by Jaid Black
“Sweet Cyrus, please!” Nellie sobbed, pathetically close to crying. Her head resumed its thrashing, the jarring action growing more and more violent, more and more desperate. “Please fuck me! I beg you to fuck me!”
Nothing.
“Please!” she screamed, her voice frantic as her head thrashed harder and harder. “Master please fuck me!”
Kerick impaled her pussy, driving his cock in to the hilt.
Nellie cried out, coming violently and instantaneously. “Yes! Yes! Oh yes!” She knew she sounded pathetic, but no longer cared. She groaned long and loud, gluttonously loving every moment of her release.
Only when it was over and the tremors of climax began to wane a bit, did she realize that although Kerick’s cock was buried deep in her flesh, he was purposely keeping his body still, granting her no friction in order to come again. And she did want to come again—sweet Kalast but she felt like she had ten gallons of juice stored up for him.
Her breathing was labored, inducing her breasts to heave up and down beneath his palms. She softly moaned at the feeling of having them kneaded so expertly by his large, callused hands. She glanced up at him, noting the steel resolve of his clenched jaw, the tenseness of his well-honed muscles, the seriousness of his intense, forbidding expression…
He wasn’t going to give her more, she knew. Not unless she gave him what he wanted in return. But what could he possibly want from—
Nellie’s breathing stilled. Her eyes widened as she remembered the magic word that had gotten her impaled.
Kerick had finally buried his cock in her pussy when she’d called him…
Master.
She swallowed roughly, realizing as she did that she would get no more release without showing him more obedience. She groaned, any resistance she might have put up quickly thwarted by the callused hands kneading her breasts, the palms running over her aching nipples, the motionless but pulsating cock she could feel buried deep inside of her, teasing her with what could be…
“Master, please.” Nellie took a deep breath and expelled it. “I—I’m sorry I ran from You. I’ll be a good girl. I—I promise.”
Kerick rewarded her words, his hips gyrating slowly back and forth. He moved in and out of her flesh in long, leisurely strokes—enough to make her moan, yet not fast enough to produce the friction necessary for orgasm.
“Please, Master,” she begged, frustrated by her lack of ability to throw her hips back at him. “Please fuck me hard.”
His hips moved a bit faster, yet still not fast enough. She didn’t know whether to grit her teeth or sob like a martyr. Or both.
“My body is Your vessel.” She gasped when he gave her one hard stroke, rewarding her continued compliance. “My cunt and nipples belong to You and only You—oh yes.” She groaned when he gave her one more hard bang, simultaneously realizing that she knew she’d never have to worry about him passing her around to others to share of. He was far too possessive.
“I will obey You always and never run from You again—oh yes! Oh yes!” Nellie moaned when he gave her three hard, deep strokes in rapid succession. She reveled in the grunting sound he made, understanding the sound meant that he too was near the end of his limits. Assuming, of course, that he had any.
Sweet Cyrus, but she was taking no chances, she thought hysterically.
“I accept the nipple chains without proof of Your ability to breed me—Please! Oh yes! Oh—more!—I accept the brand of your line without You having paid yen unto my sire…” She gasped when he gave her five hard, fast stokes, her head falling helplessly back onto the dirt ground. “I will never touch, submit to, desire, or think of another male…”
Kerick fucked her hard, plunging his cock into her flesh in fast, deep strokes. She cried out at the hedonistic friction, coming violently and instantaneously—again.
“My good and obedient wench.” He ground out the praise, his muscles flexed and jaw clenched as he rode her body ruthlessly. He pounded into her long and hard, fucking her in the way they both wanted it, needed it. “Come for Master again, Nellie.”
She did—over and over, again and again. Unable to move, unable to do anything besides lie there and take the gluttonous fucking he was giving her, she moaned loudly, her head thrashing from side to side as he impaled her cunt time and time again. “Yes!” she cried out. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”
He mounted her impossibly harder, groaning as he repeatedly buried his thick cock in her flesh. She could hear the suctioning sound her pussy made on each of his upstrokes, could feel how hard her nipples were jutting up to stab against his chest.
Nellie gasped when she came again, having never known a woman could orgasm so fiercely and so many times in one session. She threw her head back and moaned, greedily loving it when he fucker her harder and harder and—
Kerick’s muscles tensed from above her, the roped veins of his musculature prominent. “I’m coming,” he growled as he mercilessly fucked her. “I’m coming.”
He closed his eyes and groaned long and loud as his body convulsed atop hers. His teeth were clenched and his muscles corded as he spurted hot cum deep into her cunt. “My pussy,” he growled, plunging in and out of her flesh until he’d drained every last drop from his sac. “All Mine.”
It was long minutes later before Kerick finally pulled out of Nellie’s body. Even more time went by before he cut away her binds, allowing her body to move about for the first time in hours. It gave Nellie time to think about all of the vows she had made while in the throes of uncontrollable lust—vows she knew she would be expected to keep.
She swallowed nervously as she watched him place first one gold hoop, and then another, around her stiff nipples. A delicate but strong gold chain threaded with rubies was next laced from one nipple ring to the other, the chain dangling down a bit so as not to be in the way of his mouth when he desired to suckle of them.
Nellie glanced up at him curiously, surprised that an Outlaw could come up with the yen to buy such an expensive piece of matrimonial body décor. Kerick didn’t satiate her curiosity with an answer, of course. He leaned his grim face into her breasts instead and placed a soft kiss on either nipple. “Mine,” he murmured. “All mine.”
The branding came next, an electro-tattoo that was impossible to remove with any manner of technology. But then brandings had been created with the purpose of never being able to get rid of them, for males weren’t likely to steal away a female whose body was permanently marked by another Master’s brand.
On her hands and knees before him, her buttocks raised high into the air, Nellie offered Kerick no resistance as the electro-tattoo was carved into her right buttock. It didn’t hurt, not really. She could feel a slight pinching sensation, a bit of pressure perhaps, but nothing more than that.
She found herself wondering what the carving looked like, but knew she wouldn’t have the answer until she happened upon an image-map. All that she could be certain of was that his first and last name were permanently engraved on her right buttock…
Her curiosity grew. She didn’t even know his last name, she thought, that realization occurring to her for the first time.
Kerick ran a possessive palm over the electro-tattoo, his hand coming to a rest on the side of it. “Mine,” he murmured as his lips came down and kissed the branding. “All mine.”
Chapter 24
The two female scientists emerged from the shadows, crawling out from behind the scattered boulders after the new Master steered his wife from the antechamber. A pair of intense gray eyes watched Kerick’s retreat, mourning from the loss of not being able to call out to him.
They had been so close—Dr. Kan had almost been within their grasp. But then Kerick had come in before they had been able to reach her and now Nellie Kan belonged to him, to Kerick, irrevocably.
Kerick.
The scientists located the crushed body of the droid and, after ascertaining that she was salvageable, hitched her up to an electro-cart to be taken back to the Under
ground lab.
“Should we follow them so we know where she’s been taken to?” Dr. Patricia Haley asked in her native Spanish tongue. “Dr. Kan still has the journal, I’m certain. My readings gage that it’s contained within a vacuum-sealed container in the satchel she still carries.” She sighed. “If Dr. Kan won’t be joining the Xibalba, then we need that journal back.”
The intense gray eyes flicked towards her. “We need Nellie’s help, my friend. The journal is not enough. If it were then we would have developed a serum long ago.”
Dr. Haley arched a shapely black eyebrow. “I saw the way he looked at her. That male will never let her escape him.”
“No. He won’t.”
“Then—”
“But he’ll still bring her to us. When she tells him what she knows, his curiosity, if nothing else, will bring him back to Cavern 7.”
Dr. Haley blinked at that. “This is a male we are speaking of, my friend. They are not a species well known for their cunning intellect. Or their compassion.”
“That male is different,” she murmured.
Dr. Haley snorted at that. “How so?” she asked dryly, her arms crossing under her breasts.
The intense gray eyes flicked toward the other female scientist. “Did I tell you his name?” she whispered.
Dr. Haley hesitated, her curiosity piqued. She shook her head.
“Kerick.” The gray eyes closed, as if savoring the name on her lips. “Kerick Riley.”
“Sweet Cyrus.” Patricia Haley clapped a hand over her own mouth, her shock evident.
“He’ll come back,” the other scientist murmured, her usually stoic eyes showing a bit of vulnerability. “I know he’ll come back.”
Chapter 25
January 23, 2250 A.D.
The trek back to the catacombs felt as though it was taking forever. Kerick hadn’t wanted to gamble with Nellie’s life by stopping to fuck her en route, and so it was taking every last bit of resolve he had to not give in to his more primal urges and mount her every way imaginable.
But good Cyrus, it had been fifteen years since he’d plunged into a wench—fifteen years. And the wench he could now plunge into at whim was Nellie Kan…Nellie Kan Riley.
He owned her, he thought possessively. She would never spread her thighs for any male but him.
Sinking into Nellie’s pussy back in Cavern 7 had felt as exquisite as Kerick had known it would. She had been tight and wet and greedy—
And he wanted more.
And more. And more. And more.
He wanted to suck on her stiff nipples—nipples that were now adorned with his rings. He wanted to lap at her puffy cunt, then turn her over and fuck her hard from behind, the proof of his permanent ownership visible on her buttocks as he repeatedly sank into her.
He wanted to do a lot of things, he thought, his manhood growing swollen. Yet at the same time he knew it was necessary to never let himself forget that he needed to maintain a rigid control where she was concerned—at least until she’d been totally mastered by him.
First things first, he needed to get her into the security of the catacombs. Once there he would isolate her from all other humans but himself, allowing her no contact with anyone until he was certain he had her unequivocal trust and devotion.
Both ingredients were necessary. Both ingredients would insure her survival. He could then get her to talk about what she knew in regards to the Hierarchy.
“Are we almost there?” Nellie asked quietly. She cleared her throat. “I’m very tired,” she whispered.
He believed her. She sounded more than a wee bit drained.
His steel-gray eyes flicked down, scanning her naked body. She wore no body décor but the nipple chains, a fact that he and his cock couldn’t help but to notice and appreciate. “Soon, Nellie. Perhaps another half-hour at best.”
She nodded, but said nothing.
Kerick ran a possessive palm over her backside, his hand settling on the branding. “How does it feel?” he asked with genuine concern, though Nellie probably didn’t yet know him well enough to recognize the barely perceptible difference in his tones. “Does it hurt?”
She shook her head, but again she said nothing.
His eyebrow rose. Ah. The silent treatment. So that was how it was to be.
She was a stubborn wench, Kerick realized, but then that was one of the many reasons he had been so attracted to her from the beginning.
His callused hand squeezed her buttock, the subtle reminder of who owned her clear. “I will let it go this time,” he said softly, “but in the future when I ask a question with words I expect an answer that also contains words.”
He saw her jaw clench and wanted to sigh at the telling reaction. But he didn’t, of course, for he had known from the beginning that Nellie would not be mastered so easily.
Under normal circumstances he wouldn’t have given a yen, for he would have let the mastering progress at its natural pace. But there was no time for that now. Her life, whether or not she yet realized it, depended upon his strength.
And on his ability to get her to talk.
* * * * *
And I stood upon the sand of the sea, and saw a beast rise up out of the sea…and they worshipped the beast, saying, Who is like unto the beast? Who is able to make war with him?
And he causeth all, both small and great, rich and poor, free and bond, to receive a mark in their right hand, or in their foreheads: And that no man might buy or sell, save he that had the mark…
Here is wisdom. Let him that hath understanding count the number of the beast for it is the number of a man; and his number is six hundred, threescore, and six.
Nellie’s eyes flicked up from Margaret Riley’s journal to the stone and thatched door she was hoping Kerick wouldn’t be walking through for a while. He had said he would return in a couple of hours with food, which should give her enough time to study the diary—an activity she hadn’t been fortunate enough to do while trekking through the jungle with Cyrus 12.
And Jesus said unto him, Come out of the man, thou unclean spirit.
And he asked him, What is thy name? And the demon answered, saying, My name is Legion, for we are many…
“My name is Legion,” she murmured. “For we are many.” Her eyes darted from the passage Margaret Riley had scrawled out from the Book of Mark back to the original passage copied from the Book of Revelation.
And I stood upon the sand of the sea, and saw a beast rise up out of the sea…and they worshipped the beast, saying, Who is like unto the beast? Who is able to make war with him?
“Who is able to make war with him…?” Nellie bit her lip as she considered which of the many Hierarchy leaders that description fit. The problem, insofar as she could see it, was that the description fit at least five men of Federated Earth.
1. Kalif Henders—the owner of Fathom Systems and her former boss, Vorice Henders, brother. His estimated personal holdings, she recalled from a virtual program she’d seen on him, were in excess of 2.7 trillion yen. Although he had never been appointed the High Chancellor of any particular biosphere, it was implicitly understood by all and sundry that he owned the United Americas of Earth.
2. Creagh O’Malley—a Dublin biosphere born multi-billionaire who was the High Chancellor of the United Republic of Europe. O’Malley and Henders were thought to have strong ties to the other, but rarely were the two ever seen together in public.
3. Maxim Malifé—No. Scratch him off. He’s dead, Nellie thought.
4. Tozeki LeJuene—born in the African Congo biosphere, he was High Chancellor of the United African States, and was reportedly the man Henders was most dependent upon for the import of Erodium from planet Kalast—Erodium being necessary to manufacture the yen chips hosted in humanoid brains for buying and selling purposes.
5. Abdul Kan—my sire, she thought with a heavy heart. Master Kan, a citizen of the United Americas of Earth, had been born and bred in the Arabian biospheres. His personal assets were near
the range of 1.3 trillion yen and he held a close connection to Creagh O’Malley, the two having roomed together at virtual university years back. Master Kan was the owner of Kan Technology, a conglomerate organization that provided Fathom Systems with, among other things, the necessary human guinea pigs to test yen chips and other technology on. The guinea pigs were often taken from correctional sectors, or bought from poor families with too many sons.
Nellie ran a punishing hand through her hair, feeling, for the millionth time, indirectly responsible for the torture and death of so many males. She knew she couldn’t have said anything that would have stopped her father from selling slaves to Fathom Systems, of course, but she could have gone public with what she knew about the illegal activity and stopped it that way.
She took a deep breath and blew it out. So many valuable years and so many valuable lives had been wasted. And all because she had once believed, naïve as it sounded, that her father would change and see the error of his ways with a wee bit of coaxing.
Stupid. She had been more foolish than she felt comfortable admitting.
Nellie closed Margaret Riley’s journal and vacuum-sealed it away. That accomplished, she secreted it away within the hidden chamber of her satchel and placed the satchel where it had been before Kerick had taken his leave.
She glanced around the chamber that was her new home—at least for the time being, making certain that all was as it should be. Yes, she thought, everything looked right.
The underground earthen and stone room, though smallish, was comfortable enough. Lit torches sat in sconces, providing light. Animal furs were strewn all over the chamber, providing warmth. A crude non-automated kitchen sat to one side of the chamber, a rudimentary entertainment area to the other, and the bedchamber at the far corner. Her gaze next fell to the large, and rather decadent, pillow-bed.
