[Zandian Mast 01.0] His Human Slave

by Renee Rose

  Chapter 5

  Zander rubbed his horns against Lamira’s bare back. She lay naked in bed beside him, her wrists cuffed to the bed, one knee drawn up in sleep.

  “Mmm.” She stirred, rolling toward him as much as the cuffs allowed.

  “Disconnect cuffs.”

  Her wrists came free, and she turned to face him, blinking her beautiful wide-set eyes.

  He loved having her in his sleepdisk. Loved waking with her soft, naked form ready and willing beside him. Today was the day he made himself available to his people, but there was probably still time to enjoy his slave’s lush body.

  “Do you need to use the washroom?” He’d begun to understand her physical needs.

  “Yes, please.” She rolled off the bed and darted to take care of her needs.

  He stretched onto his back and stroked his throbbing cock.

  When Lamira emerged, she eyed his cock. “If I were trained as a sex slave, what would I know how to do?”

  He smirked. “Are you asking me to train you?”

  He expected her to scowl, but she shrugged, the corners of her mouth turning up. “I guess I’m wondering why they would need any training at all if they’re bound and used at will.” There was a new quality to her voice he didn’t recognize. Was it teasing?

  “Come here and I’ll give you your first lesson, slave girl.”

  He’d guessed right, because she smiled in reply and crawled up over him her lids lowered seductively.

  Lust kicked through him, making his cock surge in his fist. “Put your arms behind your back.” When she did, he ordered, “Connect cuffs.”

  She gave an exaggerated scowl. More teasing, he suspected. Or playing of some sort. Another form of human dishonesty. Funny how it didn’t bother him so much this morning. Maybe he was getting used to her.

  He angled his cock toward her face. “Put your mouth over it.”

  Her jaw went slack and eyes widened.

  “Be a good slave or you’ll go over my knee for a spanking.”

  That excited her. He no longer needed to watch the flash of her arousal rate from his cuff—he was learning her physical signs. The way her pupils dilated, her breath quickened. Sometimes she blushed—he loved that.

  She licked her lips and bent at the waist. “Like this?” she whispered when her lips reached his cock.

  A drop of opalescent pre-cum shimmered. Her tongue darted out and she tasted it.

  He bit back a groan. He couldn’t imagine any scene sexier than the one unfolding now. “Take it,” he growled.

  She obediently parted her lips and lowered her head over his cock, enveloping it in the hot, moist recess of her mouth.

  “Lamira,” he rasped and wrapped a fist in her hair, pushing her down.

  “Mmph.” The little surprised sound she made reverberated around his cock.

  “Do that again.”

  She lifted her eyes in question, her mouth still full of his malehood.

  “Make that sound again.” He guided her head up and down over his cock as a shudder ran up his inner thighs. He wouldn’t last ten more seconds at this rate. And he shouldn’t waste his seed in her mouth—not when he needed her to conceive.

  She hummed while her head bobbed up and down.

  He thrust up to meet her, balls tight, his eyes rolling back in his head. In and out he pumped, wanting it to last forever, knowing he should stop before he came. “Enough,” he barked.

  She jerked off him, her hair mussed, a confusion on her face. Her pretty peach-tipped breasts shifted as she moved.

  “Good girl.” He forced some control, reached out and caressed her cheek with his thumb. “Lie down on your belly, legs spread wide.”

  He helped her into position because her bound wrists made it awkward to lower herself. After he climbed over her, he brushed her hair away from her shoulder and nipped her ear. “You are so vecking beautiful like that.”

  She moaned and lifted her ass in the air, offering her dripping pussy to him.

  He fit his cock between her parted thighs and shoved in.

  Another moan from his slave. Her arousal rate already flashed at ninety percent.

  Yes, they were sexually compatible. More than he’d ever dreamed.

  He rocked his pelvis, gliding in and out of her, savoring the tight fit and the perfect sight of her pinned beneath him, her wrists bound behind her back, her shimmering hair fanned out beside her.

  “So vecking beautiful.”

  He shoved in deep and came, only remembering to reach around and diddle her clit at the last minute. It didn’t matter—her muscles squeezed the moment he orgasmed, timed in perfect harmony to his rhythm.

  She fit him.

  ~.~

  Zander released her wrist cuffs and kissed the back of her neck before he got up and went to the washtube. A gooey warmth swam through her, not only from the orgasm, but from Zander’s show of affection—the kiss, the muttered words about her beauty.

  It made her want to be the best slave possible, to earn more of his approval. If it made her life here easier, was it so wrong to give him what he wanted? A submissive, obedient servant, willing to part her legs any time he demanded it?

  Zander emerged, dressed in a finely woven white tunic and pants, with a rainbow-hued mantle over his shoulders.

  She leaned up on her elbows and opened her mouth to ask him where he was going, but then closed it again. He would find that too forward.

  He hadn’t missed it, though. His understanding of her personality seemed to improve daily. “You may speak.”

  A shiver of desire went through her at the words. Why did she like it when he treated her so far beneath him? Did it make her admire him more for his elevated power?

  “I was wondering if you’re going somewhere special today?”

  “It is visiting day. You will not be permitted from my chamber today because the pod will be full of outsiders.”

  She remembered Gunt’s explanation. This was the day Zandians could recharge with the crystal light or visit with Prince Zander. When he left her alone in the room, he locked her in the cage. Her stomach tightened.

  “Must I stay in the cage?”

  “You must. Go and wash up if you wish first. If you’re a good girl and you go in without protest, I will let you attend the weekly meal with me tonight.”

  The promise of any variety to break up her day had her scrambling to be his “good girl.” She jumped into the washtube, dressed, and went into the cage without protest.

  “I’ll have your first two meals sent in and the servants will let you out to stretch.” He turned the cage so his face was inches from hers through the bars. He touched her nose. “You please me.”

  Three simple words—they filled her with such joy. Veck, she was totally losing it. Wasn’t there an ancient Earth term for this? Oh yes, Stockholm syndrome. She supposed it was a natural human instinct to bond with the person responsible for her survival. But what would her father think? He must be rolling over in his grave right now.

  She noticed Zander’s multi-colored mantle shimmered with thousands of tiny crystals woven into the fabric. A gasp left her lips and she propped herself up on one elbow to see better.

  Zander fingered the mantle with an apologetic, almost embarrassed expression. “What? The crystals? They are from Zandia.” He lifted the edge and fed it through the cage bars for her to examine. “This was my father’s. Personally, I’d like to forego the throne and royalty thing—skip the adjudication, but my advisors believe it brings our species hope. The elders weep and reach out to touch it. I’m like a relic of what’s been lost.”

  She caught her breath, stunned at how much of the real Zander she’d just glimpsed. “It’s beautiful.”

  “I think...when my species see the crystals and the colors, it affirms who they remember themselves to be.”

  When she brushed the pad of her index finger across a crystal, a wave of power rolled over her. If she had not been lying down, it might have knoc
ked her off her feet. It felt like traveling at time warp speed. Her teeth buzzed and thousands of images fell into her head at once.

  Although the sensations were not unpleasant, she jerked her finger away from the soft fabric and glowing crystals.

  “What do you feel when you touch them?” she asked, forcing her voice to sound steady.

  He frowned and she realized she’d done it again—her reaction had been paranormal, out of range. “I did not choose to rule over any other being. It was a position forced upon me when the Finn killed off the rest of my species.”

  “Of course,” she said quickly to soothe his defensiveness. She hadn’t meant to touch a nerve.

  He plucked a crystal from the mantle, tearing the threads. Reaching through the bars of her cage, he pressed it to her forehead, between her brows.

  A shock of energy rang through her like an electric charge.

  “Zandian females decorated themselves in crystals. They pierced their nipples and navels, their faces and anywhere else they wanted decoration.”

  Her entire body trembled—both from the crystal he’d stuck to her forehead and the idea of wearing more. Something about it excited her on a cellular level, thrills spiraling out in waves from all the places he’d suggested.

  Something buzzed on his cuff, and he drew back from the cage. “Be good, little slave. I’ll come for you later.”

  The heat burned into her forehead and traveled down her body to her pulsing pussy, which had grown moist just at his admonishment to be good.

  It took effort to make herself speak, but she managed to croak. “Yes, master.”

  The moment the door slid shut behind him, the images rushed in again. Far too many to follow—too fast. Her vision blurred and nausea forced her to shove herself more upright—as much as she could in the small space.

  A fierce Zandian warrior flashed before her eyes. He was older than Zander—perhaps by ten solar cycles. Flanking him, she saw armies of ships and warriors of a variety of species.

  With a flick of her fingers, she removed the crystal from her forehead and drew a measured breath to slow her heart rate.

  She didn’t know what all this meant, but it was far too dangerous, no matter how sweet the energy of the crystal felt. The last thing she needed was to get confused about what she should and should not know about.

  ~.~

  Zander found himself oddly excited about the prospect of bringing Lamira to the weekly meal. It was probably a terrible idea. She wasn’t trained well enough yet. She still tested him, still sassed. But she had improved over the past several days.

  But if he was honest, he’d admit wanting her near him wasn’t a rational decision. She’d become an addiction. When he spent the day away from her, he felt itchy. On edge. He burned to have her writhing naked under his hands, to hear the little cries she made when he took her, to examine every inch of her glorious body.

  The vecking human was becoming a huge distraction. And, like any addiction, he couldn’t pull himself back.

  His guard Gunt pressed his palm to the screen outside his door, so it was open when he arrived. He nodded at the male as he passed him, his eyes already on the cage.

  “Have you been a good slave, Lamira?”

  She shook the bars of her cage impatiently but wisely held her tongue. She was learning.

  He opened the door and caught her waist as she launched herself out.

  “Washroom,” she murmured, twisting out of his grasp.

  He let her go, watching her ass sway as she scampered to the washroom.

  When she re-emerged, she held up the dress he’d sent a servant to buy today for her to wear. A simple Zandian traditional dress, it was constructed of white linen with a halter-style neckline and long, slim skirt. “Is this for me to wear?” Color had risen to her cheeks.

  Was she excited?

  “Yes. Try it on to see if it fits.”

  She started to go back into the washroom then blushed, as if realizing she had nothing to hide from him, and stripped out of what he called her “cage clothes”—clothing he permitted her to wear in the cage on days he had to have servants sent in to care for her. The dress slithered over her head and down her lovely curves, fitting perfectly. Her skin looked pale compared to a Zandian’s, but she looked no less beautiful than any Zandian female he’d seen—live or in a hologram.

  She must have seen the appreciation in his eyes because she blushed and dropped her eyes. “Does it look nice?” She spread her fingers at her sides, as if presenting herself.

  He held his hand out. “Almost perfect. Come here.”

  She crossed the room and stood before him.

  “Release wrist cuffs. Release ankle cuffs. Release collar.” The soft leather pieces dropped to the floor. He wound a bit of the ceremonial rainbow fabric around her neck. “This will show you’re mine, without screaming slave.” He cupped her chin and lifted her face. “Now, listen to me. You will not speak unless spoken to. Keep your eyes lowered and speak respectfully. Any transgressions and I will bare your ass and lay you over my lap for punishment in front of every being at my table. Understand?”

  Her lower jaw thrust forward at a defiant angle. She didn’t like that.

  “Or do we need to get that spanking out of the way before we go?”

  He saw the flash of arousal projected from his cuff at the same time he picked up her physical cues.

  She shook her head. “No, master.”

  “Hold your skirt up.”

  She blinked, her breath quickening. Her fingertips dragged up the hem of her skirt until it rose above her waist. “Like this?”

  He sauntered around behind her and hooked his thumbs in the waistband of her panties, dragging them down to her ankles. “Step out.”

  She obeyed.

  “Spread your legs wide.”

  She widened her stance.

  “Don’t move.” He spanked her buttocks with the flat of his hand, first the right side, then the left.

  To his delight, Lamira stayed perfectly still, not trying to get away or dodge the blows. Her little gasps made music with the sound of his palm striking her flesh.

  After a dozen slaps, he ignored the projected readout, showing she was eighty-five percent aroused, and swiped two fingers between her legs to test for himself. “Lamira, you’re soaking wet.”

  He wanted to make her bend over and grab her ankles so he could veck her raw right there, but a wicked idea occurred to him. “Don’t move,” he ordered again, and gave her ass a slap as he walked to the box of implements and retrieved two bullet vibrators. When he returned to stand behind her, he gripped her hips and tilted her pelvis so her ass lifted and her back arched. “Show me what’s mine,” he said, his voice thick.

  She hollowed her back, arching even more.

  He rubbed the first bullet in her moisture and slid it inside her, vecking her with it until she whimpered with need. With her lubricant providing ample coating, he switched it to her anus, pushing it against her little rosette.

  She jerked and tucked her tail like a sharkhound, pulling her cheeks together and forward.

  He slapped each cheek. “Bad girl. Open up or you’ll get a punishment spanking with the wooden paddle.”

  She whimpered, but her arousal rate had reached almost 100 percent.

  “Are you scared?” he murmured, his lips close to her ear. With his left hand cradling her throat, he used the right to push the tip of the bullet vibrator against her sphincter muscles. “Or merely ashamed to have me touch you in a place so personal?”

  Her chest rose and fell, the fine fabric of the dress shifting over her breasts with the movement. She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. “A little of both.”

  “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m just torturing you because I know you like it, no matter how much you lie.” He eased the plug into her ass and pumped it a few times before pushing it all the way in. After delivering another sharp slap to her pink backside, he plunged the second vibrator
into her pussy and turned them both on.

  Lamira whirled to face him, shock streaking her face. She fell against his chest, her little hands fisting in the fabric of his tunic. Her eyes pleaded, desperation simmering just below the surface. “Zander!”

  He deactivated both vibrators. “Who do you belong to?”

  “You, my lord.” Her legs wobbled, so he took her elbow and guided her toward the door.

  “Good. Remember the rules and I won’t have to punish you publicly.”

  He saw a retort in her expression, but she clamped her lips closed, too smart to test him.

  ~.~

  She stopped as he opened the door. She’d never put her panties back on.

  Gunt stood at his post, his cold stare boring a hole in her head. He didn’t like seeing her happy with Zander—or so it seemed.

  She tugged Zander’s arm, trying to get him to come back into the chamber.

  He turned, lips thinning.

  “My...um…” She jerked her head toward the panties on the floor.

  Zander followed her gaze and his lips turned up in a sexy smirk. “Leave them. Let’s go.”

  Oh Mother Earth, what a trial. Her pussy practically gushed with moisture from all the attention he’d just given her. Her entire body must be at least fifty degrees hotter than usual. After the disquieting visions produced by the crystal that morning, Zander had brought her firmly back into her body.

  She walked on shaky legs beside Zander, who kept one hand around her back. It was an oddly tender gesture, which only served to further discombobulate her.

  Zander led her to the Great Hall, which had been transformed with a long table that took up the entire length of the hall, beautifully dressed in colorful fabrics and crystal centerpieces.

  She drew in a breath at the magnificence of it.

  Zander glanced at her and smiled.