by Jaide Fox
She felt the blackness swimming up to greet her and gave herself up to it.
Kittana was aware of nothing else until searing meat and fat frying greeted her nose. Plates clattered with silverware, sounding strangely domestic.
Kittana opened her eyes and saw she’d slept in the bed. The sheets were turned back where Navarre had slept. She brushed her hand over his spot and felt the where the bed was still warm where he’d lain. Pulling the pillow to her, she caught his faint scent on the pillow.
She sighed, wondering what she should do. Experimentally, she sat up in the bed but immediately collapsed back against the mattress. Distantly, she seemed to remember he’d mentioned she’d be sore in the morning.
This felt beyond sore.
Her thighs felt like they’d been pried apart and tied up behind her back like a trussed calf. Her ass and pussy throbbed. Even her nipples felt abused.
She couldn’t quite remember what had happened the day before. Had it been only a day?
And what of the smell of breakfast cooking? She thought, given the fact that she was his slave, she’d be expected to take over the domestic duties.
Had sex tamed the savage beast?
Kittana smiled to herself at her wild imaginings. Navarre was a man no woman or amount of sex could ever tame.
Slowly, Kittana gathered her strength and got out of the bed. She didn’t bother with clothing, since she had none, and padded into the small kitchen.
Seeing Navarre cooking made her smile with the strange innocuousness of the scene. He was so fierce and wild, she’d half expected him to simply turn into an animal and forage outside for misfortunate animals to slaughter. That he’d do something so mundane amused her.
“Good morning,” she said finally, drawing his attention.
He smiled a brief moment before he remembered himself and the curl of his mouth straightened. “I’ve made us breakfast, but this is something I expect you to take over, along with all the cleaning.”
She nodded and joined him at the table. She relished every morsel of her breakfast, cleaning her plate. Navarre watched her as she ate, looking surprised at her appetite.
“I’m famished and don’t know why,” she said.
“You hardly had time to eat yesterday. Today will be easier for you. I go to practice. Do what you will until my return, but do not attempt escape again. I’ve changed the code to the door, for your information.”
Navarre left her then to her own devices.
Kittana waited until she was sure he wasn’t playing a trick on her to catch her in the act and went to the door to see if she could discern the key code to unlock the door. He seemed to have figured out how she’d discovered it before and wiped the slate clean of fingerprints. She attempted entering in different combinations of numbers but came up empty every time. Finally, realizing the futility of continuing, she gave up and turned around to face the suite.
The kitchenette was small and quickly wiped down and cleaned from their breakfast. She moved to the bedroom/sitting area, stripping the dirty sheets off the bed and taking them to the laundry area near the bathroom. She emptied everything into the washer and poked through the closet looking for clean sheets to cover the bed.
He didn’t have anything to wear but loincloths and kilts. There wasn’t a single shirt that she could slip on over her head. Something about the state of his apparel made her sad. On his world, he’d enjoyed a variety of styles of clothing. Here it seemed he’d given up his previous life and wholly embraced the Spartan existence of a gladiator. There was no entertainment; no mementos of happiness, nothing that spoke of anything except a life lived solely for the games.
That he was here most likely because of her actions was not lost on her.
No wonder he acted like he despised her. He’d gone from the heights of society to a mere executioner for bloodthirsty entertainment. It was enough to drive the most stable person insane. ShadeShifters lived too close to the edge of sanity to remain aloof to this circumstance.
Kittana sighed, resigning herself to having no clothing. She wrapped up in a towel and noticed a rectangular object nestled amongst his clothing.
It was the first personal item she’d seen in his apartment—an electronic tablet. She grabbed it and some new sheets, put those on the bed, then moved to the sitting area and propped her feet up in the opposite chair.
Turning on the tablet, she discovered it was password encoded. Almost immediately, she felt a sense of disappointment. There was nothing for her to do in the suite all day, and she thought she would go stir crazy if she had to endure hours of empty time while waiting on Navarre to return. As much as she might enjoy sex, and enjoy being dominated, it wasn’t the only thing she wanted in her life.
Kittana swept her long red hair back off her shoulders, tucking it behind her ears. She chewed at her thumbnail, thinking about what he could have used as a password. She tried several relevant to his current life but those didn’t work. She thought about the name of his home planet, where he used to live, but it did nothing as well. Finally, she tried his mother’s name, the one woman he’d always said would never hurt or betray him.
It worked!
Kittana gleefully watched as the screen entered into normal operating mode. Here was his entertainment when he was not fighting. She looked through the applications, playing games of chess and subterfuge, then cards, doodling with the drawing pad. Minutes and then hours passed. Her eyes felt bleary from staring so long at the screen.
She began to be bored with the games and decided to look through his files to see what else she could find to entertain herself.
The pictures and video were the first things that caught her attention. She clicked on the folder, surprised to find pictures of his home world on there. The planet itself was mostly desert, with some beautiful oasis scattered through the landscape that society congregated around for survival. She saw his home, built from sandstone.
When she clicked on the home folder, she was almost stunned to see what was inside—pictures of her sleeping in his bed, videos of their lovemaking. Another picture of the first bouquet of desert flowers he’d gone out scouring the land for because she’d said she’d missed seeing flowers and green things. He’d even taken a picture of her first attempt at making one of his favorite dishes from his deceased mother—a knotted, round bread stuffed with meat and vegetables. It’d been a disaster, coming out mangled and burnt as if a child had cooked it. She’d been so embarrassed, but he’d eaten it and told her it was delicious.
She hadn’t known he’d taken a picture of these things. Or that he would still have the mementos of their past together, even now, years later.
The fact that he’d kept the images when he should have erased them sent tears stinging her eyes. She blinked her lids rapidly, wiping at them with her forefingers.
Did this mean there was still hope for them? Was there a chance she could repair broken trust and earn his love back?
She knew at once that she would try to make the bread for him. It was a simple recipe, she’d just been distracted by lovemaking to put the care into that it had required.
Kittana went to the kitchen and pulled the ingredients from the cabinet to make the bread: powdered milk and eggs, flour, salt, yeast and honey. She mixed the ingredients and covered them with a towel, going to the refrigerator to find meat and vegetables. It was best with fresh vegetables. He had a leafy green mix inside and a few other pungent white bulbs under the sink that she recalled him saying were onions. A red meat joined the lot, and she chopped the vegetables and threw them into the pan with a clear, greenish oil.
The auxiliary fan pulled the scent of food out of the kitchen, and once she’d caramelized the vegetables and meat, she set them aside to cool while she worked on separating the risen bread into sections to work into the knots that would surround the meat concoction.
She was a lot better at cooking than she’d been in the blossom of her youth. Call it a knack for fending for herself
, but she enjoyed being in the kitchen, creating something delicious from simple ingredients. Satisfied with what she’d done, she placed the bread on a sheet pan, brushed it with an egg wash, then stuck it in the oven and waited.
Trying not to hover, she cleaned the kitchen once again, never allowing her mind to stray too far from the bread. She didn’t want it to burn this time.
She was excited to see what he would think when he came back from training all day. Would it remind him of good memories of the past?
She hoped so. She was eager to try and rebuild some kind of life with him, now that she’d seen he still harbored some fond memories of her, even if he didn’t want to admit to them. His anger and fury could be forgotten with enough hard work on her part.
Kittana had to continue with the belief that her sins from the past could be forgiven, that he was still capable of forgiveness.
Finally, the bread was ready and she removed it from the oven and turned it off. She wanted it to be a complete surprise for him and worked on getting the scent of the food out of the air the rest of the day, hoping his nose wouldn’t tip him off when he came back.
She could hardly wait to surprise him. She moved lithely around the room, burning incense and spraying fragrance in the air until she was satisfied she’d obliterated the scent of the food. She made the bed up, piling up pillows until it made a welcoming, inviting presence in the room.
Almost as soon as she was done, she heard the beep of the door’s key code being entered, and then Navarre was inside.
Kittana moved quickly to him, unable to contain the smile that curled her lips. She stopped when she saw the look of anger on his face.
“Take off that towel and get on the bed, Kittana. On your knees. Put your hands behind your back.” The cold seriousness of his voice sent ice flowing through her veins.
“Navarre, I—”
“On the bed and on your knees, woman,” he said again, making her shiver.
Kittana didn’t try to argue with him. She moved to the bed to comply with his orders. Dropping the towel on the floor, she walked naked to the bed and got onto her knees, putting her hands behind her back.
“I knew better than to trust you wouldn’t attempt it again. I don’t know why I hold to this hope that you will listen to and obey me, when you’ve never displayed the inclination to do so.”
“What are you talking about?” she asked, resisting the urge to struggle when she felt the rope slip around her wrists and tighten her hands together.
He sighed, dropping deep violet, lacy undergarments on the bed beside her. “I brought these for you, but you don’t deserve my gifts. You disappoint me. Did you think I wouldn’t find out you tried to access the code to escape? I put a notification on the door to let me know how many times you tried and failed to leave.”
“How many times---“
He cut her off, his voice filling her with dread. “You’ll receive ten lashings. One for every attempt.”
Kittana swallowed a lump in her throat. She’d been so busy all day, she’d completely forgotten about trying to get outside the door.
“Navarre—”
“Be quiet, or we will make it fifteen!”
Chapter Six
Navarre roughly pushed her onto the bed. She landed on her chest with an oomph of sound. She turned her face to the side. Her loose hair blocked her vision of the room.
Navarre dragged her to the edge of the bed until her feet rested on the floor. The hard roughness of his hands made her shudder.
She blew the hair out of her eyes, trying to see what he was doing, but he was behind her. She heard the rustle of paper as he withdrew something from a package.
“I thought we would use these for pleasurable pursuits, but it seems you are only interested in being punished for your misdeeds,” he said coldly.
His hands pried her legs apart, forcing her to prop awkwardly on the bed for support. Already she could feel every muscle of her body tense, awaiting the first strike on her flesh. Where would he beat her? Her back? Her legs? Her ass? Would he use his hand or would he use a belt? Or something harder that would bruise and blister her?
Her nerves screamed at attention, heightened by dread.
Instead of feeling the crack of a belt or whip, however, she felt something cold at her pussy and ass. He parted the lips of her sex with his fingers.
“What is it?” she said, hearing the strained tune of hysteria in the back of her throat.
“I thought I told you to be quiet, slave. But if you must know, it is a double ended glass dildo. One short and thick for that tight asshole of yours, and the other long and ribbed for your sweet, betraying little pussy. I bought it for entertainment, but it can be used for punishment as well, as you will see and feel.”
With no preamble or allowing her to ready herself, he centered the glass over both holes and pushed the device inside her. Her muscles tensed at the invasion, but there was no stopping him from penetrating both orifices.
She cried out, filled to the brim and stretched to the point of pain. Her pussy watered, trying to ease the foreign object’s entrance, but not fast enough to avoid discomfort.
He grunted in satisfaction. “I’ve always enjoyed watching your backside take a dick, Kittana. I like how your little holes pucker around the object. I can see it hurt you. Do you like being hurt? Do you want to be punished? You can answer me now.”
She felt his hand resting on one bare cheek, warm and rough and filled with sensual menace.
She wasn’t entirely sure what he expected from her, but she ventured an answer she hoped would curb his anger. “I…I deserve to be punished for my actions, master.”
“Yes, you do, and there is no escaping it this time, nor any other.” His hand lifted and came down across her ass cheek with a resounding smack.
Blood instantly rose to the surface, making her flesh sting. Kittana bit her lip as he smacked the other side.
“That’s two.”
He rubbed the spots, feather light, then hit her bottom harder on each side. “That’s four.”
She felt his face on her then, recognized the bristle of a day’s growth of beard. The prickly sensation on her stinging flesh served only to heighten her awareness of him. The hot streak of his breath made her skin jump. She felt the flick of his tongue round the bottom curve of her cheek, and then he pulled on the dildo lodged in her pussy and ass. The moment she felt the slick shafts retreat, she moaned.
He shoved them back inside her, pushing them to the edge of pain. A cry ripped from her throat.
Navarre slapped her ass again. “Six,” he said simply, and then his mouth was on her clit, suckling at the nub until the blood rushed to that area as well.
He nibbled her clit, pulling the dildo out of her holes and shoving them back inside, never taking his mouth off her clit. She could feel every ridge move through her pussy. Tension mounted her insides.
She felt his mouth leave her pussy and wanted to scream in frustration as he lodged the device back in. The warmth of his hips ground against her, pushing the dildo tight inside her.
“I think there is room for me in there as well.”
She stiffened, jerking against the ropes binding her wrists. “No, there isn’t. I can’t possibly take anymore.”
His cock prodded against her already full pussy. “Did I ask you if you could?” he ground out, then slapped her ass, bringing the blood rushing back to the surface.
“No,” she whimpered.
“Then shut your mouth and take my cock, woman.” He spanked the other ass cheek, harder this time, blistering her flesh and drawing her attention away from her pussy.
It was then that she felt the hot hardness of his cock wedging beside the now heated glass inside her. She bit her lip, trying not to cry out, and then he pushed inside her, filling her impossibly fuller.
She screamed, jerking against his forceful invasion.
“I love it when you scream for me, Kittana. Scream again,” he urged, movi
ng slowly, inexorably inside, stretching her to the point that she thought she’d rip to pieces.
Kittana screamed, feeling him slim his cock for easier entry. The bizarre feeling of two dicks inside her pussy and another in her ass was almost too much to handle.
It was too much to handle.
Her cunt clenched, tried to relax but couldn’t. He rubbed her clit, evoking sensations of pleasure to course through the little nub, forcing her muscles to relax and accept everything he gave her.
She bucked on the bed and he slapped her, once, twice on the ass, ending the punishing beating but not the punishment of three cocks inside her. He pumped carefully, alternating between moving the dildos in and out of her, and torturing her swollen clit.
