by Trent Evans
“Yes, sir.” Her voice began to warble on the last word.
He stroked her hair. “Every inch of me, girl. It’s not going to be easy, but you will do it.”
Her muscles began to tremble under his fingers then, and he smiled. Retrieving the bottle of lubricant, he took his time, standing directly behind her, gazing down at the twin moons of her buttocks, so smooth, so soft, so vulnerable, the pink slot of her sex below glistening in the low light, the spicy note of her arousal already strong on the air. In the still, shadowed bedroom, she was ready — as ready as she could be.
Then he stood between her thighs, grasping each one in a hand, stroking the heat of his cock through her impossibly hot wetness. She moaned at that, and he took a moment to friction her clit with the head of his penis. Then he added more lubricant, slicking it up and down his shaft until the sound of his fist working it was loud in the room. With one hand, he spread her bottom cheeks, exposing the dusky whorl of her anus. It was so dainty, so cute, even after being stretched so well by his trainers. But he knew it would stretch even more tonight. Whether she thought she could or not, she would take it.
“You know what I expect, slave girl. Push back on it. Open up. Relax as much as you can.”
He slapped one of her cheeks with the shaft of his cock, and she jerked. He palmed the other cheek, giving it a harsh squeeze until she hissed. Then he yawned the two buttocks as far apart as they could go, and he pressed the swollen, glistening head to that tiny opening.
“Relax. Open it. Open it, Rose. Come on.”
He pressed forward and he could see her legs tensing. “Please! I – I don’t…”
“Yes, you do. You’ve taken three trainers. You know exactly how to do this. You know exactly what I expect. Don’t make me spank you before you get your ass fucking. I’ll do it, if I need to. Then you’ll be right back over this rack, only this time you’ll have sore, aching bottom cheeks clenched in my hands as you take my cock in your ass. We can do it either way.”
“No, sir. No! I’ll try! I’ll — I’ll do it!”
“Good girl, Rose.” He continued to press forward, using his thumbs to coax her sphincter to open further. He poured more lubricant down the crack of her ass until it pooled against the head of his cock.
“Oh no... it won’t!”
“Yes, it will. Be a good girl and open for me. Open for my cock.” He smacked her ass hard and she cried out. “Do it. Open, slut!”
She whimpered at the word.
“Open that ass. It’s mine.” He spanked her again, on the other cheek, harder this time, and as she cried out with the hurt, it was just enough to get the head of his cock inside.
Her yelp was tight, frightened, surprised.
“There we go. Just the head. Just the head now. This is the widest part, Rose. Just a little bit more. Come on, girl.” He caressed her bottom. “That’s it. Come on. A little bit more.”
And then he was in.
“Good girl! I know. I know that’s so tight. I know that hurts.”
“Please. Please, Master, just… it’s so… I can’t do this!”
“Yes, you can. Yes, you can, slave girl. You can do this. It’s happening. This is happening.”
He eased back a little, pulling almost all the way out and then pushed forward relentlessly again, only an inch or two at a time, until she tensed around him again, her sphincter fiercely tight.
But he knew he’d won. She would resist. She would squeeze, but he was already ahead. He had already vanquished her, the conquering of Rose’s body complete.
“Little more now, girl. Here we go.” He pulled back slightly, then pushed steadily forward again, a long whine drawn from her lips as he did so. “Come on, slave girl. I know you can do this.”
“It — it hurts, Master!”
“I know it does, Rose. It’s supposed to. Just relax. Open. Open. There you go. Good girl!” And then the last few inches of his cock sunk into her, and he was completely engulfed in her heat, his hips hard against the soft pillows of her buttocks. He groaned, surprised at his own reaction at the sheer pleasure of finally being fully inside his Rose, all of him finally claiming her. Her entire body quivered, the muscles of her legs standing out, twitching. Now and then, her bottom squeezed tight around him, and she would groan as she did it.
“Every time you squeeze, that only makes it worse, girl. I’m not going anywhere. You’re going to have to get used to this. I haven’t even started fucking you yet. Just relax. Relax over that rack. There’s nowhere you can go. You’re mine, Rose, all of you. And tonight, this ass especially is mine. Just let it all go. There’s nothing you can do about this. Just feel. Take pleasure in knowing you’re pleasing your Master. You’re offering up your ass for his cock. His. You’re his, Rose. You’re mine. This ass is mine.”
He didn’t even realize he’d begun to thrust as he said it, looming over her. He planted one hand at the top of her spine just below the nape of her neck as if he wanted to hold her down even more tightly than the merciless straps of the rack. The apparatus began to creak as he thrust harder, the sound accompanied by her sharp moans, her gasps, her panting breaths.
“Please, Master, I — this — it’s so tight! Oohh! Oh God, it hurts!”
“Breathe through it, Rose. Surrender to it. If you relax, it will hurt less. But I won’t lie to you — I like that it hurts. I like that the sensation is so confusing, that you’re so full, that it’s so tight. I like all of it. You’ll remember this, Rose, the rest of your days — the first time you took your Master’s cock in your ass. But it won’t be the last, Rose. I assure you of that. Oh no, not even close to the last. This only the beginning for you.”
He began fucking her in earnest then, one hand clasped brutally tight around her butt cheek, squeezing harshly, the other gripping her shoulder, giving him good leverage with which to take her even harder. He drove into her over and over, each deep thrust making her cry out. She writhed as much as the rack’s straps allowed her. Her breaths were panicked panting now, but her arousal, the scent of it, was even stronger.
Curious, he reached between her legs, below the pistoning, glistening shaft of his cock into her ass, and felt her pussy. It was awash in her liquid. As he fucked her ass even harder, his hips slapping against her bottom cheeks, he worked her hard clit. It was more prominent than he’d ever felt it before, and he pinched and rolled it, using his thumb to press down directly onto her, punishing it just as he was punishing her ass. Making it hurt just the way he knew she needed, just the way he knew she liked. No, she might not know why she liked it, but her body did, and she was coming to learn that she would have to listen to her body, even if it hurt.
Because it hurt.
“Almost there,” he ground out, his teeth gritted. He could feel his orgasm mounting, gathering deep behind his balls. They were slapping against her wet cunt and then they pulled tight, the pleasure like a building volcano. He grasped both of her shoulders then and she cried out as he thrust as deep as possible, groaning.
Then his orgasm exploded forth, his vision gone, lights flashing behind his eyes as spurt after spurt emptied deep in the confines of her bowels.
He lost track of time, thrusting, growling, cursing at her with words she didn’t understand. The pleasure was overwhelming, the feelings of taking and possessing, and yet, at the same time, deep intimacy were something he’d never known with her before. It was more than conquering, it was more than lust-drenched possessiveness. It was the cementing of a bond, a physical, emotional, and even spiritual, connection with this slave girl.
And then he finally came down from the height of his orgasm. It was his turn to pant, his heart pounding in his chest, every muscle in his legs twitching and tingling, the delicious ache of his balls after a particularly long and hard come.
He leaned over her, his cock still deep in her ass, the circlet of her opening tightening spasmodically around his shaft. He kissed the back of her head, whispering into her hair,
&nbs
p; “Minkala, Rose. In every way. Minkala.”
Chapter 27
As she laid there, mercilessly bound to that rack, her entire body trembling, she tried to focus on something — anything — other than the implications of what had just happened. He’d taken her to the darkest place yet, to a world she hadn’t known existed.
Except rather than an alien world on a planet thousands of light-years away, it was a world inside her mind.
Yes, it hurt. Yes, it was humiliating.
But she couldn’t deny the dark, twisted, shattering pleasure she’d drawn from his use of her body in that way. Even the memory had started that flip-flopping deep in her belly once again.
His long, assiduous training of her had made her anticipate it —she knew that, at some level, of course — and yet, when the moment had finally come, it was much more than even her fertile imagination had been able to conjure up.
Now, as the straps loosened one by one, she was consumed with exhaustion, her body used up. She’d been pushed far past her breaking point, and still she was here, very much alive.
She’d done it.
But she was so tired, the adrenaline finally draining from her veins. Then she was in his arms, carried away from that room, from that rack, from that moment in time where he’d bent much more than her will to his.
He’d claimed all of her, all that she was, all that she could give — or all that could be taken.
And yet, even with the pain and the exhaustion, the shame and the still smoldering seething between her legs, she felt a peace. It was all there — different, and at once the same.
Only semi-lucid in her jumbled, confused thoughts, she suddenly felt hot water sloshing about her legs, just a degree shy of painful. Steam was all around her. He held her against him, the thump thump thump of his heart something she took secret pleasure in now. A reminder that though he resembled a human, he was distinctly different. Other.
And that difference was comforting somehow. For she’d come to know that that heartbeat was Kosha’s.
Her Master.
She laid her head against his chest, and mercifully he didn’t stop her. He washed her slowly, with a gentleness she marveled at. She wasn’t sure he could be that gentle.
And when he had her kneel against the side of the tub, cradling her head upon her folded forearms, he made her murmur and tremble as he cleaned her between the legs, as he rubbed the cloth gently through the sore cleft of her buttocks. For there was the sweet pain of both memory and what might come next, of what the future might hold for her.
For him. For them.
Then she was back in his arms, and he simply held her. They didn’t speak. They didn’t need to speak. Something was happening — something had happened — and neither one of them had realized it until that moment. His huge hands stroked her hair, and it was a gesture less of possession, or territorialness, and instead one of affection, even… caring.
Was he capable of caring for something that he thought of as property? As a pet?
Of course, one could care for a pet, but this was something… this was something different. And more than that — whatever this was — she found she liked it.
Very much.
It was a side to him he’d never let her see before. And she found she already craved more of it. If she pleased him enough, she hoped he’d let her see that side of him again. What might she do? What might she go through? What trials might she engage in to further explore this part of Kosha, this male who held her?
This strange creature who held not only her body, but increasingly, it seemed, even her heart?
This is crazy, Rose. This is crazy, but…
It was so confusing. It was crazy — but it didn’t make what she felt any less true.
Finally, she chanced a glance up at him to find that he was watching her. Only this time, in those brilliant eyes of his, she saw neither lust, nor possessiveness — she saw wonder, fascination.
And though she feared it might be her heart trying to play tricks on her… she thought she saw affection there too.
“What do you think about, my little Rose?” His voice was a pleasant rumble, the rich, deep tone, one she’d come to know intimately. One that affected her physically. She could already feel the traitorous tightening deep in her belly at the mere sound of it.
“I don’t know, Master. I think… I think I don’t understand you. And yet, I want to. I want to know what you want of me. Why you want this of me.”
He smiled then, and he cupped her chin, his thumb stroking her cheek. So gentle. A whisper of a touch.
“I think, little Rose, that I would want your smile. What makes you smile? What makes you happy?”
She almost said it, the words on her lips — and then she shook her head, burying her face against his chest. “It’s... it’s stupid.”
“Tell me.”
“It makes me smile when you’re happy with me. When you smile, Master.” She saw a storm cloud float across his gaze, very subtle, very quick, but it was there nonetheless.
“Then how come you don’t smile, my little slave girl?” He tapped her forehead with a forefinger. “What goes on in here that prevents you from giving me that which makes me happy?”
And though she wanted to, at that moment, she could no longer smile.
For it was the truth, a truth that had been nagging at her for days, for weeks.
She missed home.
But that wasn’t quite right. There was someone from home that she missed.
She took a deep, shuddering breath. “Howard. I… I wish I could make things right with him again.”
Suddenly, the emotion was so strong, she thought she might burst into tears, and it was as if he could tell, for he cooed to her, tucked her back against his chest, stroking her hair in a way that always made her relax.
“Hush now,” he said.
And as she laid there with him, safe in those arms that felt like they could destroy anything, protect her from anything, as her thoughts warred and obsessed, somewhere deep in her soul she ached just the tiniest bit for having left things unresolved with the man who’d never done less than anything he possibly could for her.
Though she didn’t let Kosha know in that moment, despair threatened.
Then, as those troubling thoughts crowded in her mind, she finally drifted off to sleep.
Chapter 28
He knew something was profoundly different when he couldn’t remember the last time he’d put her in her cage.
The day after he’d taken her ass was a new day in more ways than one. What surprised him most was the new power of his emotions. He’d never allowed himself to really feel much more than simple emotions of affection, or pleasure, or anger. This was something else entirely, and he realized he was totally unprepared to deal with it. In a way, it was a challenge in itself, but it was also something that left him quite uneasy. His feelings for the girl were ones that he’d never experienced before.
They were ones he’d never considered were possible before.
But it had been weeks since he’d taken her ass, weeks since what he’d thought had been the final imposition of his will upon hers... and everything had changed.
Now, though he might continue her physical training, though he might punish her now and then, how often did he take her into his bed at night? How often did he curl up with her, his little slave held in his arms, listening to her sleep, watching the rise and fall of her breasts as she breathed. She was totally at peace, completely open, vulnerable, relying upon him.
And in return, his body, his heart, even his soul seemed to respond to it. He needed to take care of her. He needed to be this for her. He was her Master, yes, but her pull upon him was something he could no longer deny.
Though it went against his usual personal philosophy of going wherever the vicissitudes of serendipity, spontaneity, and fate took him, he’d grown more comfortable with the reality of her increasingly centrality in his consciousness. He was comfortable kn
owing that his life, for all intents and purposes, revolved around Rose now, focused upon his pet, his human captive.
But he realized that there was another change coming, and it was related to what he’d seen on the null disc. It was what he realized about himself as he viewed all those images, read all those accounts of the other owners and their slaves.
And that change was that he’d fully embraced the appeal of sharing her with others.
The images and holos sparked something profound within him, a desire he never knew he harbored. But in the spirit of never second-guessing himself, he simply went with it. He would explore it, wherever it eventually led.
What surprised him though was the level of possessiveness he felt for his Rose, how almost paradoxical it was. She was his. Rose needed to know she was his even if he were to share her with another. Yet the appeal of sharing her — the illicit, twisted sense of sharing one’s toys — held a strong attraction for him, and that same attraction only fired his possessiveness still further.
One day after hosing her down over her grate, her cheeks blushing that fetching pink as they always did, still, as always, unable to lift her gaze from the floor while she submitted to the degrading wash-down, he changed his routine.
Rather than take her back to the view room, or into his bed to enjoy her body, he folded her over the foot of his bed until her toes dangled above the floor. He bound her wrists tightly behind her until she yelped at the cruel stricture of her bonds, and then he spanked that round, pale bottom until it glowed a deeper red than her worst blushing.
He paddled her thighs until she was crying, until she was begging him to tell her what she’d done. He’d finished it by caning her for the first time, leaving a ladder of welts from the top of the cleft of her bottom down almost to her knees, until she was crying inconsolably, her face awash with tears.