Theron himself was a virgin. Though he would never give this information to Nyssa. He’d had options. Professional sex-makers were made available. As long as credits changed hands, most primales could avoid the bonding urges. Theron knew he could not manage that. Merely to look on a woman he wanted was to feel the craving.
To own.
Nyssa was trying to say something. Stubborn little creature—she was determined to keep her vocabulary to the end. “I’m…I’m…com-ing…”
That was the cue he needed. One final descent, holding himself back just enough so as not to drive them through the floor, he released the pent-up tension, the white hot flow, the seed of his primale lust.
Theron came and came inside her. Primales tended to have copious issues. It was a matter of marking the female, branding her internally. Nyssa’s body exploded around him, a million tiny supernovas. Her pussy conformed perfectly, giving him what he was sure was ultimate pleasure.
Like cresting the top of one of the black crystal mountains on one of the ring worlds, like plunging the waterfalls of doom on Narum 2, like having one’s belly pumped with adrenaline at the kickoff of stardrive. All this rolled into one and a million times more, sweet and naked, skin to skin with a female, smelling so right, so perfectly fit to be held and lifted.
He brought himself down in true disciplined fashion. Making a count in his head. Turning his mind over to speed thought, he assessed…
There could be nothing higher than this. No woman, not even an obedient could take him here again. He was ruined for bonding with an appropriate mate. Thus would he make the decision to follow the path of Morax. The path of lifetime service to the guard. And bachelorhood.
He waited for her to subside. He would not abandon her in this state. He would not abandon her period. Though he could not be a mate to her. This—the sex-making between them—would not happen again.
“Mmm,” she murmured, stirring beneath him half-awake. “That was sooo good…let me…”
She was reaching for his cock, trying to excite him all over again. “No, Nyssa,” he said sternly. “No more.”
“Not even a little?” she rasped, caressing him.
Theron’s blood began to pound all over again. “I said no.” He got up off the bed. “And I meant it.”
The gorgeous little nymph sat up, pouting. Never had he seen such a sight, such a totally, sexually desirable creature. Completely wily and wicked, and yet still possessing this incredible innocence. It seemed a magical quality, like he could have her again and again and still feel her as if for the first time. “Killjoy,” she declared.
Theron went to the objecticon on the wall next to the door. Activating the sensiscreen, he informed the machine of his desires. “Handcuffs,” he said. “Old-style police special, and a unit of rope, silk. And a half dozen scarves…oriental,” he added as an afterthought.
The machine hummed, processing the order. Behind the wall, within the unit, from the memory banks, the objects were being manufactured from atoms. Seconds later, the tray slid out, laden with Theron’s treasures.
He weighed the handcuffs in his hands. Not bad at all. Although he’d forgotten to ask for a key. Taking off the rope and colored scarves, all purple, he placed the second order. The tray retracted and a second later reemerged with the tiny key.
Nyssa was watching with great interest. He half-expected her to make a break for it or put up some kind of fight, but instead she sat there on the bed, quite docile.
“This isn’t intended to cause you trauma,” he announced from the end of the bed. “The restriction you will feel is designed to reenforce upon you the resoluteness of my will in this matter, and also to teach you some respect for authority.”
“Yes, Theron.”
“Put your hands together in front of you. The handcuffs go on first.”
Nyssa scooted forward on her spanked bottom, nice as can be. He ought to have known better, he really should have. A woman like this would never tame so easily.
She made her move as soon as the silver bracelets were locked in place. With both hands, she took hold of his balls, massaging them. His cock, already half interested, sprung to immediate attention.
Somehow his lightning reflexes failed him. Nyssa’s naughty little mouth was already nibbling at the head of his cock.
“Nyssa, that’s enough,” he warned, not very convincingly.
Nyssa opened her mouth, insolently taking him deep inside. Theron groaned at the sensation. Nyssa was good, very good. She knew how to suck, and how to apply her teeth. Along the ridge at the bottom of his shaft, and on the vein. She had an agile tongue, too, which she kept constantly busy.
“This…won’t change anything,” he said with a low growl. “You’re going to be tied up… You’re going to be…disciplined.”
Did his words sound as empty to her as they did to him? Face it, Primale, he lamented. She is taking complete advantage of you. So much for the vaunted superiority of his sub-gender.
Damn it, he could come like this. In Nyssa’s beautiful mouth. Would she swallow his cum? There was no greater sign of devotion an obedient could give her mate than this. It was considered the crowning joy of her life.
Nyssa, however, was a little more complicated.
“You just don’t learn.” He plucked himself from her suctioned opening. “Do you?”
“Sure I do,” she countered. “I just learned that getting fucked by a primale doesn’t turn you into a zombie after all.”
“On your back,” Theron grumbled. “Hands over your head. Legs apart, wide.”
“Sure, why not?” She shrugged, making it quite clear that she was doing this as a lark.
Theron decided it was time to take off the kid gloves. If she could endure the sexual contact without feeling the effects of primale bonding, than so could he. And simply because he had never participated in sex-making before did not mean he was lacking in knowledge. As a matter of fact, the entire Sexclopedia, all fifty-seven volumes, had been downloaded into his brain.
Among the topics that had interested him was cunnilingus. The art of seduction, and sometimes domination, by the tongue.
“It is time to learn your place,” he informed her. “Female.”
“And what place is that?” she teased. “Giving you orders, like Fem Dekalia?”
Theron bristled. She had come close to the truth. One day she would give the orders, to him and all other Guardians. That day was not today, however. “You are a female under my command,” he elaborated. “And Fem Dekalia is not.”
She watched as he grasped her ankle. He took one of the scarves, and wrapped it. He tied a knot and then secured the other end to one of the rods on the foot of the brass bed.
“No wonder you wanted a rickety old bed like this,” she observed. “Tell me, though, is this the only way you can take command of a woman? Rendering her unable to defend herself?”
Theron moved to the second ankle. Her attitude made no sense—instead of being subdued by the sex-making, she seemed to be drawing strength from it, minute by minute. “I would never do to a woman that which she does not desire,” he pointed out. “In my experience, women draw comfort and great sexual arousal from confinement by a strong, caring lover.”
“Obedient women, you mean.”
“A sub-gender from which you obviously do not spring.”
“Nothing gets past you, does it, cowboy?”
He ran the reference through his databanks. Cowboys worked steers and horses on the old frontiers. “Generally not,” he pulled a counter-phrase. “My little filly in need of taming…”
“Aren’t you the clever one?”
“You’re about to find out just how clever.” He tied the cuffs to the headboard. “Go ahead, try and escape.”
“What for? I’m sure I can’t.”
He tickled her concave stomach, making her laugh against her will. “Resist,” he said again.
Nyssa jerked ineffectually against her bonds. “Satisfied?”
<
br /> “Try harder.”
She cast a disgusted look. “Get a life. I’m not going to twist around for your jollies.”
Theron took hold of her nipple. “Try harder.”
Nyssa wailed. “You said this wasn’t going to be traumatic!”
“Pain isn’t trauma. They are two different things.”
Nyssa bucked against her bonds as hard as she could to get him to stop.
“Enough.” He released her.
Nyssa’s eyes narrowed like a hawk’s. She was ready for a fight, he could tell. The worst possible thing would be to acknowledge her strength. He would treat her in the way that would infuriate her most—as a charming little plaything.
“You move well.” He patted her hip. “Your mem friends must enjoy using you quite a lot.”
“No one uses me,” she rebuffed proudly.
“Really?” He ran his hand over her mons, settling his palm just above the cleanly lasered surface, smooth as silk, thanks to the finest personal grooming technology of the super-space age. With every breath, she could not help but push her pussy lips against him. “But you seemed so ready to be used by Mem Jolando. Or was that Vonda in the Gas Emporium, begging for his injection?”
“I like sex-making.” Her voice tremored. She was trying to push her ass down into the bed to resist him, but he could see that was causing pain to her spanked cheeks. “Is that a crime?”
Theron moved his finger to her clitoris, isolating it. “So I could bring Jolando in here now, or anyone else, and it wouldn’t make any difference?”
She gasped as he pressed her button. “Oh, fuck…”
“Yes, Nyssa?” He teetered her on the edge of orgasm, denying her.
“You…wouldn’t…do that,” she cried in stabs of breath.
“Why not?”
“You…won’t…share me.”
Theron felt a jolt through his finger, straight from her sex. Was it his imagination playing tricks? “I told you before, you aren’t mine.”
“Theron?” Her voice was meeker, more respectful.
“What is it?”
“Will you let me come?”
“No.” He pulled his hand away. “Not for quite a while.”
Her eyes were glazed with erotic pain. “How long?” she whispered.
Theron steeled himself, wondering who was going to suffer more. “Until you’ve learned, Nyssa. By daylight…you will submit.”
Chapter Five
Theron stood over her in all his splendid nakedness. The lean waist, the muscular thighs and full balls. His perfectly sculptured arms and solid chest. The look on his face. The fearsome resolve. She felt as if she had awoken the beast within him and now she wished only to put it back to sleep.
“I won’t cause you any more trouble,” she bargained. “What can I do anyway? You have me totally at your mercy.”
“That’s not sufficient, Nyssa.”
“But what more is there?” She clenched her fists, helpless in the silk bonds. “What more can you get from me? You whacked my behind red and I know I’ll get it again if I step out of line.”
Theron’s cock was rock-hard, like dura-metal. At least as hard as before, and, unless she missed her guess, longer and thicker to boot. “You are afraid of punishment, and you’ll do what it takes to avoid it. That is not the same thing as submission.”
Nyssa was still back on him telling her she was going to have to go a long while, maybe even hours without any sexual relief. Talk about trying to avoid something…
“Is there anything I can say or do?”
“You’d be going through the motions,” he shook his head, “out of fear. It has to come from your heart.”
“But I want it to,” she pleaded. “I really do.”
“Wanting a thing does not always make it so, Nyssa. This is a good lesson for you to learn.”
She stifled her standard urge to call him an arrogant cocksucker, a self-righteous prick who was trying to lord it over her like he was twenty years her senior when he was practically the same age. He had the advantage here, and she did not want to irritate him any more than necessary. She had already made a mess of things, opening her big mouth. She could be sleeping by now, left alone, she was sure of it. If only she hadn’t gone bragging about how strong-willed she was.
Immune to a primale’s power…
There was a laugh. The man had her in knots, wrung out, drained and burning to a sizzle all at the same time. She just wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing, that was all. But she wasn’t hooked on him or anything. In fact, first chance she got tomorrow she would sneak off again and find herself a new lover.
“I learn better sitting up,” she offered sweetly.
Theron pursed his lips—had she almost forced a smile?
He went to the objectifier again—a device which up until tonight she had been a great fan of. Her skin tingled with light dread as he read off a new shopping list.
A white candle with matches, a glass of ice cubes, a feather duster, a riding crop and something called “closed pins”.
The crop, as far as she knew was something for horses. She had no idea what the pins were for and why they would come closed.
“Theron, what is all that for?” She reacted as he brought the new items on a tray. “Tell me it’s for a game of twenty questions?”
“I’m going to blindfold you,” he said, “and then we’ll begin.”
“What are those things?”
He picked up a plastic pincer. “This is a clothespin. They used to be used on laundry lines. They have other functions, too.” He pinched and unpinched it in midair.
Nyssa tried to disappear down into the bed. “What if you just fucked me again? That would teach me a lesson.”
“I’m going to put them on your nipples.” He picked up the other one, too.
“No,” she cried.
Theron sat down on the edge of the bed and put his fingers strategically into her sopping, ready sex. “What did you say?”
“I-I said…” He had her writhing, back to the point of agony in seconds. “Nothing,” she moaned. “I said nothing.”
“Ask for them.” He moved his other hand to her breast, caressing the tight nub. “Ask me to put the pins on your pretty pink nipples.”
He had her shaking, nearly shattered already. “P-put them on me.”
“Are you sure? They sting.”
“Y-yes,” she hissed as he grazed her clit.
“Arch your back for me, like a good fem.”
Nyssa pushed her breasts up toward him, well aware that this was obedients’ behavior, not fem.
“Good girl.”
Nyssa whimpered, lip sucked into her pearly lower teeth as he flicked the swollen little berries one by one with thumb and index finger.
“This will hurt, Nyssa…at first.” Taking her left nipple, he applied the clamp. Slowly, with finesse. The pressure rose, from an ache to a dull roar. Theron caressed her sex to maintain the right mix of pain and pleasure.
“Theron,” she gasped. “Oh…”
How could she hate him and need him at the same time? He was doing these terrible things and yet he was steadfastly and gently guiding her all the way through step by step. It made no sense…
Unless there were some deeper emotions at work. Honest to goodness feelings of affection. Could a primale react this way to a fem? And what about the way she was responding and reaching out for him? That wasn’t just about making sex, either.
“Trust,” he whispered, brushing the folded silk over her eyes.
She lifted her head on cue, so he could tie the scarf. Trust, indeed.
“Yes, that’s it, Nyssa.”
She felt his kiss on her forehead…so very tender, so completely…contradictory.
Theron laid her head back on the pillow. “It’s time for the other clothespin,” he told her. “After that, you will not know what is coming next.”
Nyssa held her breath—as if that might make her other breast d
isappear. The already clamped one was throbbing. It was like a cord, tugging, aching, all the way down to her gaping pussy.
The indignity of not being able to close her legs, the humiliation. The excitement.
Theron pinched her nipple, as he had the other one, readying it for the plastic pincer. This one hurt worse than the first. It was a heat, spreading across her chest.
She wanted to buck, to shake it off, but she found that her movements, even breathing, only added to the sensations.
“You are one in a trillion women,” said Theron, stroking her cheek. “Do you know that? And it’s not the hologrid, either, or the way you look—though the universe knows you would waken a man from the dead. No, it’s something else—something no one else sees.”
Nyssa laughed. It was the feather duster running across her breasts, tracing a zigzag down her belly! “Theron…stop.”
He did. Abruptly something hissed through the air. Leather. Punishing. To her left thigh. “Be careful what you wish for,” was his only comment.
Nyssa gritted her teeth. She would not make that mistake again. The duster returned, teasing, tantalizing, pricking at her tiniest little nerve fibers, a million sneezes she couldn’t let out. The feathers settled over her pussy.
Theron dusted her labia. Nyssa moaned, curling her toes. Oh, stars…this was it.
Whoosh. The feathers vanished. Slash, the crop descended on her a second time, this time on her belly.
“That’s for squirming,” Theron complained.
Nyssa grimaced. Oh, how she wished he would not keep adding rules.
The crop had its way with her now as Theron caressed every part of her body with the thin leather rod. From the bottoms of her feet all the way to her cheeks with an eventful stop in between her slick thighs. A cold sweat sheened her forehead by the time he reached her lips.
“Kiss,” he ordered.
She pressed her lips to the instrument of discipline, braided and rough. It had a harsh smell, severe, like animal hide. It smelled like her, too.
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