by Alana Khan
He goes to the wall of torture and pulls out a butt plug with a blue gem at the back.
“This matches your skin, Neytiri. Shall we?” His voice is pure seduction.
I’m going to come just lying here. Dear Lord, this male should be against the law.
“If you insist,” I tease. I have to feign disinterest or I’ll resort to begging.
I hear him behind me, lubing the pretty blue plug, then feel it pressing against me.
“Relax zara. Find the pleasure in this.”
The plug has more girth than anything I’ve experienced before. I zone in on the pressure, the penetration, the feeling of fullness, and notice how the initial bite morphs immediately into pleasure. It reminds me I’m female and he’s male. The words ‘taken’ and ‘owned’ and ‘receiving’ sing in my mind.
“Sir. So good,” I praise.
“Just a little more preparation, and you’re going to fly, Neytiri.”
After plaiting my tiny braids into one long braid, he incorporates it into part of the rigging. “This will help support you, zara. I don’t want any of your muscles to ache.” His smile is guileless, benevolent, as if he truly wants the best for me—I’m beginning to believe it.
The rope is tight, and when I tune into it my breath catches.
“Sir, I can’t breathe.”
“You were breathing a moment ago, what happened?”
“I’m scared.”
The krannock lifts higher until I’m face to face with Voxx.
“Look into my eyes, zara. What do you see?”
What do I see? Oh, what I see is scarier than the ropes. What I see is… everything he feels for me. Maybe it’s that I’m trussed up and can’t move, but he’s let down his guard. I’ve never seen this light shining out of his eyes before. I’ve never seen the planes and angles of his face look so peaceful. No, not peaceful. Sweet.
My big Zinn is letting all his tender feelings shine through to me. He’s never spoken with a female his age before. Nor has he engaged in shy conversations or junior high dances. He got dropped into the Drayant with me with the expectation that he know how to have a relationship. And he’s pathetic at it. But he wants it. I see that now. He wants to connect with me in so many more ways that shoving his cock in my vagina or giving me endless pleasure.
He couldn’t tell me he likes me a moment ago when I asked him to finish his sentence, but he’s showing me now.
“What do you see, zara?”
My favorite words from Avatar sing in my brain. Neytiri tells Sully she sees him.
“I see you, Voxx from Zinn. I know who you are. And what I see tells me you see me, too.” There, I didn’t tell him I see his caring and concern. That would have freaked him out.
“Exactly, my little blue Earther.” He leans in to kiss my lips with such aching sweetness I think it might kill me.
“Breathe with me,” he commands. Our gazes lock. As strong and firm as the ropes that bind me, I feel a cord connecting Voxx and me. It’s beautiful and overwhelming and I want to cry but I don’t want to spoil it. “Better?” he asks.
“Much.”
“Three little letters,” he chides.
“Sir.” Some wall inside me breaks. All my resistance to calling him ‘Sir’ dissolves. I didn’t want to give him power over me, didn’t want him to think I wanted to submit to him. I resented every time I used that word. Until right now.
“Sir,” I repeat. “My Sir,” I say more loudly. “MY. SIR!” I’m shouting it now. It feels good. Something releases in me down to the depths of my soul. I like having a Sir. And I’m so glad it’s him.
He’s smiling. It’s an awesome sight. He’s beautiful.
“Ready to fly, little blue Earther?”
“Yes, Sir.” My mouth puts a different spin on that last word than ever before. “Oh yes, I’m ready to fly.”
He’s already threaded the ropes through the eye bolts in the ceiling, so he pulls the ends of the rope and I lift a scant inch off the table.
“This isn’t supposed to hurt, zara. Tell me if it does.”
“It’s pressure, and I’m scared, but no, no pain.”
He cinches me higher until I’m lying horizontally at his height, supported only by the web of ropes.
“You’re beautiful.”
I have to keep breathing slow and steady. If I don’t, my fear rises and I notice little places that pinch.
“Look.”
He’s got me on camera and my image is splattered over every screen on the ship. He’s right. I am beautiful, and it has nothing to do with my lovely Neytiri costume. It’s me. I’m beautiful.
He propels me forward an inch. “All good?”
“Yes, Sir.”
He swings me farther and farther, each time asking if I’m okay.
“This blue girl is green,” I sing, letting him know I’m far from using the word ‘red’.
The magic rope takes over, making me fly farther than Voxx could swing me. I’m flying in one direction and then the other, flying in circles, and lifting up and down. It’s fun and freeing and one of the best moments of my life. My heart pumps with adrenaline and a huge smile spreads across my face. Joy. I’m experiencing joy because Voxx from Zinn made this happen.
The novel feeling of elation and surprise at the wonders of my flight fades and I tune in to the other, more sexual feelings coursing through my body. The movement slides the vibrating cord knotted on my aroused clit, which brings me to the precipice of orgasm.
Voxx rigged ropes across the end of the butt plug which keep it pressed inside me, pushing in little pulses with every swoop forward and back. That rope begins vibrating which makes it quiver inside me, which in turn makes my core spasm in need.
I realize every muscle in my body is hovering on the edge, ready to spiral into bliss.
“Sir, may I have permission to come, Sir?” my voice is ragged, desperate.
He slows me down, and as if by magic, the ropes unbind themselves. My thighs, which had been bound together, slide apart. I’m still cocooned in rope, still safely suspended, but my sex is splayed open for him—head height.
He steps between my legs as if he owns me, opens me even wider, and plunges his tongue into me.
“Ready for me, Victoria? You always are.”
He thrusts nice and slow and causes the knot on my clit vibrate harder.
Overload! So many sensations! The fear and the emotional intimacy and everything that’s happening to me come together and amp me up in a way I’ve never felt before. I come before I even know I’m close.
My orgasm starts small, one of those moments when you’re not even certain you’re coming, and then it hits me like an explosion. It’s fire and fury and goes on for minutes, spiraling and building and releasing and then building again. I’m screaming in pleasure, letting go like I never have before. I’m safe to do this. My Sir’s done all of this for my pleasure and he’s spent the last six days giving me permission, and he’s pleasured me with endless focus. It’s unbearably beautiful.
I’m still coming down from the most intense experience of my life when he lowers the ropes so I’m just the right height for his cock.
“Oh, Sir. Yes.” He sinks into me. His cock, joining the fullness of the plug is an almost overwhelming combo of pleasure and intimacy. I’ve never felt this full. He grasps my hips, and launches into a rhythm. Bliss. Euphoria. Paradise. How else can I quantify this experience? Heaven.
I fly into another release, but it’s more than a physical orgasm. It’s a connection with Voxx. It’s a coming apart and knitting back together in a new way. I’m a new person.
Voxx
She’s not just beautiful, she’s exquisite. Giving her this experience, letting her fly as Neytiri, was an honor. I’ve seen her in many moods since she came on board, they all fit into three categories: fear, anger, and lust. I’ve never seen her happy before. Out of all her emotions, I like this one best.
I don’t want to admit it, not to her, n
ot even to myself—I’m in love with her. I realize now that I’ve loved her since before we met. All her sweet Facebook memes, her endearing words of encouragement to all her friends, her diligent studies, her intelligence. How could I not love her? But now that I’ve known her? I’ve seen her accept this amazing metamorphosis over the last week, now I realize she inspires me as well.
I lower her to the floor and she tries to take a step. I hold her a moment. She’s been suspended so long she’s unsteady on her feet.
“That was the best, Sir.” She throws her arms around my neck and kisses my cheek. I should remind her I’m the dominant. Maybe later.
“I imagine you need to pee, then I’ll feed you.”
“Right on both counts, Sir.”
Later, in the galley, I scold her to eat more of her sandwich.
“I’ve had enough, Sir.”
“How are you feeling?” I wonder if my little flying stunt stressed her joints or pulled her muscles.
She smiles and lifts her thumb.
“Remind me, Victoria, the thumb means ‘good’ and the middle finger is ‘bad’? Or is it vice versa?
“The thumb means good, Voxx from Zinn. Very good, Sir.”
“You’re pushing boundaries, Victoria. What should I do with you?” I feign exasperation even while I marvel at how good it feels to see her smiling and happy.
She tosses her head and grins. “I could think of a few things… Sir.”
“So soon, little Earther?”
“I was thinking maybe preemptive inoculation might help my delicate condition.” Her blue eyes peg me with an invitation.
I stalk to where her naked blue bottom is perched on the metal eating bar, grab a handful of her little Neytiri braids, and pull her head back so she’s looking at me. I kiss her hard on that impudent, smiling mouth of hers, demanding kisses from her. She greets my invasion eagerly.
I ratchet down my assault and revel in her sweet response. Her little, pink tongue explores me, and she grasps the back of my neck, dragging me closer.
I pull back, kiss her once on the lips, then step away. I’ve stressed her body and her joints enough for one day. “We should inoculate closer to bedtime.”
“We could do it now and later,” she grumbles.
“Right before bed, Victoria. And do I need to remind you who the Commander is on this ship?”
“No, Sir, Commander, Sir.”
“Good.” I set her down on her feet and swat her ass. “What movie do you want to watch?”
“Oh, we’re going to Netflix and chill? I get to pick? I don’t think you’d like Dexter. Let me think... When Harry Met Sally. An oldie but a goodie.”
“Why that one?”
“It’s got a bit of everything. It’s funny, romantic, and the best fake orgasm scene on screen.”
“You can keep your skin blue and sit on the floor near me. Or you can sit on a chair if you want. Or you can take a shower and sit on my lap.”
“Which would you prefer, Sir?”
“It would please me if you sat on my lap, Victoria.”
She stumbles on her way to the bathroom, so I sweep her up and carry her there.
“You’re covered in blue, too, Sir. Join me?” She presses her palm to my cheek, then removes it. Is she in fear of my response?
I look down at my chest to confirm her observation. She’s right; I’m covered in body paint.
“Someone got blue all over their Sir,” I scold, a warm look on my face.
She folds her arms around me, rubbing every blue inch of her front to mine.
“Someone needs a shower, Sir.” Her beautiful blue eyes are sparkling with happiness. I want them to look like that forever.
I carry her into the shower not so much because I need one, which I do, but because I don’t want to be away from her for a minute.
“Let me clean you, Sir,” she says as she scrubs me. For every inch she cleans, she rubs more color on me until I can’t tell who’s more blue. She’s spending far too much time making sure my cock and balls are clean and returned to their original purple.
“You want this?” I growl as I lift her off the floor, press her against the shower wall, and notch my cock between the ‘v’ of her legs.
“Yes, Sir.” She tosses her head and smiles.
“Why?”
She opens herself to me and presses her heels against my ass. Her fingers bite into my shoulders. She tries to kiss me, but I pull out of reach.
“Why, Victoria?” When she evades a question, I know the answer is important.
“Kiss me, Sir?” She's breathless. She’s risking punishment to avoid this answer, which makes me want to hear it even more.
Hitching her higher and pressing her harder against the back wall, I ask again, “Why are you so desperate for my cock right now?”
“Because I like it, Sir.” She manages a brief glance into my eyes before her gaze veers away.
Setting her down, I turn her toward the wall, pull her hands over her head, and tap her feet apart until she’s open wide for me. Snaking my hand over her hip bone, I capture her little nub between finger and thumb and roll it with exquisite languor.
“You’re hiding something from me, my little submissive. You’d think by now you’d know better.” I squeeze harder and her hips dance in eager response. Pressing my mouth to her ear, I say, “I’ll get the truth out of you, Victoria.”
Blue paint sluices off her, pouring down her body, pooling on the floor and swirling around the drain. She’s moaning, thrusting her hips back to catch a graze of my cock. I jack my hips back to deprive her. I love both her need and my control.
“Press the tips of your breasts to the wall,” I command. She follows my order. What a beautiful position: ass back, legs spread wide, her pebbled nipples brushing the wall. “Open your legs wider for me.”
“Yes, Sir.”
I continue teasing her clit while I press two fingers of the other hand into her welcoming channel. “You’re wet for me, Victoria.”
“Yes, Sir.” She mumbles something else, but the soft words are snatched away by the sound of falling water.
“Repeat.”
“Yes, Sir. Always, Sir.”
My cock twitches against the small of her back at that admission.
“You know I have to punish you for keeping secrets?”
“I didn’t see that in the Interstellar Compact, Sir,” she quips.
“Brat.” I pull my fingers out of her warm channel and press one into her back hole. I tell myself I’m punishing her, but it’s hard to lie to myself when she moans and thrusts her ass toward me.
“You like this too much, Victoria.” But I don’t stop thrusting. “Can you come just from this?”
“I don’t know, Sir.”
“Let’s try. Don’t forget the rules.”
“Yes, Sir.”
With my other hand, I fill her core with two fingers while circling her nub with my thumb. I’m still thrusting a finger into her bottom. She’s keening in that high-pitched timbre that signals she’s on the precipice.
“Oh. Close, Sir.” I can feel the intense clutch of the muscles deep inside her.
I remove my hands and place them on the wall near her shoulders. “You’re being punished. I’m withholding from you because you withheld from me, little submissive.”
She groans. A long, low cry of desperation. All she says, though, is “Yes, Sir.”
“And?” Is she willfully disobedient or just forgetful?
“Thank you for reminding me of my place, Sir.”
“Good girl.” I kiss the top of her head. “Relieve me with your mouth.”
“Yes, Sir.”
She’s on her knees in an instant, tipping her head down to hide her satisfied smile from me. She skims her hands from my ankles to my groin, then slides me into her mouth. Gods, this female will be my undoing. That mouth. That warm, expressive mouth easing as far down my shaft as it will go.
“So good, zara,” I praise as I
move my hips, encouraging her to pick up her pace—she does. She’s moaning with pleasure, which sends a punch of lust through my cock and balls. She’s holding my sac, caressing me, then her hands grasp my ass and plunge me into her farther. She chokes on my shaft but keeps pressing me into her, to the back of her throat, as far as she can tolerate.