by Alana Khan
I’d make a terrible spy. I spill my secrets before the torture truly begins
“You started as a naughty girl, zara,” he says lightly when I’m done baring my soul. “But you ended by pleasing me with your honesty.” He strokes my hair. “Would you like pumpkin pie for dessert?”
“I’d rather have your cock, Sir.” Whoops, that was nervy. He’s never too pleased when I tell him what I want in bed.
He straddles me, his knees digging into the mattress at my hips.
“You want this?” his voice is deep and raspy as he presses the tip of his cock to my lips.
“Yes, Sir.”
He slides it across the seam of my mouth, but when I open my jaws he pulls it back.
“You will do exactly as I say.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Keep your mouth closed.”
When I close my lips, he resumes slowly brushing his cock across my lips. My lack of sight accentuates my other senses. I smell him. He always smells clean and masculine with the faint tang of pine. I’ve never smelled cologne on him; I think this is his natural scent.
I feel his big body loom over me. He’s close, close enough to wag that beautiful cock in my face. I hear his palms settle on the wall above my head. Picturing him in that position, I imagine every muscle and sinew in his strong back, those brawny arms, and his six-pack.
“Peek your tongue between your lips. Less than half an inch.” When I follow his directions, he adds, “Don’t move it out further or I’ll punish you.”
My nasty little mind wonders what the punishment might be—it might be worth it. It seems I’m embracing this submissive thing on a deeper level today. All I say is a breathy, “Yes, Sir.”
I picture myself with huge Voxx from Zinn leaning over me, tantalizing my lips and tongue with his purple cock, the tip of my pink tongue waiting to taste him.
He inches closer and bestows me with the pleasure of his cock on my tongue. The anticipation, and finally the warm stroke of his flesh on mine make me moan in appreciation.
“My zara likes that?”
Was that a rhetorical question? Oh my God, yes. “Yes, Sir.”
This is a pleasure/pain sandwich. The joy, yes joy, of finally having my mouth on him is heaven, yet my hands are bound and I’ve been ordered not to allow my tongue one millimeter farther out of my mouth. I’ve waited for this so long and he’s meting it out in slow increments. He’s teasing me.
“Tell me what you want.” He pulls back just far enough for me to speak.
“I want to take you in my mouth. I want to feel it all the way inside me. I want to taste you fully. I want to give you pleasure, Sir.”
“You want the honor of my cock in your mouth?” his voice is deep and coaxing.
“Yes, Sir.” Any shame I may have had disappeared days ago.
“What would you give me in exchange?”
I don’t hesitate, “Anything you want.”
He pulls back and slides a finger along my folds. For long moments he circles the entrance to my core, then circles around my clit, then repeats his actions over and over, maddeningly slow figure eights of lust until I’m moaning and panting.
The spreader bar keeps my legs apart, but my position allows me to thrust toward him, trying to trick his nimble fingers into even the smallest penetration, or the softest bump of my clit. But he’s onto all my tricks and avoids touching my neediest places.
“What do you want right now?”
“I’d love to come, Sir. I’d love you to penetrate me and touch my clit and make me come.”
“My female wants many things. She wants my cock in her mouth and she wants to come, is that correct?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“The cost of my cock…” He stops mid-sentence and returns his attention to my slit. His talented finger enters me, just half an inch. I moan and thrust to garner more of him. Just that tiny penetration is heaven and hell. Then his thumb taps my clit. The clit that has been begging for attention.
Normally this would be the mildest foreplay, but since he’s been ramping me up, these little movements have me on the precipice of orgasm.
“Could you come if I ordered it right now?” he asks, his voice smooth and tempting.
“I’m close, Sir.”
“The price for my cock in your mouth is this orgasm. You choose.”
“You choose, Sir.”
He slips his finger in deeper and my muscles quiver around him. I’m close to coming without his permission.
“I want you to choose, Victoria. But I want you to choose to suck my cock.”
“I’d be honored to suck your cock, Sir.”
He sits back up and presses his cock to my lips. I wait for instructions.
“What a good girl you are. Waiting for my permission. Lick the tip.”
My tongue swirls and is rewarded with a thick drop of liquid beaded on the head of his cock. The taste is shocking—it’s sweet and intimate. A startled moan escapes from deep inside me. I want more, but I await further instructions.
“You like your Master’s taste?” he rumbles, deep and low.
It’s a trick. This whole interlude has been a trick. He tricked me out of an orgasm, and now he’s tricking me into calling him Master. And I don’t care. This feels too heavenly.
“I do, Sir.”
“Say it.”
This is a test. Pass or Fail. “I like my Master’s taste, Sir.”
“Then I’ll give you more.”
He pushes inside. “Open.” My lips stretch around his huge shaft, and my tongue explores him. A frisson of fear bolts up my spine as I realize he’s in complete control of this. I’ve never taken a human penis all the way to the hilt. Voxx is so much bigger.
He slides in to the back of my throat but doesn’t push farther. Grasping the back of my head with his hands, he controls everything about this, from the depth to the pressure to the rhythm. I’m simply the receptacle.
“Let go and enjoy this, zara.”
Yes, I tell myself. Give up all illusions of control and give in to Voxx. Allow him to do whatever he wants. I tap into my newfound trust in him. And I tune into how turned on this makes me.
He pulls out a bit and tells me, “Twirl around the tip.”
I swirl, feeling his velvety skin, tasting the sweet, salty perfection of him.
“That’s right. So good.” His hands lodge on the top of my head as if he’s giving me a benediction.
He presses harder.
“Take me in, zara. Relax and take me deeper,” his voice is warm and commanding at the same time. I’m certain I’m dripping onto the sheets. It’s crazy to be thankful for sucking his cock, but this is the hottest thing I have ever done.
“Bob your head on me. Farther down and all the way up.”
I follow his instructions. With each pass, I try to take him deeper, please him more.
“Such a good girl, Victoria. Giving me so much pleasure,” his deep voice is seductive. I tune in to it and the warmth of his hands on my head and find I can take him even farther into me. I love being able to service him like this.
I notice when my mouth reaches the head of his cock I can taste more of him. I must be catching little samples of his pre-cum—heaven. I moan from deep in my throat to let him know a fraction of how much I’m enjoying this.
“Keep humming,” he says as he holds me still, taking complete control over the process.
His cock hits the back of my throat, blocking my airflow. I panic, wanting to flail my arms and legs, but I can't. I'm tethered. My terror ratchets up as I realize he has control of my very breath.
He pulls out and I swallow a huge gulp of air.
“Trust me, zara. I’m in complete control and I will never hurt you. Both those things are true,” his reassuring voice comforts me. I tune into it. “Ask me to come in your mouth, Victoria.”
Maybe this is another test. I don’t need to ponder the answer. “Please, Sir. Come in my mouth.” My core is empty, clench
ing around nothing, desperate for release, but I’m more focused on my Sir’s pleasure.
He slides into my waiting mouth again and moans as I suck him. I feel every vein and ridge as he presses deep, as far as he wants.
“I want you to swallow when I come,” his voice is harsh, as if he has to order me to do something I’m yearning for.
His rhythm increases, his breath coming in long, low pants. He thrusts a few more times and then releases into me.
“So good,” he says as he strokes my hair.
He was so far in my mouth, that his essence went down my throat. I wish I could have tasted more of it.
“Lick me clean,” he orders as he pulls back.
“Yes, Sir.” I clean him very well, reveling in the opportunity to clean him with my mouth, to taste his essence. I shoo away a few tiny remnants of self-loathing at how quickly I’ve caved completely to him. I am his little fuck-toy. And I’m loving it.
Voxx
Her choice amazed me. She chose my pleasure over her own.
Before I met her, I’d imagined that by Day Seven she’d be begging to come back to Zinn with me, to be my mate. After I met her, I came to the sad conclusion that I’d be dropping her on Earth on Choosing Day. She was so angry, so uncooperative, so unlikely to bend to my will.
My little zara’s changed over the past two days. Once she quit fighting me, she’s allowing herself to enjoy our bed-play. Soon I hope she’ll allow herself to enjoy me.
I pull off her blindfold, then grab a warm washcloth from the restroom.
“You were amazing,” I tell her as I wipe saliva off her face and kiss her brow.
“How’s my Victoria?”
“I’m…”
Her eyes dart to the floor as she evades my question. This heightens my curiosity. Did she dislike it? Could I have been so wrong in reading her signals? Was she desperate to say ‘red’ and couldn’t because my cock was so far down her throat? My goal was to please her—to please us both—not terrorize her.
“Answer my question. With alacrity.”
“I’m sincerely asking, Sir, to keep this thought as my own.”
“Which is all the more reason for you to tell me. But I’m not heartless. Feel free not to answer, but I will go on record as saying it will displease me.” The more she evades, the more I’m convinced I’ve damaged her trust, not nurtured it.
She thinks for a moment. “Will you punish me if I don’t answer?”
“No. But it will displease me,” I keep my voice neutral.
“I believe they called that a ‘double bind’ in my psychology classes, Sir.”
“Then I should read more of your Earth psychology.” I keep my gaze on her so she remembers I’m waiting for an answer.
“I’m…” Her eyes are fixed on the bed between her legs. “I’m feeling honored to have licked your cock clean, Sir.”
The cock in question kicks in lusty appreciation even as my mind finishes her sentence for her with ‘and I totally hate myself for feeling this way’. She still hasn’t fully come to terms with her submissive nature, but she is bonding with me more every day.
“This pleases me, zara. For feeling this way—and admitting it—I will give you a reward.” Her blue eyes lift to mine, then return to the space between her legs.
“Your reward is a choice. You could either be released from your bonds, walk into the other room and pick a toy of your choosing, and be allowed alone-time in this room to please yourself as many times and in as many ways as you wish for the span of an hour. The other choice is to wait a quarter-hour with your legs spread wide and your wrists bound, then receive a reward of my devising.”
It is only after I give her these options that I realize how much I want her to pick the second one. I want her to want to be with me. No, I want her to desire me. To crave my touch.
“Door number two, Sir.”
“What?”
“It’s a pop culture reference. I want to wait. I want you to pleasure me, Sir.”
These incremental changes she’s making delight me. Inch by inch she’s developing trust in me. I would never tell her that, though. “I never promised to pleasure you, zara. I said I would give you a ‘reward of my devising’.”
“Oh.” She looks despondent, but only says shyly, “I still want to be with you, Sir.”
I uncuff her from the headboard and spreader bar and walk her to the bathroom. Watching closely, I make certain she’s not limping or showing pain in any way. When she returns, I have her move her hands and arms and ask her if anything hurts.
Lifting her and gathering her in my arms, I whisper, “You’ve pleased me today in many ways. Your mouth is delightful. Your eagerness to give me pleasure spurs me to want to return it.”
I carry her to my captain’s chair on the bridge and sit down with her in my lap. “I’ll give you five minutes to enjoy the view, then put you back in your position. If that’s still your choice.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Settling her head on my pec, I arrange her legs wide to drape over the arms of the chair. I love having her open to me. She doesn’t fight it, just lays back against me.
“From Zinn we call that constellation Magna Orn,” I point into the distance. “I was always fascinated by it as a boy. The brightest star in that constellation is the one you wish upon when you’re a child.”
“That one, Sir?” She points.
“Yes.”
“I enjoyed the vid your mother made of you. You were such an adorable kid. It’s fun to picture you wishing on a star.”
My fingers graze from her knee to the crease where her thigh meets her sex. Her eyes drift shut and she holds her breath. I love having this effect on her. It’s as if her entire focus is on the fingers of my right hand. How could I not reward that?
“Are you ready for me, zara?” I ask as I circle her entrance?
“Yes, Sir.”
She’s wet for me. “I like to reward good girls.” I dip two fingers all the way inside her and she moans in pleasure, her hips thrusting to meet me.
“Thank you, Sir.”
I retreat, then lift her and carry her back to the bedroom. As I cuff her legs apart and cuff her wrists horizontally to the top of the headboard, I smile remembering what I used to wish for as a boy.
I didn’t understand sex at that age, but I knew about the lottery. I imagined winning it and traveling to Earth to collect my bride. She always had blue eyes and long brown hair. And she always looked at me with affection—the way Victoria is looking at me right this moment.
Victoria
“I’ll be back in fifteen minutes. If you’re very good, I’ll reward you in a pleasing way.” He pauses a moment, then adds, “Are you going to ask me what ‘very good’ entails?”
“Please tell me how to be very good, Sir.” I wanted to sound bratty, or at least nonchalant, but I think I came across as breathless with anticipation.
“You’ll be dripping wet for me, ready to do whatever I request, and will tell me your naughtiest, most embarrassing fantasy. And before you inform me that you told them all to me earlier, I’ll tell you right now, if you don’t have one then make one up. Before I leave, do you need more pain meds?”
“I feel fine, Sir.”
“Good. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes and show you just how pleased I am with all the choices you’ve made today.” From the other room he calls, “I want to hear the word ‘red’ if you have the slightest pain.”
Most embarrassing fantasy? How’d he know I was going to say I didn’t have one?
I close my eyes and take a moment to think about the fact that I’ve been a captive of the Zinn for the last week. I scroll through all the mental pictures of the sexy, sensual, taboo behaviors I’ve performed, the naughty things I’ve said, the dirty things I’ve begged for up to and including pleading to suck his cock and reveling in licking him clean.
How do I imagine a fantasy more embarrassing than that? I know which one it is, though. I keep it in
the farthest dank, dark, file cabinet of my mind.
Fifteen minutes later, the bedroom door opens and he walks in, fully clothed. His clothing makes me feel more naked, more exposed.
“How are you feeling? Are your joints giving you pain?” he says as he sits with his hip next to mine.
When I pause more than a second before I respond, he leaves and returns with more pain meds. “No harm in staying on top of any pain,” he says with an indulgent smile as he administers the shot. He takes a moment to gently rub the site. “Better?”
