James nodded absently, his eyes already glued to a flogger of buttery soft, dark brown leather. Something like that would feel almost like massaging fingers on the bare skin of a submissive bent over the arm of a chair. It was designed to stimulate, not punish, and he'd known more than one woman who'd screamed out an orgasm after receiving strokes between her eagerly widespread legs with a flogger similar to this one. He picked it up off the wall and it felt just as wonderful as it looked. The weight was perfectly balanced; the length was just right for standing close enough to stroke the woman's skin with his hand between blows.
"Ah, that's a beauty, isn't it? It's a lucky woman who'd have that used upon her naked ass." The owner beamed at James' good taste.
James nodded. The price was reasonable for the quality, so the decision was easy. He'd enjoy using this someday on the right submissive back home. If he ever had the time to have a relationship, that was.
He picked up a set of wrist and ankle cuffs made of soft red leather topped with a wide strip of stiff black leather. They were padded on the inside and each had a small lock to keep mischievous submissives from releasing themselves. These would be stunning on someone with brown hair – just like color of Lydia's hair, he realized with a start. He grabbed four connectors and added them to his growing pile.
The smiling shop owner finished the sale and held out the bag in Lydia's direction. She darted into the store and took the bag without comment, then retreated. James took a last look around and a question occurred to him.
"Did you make all of these?"
"Well, I'll let you in on a secret. I make these floggers here, the soft ones, the ones for play. My slaves make most of the other things. Spending days making whips or straps tends to keep them well-behaved, and very focused on making them perfect, because anything less than perfect gets used on them." He winked at James and laughed at his own joke.
James felt all the pleasure drain out of him as he was confronted yet again with the fact that none of these slaves had any choice in their lives. If this owner wanted to beat them, no one would stop him. He mumbled a thanks and turned around, grabbing Lydia and almost dragging her away from the store.
They walked for a while in silence before James willed himself to relax. He had to stop letting all this get to him, or he'd go out of his mind. There was no telling how long he'd be here on Midros, so he'd better get used to this way of life. There was nothing he could do to change it.
A Quiet Evening
Lydia was silent as they made their gradual way back to the hotel. She was grateful that James didn't question her. Often the privacy of her thoughts was the only privacy she was allowed, and even then she had learned to keep her face neutral lest someone insist she share those thoughts. She clutched the bag with the flogger and cuffs in her hand, longing to open it and stare at them, and breathe in the heady scent of fresh leather. She wondered what it might feel like to have it used on her, and a little jealous that some unknown woman was going to feel its caress on her naked skin. She shook her head. She needed to banish those thoughts and focus on the present.
Her mood lightened and she laughed as they passed a group of small boys, barely walking, trying to chase a ball across the grass, tumbling and falling over each other in a vain attempt to retrieve it. She smiled up at James, who'd been watching her closely the whole way, and he smiled back and squeezed her hand.
They arrived back in the room and Lydia took the opportunity to look around it this time. Carvings on the posts of the magnificent bed caught her eye. The light had been too dim, and she had been too terrified, to see them last night. She moved to study them. To her surprise, the scenes were unabashedly erotic. Carved vines circled and entwined sinuous naked women. Some of the vines appeared artistically arranged, while some clearly bound the carved woman to a post, a tree and even a lattice frame. As she looked further up, she noticed a ring protruding from the post above her head. She looked at the other posts, and saw the same thing.
Her breath caught in her throat and moisture flooded her pussy. A fantasy of being tied up and completely at the mercy of her temporary master flashed through her thoughts—
"Lydia?"
She spun around. He had an amused expression on his face.
"What's so interesting?"
"Uh, it's a beautiful bed, sir."
"Is that all?"
She stared at him, unable to answer out loud. Um, no, that's not all. Please tie my wrists high up on those posts so that I am stretched out tight and presented for your pleasure, and then use that wonderful flogger you bought today all over my bare skin. Please!
"Y-yes, sir. That's all."
He lifted his eyebrows and studied her for a moment before shrugging and turning away.
The room had been cleaned and straightened while they'd been gone. The suitcase had been moved to a rack that was made for suitcases, and the sheet had been removed from the piece of furniture in the corner. She moved closer and then stopped, stunned at what had been hidden underneath.
A spanking bench?
It looked similar to the one at her master's house, with the pads for knees and elbows, and the restraints hanging off the sides for wrists, ankles, knees, elbows, waist, and if she wasn't mistaken, a ring to clip the collar to, to keep the slave's head pulled down. This one differed in that the part that was knelt on could be pulled out to either side, to split the slave's legs wide apart. Her master rarely used the one he owned, preferring to punish all but the most egregious disobedience over his lap with either his hand, for minor offenses, or a wooden paddle for more serious ones. Lydia was by nature obedient enough that even those punishments were few and far between. Perversely, she sometimes wished she would disobey more.
No, she'd only seen the bench used once at home, when Frini was punished after she'd gotten angry at one of the gardeners who'd carelessly killed a flowering bush that she loved. She'd shoved him backwards and he tripped and fell, spraining his wrist. She was immediately apologetic, but that didn't mitigate her punishment. Master had commanded all the slaves to watch as he fastened her down on the bench and proceeded to use the heavy leather strap on her smooth and unmarked ass while she cried out that she was sorry over and over between her screams. Lydia had gone back to her bedroom in a daze after that and masturbated twice to the memory, an act itself that was enough to warrant punishment if she'd been discovered.
"Don't worry." James' chuckle right behind her made her jump. "It just comes with the room." He picked a blanket up off the end of the bed and tossed it over the bench, hiding it once more. "Now you won't even have to look at it."
"Yes, sir, um, thank you, sir." It was probably better that she couldn't stare at it all day and night. She made herself turn away.
James sat back on the couch and studied the young woman in front of him. Lydia was an interesting, complicated mix, and he didn't know what to do. She was an involuntary slave, raised to give sexual service to the man who owned her, whether she wanted to or not. But she oozed a sensuality and submissiveness that didn't seem faked at all. He hadn't missed the widening of her eyes and the catch of her breath as she looked at the restraint points on the bed, and the absolute fascination she showed with the spanking bench. He knew without a doubt that when he'd thrown the blanket over it that she had a look of abject disappointment on her face. He supposed it was possible that she actually wanted more than her current master wanted to give her. In another place, in another life, he'd be happy to be the man to give her what she truly wanted, but here, and now?
They ate in the room again; he sat in the big lounge chair and she leaned against his legs, content. They talked – well, James mostly talked, about his life, and his world. They avoided the two subjects that loomed over them.
They'd been quiet for a while, lost in their own thoughts, when Lydia impulsively repeated the bold move she'd made in the park, and reached her hand out to fondle the ever-present bulge in his pants. He groaned, but this time he made no move to send her a
way. She pushed on, unbuckling his belt, opening his pants and reaching in to pull his stiff cock out towards her waiting mouth.
The chair was so deep that she had trouble getting to him while on her knees. He grabbed her wrist and hauled her over to the bed. Once he sat on the side, he was at the perfect height for her mouth to concentrate on his ramrod-stiff cock. She mentally crossed her fingers that using her hands was permitted, and she reached forward; one hand gently and reverently cupped his balls while the other embraced the base. The groans coming from above told her she was right on track. She nibbled, then kissed, then licked the head, lapping at the glistening drops already leaking out. Her hand started stroking the length of him even as her mouth descended fully upon it. She sucked her cheeks in as she pulled out and was rewarded with a strangled cry that only encouraged her to do it more. Her hands kept busy, tugging and gently twisting, sliding up and down, pressing and massaging on that nerve that runs along the backside. She momentarily froze as she felt his hands on her head, but he kept the touch soft, and it almost seemed that he needed the physical contact with her rather than wanting to control her.
She paused long enough to turn her head to the side and take his balls into her mouth, where she sucked and licked and tugged. Her hands kept busy on his cock. Another cry told her that he was getting close, so she slid her mouth back to take his cock as deep as she could. She never felt close to choking, and she was enjoying this blowjob more than any she could ever remember.
His loud cry filled the large room as he came. Spurts of warm cum shot to the back of her mouth and she drank them down eagerly. He shook and vibrated as she sucked him dry, until he finally pushed her away and fell backwards onto the bed.
"Fuck, woman! You've killed me. I am totally making them change that sign."
"Sir?" She had no idea what he was talking about.
"The sign that says you're a seven out of ten with blow jobs. You're a fucking eleven. Probably a twelve."
She laughed out loud as she struggled to her feet. "Thank you, sir! Every girl likes to hear things like that." She darted into the bathroom to get a warm rag for cleaning. When she emerged, less than thirty seconds after going in, he was sound asleep, his legs still hanging off the side of the bed. She'd never known someone who fell asleep as fast as he did. She looked at him for a moment, wondering what to do. With a shrug, she lifted his legs up, staggering at their weight, and swung him around onto the bed. He came awake for a moment, long enough to climb under the covers, before falling asleep again. She laughed to herself. Second night in a row he'd done this, but tonight she knew what to do. She tossed her clothes onto the floor and climbed up onto the bed, slipping under the covers next to him. The sheets were silky, the mattress soft, and the man beside her was warm. She curled up as close to him as she could get and told the lights to turn off. As the room went black, she felt a strong arm curl around her and pull her close.
The Spanking
James woke just as the sky was beginning to lighten, feeling optimistic instead of cynical for the first time since he'd arrived. When he rolled over, he realized why. Lydia lay facing him, on her side, still sleeping. She looked peaceful, and he wished she could stay asleep, because he knew once she woke up that her troubles would come rushing back. Her hair spilled all over the pillow and her hands were tucked up under her chin. She was naked. The sheet was pulled up over one breast, but the other lay exposed, soft and round, with a little gold ring through it and a tag hanging off of it. He was curious about the tag, so he carefully leaned over. It was disappointingly utilitarian— 'Lydia # 4458932'. James thought the idea of a tag was sexy as hell, but his would have read something along the lines of 'Lydia, precious slave of James'.
Goddamn. He pushed that thought out of his mind. It was too late for his cock, though. It liked the idea, a lot.
He was in over his head. Way, way over his head. In little more than one day, this beautiful, amazingly intelligent woman had turned his world upside down. To be fair, he'd turned hers upside down probably even more.
He didn't know what was going to happen today, but it wasn't going to happen until after a shower, so he slipped out of bed without disturbing her. The hot water was heavenly and he turned his back to the spray to let it pound into his tight muscles. He really needed to find a way to exercise more while he was on Midros. After a moment, he opened his eyes to realize he was holding on to two metal rings protruding from the shower wall, about chest high. He looked up, and there were two identical ones about two feet up.
The bathroom door opened and he heard her come in.
"Master, would you like me to join you?"
He was about to refuse then changed his mind. "Yes. I would love your company."
She slipped in behind him. He started to turn around when he felt her hands on his shoulders. He groaned as she located the exact spot that always caused him pain, and she seemed to know just how to massage it into submission despite her small hands. But after a few minutes of bliss, he had another need. He turned around and without warning wrapped his arms around her, lifted her up, and swung her around so her back was now against the shower wall. He put her feet back on the ground and raised her arms up high and she knew without asking to grab the rings. He stepped back to admire the view.
Her arms were stretched above her, pulling her sweet round breasts up high, and presenting them for his viewing pleasure. And, oh, it was a pleasure indeed. Her eyes glittered and a smile lit up her face. But the nagging voice in his head was still there.
"Lydia–" he began.
"Master, please. Listen. The law requires me to spread my legs for you if you request it. It requires me to present my ass for punishment if you demand it. Nowhere does it insist that I sneak into the bathroom and ask to join you in the shower."
He studied her face and found not a trace of fear. "The law requires you to spread your legs for me if I demand it?"
She nodded.
"Spread them." It came out as a growl.
With her eyes cast demurely down, she spread apart wide enough that she was now fully stretched and even slightly up on the balls of her feet. The water ran down her curves. It dripped off her nipples. It slid into the cleft between her legs, to disappear into the depths.
He reached out a hand and delicately touched one of the rings hanging from her nipple. She caught her breath.
"Have you had these long?" He gave a light tug and she groaned.
"About seven years, sir. My master had them put in soon after he bought me."
"It seems your nipples are very sensitive."
"The rings have made it ten times worse," she panted as he continued to play with it, pulling a little, twisting it a little, until she was thrusting her breasts at him, desperation written all over her face.
"I see that," he observed. "Let's see if your other one is just as sensitive." He leaned down before she could answer and took the very tip of her other brown nipple in his teeth and bit gently. She hissed and squealed and writhed as he increased the pressure. Then he let go with his teeth but kept the nipple in his mouth, sucking on it and tickling the tip with his tongue. Her squeals turned to rhythmic moans. He pushed her back against the wall so she couldn't wiggle out of his grasp while he tormented her mercilessly. At last he let it go with a pop and a squeal from Lydia.
She stared at him, breathing fast.
"Did you like that?" he asked with a smirk.
After a moment, she nodded.
"Did it make you wet? Wait!" Before she could answer, he slid his hand down her belly to cup her mound. "Would you like me to touch you here?"
He saw her consider, then nod again. James knew she was having trouble saying what she wanted.
"Say it." His hand didn't move.
"Please touch me, sir." It was a whisper.
"Louder."
"Please touch me, sir!" she almost shouted. A quick learner. He grinned.
"It would be my pleasure." He slipped his middle finger into her folds
. They were slick, as slick as he'd ever felt in his life. He slid right over her clit and she shrieked.
"Don't come unless I tell you to." She nodded her head but he could see the doubt in her eyes. He rubbed a bit more.
"Sir! Please! I can't hold it back!" she pleaded into his eyes.
"If you come without permission, I will put you over my knees and spank you. Underst–"
Her orgasm erupted without warning. She let out a loud cry and shuddered, her knees giving out. He caught her around the waist as she fell and eased her down on her knees.
He stood over her, watching, making sure she was breathing. As she recovered, she bent low and let out a sob. "I'm sorry, Master. I've never been good at holding back, and when you threatened to spank me..."
"You came because of my threat to spank you?"
She nodded, her eyes still on the floor of the shower.
"Well. Then I think I have a spanking to give you."
She shuddered. "Yes, sir," she whispered, barely loud enough to hear over the water.
"Let's get ourselves showered and you can think about what's coming." He helped her up, watching her closely. Despite his sternness, he needed to know for sure this was really something she wanted. The fact that she came when he threatened a spanking was another good sign, but...
"Make sure you wash between your legs thoroughly. I'll probably spank a little there, too."
Her mouth dropped open at that and she nodded slowly. "Yes, sir."
They finished their shower in silence. When he was ready to turn the water off, he asked, "Did you clean completely down there?"
"Yes, sir, but..."
"But what?"
"It keeps coming back, sir. I-I-" She was blushing furiously.
Memories of Surrender (Midrosian Chronicles Book 1) Page 8