Nyssa's Guardian

by Reese Gabriel

  “Rubber ball gag,” he said to the objectifier. “Old-time specs.”

  Hmm—she didn’t like the sound of that.

  “Better order yourself a reality check, too,” she called out. “If you think I’m going to be bullied anymore.”

  The gag was a rubber ball, all right, attached to straps. He held it in his hand as he spoke. “Last night,” he reminded, “you swore to the moons and stars that you would be my sweet little submissive.”

  “I was horny.” She scooted back on the bed, trying to yank her ankle free. “Fems say things when they want to get laid. Just like you men do. Now unchain me and stop this foolishness. I have a show tonight.”

  “You’re not going anywhere until your behavior is rendered acceptable. To begin with, an apology is due for your comments to me this morning.”

  “You mean about my saying you’re an asshole? Well, it’s true, so why don’t you apologize.”

  Theron popped the ball in her mouth, catching her completely off-guard. She tried to spit it out, but he was too fast, fastening it behind her head. She bit down, regarding him with seething hatred.

  “Rule number one,” he pronounced. “No speaking until you are willing to address me and all others with courtesy.”

  Nyssa rolled onto her stomach making a valiant effort to extend both of her middle fingers in her current state of bondage.

  Theron promptly swatted her with his hand, hard. It hurt—it really, fucking hurt.

  “Rule number two. Acts of disobedience and disrespect will be dealt with on the spot—and I mean on the spot. In other words, if I need to, missy, I will take you over my knee and spank you in public. With full broadcast on the hologrid for all I care.”

  Nyssa’s pussy was tingling. He was asserting himself, strong and hard. She could almost smell the testosterone. If only she wasn’t craving this so much. If only she wasn’t feeling such a strong need to be with him, to share every part of his nature and to share hers with him.

  “Which brings us to Rule number three… Just one more detail first.”

  Now what was he doing? Unshackling her ankle apparently and helping her to sit up. He gave her a few moments and then had her stand.

  “Do you need to use the hygiene chamber?” He asked.

  She nodded, trying not to drool.

  “Let’s go.” He unlocked her wrists from the waist chain, then took her by the arm. When they got there, he stood watching.

  “Do you mind,” she said around the gag, the words hopelessly garbled.

  “I think it’s a little late for modesty, don’t you?”

  She flushed red, lowering her head. In a few seconds she was tinkling away. After this he locked her wrists together in front of her and took her back to the bed. She hadn’t noticed the belt thingy before. Instinctively, she backed up. He was right behind her. A poli-steel wall.

  “Rule number three,” he repeated. “No sex.”

  Her eyes widened. Holy comets—she’d seen things like that in history books. It was a chastity belt, designed to imprison a woman’s sex. Rapid-fire, she shook her head, “mmmphing” away in protest.

  The display earned her two swats, enough to inflame the entirety of her backside, and also to set her pussy dripping freely. Damn her screwed-up body, anyway—this was protest time, not “suck up to the enemy” time.

  “This is for your protection, Nyssa,” he explained once she was docile. “I don’t want you exposing yourself to any danger. This will keep you free from all temptations. It will do the same for me. The key is stored in the memory bank of the computer, but none has been made.”

  All well and good, she thought, but Theron had super strength. There was no way a metal belt would keep him out if he wanted in. Or maybe that wasn’t the point—maybe this was just one more step toward owning her, keeping her from other men, or even from touching herself.

  She felt a dark excitement at this. Was she really the kind of woman, completely desirable and passionate enough for a man to give up all others in order to possess exclusively? Maybe that’s what was wrong with mems—they weren’t exclusive. They were always comparing you to their last fuck and looking forward to their next.

  “Put your arms in the air,” he commanded, “and arch your back.”

  Nyssa did so, not wanting to be spanked anymore. The lift to her breasts made them swell. She was glad she couldn’t speak, because she might seriously have asked him to touch them, to let her feel just for a second those warm, enveloping, dominant hands.

  Oh, stars, he was kneeling in front of her. Right in front of her pussy. She tried to still her breathing, to keep from vibrating her labia. He smelled her arousal for sure, not to mention getting an eyeful of her glistening cream.

  Why was he making her hold up her arms? This was only heightening the helplessness. Did he have some other point to prove? As if it hadn’t been made clear enough what he was capable of doing to her body.

  Oooh, what a devil he was, taking away her only defense…her tongue.

  Then again, if she hadn’t been so impudent, he wouldn’t have gagged her, would he?

  No, she told herself, I won’t give in to his line of thinking. I won’t be brainwashed or trained or anything. I have a right to speak my mind, whatever that may be.

  “The belt has a grille,” he explained. “Simple wire mesh. You can pass liquid through it, but there will be no way to achieve any sort of insertion. Spread your legs, please. Wide.”

  Nyssa spaced her bare feet, spreading her thighs.

  “This should not cause pain,” he informed her.

  She would like to have asked him how the fuck he could possibly know this, being that he had likely never had a wire grille put across his own crotch.

  “There is one other thing. In the back, this device here goes into the opening…” He showed her the small extension. “We will add that in a moment.”

  Nyssa wilted. Heavenly meteor showers—he was going to shove something up her ass, too?

  “It’s important to be thorough,” he continued. “We don’t want to leave any temptations for anyone.”

  Well, that was fair, she thought. Men can’t keep their cocks out of my ass so I have to be plugged up like a corked bottle?

  Theron spread the fingers of his hand, applying the screen. She bit down on the gag. The metal was cool and tingly on her swollen labia. She couldn’t hold back the spasms for anything. Humiliated, Nyssa pushed her crotch against him, craving his touch. She felt like some kind of pet, begging inarticulately for contact.

  Why couldn’t he just fuck her again so they could get on with the day? Didn’t he realize he was only going to make it a thousand times worse denying them both? It didn’t matter if they liked each other or what their values were. It was biological. Indefensible.

  Stubborn primale.

  “Let’s see if you’re ready for lockdown, shall we?” he said, announcing the next phase of his military-style operation. Holding the grate over her vulva, he moved his other hand to cup her ass cheek. Oh, fuck…she was liable to come at this rate.

  Theron slid his hand across to her crack and inserted a finger. “You’re tight,” he observed.

  No shit.

  “This will go a lot easier if you don’t fight me,” he lectured.

  Easier for him maybe. She swooned as he made his move, pushing a second finger in, up to the knuckles.

  “That’s it, Nyssa, good girl…”

  Her toes dug into the thick carpeting. She was a woman not a girl, but that didn’t seem important at the moment. He had her sex straight and he had her number, too. Her anal canal was taking him deep, absorbing his pushing digits. At the same time, her empty, craving cunt, locked up in its lonely prison, pushed desperately through the grate at his hand. Unbidden, her body began to gyrate, slowly at first and then more boldly. Still more sensations followed as Theron took more liberties, running the connector chain between her legs, tight and smooth. The links worked their way up through her crack. Lit
tle teasing bites of metal, each tiny sensation sending messages of imprisonment and confinement to her brain.

  The device featured two more chains, one for each side of her waist. These would help to hold the anal invader in place. Removing his fingers, he prepared to replace them with the anal plug. Gauging her readiness, he pushed it up inside, just a little.

  “Take it, Nyssa.”

  His words had their effect, showing once again how completely capable Theron was of getting in her head and making her body respond according to his sexual will. The choices removed, she let it happen.

  Take it…yes. Her eyes slid shut as the soft, pre-lubricated horn-like object wormed its way up inside her. Deep into that most private of openings. In it went, all the way, until Theron was satisfied.

  “Turn around,” he ordered, his voice gentle but unrelenting.

  Nyssa could hardly stand. The signals to her brain were confused. Her elevated arms felt like lead, and yet she was pretty sure she would float away or combust like paper under the influence of a single kiss.

  Her legs were limp as old-fashioned spaghetti. Her belly was doing butterfly flips, dragonfly soars into a pink, imaginary sky of desire. If only he would take this crazy thing off her and put the real chains on her. The chains of sexual conquest. Let her taste his cock, let her feel his intimate touch and she would have little choice but to forget any ideas of freedom.

  But Theron had his own ideas, and as usual, they were not her own. He spun her by the waist. Her cunt screamed out not to be forgotten. A second later she heard the lock close at the small of her back.

  Her pussy was officially in bondage. Secured, along with her ass, against all comers. Until such time as she could find a way to pick the lock…or be released by Theron.

  And as close as he seemed to be watching her, she was pretty sure the first option was a no-go.

  “This will be good for you, Nyssa. You’ll learn discipline.”

  Who was he trying to convince, her or him? All she knew was that she had been left horny as hell, with no prospect of relief.

  Theron stood, towering over her. “Are you ready to get that gag off?”

  She gave no indication one way or the other.

  “Put your arms down.” He reached behind her, temporarily embracing her to undo the straps. She could smell the manliness of him, the clean pure scent of primale. Like pine and musk. And raw power.

  “Your jaws are going to ache a little.”

  She resisted the urge to bite as he pulled out the little ball. She hated the thing, the way it made her drool, the way it made her shut up. And yet, when combined with work on her pussy, it made for a wicked little aphrodisiac.

  “How does that feel?” he wanted to know.

  A fine time to ask…

  Nyssa shifted, trying to accommodate that she was grilled over and artificially impaled. With every breath, it was like a man in her, fucking. Surely it was not going to stay this intense? “It feels just fine,” she said respectfully. “But haven’t you forgotten something?”

  “What’s that?”

  She paused to lick her lips, nice and slowly, like she had a big old ice-cream cone. “My mouth,” she said in her most sultry voice. “A man could still put a cock in there. He could make me suck one, real deep, until I gagged and then he could shoot all his semen into my hot mouth and make me swallow it. Shouldn’t we protect against that…Sir?”

  Theron pursed his lips, disappointed no doubt that he didn’t technically have grounds to smack her ass or gag her again. After all, she was just being cooperative—trying to help him do his job.

  “Oh, and my tits.” She gave them a little shake, bimbo-style. “We both know those are fuckable, too.”

  “It’s not going to work, Nyssa.”

  “What isn’t going to work…Sir?”

  “You are not going to make me lose my cool. You’re not going to break down my established order. You have the three rules,” he held up his fingers, “and they will not be defied.”

  “No, Sir.”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “Why not, Sir?” she asked innocently.

  “Because I am not your commanding officer, nor are we involved in an intimate relationship,” he replied curtly.

  “Sorry, Sir.” She jolted inwardly. Hearing those words from his lips—intimate relationship—charged as they were, had an unexpected effect. It was as if he were giving voice to the very question resounding deep in her brain. Was he thinking about the same thing—whether or not there might be the basis here for a relationship, a genuine sharing of their hearts and lives?

  It seemed improbable. They were dead opposites. Then again, wasn’t that the basis of all universal attraction?

  He pointed to the hygiene room, his face a study in suppressed reaction. “Conversation over,” he declared. “You have half an in to get yourself ready to go. And don’t even think about trying to make yourself a key from the objectifier in the sanitizing chamber. I have made the belt unique to my voice print. There will be no key issued to anyone against my authority.”

  Damn, how did he know that would be my first move?

  No matter, she had other tricks up her sleeve. Lots of them. Nyssa resisted the urge to salute. She would so run circles around him. The poor man was not going to know what hit him by the time she got through with him.

  As she took her first step, however, Nyssa’s bravado evaporated. It was the damned belt, the pressure inside her anal cavity as she moved, the pulsing she felt in her pussy and all through her belly with every breath. The infernal thing wasn’t a chastity belt—it was a horniness belt, filling her mind with sex-making ideas. And not just any old sex-making, but sex-making with Theron.

  As always, the images grew complicated in her mind—he made her see things, feel things differently. Her curiosity was boundless. Who was he and what made him so sure of himself to do this to her? So calmly…so decisively.

  He had locked chains on her body. He had claimed her sex, intimately sealed her. Her thighs chafed, reminding her of the flogging. She could hear the tiny jingle of the metal links. The grate pushed against her labia. She wanted to stop, but he was behind her, probably watching her naked ass. Naked and plugged. And if she stopped, if she disobeyed his order to go directly to the hygiene room, he would swat or flog her again.

  Stars, she was in trouble. If she were feeling this aroused and needy after traversing only a few feet in this contraption, what would it be like after a few ins, or a full day, universe forbid? She would be a nervous, steaming wreck.

  One thing was for sure. Whatever she was going to do to break down his will, she would have to do it quickly. Before she was broken down.

  It wasn’t until she was inside that she realized there was a slight problem here. How was she supposed to do anything with this infernal belt on?

  She retraced her steps and brought the matter to Theron’s attention. He frowned, and for once had no snappy comeback. She repressed the urge to gloat openly as he was forced to remove the belt temporarily. Was there some small cause for hope here? Might she actually be getting to him just a little and putting him off-center? After she had seen to her needs, he immediately replaced it.

  Chapter Eight

  Theron managed to keep his erection down until Nyssa was safely ensconced the hygiene room. The last thing he needed right now was her seeing him forced to give in to uncontrollable sexual desires. Going to the objectifier, he ordered up an appropriate item—a velvet pouch, fit to sheathe himself for stroking. Blast it, he had not been reduced to masturbation like this since he was a teenager.

  And it wasn’t just his cock. There were other physiological reactions, too. A rise in his pulse every time he looked at her. An increase in heart rate when watching her move. An intense mental preoccupation with every detail of her body and her face. Those beautiful, sparkling eyes, her full lips, that sassy smile. Really, though, she was just one more female in a world full of them. It wasn’t logical.


  Was he suffering from overwork?

  A lesser man might be tempted to call it something else entirely, maybe even something emotional. But that was not possible. Theron was not made to fall in love. That would be a violation of his character, not to mention his personal military aspirations.

  Double-checking to make sure Nyssa was occupied under the cleansing beams—she was, though she seemed none too happy with the hardware around her midsection—Theron went back out and sat on the edge of the bed. He intended to make this quick and businesslike. He would derive only the minimum enjoyment needed, thinking of something sexual, but impersonal. One of the dancers of Rysis Eight maybe or a nameless pleasure robot. Anything but the woman in the next room with that maddeningly beautiful body and infuriatingly uncontrollable will.

  By the Oath—the way her ass moved with the plug in it, the way her pussy creamed as he placed the grate over her vulva, the way her breath caught as he locked the chain on her waist, the tiny, jagged sigh as he pulled the cold metal between her legs and up through her crack.

  Damn it, what a fool he had been. His foolproof plan for stopping the sexual fireworks between them was backfiring, blowing up in his face. Chaining a woman, placing metal links upon her body, irremovable by her delicate hands, was, for a primale an act of intimacy and power as fulfilling as sex-making. Maybe more so. He had hoped to avoid this form of bonding by putting it under the heading of duty in his mind, but there was no denying the feelings.

  He had placed poli-steel upon her body. And she had consented. He had staked a claim of possession and she had submitted. No one could touch her unspeakably beautiful pussy, not even she herself, except by his hand.

  The act had aroused her. He’d smelled her scent, seen the glistening drops. Locking her up, taking her sexual freedom away had been an aphrodisiac. This was not fem behavior. This was obedients’ behavior. He’d seen it before, the soft breathing, the large doe eyes, the sweat on the female’s palms, the million little signals that she was ready, that she wanted it, that she craved it, that she was willing to do what was necessary to get it.