Master of Her World

by Lily Harlem

  When she reached the top of the roof, she blinked in the harsh light. It would take a while to get used to after so many years of dimness, then living mainly indoors at the training camp. If her eyes hadn’t taken time to adjust, their retinas would have burned painfully.

  The slope of the roof was gentle. Briella didn’t feel as though she were about to topple over the edge or slide down it. So with a briskness to her movements, she set about sweeping away the thick layer of dust that had collected.

  As she worked, she thought back to the enforcer’s conversation and how Gast wouldn’t want another slave taken away. What had happened previously? And where was that slave now? Was she even alive?

  She stooped and tugged at a grassy weed.

  Curiosity was gnawing at her, not least because the previous slave’s fate could also be her fate, the destiny that awaited her. Maybe he forgot to medicate her.

  She shuddered and tried to move her thoughts on. This wasn’t the direction she wanted them headed. Gast had so far proven himself to be both a professional and fair master.

  And that kiss.

  She pressed her lips together hoping to find a lingering flavor of him on her tongue. There was, just a little. Slightly spiced, musky.

  He’d said he’d liked kissing her. That she was sweet. Well, she’d certainly enjoyed the new experience; it had been unexpected but quite pleasant.

  Had he kissed his other slave? Was that something that was peculiar to Gast?

  Briella didn’t have any of the answers to her questions, but that didn’t dampen her good mood. Her first day in her new home was proving to be not nearly as hideous as she’d feared it could be.

  Before long she found herself humming a little tune as she swept. In the distance she spotted a bird, huge and with fingerlike feathers on the tip of each wing.

  She paused and admired it. Birds were common in the mountains of Roun, but for her it was a great treat to see a live one. Pictures were all she’d had on her home planet, and a few stuffed ones in the Natural History Museum her cousin Bettina had worked in.

  She’d liked the museum. It had been a respite from the smog as the Zoid government had invested some of their sparse funds to run air filters, an effort to save the many artefacts and rare specimens the museum housed. It had been futile though. What had they been saving them for? Zoid would be gone within the century. Nothing could save it. Like a cancerous tumor, the pollution was eating away at its core. Implosion was dead certain.

  Pausing to wipe the back of her forearm over her brow, Briella wondered where Bettina was now. She had been due to join the next intake into the Roun training camp. She hoped she achieved that and that her journey across the galaxy was going well. Traveling at the speed of light didn’t suit everyone.

  The bird cawed, catching Briella’s attention. She smiled and looked up, adoring it silhouette pasted against the lilac sky as it circled above her. The sound was beautiful and surreal and echoed around the mountains and into the valley she now called home.

  But the sky was too bright for Briella’s sensitive eyes and she was forced to look down and resume her task. As she brushed a collection of gathered dust to the edge of the house on the right, she noticed a patch of soil. It was dark and rich, turned over as if waiting for something to be planted. What, she didn’t know. Roun produced its food in laboratories, and only trees and grass grew in the landscape.

  But that patch of soil, oh, it would be perfect for her sunflowers. They would have a chance there. If she staked them they’d grow high and strong, produce more seeds, then she could plant more sunflowers, start an evolution of plant life on Roun.

  Her excitement was dampened by the fact she knew she should never have taken the seeds. She’d stolen them when no one was looking. A devil on her shoulder had told her she wanted pretty things and an angel on the other had said she was the only hope the flowers had, that they’d never propagate if they remained on Zoid.

  And so she’d filled her pocket and acted shocked when Bettina had reported the theft. Claiming that whoever had taken them had no respect for their sick planet. All along she’d held her secret close and kept the seeds concealed.

  But now…

  Finishing her task, Briella went back down the stairs. She was hot and thirsty but before she poured herself water, she checked on her master.

  He was seated where she’d left him. His swollen hand appeared to be in the first stage of healing, the salve shiny on the surface of his skin. He’d rested his head back and closed his eyes.

  “Sir. Can I get you another drink?” she asked quietly.

  He didn’t answer so she guessed he was asleep.

  Being careful not to make a noise, Briella went into the eating room and quenched her thirst. The water was delicious and cool and to have it clear enough to see through and free from grit was something she was sure she’d never take for granted.

  Wondering what to do next, she glanced at the white cross in the corner of the room. That was where she was supposed to wait for further instruction if she’d completed her tasks.

  She stepped up to it and stared at the wall. How long would her master sleep? She thought of her seeds in the heels of her boots. Were they okay? Had they been damaged by the journey by her weight on them?

  Making a sudden decision, Briella headed into the sleeping room. Her boots were on the floor near the large wooden cross Gast had strapped her to the night before.

  Carefully, she wiggled the heel of the left boot, forcing it to become a little loose. When a small gap was made, she upended it and shook. The first small black and white striped seed fell into her hand. It appeared perfect. She shook some more and released several. A smile spread on her face.

  Now all she had to do was plant them. She could do it while her master slept. No one would know it was her. She’d plead ignorance. What could they prove? The birds above could have delivered the seeds for all anyone knew.

  “What have you got there?”

  She started and clenched the seeds in her hand as her master’s voice boomed around the sleeping room.

  “Nothing… Sir.”

  “Don’t lie to me, slave.”

  “Sorry, Sir.” Her heart rate sped up. A strange tightening in her throat made it hard to breathe.

  How could she have not heard him approaching?

  He stepped up to her, his large shadow engulfing the area where she sat on the floor.

  Squatting in front of her, he rested his arms on his thighs. “Show me.”

  She gulped. The skin on her arse tingled. She’d really be in for it now. She’d been so stupid.

  “Now!” he commanded.

  She jumped and dropped several of the seeds. The sharpness of his voice, the volume of it, pierced her brain.

  The seeds scattered on the stone floor between them, a small sprinkle of evidence.

  Gast frowned and pinched one up, held it between their faces.

  “I’ll ask again. What have you got here?”

  “Seeds, Sir. From Zoid.” There was a shake in her voice.

  He narrowed his eyes and shifted his attention from the seed to her. “Why?”

  “They’ll grow into beautiful flowers, Sir. The flowers on Zoid are all dead; this is the last chance to save one species.”

  He was silent.

  “I’m sorry, Sir.”

  “You shouldn’t have them. They could be diseased.”

  “They’re not. I promise, Sir. They’re from the Natural History Museum.”

  “What?”

  “Yes, they’re perfect specimens. I promise.”

  “And how did you get them from the museum?”

  She began to gather the precious seeds she’d spilled.

  “Tell me.” He captured her jaw and forced her to look at him.

  “I… I stole them.”

  He swallowed, his big Adam’s apple bobbing low. A frown slashed across his brow. “You stole them?”

  “Yes. I’m so sorry, I know it’
s wrong but—”

  “But. You dare to say but. Surely you know stealing is wrong, but from your planet’s Natural History Museum. That’s… sacrilege.” He stood, dropping the seed at her feet.

  Briella reached for it and clutched her precious stolen cargo to her bare chest.

  He turned and stepped away, ran his good hand over his long hair.

  She studied the shape of his back again, the thick lateral muscles that tapered to a neat waist. He was going to spank her, she knew it. And it was her fault. Not that she was sorry for stealing the seeds, she’d felt it part of her destiny, but for being caught doing so. She’d been so close. Another five minutes and she could have had them buried in the life-giving soil with a splash of water over them. They’d have thrived beneath the light of three suns, she was sure of it.

  But now…

  “Put the seeds down,” he said, staring out of the window.

  “Yes, Sir.” She carefully set them in a small pile on top of the set of drawers by his bed. Her hand was shaking. “What would you like me to do now, Sir?”

  “Be silent and stand still.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “I said silence.” He faced her again. He was breathing rapidly. “I should flog you for this.”

  She stared at her bare feet, unable to look at his furious face for another second. Yesterday’s lashings on her ass had been difficult to take, and that had just been to prove to enforcers that she would be punished for misdemeanors. But this… maybe he’d hand her over to the government for her crimes.

  He stepped past her, disturbing the still air with his bulk, and tugged open the top drawer. He took something from it then stood before her.

  She didn’t dare look up.

  She didn’t need to. He opened his palm, revealing two metal clips. They had feathers on them, like the finger-shaped ones she’d seen on the bird above the dome.

  “I can’t flog or spank you with an injured hand,” he said, “which is what I should do to punish you for this.”

  She didn’t answer. Not knowing what reply he expected from her.

  “So you will wear these for the rest of the day.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Do you know what they are?”

  “No, Sir. Sorry, Sir.” She eyed them nervously. They’d be clipped on her, she was sure. But where? Face, hair, her intimate parts?

  “Cup your breasts,” he said.

  “Yes, Sir.” She hurried to obey him, scooping up the underside of each breast as though offering them forward.

  He licked his lips, held her eye contact for the briefest of moments, then stooped. He took her right nipple into his mouth and suckled.

  Briella had to hold in a moan. If that was punishment, it felt amazing. She locked her knees and studied the top of his head, at the messy way his hair parted.

  Delicious ripples of sensation were shooting from her breast to between her legs, making her clitoris tingle the way it had yesterday with the vibrating device. She flicked her thumb over the nipple he wasn’t tugging with his mouth. It was hard and tight, a bead of acute awareness.

  She fluttered her eyes shut. Her master’s mouth on her breast was hot and delicious. It made her want to have her medication, but not to breathe, just because it would feel nice to have his cock in her as well as his mouth on her.

  He switched to her left nipple and took it between his teeth.

  She gasped.

  He laved it, flicked it, then sucked it to a solid point.

  Briella had the urge to run her hands into his long hair, fill her fingers with it, pull him closer. Tell him not to stop. But of course she couldn’t. That would make her punishment all the more severe.

  Eventually his attention left her breasts and he stood, looming over her. He used his uninjured hand to open one of the clips. It had small sharp teeth running the length of it. “Be brave.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  He attached the taut, mean clip to her right nipple.

  Damn, she wanted to cry out. The pain was piercing on her delicate flesh.

  She closed her eyes and bit on her bottom lip.

  “Breathe through it,” he said, his mouth a whisper from hers. “Breathe…”

  She did as instructed, fighting the desperate urge to reach for the clamp and tug it off.

  “That’s it,” he said. “It will lessen soon. You’re doing very well.”

  She wasn’t so sure. White-hot strings of pain were filling her breast, the discomfort slipping to the juncture of her thighs.

  “Stealing is bad,” he said, his lips touching hers as he’d spoken. “You must learn your lesson.”

  She was glad of his closeness, his words, the ghosting touch of his mouth. It was a distraction, and he was right, the pain was easing. Now it was a thudding sharpness, as if in time with her pulse.

  “Good girl,” he said, pulling back.

  She realized a second before he did it that the other nipple was in for the same treatment.

  Once again as he applied the clamp she had to bite her lip to stop herself from crying out. She clenched her fists, felt a little dizzy, curled her toes on the floor.

  “These nipple clamps will remind you, for the rest of the day, what a bad deed you did. These seeds were not yours to take.”

  “I’m so sorry, Sir.” A sob burst up from her chest and she suddenly noticed her cheeks were wet with tears.

  “Shh…” he soothed. “What kind of master would I be if I didn’t punish you for such a crime?”

  “You’re a good master. I know that.” She opened her eyes, looked into his face.

  He cupped her cheeks and stroked his thumbs beneath her eyes, catching her tears.

  “Please, Sir, your hand.”

  “It’s healing quickly with the balm,” he said, holding her face firm. “But that’s none of your concern.”

  She didn’t agree. Her master’s wellbeing was very much her concern. But with her nipples on fire and a strange longing growing in her belly, she was in no position to argue.

  “How does it feel now?” he asked, staring into her eyes.

  She averted her gaze.

  “Look at me.”

  “Yes, Master.” She paused and met his gaze again. “It hurts.”

  “In a bad way?”

  “Yes, in a bad way.”

  He tipped his head. “Think about it.”

  She was. What did he want her to say? That she liked pain?

  “Have the clamps made you hot and tingly all over?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “In your pussy?”

  “A little, Sir.”

  “Your clitoris, too?”

  She nodded. How had he guessed that?

  “Not all pain is bad,” he said. “Sometimes, as well as teaching a slave a lesson, it can give them erotic pleasure.”

  “Erotic pleasure?’

  “Yes. Erotic pleasure.”

  “I don’t know that word… erotic.” She pressed her thighs together. She was wet there. She didn’t know why.

  “Erotic means that a person wants to indulge in the pursuit of mating. Erotic pleasure is that all-consuming sensation you get at the height of the act.”

  “Mating? But we’re aliens to each other, Master, we can’t mate.”

  “Not necessarily to procreate at this point in time.” He slipped his good hand down the center of her chest, over her belly and to her pussy. “But to enjoy the physical feelings.” He slipped between her lower lips.

  Mortification swept over her. He’d think she’d emptied her bladder. But she hadn’t, she was sure of it.

  “Slave, you’re wet.”

  “I’m sorry, Sir. I don’t know why…” She shook her head and closed her eyes. “It keeps happening.”

  “You’re wet with erotic pleasure,” he said, rubbing her clitoris gently. “A wetness that eases the entry of a cock, whether it’s a man from Zoid or Roun, your body doesn’t care. It just wants cock.”

  Her head was sp
inning. What was her master talking about? He was so wise. He understood her body better than she did. Oh, and the way he was rubbing her.

  She pressed forward for more stimulation, wanting the pressure to build the way it had with the pad.

  Suddenly he stepped away. “Now go and stand on your cross in the eating room. Do not move until it’s time to make my final meal of the day. And…” He lifted his fingers to her nose, smelled them. “If you touch your clitoris to gain erotic pleasure, I will know and I will tie your hands behind your back.”

  Chapter Seven

  Briella stared at the eating room wall. There was a small fleck of orange dust on it that she planned on wiping away as soon as she was permitted to move from the cross.

  Her thoughts were a little fudged. The constant pain in her nipples was now a dull thud. She was still wet between her legs, though much to her relief nothing had actually trickled or dampened her skirt. Her clitoris was almost buzzing, the recent sensation of her master rubbing it a lingering memory.

  Oh, she’d liked that. If that feeling was called erotic pleasure, then she liked it very much. She’d liked erotic pleasure when she’d had the vibrating pad on. She’d liked erotic pleasure when he’d suckled her nipples.

  Glancing over her shoulder, she double-checked that Gast wasn’t around. She presumed the salve had worked its magic on his hand and he was once more in his workshop.

  She studied the nipple clips. The feathers were impossibly light, catching in the drift of air through the dome. Carefully she touched them, wanting to feel feathers for the first time but having no wish to dislodge or disrupt the clips.

  They were gorgeous on her fingertips, so light, so delicate.

  Another quick check behind herself, then she slid her touch lower, drifted it beneath her short skirt. Skimming her fingertips over her clitoris, she held her breath. It felt so good to touch that part of herself. Why had she never done so before?

  “What the hell?”

  She snatched her hand away. Her heart seemed to bunch in her throat.

  “Slave, do you have no self-discipline?”

  Gast was behind her. He grabbed her arms, yanking them so her shoulder blades jabbed together and her breasts jutted out.