There were other methods he could have used to slowly stretch me. He could have had my pussy much sooner than he actually took it. But he wanted me to fear and crave his cock in equal measure. He wanted to drag the anticipation out to torment me further. It called a strange sort of respect out of me that made me want to kneel or straddle the metal phallus anytime he was near.
Every time I felt that fullness inside me, he taught me how to please him more with my mouth. I got better at it every day, until he could finally finish with my lips wrapped around his cock.
I was hungry for release then, for him to be inside me, but the single daily orgasm to help me onto the phallus was all he’d allow me. I couldn’t believe how desperate I was for more. As he came, a little dribbled out of my mouth and onto the ground. I wasn’t quick enough to stop it. His instructions about swallowing had been very clear.
He jerked me up off the chair and threw me down on the bed so fast I couldn’t think. A moment later, a leather strap was in his hand and it was falling across my ass and thighs.
“Master, please. I’m sorry, please!” I instinctively reached back as if I could protect myself from the blows with my hands.
“If your hand gets in the way it will only be worse. Do you need me to tie you up or can you control yourself?”
The idea of being bound, helpless on the bed, laid out before him while he punished me with the strap was both terrifying and oddly arousing. I wanted him to do it. I wanted him to take one of the cords from around a blanket and bind my wrists together, but I couldn’t say it. It was too shameful.
He seemed to see something in my eyes anyway, and I was spared the indignity of begging for something so wrong. He got the cord.
When I was properly restrained, he went back to strapping me. I was crying so hard, begging, pleading, feeling myself growing hotter and wetter. With his power, he easily could have killed me or seriously done me harm, but he didn’t lose control. He wasn’t angry. He was simply teaching me with the tool I would most deeply respect. From that point on, when I even saw the strap I would go to my knees before him to accept my punishment.
The tears were too much for him. He gripped my legs and pulled me to the edge of the bed. Then his cock was inside me, riding me as I bucked against him. The orgasm shot through me so hard, I thought it would rip me in two. He came, then slumped forward, his lips pressing against the side of my throat in a strange bit of tenderness.
Afterward, he bathed me, his fingers tracing over the scars he’d left on my back with his claws that first day.
“It’s not true, what it says on your back.”
“I know,” I said.
“Good.”
After that, he let me come more frequently, and Sir started using me again. Between the two of them I was wrung out by the end of each day. Most of the time, the idea of escape sat as background noise on the edges of my mind. I was kept in a constant erotically buzzed state, so desperate to please them both, to come, to be used by them, I would have forgotten my own name had they not used it regularly when speaking to me.
They’d started both using me at once, one of them inside my pussy, the other in my mouth. Sometimes one of them would fuck me while the other held me up. The day Master introduced nipple clamps was one such day. Sir stood behind me, holding me in his arms as the clamps bit into the tender, hardened flesh. Oh, how it had hurt when they went on! I had no idea how bad it would be when they came off.
Master used a vibrating toy against my clit as he fucked me. Right at the point of my orgasm, he said, “Now,” and Sir removed the clamps, holding me firmly in his arms as I thrashed and screamed, tears sliding down my face as the pain from the blood flowing back to my nipples pulled me in one direction and unrelenting orgasm pulled me in the other.
That night, I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t shut my mind off. I was wet, throbbing. I’d rubbed myself to orgasm five times already and still couldn’t sleep. I was too restless.
I got up from my blankets next to Master’s bed. It was late and he slept soundly. I crept down the hall to find Sir asleep as well. I had to get away from this place. I couldn’t let them keep turning me into what they were turning me into. Sleeping on the floor like an animal and finding some part of me wanting to be there? It was obscene. Not to mention all the other things I’d enjoyed in their care.
Of everything, it seemed sleeping on the floor was what snapped me out of their thrall. I had too much time alone at night to think.
What was worse was that I was falling for them, becoming strangely addicted to the way they touched me and made my body hum to life. I didn’t understand any of the things going on inside of me; I just needed to make it stop.
I could lie and say I was afraid for my safety, afraid Master would forget I was only human and harm me beyond repair, but I wasn’t. I was afraid of another type of death. The death of ego. I couldn’t turn into that girl. No matter how dangerous it was, I had to break free and go back home.
I had no intention of finding a man back in the city. I didn’t want to have to explain the words scarred into my back, but being alone felt preferable to staying and being nothing but
his
. I’d said I would run, that I would escape. The injury had slowed me down, but no more. I didn’t have that excuse to tie me there any longer.
I held my breath as I slipped into Sir’s room and, one by one, took the rolled-up blankets. Then I took the blankets from Master’s room. I dug quietly through drawers until I found the white dress I’d been wearing the day of the auction. I slipped the fabric over my head and went to the opening in the cave. It felt weird to wear clothes. Wrong somehow.
On our planet, the stars are so close you feel as though you can touch them. On a clear night, they light up the sky almost as bright as day. It was plenty of light for my escape.
There were twelve blankets and cords in all, six from each room. I’d learned why so many: they were for a mate to make a nest to sleep on. I didn’t understand why they didn’t sleep snuggled with their mate, why the lines of power were so severely drawn. All I knew was that I couldn’t be a substitute. I wasn’t that way. Was I? I was afraid to know the answer, afraid that if I stayed even one more day I’d learn something about myself I didn’t want to know.
I tried not to think of the fantasies and thoughts before the auction or how my body so naturally responded to Master’s and Sir’s dominance. I didn’t want to think that Master was right when he said he’d picked the right one. I didn’t want to be the right one.
I tied the ends of the blankets together, making sure they were secure. Then I tied the cords around the places where blankets met each other to make it even stronger. The first drop-off was the highest; I was sure of it. Once I got down the first little bit, I should have enough rocks to hold onto and shorter landings to make my way down. After that, it was only a few miles back into the city.
I took the final length of cord and tied one end around a piece of heavy furniture that would more than support my weight without budging, and I tied the other end around the end of the long blanket rope I’d created.
Climbing down was tougher than I’d thought it would be. Blankets didn’t make for the best anchor, and the wind kept blowing me from side to side, but I made it down. In some ways, it was almost too easy. At the end of the rope, there was about four feet more to the first landing. I jumped.
Beyond that, it was climbing and jumping. A few rocks to hold onto, then a little drop of maybe three feet. All the way to the ground. When I reached the bottom, I looked up at the cave, a tight, painful feeling in my chest. Was that grief? Was I sad to be leaving them?
If I was sad to go, it only made leaving that much more important. If I wanted to be free, this was my last opportunity. I started walking back to the city, hardly able to believe that soon
I’d be back. I wasn’t sure where I’d go; I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I refused to think about what Master had said, because if I did, I would have stayed. And I couldn’t do that.
When I got to the city, who would take me in? The idea of staying with Stephen made me want to vomit. He’d be only too glad to have me. He’d look at the words on my back and laugh and then use me until he grew bored.
Maybe I could find a job somewhere. There weren’t actually a lot of jobs for women, but maybe.
The closer I got to civilization, the more impossible the situation seemed. A part of me wanted to go back to Master and Sir, but I couldn’t. Getting down the side of the mountain was one thing. Climbing back up again wasn’t an option. I’d fall to my death.
What would happen when Master and Sir got up? Would they come after me? Would they demand I be returned? Of course they would. Why was I running? What was I running to? Who was I running from?
Myself. Of course it was me. No matter where I went, I’d never escape who I was or what I wanted. And what I wanted right now was to be snuggled in my blankets on the floor of Master’s cave with his wing draped over me, the safest I’d ever felt.
Was I willing to be miserable in the city just so I could hold onto some illusion of a woman I pretended to be, but wasn’t? It seemed so silly and vain. And for what? The approval of my peers? Those people who hadn’t spoken up or tried to stop it when I’d been bought and taken away?
I kept walking toward the city, finding the idea of arriving less and less appealing. As I walked, I thought about Lizbeth and her boyfriend. Could she be happy with a man she so easily could manipulate and control? Had she picked him because he was weak and she was scared of something inside herself, too? Or was she not like me at all?
I was so lost in thought that I didn’t realize at first I was being hunted. Once I did, it was too late. A pack of mambose surrounded me. They looked a little like a type of animal that had once lived on the source planet, called a
monkey
except they had sharp claws, fangs, and small, leathery wings. Their ears pointed straight up, and they had thick, long fur. But they were about the same size.
There were ten of them circling me, blocking off my escape, making strange hissing and howling noises. Their arms stretched out toward me, claws extending, waiting to rip into my flesh. The last thing I remembered was my own sharp screams as they tore into me, and then it was like the lights of the stars had gone out. Stillness. Nothingness.
I hadn’t expected to open my eyes again. When I did, I was in Master’s room, bandaged up like a mummy. The look of concern on his face was immediately replaced by a type of anger that made me almost wish the mambose had killed me.
He straddled me, his hand wrapped around my throat, his claws out but not puncturing flesh. I was struck with the fear that he’d saved me just so he could finish me off himself.
“Why did you run from me?” he snarled. “You could have been killed.”
“I was afraid.”
“Of me?”
Was that guilt in his eyes? Was he even capable of guilt? He hadn’t acted like he felt the slightest bit guilty about anything he’d done.
I made an attempt at shaking my head, but finally gave up on that and opted for words. “No. Of me.”
The tears streamed down my face. I couldn’t stop them. For the first time they didn’t seem to turn him on.
“Are you unhappy here with me?” he asked.
“No.”
He stared at me a long time, then released my throat and moved toward the door. “I’ll let you rest. I won’t punish you this time, but if you ever run from me again, I’ll put more scars on your back. Do you understand me?”
My voice was shaky when I said, “Yes, Master.” I hated seeing the disappointment on his face more than anything.
I guessed the only reason he wasn’t punishing me was that I was too injured, and by the time I was healed, his anger would have already run out. At least I hoped that was the case. He started to leave, but my voice stopped him. I needed to know.
“Which one of you came for me?”
“I did.”
I’d somehow already known this, but I needed to hear it, to be sure. I wish I could have seen him swoop down like an avenging angel, claws out, ripping and tearing at the mambose, then scooping me up and bringing me home to tend to my wounds. I wanted that memory to be able to tell someone. Maybe when Sir got his mate.
A few hours later, Sir came in. He observed me from the doorway. “Belle? Are you all right?”
I felt weak, but nodded.
He came in and sat beside me on Master’s bed. He reached out to brush a strand of hair off my face. “He wouldn’t let me near you, just kept yelling about what he needed me to bring to take care of you. I’ve never seen him that way.”
Sir’s words warmed me. Master wasn’t the type to whisper endearments or say
I love you.
But I think I knew. If I hadn’t before, I did now. The fact that I was tucked in his bed was statement enough. Though I knew once I healed, I’d be back on the floor again in the nest of blankets.
I was fine with that.
I never told Master I was sorry for running or scaring him. I probably should have, but it was pointless to lie about it. I’d needed to do it, to realize there was nothing for me in that city that hadn’t cared for me anyway, that it was too unsafe outside the city alone, and that here was where I needed to be.
A few weeks later things had returned to normal. Master was even stricter with me than before, as if he needed to constantly remind me not to run, that leaving him would be worse than staying. Or maybe it was that each punishment for a minor infraction was really punishment for running in the first place, and he was just looking for excuses because he’d never let it go.
Despite this, I found myself glad Master had bought me that day. I cringed thinking if it had been Stephen. Though Stephen’s sexual tastes were far from exotic, he would have made me feel dirty and used, like an amusement, a plaything. I never felt that way with Master.
I was Sir’s plaything, but I was something more to Master.
A few months passed and a new addition was brought to the house. Another girl, this one for Sir. She was a redhead and scared, sweet. Someone I’d known in the city.