends my heart into palpitations. “They were talking about us, and I couldn’t let them just say whatever—”

  “No,” he interrupts, “but you should have. You should know better than to respond to mindless conjecture and spurious allegations. It only gives them more ammunition.”

  “Except their allegations were right on,” I say, folding my arms in front of my chest. “PTZ might not be a bastion of journalistic integrity, but their viewers aren’t blind.”

  “Maybe so,” Tamrys seethes. “But if you’re going to engage with them, you should have a plan. Jumping in on a whim doesn’t help anyone.”

  “Yes, sir,” I mutter. He’s probably right on that point, but I don’t really want to hear it right now.

  His glare tightens, boring into me, but I don’t look away. “Bedroom, now.”

  Setting my hands on my hips, feeling the outline of the keeper under my jeans, I ask, “Are you going to take this damn thing off?”

  “Oh, definitely. How else am I supposed to administer your punishment?”

  No fucking way.

  “Are you kidding me? You can’t punish me for shit I do when I’m supposed to be on my own. Privacy means—”

  Suddenly I feel a jolt from inside my plugged pussy, causing me to shriek and buckle over. The pulse of electricity stings like crazy, and the sensation lingers as I clutch at my waist. I had no idea the device could do that, instead of vibrating.

  “As long as you belong to me, you are never truly on your own,” Tamrys growls. “And I’m happy to respect your privacy, but you forfeited that privilege when you called into a nationally televised show. Now, move.”

  He looks down at my hips; not wanting another shock, I do as I’m told. Once inside the bedroom, he orders me to strip, then get on the bed, which I do. Trying to show contrition and spare myself some pain, I get on my knees, spread my legs, and cross my arms behind my back, striking a perfect submissive pose.

  “Where do you keep your toys?” he asks, looking around my sparsely furnished bedroom.

  Blushing, I point to my underwear drawer, where I keep some toys around for the few nights I’ve been home and feeling lonely. Tamrys pulls it open, grinning as he sifts through the drawer’s contents.

  God, kill me now.

  “What’s this?” Tamrys asks, holding up a black G-string. “You should have told me about this little stash sooner, pet,” he adds, stuffing my panties into a pocket of his jacket. He finds a few more pairs he likes and takes them as well, except for one, which he tosses on the bed in front of me. “Those go in your mouth.”

  “Please, do I have to?” I whine, staring down at the sleek silver panties. They’re laundered and perfectly clean, but the idea is incredibly humiliating.

  “Don’t make me ask again, Sabine.”

  Sighing, I pick up the garment, crumple it into a ball, and stuff it into my mouth. It tastes faintly of detergent, and quickly begins to absorb my saliva.

  Continuing his search, he retrieves a set of novelty handcuffs. “Flimsy, cheap metal,” he says, bending the cuffs in his powerful hands. “But they’ll do. Lie down, pet.”

  Without neither word nor whimper, I obey. I don’t even have to ask to know he means face down, leaving my ass exposed. I stretch my arms, letting him cuff my wrists in front of me, drawn through an opening in the bed’s wooden headboard.

  “There’s not much to work with in here, pet,” he says once I’m restrained.

  “Sorry, sir,” I mumble through my panties. I have a vibrator and a few dildos, but nothing close to Tamrys’s collection back at the Spire.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll improvise,” he says, patting my shoulder. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

  Rolling my eyes, I squirm around a bit in bed, wishing he’d take off the keeper already. Being bound has made me hot, and I want to clench down on the plug buried inside me, but I get the feeling Tamrys would know if I did. Better he just remove the temptation altogether.

  He spends a minute looking around my bathroom, and comes back holding my pink plastic hairbrush.

  He trains his gaze on the device around my waist, and at long last I hear the click of its opening. Tamrys slowly pulls it away from my body, drawing the thick phallus out at a torturous pace. My groan fills the room, a mixture of relief and misery—as glad as I am to have it out, my inner walls clench down on nothing, desperate to find the release I’ve been denied. Cool air soothes my bare skin, but I know the feeling will be short-lived.

  Tamrys begins by sitting down next to me and caressing my exposed bottom. I flinch at his touch, already preparing for the spanking.

  “Easy, pet,” he says. “I haven’t even started yet.”

  I grunt in frustration, tugging against my handcuffs, still a little miffed at having panties in my mouth. Tamrys didn’t even go to the trouble of sealing my mouth shut with tape or something—I could easily spit the garment out. But I don’t, out of obedience—a fact that makes me both aroused and afraid. I never imagined myself capable of an act of such willing submission.

  Is this what Tamrys is turning me into? Has he figured out how to whittle down my resistance, so that in time I’ll do anything he asks? Is this some sick fantasy of his, to turn a proud, capable human into a compliant slave? Am I sick for ever enjoying his company, or craving the pleasure he brings?

  Then he smacks my bottom with the brush, tearing me away from my doubts. I howl as pain blossoms across my skin; the panties muffle the sound a little, hopefully ensuring the neighbors don’t get the wrong idea.

  “Do you understand why you need to be disciplined for your actions, pet?” he asks, rubbing the bruise caused by the brush. His fingers electrify my
skin, and his voice sounds almost regretful.

  “Mmm hmm,” I mumble, nodding. He taps my other cheek, and then swats it with the brush, eliciting another howl from me. The pain arcs out through my body, and I tremble, trying to mitigate the sting. I hear the constant jangling of my cuffs as I struggle, and find myself bizarrely wishing for the telerings, or the rope: they’re so much more secure, keeping me from thrashing and making no humiliating sounds.

  It can’t be a good sign that I actually crave to be bound more tightly. Either Tamrys is twisting my mind, or I somehow locked away a very interesting part of myself for a long time. I desperately want the former to be true, but inside I think I know it’s the latter. If all Tamrys accomplishes is waking me up to this truth, wouldn’t I owe him my thanks for that?

  “We’re partners, among other things. If you’re going to do something that affects the both of us, and by extension, the whole world, you run it by me first.”

  “Yrrr, hrrr,” I reply, steeling myself for the rest of my punishment.

  Tamrys continues now more seriously, delivering four hard smacks across my rear, alternating sides and making sure to slap areas previously untouched. Fresh welts rise as heat radiates from my ass, aching uncontrollably. My body yearns to quiver, but I force myself to be still, biting down on my panties.

  “Impressive, pet,” he says, giving my ass a few spanks with his bare hand. My firm rear absorbs each one, and I moan as the sensation races through me. Tamrys draws his fingers across my skin, making sure the pain doesn’t fade. Then he reaches to my mouth and pulls out my sodden panties. “I’m going to give you one last round with the brush, and I want you to count each one. Unless you want the entire block to hear, I suggest you control yourself.”

  “Yes, sir,” I say, trying to moisten my dry tongue.

  “Are you ready? I can give you a moment,” he offers, patting my ass gently.

  Waiting is only going to worsen my anticipation. “I’m ready, sir.”

  “Good.” He raises the brush, then smacks it down hard on my ass.

  Hissing to suppress my yelp, I call out, “One, sir!”

  As expected, the next slap comes against my other cheek; since I’m ready for it, I keep my reaction to a small grunt. “Two, sir!”

  However, the words are barely out of my mouth when the brush slaps the same spot right away. My shriek escapes fully, and I can feel my face flush. “Three, sir,” I whine, shaking my behind in an attempt to soothe myself.

  “Still yourself, Sabine,” says Tamrys, pressing his black-booted foot against my ass. The rough touch sears my bruises, giving me all the incentive I need to stop.

  He delivers the next few spanks quickly and unpredictably, forcing me to stay ready for anything at all times. After the eighth, I’m barely crying out before I call out the number. I’m still feeling an immense pain I won’t soon forget, but part of me has hardened—confidence and strength have grown seemingly with each smack of the brush,

  “Nine, sir!” I state, gritting my teeth as fiery tendrils grip my body.

  “This last one is going to be the hardest yet, Sabine. Are you ready?”

  I shake my head, feeling a pair of tears drop down my chin and into the maroon sheets beneath me.

  Tamrys nods, then gives my ass one last swat, one that overloads my senses, frying my synapses with pain. “Ten… sir,” I mutter, squeezing my eyes shut to keep out fresh tears. “I’m sorry for what I did,” I add. “I reacted badly. It won’t happen again.”

  For a second, I feel the bed shift as Tamrys gets up, but he returns right away. He doesn’t say anything, and after a second I feel a familiar touch of cool plastic, followed by a powerful vibration. Pressing one of my old toys to my clit, he pats my bottom and says, “You took your punishment well, pet. I’m proud of you, and accept your apology. You’ve earned this reward; you can come as soon as you’re ready.”

  Getting spanked had the benefit of taking my attention away from how starved I’ve been for satisfaction, but that need was only shallowly buried—now it’s back, washing away much of the lingering soreness in my ass. Grinding my hips into the vibrator, I groan as bliss makes my toes curl and my jaw hang loose. I clutch the sheets in my hands, awash in euphoria.

  Tamrys gives my bottom a few light slaps, just to keep my orgasm building a little longer before I let it erupt. Bucking and twisting, clamping my thighs down on the vibrator, I take over completely. The mattress squeaks as Tamrys gets up and backs away, satisfied to watch me extract every ounce of energy as I climax. When I hit my peak, I smile and sigh, at last spreading my legs and letting go of the toy.

  Basking in the afterglow, I make no effort to move while Tamrys releases me from the cuffs and puts away my toys. Appreciating my freedom, I search for a pillow, then pull it under my face, inhaling the scent of clean linen. Yawning, I let Tamrys idly brush my hair as I gradually catch my breath.

  “I know you’ve been through a lot lately,” he says. “This partnership, relationship—whichever it is, it’s confusing. I’m sure we’ll make mistakes. Once we both adjust, I know we’ll see eye-to-eye more often.”

  “Yes, we will. Thank you, sir,” I say, opening my eyes, feeling a lot better. Not only is the Maggie Shaw episode behind us, but I survived a truly harsh spanking, coming out stronger than I was before.

  “I think I’m going to head back to the Spire, pet. Would you like to spend the night here?”

  Spend a night untied, in my own bed? “Yes, please, sir. That would be incredible.”

  “Good, then rest up. Tomorrow we’re going back out.”

  Sitting up, I gather a sheet to my chest. “Are we going to show them we’re… together?”

  Tamrys smiles. “Yes. Whether that means we’re dating or just working, we’re going out in public so the world sees us together. Humanity needs to get used to the fact the Dominars are here to stay.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Sabine

  The next morning I wake up feeling sore all over my body—especially my ass—but the sensation warms me like a favorite blanket.

  I turn on my computer and bring up my e-mail. Literally thousands of letters have poured in throughout the past week. Most are media requests: newspapers, magazines, and TV shows all want an exclusive on what’s going on with Sabine Marchessault and Executive Consul Tamrys.

  Yeah, join the club.

  I ignore all of them, sending out a letter to Holly Kemper, a former colleague of mine. As an international dignitary hospitality specialist, she knows how to get what I need for today—and she owes me a favor. Within a half hour, she comes through with my request.

  Tamrys, are you there? I reach out through my nanites.

  Good morning, pet. How are you feeling?

  Biting my lip, I resist the ache growing between my thighs.

  Very excited. I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve arranged something for us to do. Can you meet me at 46th and 8th at noon?

  His response takes a moment: Gladly. See you then.

  He could look up the location and figure out what I have in mind, but if he does, he keeps it to himself. Hopefully he won’t spoil the surprise.

  * * *

  “Hamilton. It’s a huge deal,” I explain to Tamrys over lunch. As a fan of burgers, and with a goal of being seen out in public, I recommended he try Shake Shack.

  “Pet, after this, we can do whatever you want,” he says, eyes practically rolling back in his head in bliss. “I haven’t had anything this good in at least a century.”

  Grinning, I work on my burger, ignoring all the people whispering and pointing their cell phones at us as we eat.

  Thankfully, not many people pay attention to us at the Richard Rodgers Theater—everyone’s eager to see the show, though we do get a few lingering stares. Our seats are fantastic, thanks to Holly—right up front, and I can tell Tamrys is having a great time.

  “Thank you, pet,” he says, kissing my cheek when the cast takes its final bow. “That was fantastic.
Superbly performed, and very historically accurate.”

  “You’ve studied the American Revolution?” I ask as the audience starts to file out.

  “Well, don’t tell anyone, but I paid a visit around that time,” he replies, grinning.

  “You know there are historians who would give their right arm to talk to you.”

  Tamrys smiles. “I can make everything I know of Earth’s past available to download on nanites.”

  I lead us both out of the theater, winding us past a line that has formed for cast autographs. “That would be very nice of you. I’m sure people would appreciate it.”

  “It’ll be my pleasure, Sabine.”

  He pulls me against his body and kisses me. He wraps his arms around my back and holds me tight, letting our kiss last, unconcerned about who’s watching. If he’s not worried, then that means I don’t need to be either.

  Because I trust him.

  Maybe I shouldn’t, but I do. I may not fully understand our relationship—it’s all happened so quickly—but he’s made me stronger and given me a chance to achieve my dream. I could be crazy, but no man—human or otherwise—has made me feel this way.

  “Sabine, what would you say to a walk in Central Park?” he asks after our kiss.

  “I’d love to.”

  We head north up 8th Avenue until we reach the park, holding hands and stealing glances at one another. When we reach Columbus Circle we filter into the park with the crowd, standing out but trying to draw extra attention to ourselves.

  Still, I notice plenty of stares. It’s a nice early evening, and rush hour is just beginning—there are people everywhere. We follow trails to the northeast and the further we go into the park, the more I start to distinguish the words ‘consul,’ ‘Dominar,’ and ‘alien.’