by Alana Khan
“Yes, Sir.”
“I’m going to inspect you,” he says as he touches me wherever he wants. Hair, cheeks, arms, shoulders. He hefts the weight of my breasts in his palms, then licks my nipples with the flat of his tongue. “And this.” He slips two fingers into me and I exhale in a huff.
Embrace it, Tori, I tell myself. Embrace your inner desires, or inner submissive or whatever it is. A week from now you’ll never see him again, and you won’t remember any of this.
He removes my bonds, kisses me on the lips, then rubs my wrists and ankles, massaging feeling back into them. There are little prickles as my nerve endings come back online.
I roll my head from side to side, trying to work out my own kinks, but he drags me to the edge of the bed and gives me the king of all neck and shoulder rubs. His fingers seek out that place under my right shoulder blade, it carries all my tension.
“Sir, you’re amazing.” Where did a male who never touched a female learn the perfect massage technique?
“How’s that,” he asks ten minutes after I figured he’d bail from massage duty.
“Amazing, Sir. Thank you.”
“Good.” He joins me on the bed. Both of us lean against the headboard.
“It’s only because I’m a kind and caring Sir that I’m turning off the lights before I ask you about your fantasy.”
Crap. I was hoping he’d forgotten. “Thank you, Sir.”
I’m glad the lights are off. That was going to be the most embarrassing part of all.
“Climb onto my lap, straddle me facing the back wall.”
“Yes, Sir.” As I slide my leg over his hips, his strong hands grab my waist and he drags me right where he wants me, my core settling onto his hard cock.
“Ride me,” he commands.
I grind my hungry slit against the hard ridge of his fabric-covered cock while he palms my breasts.
“Tell me every detail of your fantasy, little zara.”
I stop moving and lay my head on his chest, my knees on the bed, my lips only inches from his ear. He must take pity on me because he doesn’t rearrange me.
“I’m a fledgling attorney, trying hard to make it at a large law firm. There’s immense pressure to perform and bill lots of hours to our clients. The idea of work/life balance was lost months ago, and all I can do is work, clean my house and grab a couple of meals a day.
“When I miss an important deadline, both partners call me into the conference room to put me on notice. I need to work even harder, put in even more hours over the next three months or I’ll be fired and given a bad reference.
“Before I leave work that night, the younger, handsomer of the two partners calls me into his office. Everyone else has gone for the day. He offers his help, but I will have to do something in return.
“He offers to have Jamison from our other office do all the work on the Channel Two account. ‘Would that free you up?’ he asks. It’s my biggest case, the one causing me the most headaches. Taking that off my plate would be amazing.
“Of course, I have a feeling of dread. I know he wants something in return and since he waited to make his offer until everyone else left the building, I assume it’s sexual.
“‘I want you to come in before anyone else tomorrow, remove all your clothing in my adjoining private bathroom, and be sitting naked under my desk when I arrive.’ I glance at his desk. It’s the large, imposing mahogany desk one would expect of a partner at the firm. The front and side panels span from the top of the desk to the floor. I would be completely hidden from all eyes.
“He tells me he will relieve me of all my overdue work on the Channel Two account if I sit naked under his desk all day and do exactly as he instructs.
“That’s my fantasy.”
“How very inventive of you,” Sir says. He’s been stroking my back through my entire story. “How inventive of you to tell me so much while leaving out all the good parts. You’re going to tell me every detail, Victoria. I’ll let you whisper it in my ear because after dinner, we’re going to act it out.”
~.~
“Why are you so quiet?” he asks during dinner.
“Embarrassed, Sir.” I know it’s ridiculous. For the last week, I’ve walked around naked, displayed my private parts like they were precious Van Gogh paintings to be admired, begged to suck his cock, and eagerly struck poses like Ass and Inspect. Why does sharing my secret fantasy make me feel so exposed? I’m not sure. Maybe it’s because it originated in my brain, not Voxx’s.
For some reason, my fork drops out of my hand during dinner.
“Are you okay, zara?” he asks when it happens a second time.
“My mom always called me a klutz as a kid,” I say with a smile and a shrug. The hawklike expression on his face tells me he doesn’t believe that for a minute, but he doesn’t say anything else, just watches me more closely.
He must be concerned, because he’s helping me clean up. While wiping the counter, I sway, feeling unsteady on my feet. I watch my hands as if they belong to someone else when they tremble under the water as I wash the last dish.
Fear flashes through me. I don’t think I can withstand another round of whatever happened to me last night.
“Sir!” I yell when the first flash of searing pain blazes from my hips to my toes. Before I can yell his name again, he’s at my side, lifting me into his arms. He crosses the threshold of the little bedroom just as the pain begins in earnest. “Fuck!” Hot sparks of lightning sizzle through my body, sprinting along my veins. My lips are numb, but every other inch of me is on fire.
I hold tight to Voxx. I’m in his arms. I focus on his silver eyes, his compassionate gaze.
“I’ll fix it, zara,” his voice is calm, commanding. I want to believe him. “I gave you my essence less than four hours ago,” he mumbles to himself.
He lays me on the bed like I’m breakable, and shoulders his way between my legs to lick me and make me wet enough to receive him. I guess my protests about him spitting on me down there in an effort to get the job done made an impression on him. I wish I hadn’t said anything. He’s wasting precious time.
That one-to-ten pain scale is at a million already. I’m moaning in agony. The feeling of my insides churning and burning and liquefying is back with a vengeance.
“Please!” I manage to say through lips that don’t work.
He must remember there’s lube on the bedside table because within seconds I feel cool wetness between my legs followed immediately by his cock.
“Look at me,” he thunders as he pounds into me.
I hold on to his gaze like it’s a lifeline. Voxx is here. Voxx will fix this, I chant to myself.
He grunts as he releases into me, then doesn’t take his gaze from mine as he assesses whether my pain’s receding.
The temperature inside my veins plummets, and I force myself to lie back onto the sheets. I count my breaths, ordering myself to slow my panting. As the pain dwindles, I notice tears are still streaming down my face and my nails have pierced the skin on Voxx’s shoulders.
“Better? Things are getting better, Victoria. I’ll get a cold cloth—”
“Don’t leave,” I plead.
He snuggles against me, lying on his side as he strokes my head. “What can I do to make it better?” his voice is deep and low at my ear.
“Don’t leave.”
“I won’t. I’m right here.”
“Eyes.” I’m trembling even though I’m still far too hot.
I’m not sure how he knows what I want, but he leans up and holds my gaze. “Breathe with me,” he orders. It’s reassuring.
I lose all track of time, just breathing with him and getting lost in his gleaming silver eyes. Little aftershocks of pain zing through me at odd intervals. They’re like electrical shocks. But my breathing is almost back to normal, and the pain is down to a bearable ten.
“Cuddle,” I order through numb lips. And he does. He slings his arm over me and snugs me next to him. He wipes m
y brow and kisses my forehead and strokes my hair.
“I’m so sorry, zara. So sorry. I would never have abducted you if I’d known this would happen. If I could take your pain, I would.”
Really? That’s sweet. Maybe I have temporary insanity, but my first thought, right this moment, is that I’m so glad he’s here by my side. I don’t focus on the fact that he got me here in the first place, but that he’s helping me through it now.
“Tell me a story.” I need something to pay attention to other than the aftermath of the torture my body just endured.
“Once upon a time, deep in the mountains of Altarain, there was an adorable little girl who got lost in the woods...”
I’m too tired to protest that I wanted a story about him when he was a little boy. Maybe what he used to wish upon a star for. I fall asleep in his arms before the adorable little girl gets rescued.
Voxx
When I’m certain she’s asleep, I ease out of bed and pad to my chair on the bridge. After starting a course for home, I call Dr. Plenn.
“Dr. Plenn, she had another episode. I’m bringing her to Zinn.”
“Was it as bad as the first one?”
“It’s hard to tell. I inoculated her more quickly.”
“I’m certain I’m on the right track with an antidote. I’m going to inoculate her with a chemical compound of antibodies from the genetic material of each of the twelve founding families of Zinn. That should incorporate every possible antibody on our planet. In order to do this I need to find the purest samples of the twelve original tribes.
“It will take at least one more day to collect the specimens, and possibly one additional day to make the formula.
“My recommendation is to keep inoculating her as frequently as you can using the rapid inoculation protocol I messaged you. Bring her to Zinn if you think she’ll be more comfortable. But there’s nothing we can do for her until the formula is complete. When I think of my beloved mate, I doubt she would have wanted to wait in a hospital room, especially if it meant inoculations in such a sterile environment.
“Why don’t you travel to Zinn and circle? When we’re hours away from the cure, you can land and rush her to the hospital in Dreeg.”
Day Eight
Voxx
Since I’ve known Victoria, she’s suffered from self-loathing. She hated her submissive yearnings and her attraction to me.
I’m a male from Zinn. I’ve known who I am and what I want and where I’m going since I was old enough to be aware of my own thoughts. I had trouble relating to the feeling of self-loathing—until her episode. I understand it now.
I passed a kidney stone several years back. The doctor said he’d never seen anyone pass one that large without passing out, that it’s one of the most painful conditions a Zinn body can withstand. After watching Victoria last night, I don’t think the pain of that stone could even be compared to hers.
I did this. I did this to her. I found her on the Internet and chose her and stalked her and once I won the lottery, I wasted no time abducting her. Why had I never considered that I would be stealing her from the life she’d built for herself? The one she wanted?
I was indoctrinated from childhood to believe this was my birthright. I see now why Victoria thinks I’m an asshole. Why is kidnapping and abduction such an accepted part of our culture? And why did I never ask myself these questions before?
Assuming we can keep her alive, what if she needs regular inoculations from me? What if she hates me and chooses Earth on Choosing Day but has to stay on Zinn to stay alive? What if she has to be inoculated more than once a day by a purple asshole she hates? How could I ever make this up to her? How can I make this right?
I have no answers, so I make her breakfast and feed it to her in bed. “More?” I ask.
“No thank you, Sir.”
“Want me to help you into the shower?”
“I’ll be fine, Sir.”
When I see her wince as she sets her feet on the floor, I press her back onto the bed. After giving her another dose of the pain med/stimulus cocktail, I lift her up and carry her into the stall. She’s weak. Yesterday she rebounded well from her ordeal. Today it looks like every movement is a struggle.
“Today will be a moratorium from anything that strains you. Nothing except your required inoculations,” I tell her as I towel her dry after our shower. “No fantasies, no dildos, no positions, no cock sucking. I’m giving you the day off for your muscles to recuperate.” I want to do anything possible to make my zara better.
She says nothing.
“Your response?”
“Whatever pleases you, Sir.”
“Your good health pleases me.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“We need to start now. The last thing I want is for you to have another episode.” I smile and feel rewarded when she returns it.
I tamp down my desire to throw her over my shoulder and toss her on the bed, choosing instead to carry her to the wall of implements.
“Choose two you think will bring you pleasure.”
“Yes, Sir.”
She picks a vibrating dildo and a wand vibrator. I grab a third item and carry her back to bed.
“Pleasure yourself with these.” He kneels near her hip. “Don’t come without permission.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Victoria
Usually, Voxx’s command not to come fills me with dread because the sexy things he does to me make it nearly impossible. That won’t be a problem today. Today I’m afraid.
No one could withstand many more bouts of that kind of pain. And despite Voxx’s inoculation theory, I don’t think he or the doctor he consulted have any idea what’s really going on with my body. I think I’m going to die.
I turn on the vibrator, similar to the magic wand in my bedside table. Just like the one at home, this isn’t some lame battery-operated piece of shit. At its most powerful setting, this baby could jackhammer cement. Right now, it’s not even arousing.
Voxx quirks an eyebrow, clearly already attuned to the fact that something is wrong with his little sex slave.
I close my eyes, bend my knees, and pull myself into my private cocoon. No luck, I’m not even wet.
“Sir?”
“Yes.”
“On Earth, we have an expression, ‘too much of a good thing’, I think that’s what’s happening here. How about you just inoculate me and we go on about our business?”
He grabs the wand from me, turns it off and tosses it to the edge of the bed. Then he sits against the headboard and lifts me onto him so I’m straddling his waist. Despite my insistence that my body wasn’t up for it, my core sits up and takes notice. Part of me still hates that he has this effect on me.
He hugs me tight and kisses me. Full-on kisses, with one hand cradling my head so I can’t pull away, and his lips pressing against me, demanding my response. I answer his silent request and open to him like the good little submissive I am.
A moment ago I wasn’t in the mood and my mind was far away in worryland, but I drown in his taste, the feel of his tongue, his possession of my mouth. All my anxieties melt away as I dive into this moment.
“You taste so good, zara. You feel so good.” His palms travel from my bottom to my shoulders and back. I love this. The claiming touch of his hands. When I feel owned by him it absolves me of all worry, all thought.
Every one of my nerve endings comes online; arousal hurtles at me.
“Yes, Sir,” I say without thinking.
“Yes to what?”
“Yes to whatever you want, Sir.”
He slides his fingers from my collarbones, over hard, needy nipples, to hipbones and below. Two fingers slip into me as the heel of his hand circles against my nub.
“I won’t fill you with my cock you until you come.” His voice is harsh, but when I look into his eyes, they’re kind. He doesn’t just want to fuck me, he wants my pleasure.
“Yes, Sir.”
I thrust against h
is pressure, silently asking for more. Bending his knees, he leans me against them so I’m more open to him, then penetrates me with the vibrating dildo from the bedside table. His hand presses harder on my clit, and my release surprises me with its intensity. As my muscles clench in pleasure, I grab his shoulders and hold his silvery gaze.
