by Sierra Dafoe
His body was lean, the bulge of his deltoids well defined, and the strong neck muscles showing clearly where he knelt before her. His belly was flat, rippled slightly, and she could see a soft trail of hair leading from the dip of his navel down to his groin. He waited, unmoving, under her scrutiny. She reached out her hand for the glass. As she took it, her fingers brushed his lightly, and she felt a quiver deep inside her.
Yes, this one was definitely worth considering.
“Thank you, Kantou. You may stand now. There.” She gestured to the center of the room. Obediently, Kantou stood and backed up to the spot she’d indicated. He waited diffidently, his eyes on the floor.
Soleyla sipped her wine slowly, and just as slowly looked him over, savoring both.
He might have been a statue, so still he stood. Perfectly proportioned, his body tapered from strong, muscled shoulders through narrow waist and hips to long, powerful thighs. Runner’s thighs. He might be three or four years older than she, perhaps -- or maybe it was just his stillness that made her think so. He gave an impression of patience, endurance -- something deep and inherently unbreakable.
Unbreakable. What an odd word to think about a slave! For all that they were property, men were still human and treated as such. They were clothed, fed, educated to a suitable level, and treated with a relative degree of affection. “The slave reflects the mistress” was an old, old adage, one Soleyla had heard many times. Breaking a slave, or even trying to, had never entered her mind.
She stood, feeling her shirt fall open again. The slave didn’t glance up as she approached, though he must, surely he must see her breasts, freely exposed to the small, silent room. She came closer, standing before him, so that those dark, haunting eyes were now gazing directly down at her open shirt. Still he betrayed no reaction.
Soleyla placed her hands on his chest, feeling the fine sprinkling of hair beneath her palms, enjoying the warm, smooth skin. She slid her hands downward, noting the curve of his ribcage, the firm bands of muscle across his abdomen, then let her fingers trail along the solid, narrow hipbones and brush quickly over his crotch. The hair there was brown as well, almost silky. He had a crisp, pleasant scent to him, like just-melted snow. Cupping his balls lightly, Soleyla let the weight of them rest against her palm. She squeezed them together, reveling in their size, their firmness. Held together like that, they overflowed her hand.
A stab of heat shot through her belly as she looked at his penis. Even flaccid, she could tell it was larger than Danel’s. How much larger? she wondered with a quickening pulse. She stroked a deft finger over the sensitive skin just behind his scrotum, and was rewarded with a brief, barely controlled quiver.
She studied his face, bent before hers -- without her boots on, she calculated, he’d be a scant inch or two taller than her. For now she enjoyed the slight down-tilt of his chin, the straight, well-shaped nose, the dark lashes shading his eyes -- which were, she smiled to herself, now fixed on her breasts.
Playfully, she spread her shirt wider, baring them fully. They stood out like melons, generously round, tingling under her touch as she trailed her fingers over them, following their swelling curves down into the warm hollow between, then cupped her palms underneath and lifted them toward his gaze. His lips, she saw, had parted just slightly, and his eyes glittered under those long dark lashes. She ran her thumbs slowly up the outer curve of her breasts, then brought her fingers together, trapping the nipples. Rubbing them, she felt them harden under her touch, and glanced down to see Kantou’s cock lengthening.
Definitely larger than Danel’s. She gave a throaty chuckle and tugged her nipples lightly, watching his reaction. “Does that please you, Kantou?”
She felt, rather than saw, his back stiffen. The glitter in his eyes disappeared. Carefully, he replied, “If it pleases you, my lady.”
Damn! Soleyla stepped back. Here she was, almost aching to have this slave touch her, and he’d retreated into cold, careful formality. She could command him, of course…
Instead, she continued her perusal, circling him -- and gasped at the scars that laced his broad back.
They were knotted, overlaid, as if whoever had beaten him hadn’t waited for them to heal before whipping him again. Soleyla felt a wave of rage so fierce it almost made her nauseous. No one -- no one -- should whip a dog that way, much less a slave. She strode back to face Kantou, yanked his chin up so he was forced to look up at her.
“Who did that to you?”
He regarded her warily. “My former mistress, my lady. I… failed to please.”
“How?” He looked away. “How, Kantou?”
He shrugged. “She didn’t care for my attitude, my lady.”
“I see.” And Soleyla did. That cautious, controlled exterior of his… Yes, by the right -- or wrong -- sort of woman, his stiff self-possession could be viewed as an insult. Such things had been known to happen.
Her body was thrumming with a hunger deeper than she’d felt in months, but she pushed it aside. Antoros was no glory posting. It was a rough, just discovered frontier planet, years or even decades away from being brought into the League. Soleyla had no illusions as to why she was being sent there. It was banishment, pure and simple -- a not-so-subtle reminder of who, between herself and her mother, held the power. Soleyla grimaced.
She’d need more than a play toy in that environment. And certainly not an unwilling one. Abruptly, she made her decision. “Kantou!” He looked up, those keen gray eyes studying her. “I will not purchase you if you do not want.” His eyes widened in surprise at her words. She was offering him a choice. Slaves were not offered choices. Soleyla continued, “I will have you willing, Kantou, or not at all. But make no mistake -- if I buy you, I will have you. Where, when, and as I like.”
His eyes darkened again. Soleyla turned away, strode back to her chair, and waited, feigning indifference, for him to mull it over. She toyed with the fruit, poured herself some more wine. Felt the friction of her shirt rubbing against her hard nipples. And waited some more.
Finally, she looked at him. He was staring at her, a strange, hollow hunger in his eyes. He looked like a frightened, starving dog.
“Will you beat me?”
“Never.” And she meant it. If she couldn’t handle a slave without resorting to violence… “But I will expect you to obey me, Kantou. Immediately, and without question.”
Nervously, he jerked his head in acquiescence. She studied him again, that lean, firm body, that luscious ash-brown hair… A hunger of her own, denied now for months, roared inside her, demanding satisfaction.
“All well and good,” she said. “But I’m going to give you a chance to prove it -- and a chance, too, to discover if obeying me will be too much of a trial. Now…”
Soleyla considered for a moment, then smiled, thinking of that day long ago when her mother first brought her to Porto. Remembering the sleek, golden-haired slave who’d fondled himself, trying to entice her. It had never occurred to her to have Danel fulfill that particular fantasy.
But Kantou would.
Right now.
Soleyla leaned back in the oversized chair and waved a languid hand. “Play with yourself, slave. I want to watch.”
Slowly, his dark, shadowed eyes fixed on hers, Kantou slid his hand down to his cock. His very unwillingness was strangely arousing, and Soleyla felt for the first time a pure erotic pleasure in the power itself, the power to make this man do whatever she wanted -- whether he was willing or not. But by the end, she swore, he’d be willing -- more than willing. She smiled again.
“Come closer, Kantou.” He approached until he was a scant four feet away from her. From her chair, she had an excellent view. “Now touch yourself, lightly.”
His cock was already half-hard, she saw, the veins starting to swell along its length. In light of its considerable size now, she could barely wait to see it fully erect.
Faithful to her command, he stroked one finger lightly down the length of his shaft. It l
eaped under his touch like an overeager mount, thickening rapidly. Soleyla licked her lips and leaned forward, watching.
“Good, that’s good. Now stroke the head. Just the head.”
Gritting his teeth, Kantou ran his fingertip around the thick, meaty rim, fighting the instinctive urge to wrap his hand around his shaft and pump. Electric tingles spread down his shaft and into his balls at that whispery touch. It was almost as if someone else was touching him.
In a way, he thought, someone else was.
At her nod, he caressed the head again, then followed her command to put his finger in his mouth and moisten it. As he did so, he realized he was salivating freely. How was this woman making him so horny? His finger gleamed with saliva as he brought it back to his cock.
“Good. Now do it again.”
For a third time he traced a circle around the rim of the head, tickling the underside of its lip, quivering at the smooth, wet caress of his finger. He groaned, deep in his throat. The woman’s eyes gleamed brighter.
He was fully erect now, harder than he had been since… he wouldn’t think of that. Not now. Not with his new mistress watching him, watching his hand…
His cock was so hard the skin gleamed, the slit in the tip spread wide by the swelling. It gaped like a small, hungry mouth, a pearl of pre-cum already gleaming at the opening.
“Rub it in. Just the head!” she commanded sharply as his hand automatically started to close around his shaft. Fighting for control, Kantou placed his finger against that small, gaping hole, rubbing lightly, then flicking his finger back and forth over it, gasping at the sensation. When he saw her vision fixed on his frantic rubbing, he pressed harder, working the moist, slippery stuff down the curve of the head, around the sensitive rim, being careful not to brush the shaft. He moaned as he did so, his hips jerking involuntarily. Another pearly drop of juice slid from his slit. The head of his cock was so sensitive he could feel it sliding over his skin.
“Again.” He almost wanted to weep with desire, but ignoring the throbbing of his shaft and the thick, heavy ache building up in his balls, he steadied his hand, touched it lightly to the fresh bead of cum, and smeared it over the enlarged, purple head of his cock, pinching it lightly, then harder, shuddering with an unfulfilled ache. His balls swelled painfully, screaming for release.
Almost as if she’d heard him, his new mistress tilted her head back, a wicked smile playing about her lips as he stood there, helpless, his eyes dark with need. “Not yet,” she commanded. “Spread it open.” Instinctively, he knew what she wanted, and pushed his fingers down the sides of the tip, making his slit gape even wider. He stood, head down, cumhole spread wide for her inspection.
Kantou felt as if he’d been pinioned on thin air, lacerated by the dual demands of his desire and the need to control it. Quivering, he struggled to keep his hands from his throbbing shaft, trying desperately to wait for her next command as she leaned forward, studying his cock. He heard sounds escape him and realized he was begging. “Please, please…”
“All right.” She nodded and sat back, her breasts thrusting out of her half-open shirt. Only the high flush dotting her cheekbones and the deepening color of her nipples betrayed her sensations. He would do almost anything to taste those long, hard nubs, to suck them into his mouth and flick them with his tongue… Gratefully, he slid one hand around the shaft of his cock, squeezing it.
“No! Lightly, Kantou.”
He almost whimpered. How is she doing this to me? he wondered with some half-obliterated part of his brain. She commands, and I ache to obey. Why could the last one not do this to me? Gently, he pressed down on his cock, feeling the taut skin slide under his grip. The veins in his shaft throbbed at the touch. His balls ached painfully. Grimly, he ignored them, concentrated on keeping his touch light when everything inside him wanted to clamp down on it, pull the skin faster, harder…
“Good!” At her praise, a sense of accomplishment filled him. He’d pleased her. He held his hand still, waiting for her next order, feeling cum leaking steadily from the tip.
Soleyla was hornier than she’d ever been. She didn’t dare touch herself, didn’t even dare shift in her seat. The second she did, she knew, she’d peak. And she didn’t want to. She wanted to make this last forever, wanted to keep him at that incredible pitch for hours, days… There had to be a way to increase the intensity somehow, without letting him come.
She could feel her own need rising, the lips of her pussy growing thick and damp, aching to be probed. But how could she command this slave if she couldn’t command herself? She forced her passion down, feeling it both contract and grow stronger. Leaning forward, she blew gently on that luscious, gleaming cockhead, and heard him gasp with sensation. His penis flexed beneath his restraining fingers, and she could see him fighting for control.
“Does that please you, Kantou?”
“Yes, my lady.” No more of this ‘if it pleases you’ crap, she thought with satisfaction. She glanced up at his heavy, half-closed eyes.
“Will you do whatever I tell you, Kantou?”
“Yes, my lady.” His voice was rough with barely controlled need.
“You had pain, before, from the last one,” she said. It wasn’t a question. His eyes opened a slit, though his huge erection, she saw, still pulsed as hard as ever. “Tell me, Kantou, did she ever at least turn the pain into pleasure?”
He shook his head mutely, the shadows back in his eyes. Damn.
“Stroke it slowly, Kantou.” Soleyla spoke gently and watched as he closed his eyes, letting his hand close firmly around his cock. His flesh swelled around the tightness of his grip, and Soleyla’s breath caught in her throat. “That’s right, squeeze it harder. But slowly. Slowly, my beauty.”
His face went slack, half in ecstasy, half in stark need, as his fist squeezed his shaft, the head swelling above it. He moved his hand up and down with agonizing slowness. “Harder,” she breathed, feeling her own need rising swiftly. He squeezed harder, grabbing his cock in a stranglehold, and moaned through his teeth.
“Does it hurt?” she asked softly.
“Yes, my lady. It hurts.”
“Does it feel good, Kantou?”
He replied with a deep, sensual groan. She could see his balls, full and tight against the base of his shaft, unbelievably hard. His right hand moved slowly, caressing his cock as she commanded, and gently she took his left hand in hers, cupped it over his testes. “Rub them, Kantou.” His hand closed over them, moving in a slow, circular motion. Soleyla watched, her breath tightening. “Now squeeze them.” He did, and she saw his cock throb in reaction.
He was helpless now, trapped in the grip of his need, his right hand stroking his cock with a steady, excruciating slowness while with his left he pressed, squeezed and tugged at his balls. Soleyla imagined those hands on her breasts, and felt a fresh spurt of wetness between her legs. “Harder,” she said. He clamped his hand tighter, moaning with mingled pain and desire.
Juice spilled from the tip of his cock in a steady trickle. She commanded him to spread it down over himself, and watched avidly as his fingers, slick with cum, slid over his deep purple shaft. She was going to come, just watching him. So she finally did what she’d wanted to do since the day she’d first come to Porto. She drew him beside her and whispered, “Harder, Kantou. Harder and faster, my beauty, my pet, make it sting…”
Soleyla watched the muscles bunching in his arms as he savaged his cock, letting go of his balls to wrap both hands around the huge, thick, impossibly swollen shaft, pistoning the skin up and down harder and harder at her panted orders. She rocked in her chair, willing him on, reaching out to let his hard, aching balls rub against her palm. “Please,” she heard him whisper as he tilted his hips forward, pushing his balls against her hand. Fulfilling his newfound need, she closed her fingers around them and squeezed. “Yes,” he breathed. “Oh, mistress, please!” She clamped her hand down, crushing them together, and felt them tighten even further as his shaft
bucked and jerked and his slit gaped wide, pulsating.
Soleyla felt her own orgasm start as he came, his semen streaming like tickertape into the air and across her swollen breasts. As she arched her back up to greet it, he collapsed to his knees, clamped his hands around her aching breasts, and sucked them like a starving man as the world exploded into bright waves of fire.
Chapter Three
Later, after she’d made him lick every drop of his cum from her breasts, Soleyla allowed Kantou to curl at her feet, his head resting wearily against her firm thigh. Her fingers played softly through his long hair, and she could see the ugly scars lacing his back. The sight of them raised a fierce protectiveness within her, a strange, novel sensation. With Danel, if anything, it had been the other way around -- it had been he who had looked after her, teaching her, gently fulfilling the desires she hadn’t known yet how to convey. She’d been a girl, then, with a girl’s needs and feelings.
Now she was a woman, and she knew what she wanted.
And Kantou belonged to her in a way Danel never had. Danel had been her mother’s gift, a reward for passing the sword trial -- a gift Rachel had callously ripped away the moment her daughter defied her.
No one would take Kantou away. Ever. Soleyla felt the heavy bulge of the coin purse at her waist. He would truly be the first that belonged to her. But her ownership of him ran deeper than money. She had, she sensed, made him truly hers -- hers to command in every act, every motion. Every pleasure he felt would be at her orders.
She glanced again at the hideous scars marring his smooth muscled back. Who could have done such a thing?
She’d better not find out, she cursed silently. If she learned who had done that to her Kantou…
Her Kantou. The words made her smile. As if in response, he tilted his head on her knee and looked up at her. The gray eyes were clearer now, the shadows momentarily dissipated. Someday, she swore, they would be gone forever.
