by Lee Savino
Gripping either butt cheek, he pushes them even further apart and I realize it's not just my pussy he's interested in. I feel him staring at my little hole. I squirm a little and he grips me tighter. I wait for him to touch or lick me or something, but there's just a light brush of his fingers over my crinkled hole and then he moves on and I moan with disappointment.
The light touches return. He leaves almost no part of me unhandled. Not even my ears or toes, which he spends some time inspecting. He touches me everywhere—except my pussy. Almost like he’s avoiding the one part of me I want him to touch the most.
When he returns to my breasts, I almost scream with the building sexual frustration. His fingers brush my nipples and I arch my back, sighing with pleasure.
“You find this pleasing?” He asks, pinching each nub lightly and I hum.
"Yes. More please, Master. You can pinch harder." Please do.
“I wish to understand your responses.”
“I respond to you.”
He steps away, his fingers falling from my nipples and leaving me aching, throbbing, and starting to get a little worried that I am really never going to come.
“Did I do something wrong?”
“You have forgotten to call me Master. Again.”
Oops. “Forgive me, Master.”
“You will learn your place. Perhaps now is time to test your response to punishment.” He turns and a panel of the wall beeps and slides aside. Behind it is a closet of some sort. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust and I gasp at the assortment of punishment implements hanging in neat rows. Floggers, paddles, long and thin reeds that will leave painful lines on my skin, straps made out of an assortment of materials and in a variety of lengths. A sadist’s dream. A sub’s nightmare. A masochist's hidden fantasy.
“These are Enforcers. I trust I will not need them often. I was out of practice, but I have been re-training myself to wield them, in order to discipline my Tribute when necessary.” The matter-of-fact way he announces this makes the words seem all the more sinister. It doesn't matter though, all of it turns me on even more. I'm torn now—do I want him to punish me or fuck me? “We will start with the least severe and move to the one designed to impart the most pain.” Apparently, they are lined up by severity because he picks up a softer looking flogger first, then one with knots at the end, and keeps up picking out 'enforcers' until he reaches a thin whippy-looking cane.
“You’re going to use all of those on me?” I squeak out the words, unsure if I'm more excited, turned on, or terrified. His gaze whips toward me and I gulp. Shoot, I forgot again. “Master?”
“Obviously you are in need of a reminder of your place. This will be a demonstration of what you can expect if you continue to forget it. You are my Tribute and you will call me Master and obey my orders. I will have your submission and claim you in the manner of both of our peoples.” He pauses, as if waiting for me to answer. I’m too busy taking in the wall of pain and I'm not really sure there was a question in there until he speaks again. “Well, Tribute? What do you have to say?”
I lick my lips. What else can I say? “Yes, please, Master.”
5
Bogdan
My Tribute stares at the wall of my Enforcers, dark eyes wide and full of interest. Her tongue darts out. My seela quiver, the thin tendrils around my cock very interested in the female in front of me. The tightness of my armor is almost painful against my arousal. I can feel a longing to join with her, to sink into her with my cock so that my seela may latch onto her soft skin and begin the exchange of biological information. According to the manuals, humans do not have seela, they have something called ‘pubic hair’ instead, but the High Commander has told me that his Tribute enjoys the difference between us.
The manuals also indicated that human females sometimes enjoy pain, that they are aroused by their punishments. Although, the females also seem more reluctant to be disciplined in the manuals, whereas my Tribute is almost eager. Perhaps that is an effect of the priming. The nanotech tells me she is as painfully aroused as I am, perhaps more so.
First, I must punish her though, so that she will know her place. I will prove myself a good, if demanding, Master and she will acknowledge my dominance over her. Then and only then, will I give her the pleasure she craves.
With a thought, I send an order to the platform. It shifts, rising to display her hindquarters even more than before. The middle section morphs and curves under her to take her weight off her knees. She ends up tipped forward with her head down and the perfect globes of her rear on display.
“You are nicely primed for your Master.” The glistening folds of her womanhood are a wondrous sight. I cannot help but reach forward to touch her, to put my fingertip to her wetness, just to feel it.
She strains back towards me. “Master, please—”
I move my hand away from her pussy and spank her right flank, hard enough to leave a dark print on her tanned skin. “No. You will accept your discipline and if you please me, you will climax. Not a microcycle before.”
My words are stern, but I find myself restraining a smile at her breathy sigh and minute tremors in her shapely legs. Her eagerness pleases me, calling to instincts deep inside my psyche. I stroke and tease her nether parts a minicycle longer. More fluid leaks from her lovely folds. I find myself probing and peering into her juicy slit, my lips parted and tongue ready to taste her. But I pull back at the last moment.
In due time, I remind myself. Discipline first.
“With proper training, you will be the perfect Tribute. Ready and willing to serve my needs.” I mutter to myself, but she murmurs back anyway.
“Yes, Master.”
My cock stiffens at her soft, submissive tone, my prime seela arching above in readiness. My lesser seela waft around my shaft as if searching for my Tribute. The tiny suckers open and close against the inside of my armor. It is all I can do to keep the armor on my lower body up, to keep them from tasting and fastening onto my Tribute’s skin, pulling her close and holding her still for my cock’s invasion. The thought makes me lightheaded.
I have chosen my Enforcers but find myself reluctant to start with anything but my bare hand on her warm flesh. My Tribute’s skin is so soft. She was made to be touched, and I am happy to oblige. No more than is my duty, but it is my duty.
“We start with manual correction. This will not always be punishment. At times I will order you to present for inspection. I might spank you then, to remind you of your place.”
I let my hand crash down on her curvy cheeks, admiring how they bounce and quiver with each light impact. I angle my hand to catch the underside of her bottom, fascinated by the way her flesh moves beneath my hand.
Pareena
Bogdan is holding nothing back and it hurts so good. I can't remember the last time I was spanked for the sheer pleasure of it, and that is what this feels like. It doesn't feel like a punishment at all—yet. His hand is hard enough that it could certainly get there. But right now, with my arousal at an all-time high and endorphins running through my brain, I'm starting to think I might orgasm just from the spanking.
Cool air wafts over my pussy but does nothing to dampen the heat of my body. If the platform beneath me had not changed to fit along my stomach, I would be trying to sneak a hand down between my legs to touch my throbbing clit.
Instead, all I can do is lay there, ass in the air, moaning as he spanks me, lecturing me all the while.
"You must always submit to me." His voice is deep, commanding, the cadence almost hypnotic, like he's trying to use his hand to imprint his words into my flesh.
Smack!
"Whether it is pleasure or pain—"
Smack!
"I will give you what you need."
Smack!
I cry out as he punctuates his declaration with a flurry of sharply stinging swats, my pussy clenching in reaction. The spanking burns, but the heat is transforming inside me into something more erotic, more pleasant. Espe
cially when he pauses and his hand squeezes each cheek in succession, as if testing how well-punished they are.
"Please, Master..." I manage to gasp out the words, wagging my hips up and down. Suddenly he stops spanking me and I feel two fingers slide into my dripping wet pussy. He has very big fingers, but I am so well-lubricated that he easily penetrates me, pumping them back and forth.
I quiver, gasping, and the pure bliss of having him inside of me is so intoxicating that I actually experience a small orgasm. The hot rush of pleasure does not satisfy the gaping need inside of me, but it smooths the edges of it, makes it bearable, as my pussy spasms around him. Utter gratitude fills me.
I can orgasm!
"More, my Tribute," he commands, his fingers moving again, rubbing over my g-spot and then I feel him touching my clit. "Climax for me." There had been a part of me that was so scared I would never actually get to come, but now I can feel it, inexorable and inevitable, ready to overwhelm me.
The platform under my body is the only thing holding me up as la petite morte engulfs me. It's weeks of waiting, culminating in the most intense orgasm of my life. If this is true death, I am no longer afraid. I am drowning in sensation, in ecstasy, in uninhibited rapture.
Truthfully, I’m almost surprised when the crescendo of my pleasure recedes and I am left panting and spent. My body throbs, from the more painful ache in my spanked cheeks to the satisfied pulsing in my clit. Bogdan's fingers slide out of me and the next thing I know they are in front of my lips.
I’m so shocked, so thrown off balance, by my continued existence and how real the aftermath of my spanking and orgasm feel, how real the scent of my pussy on his fingers smell, that I jerk away rather than opening my mouth. Before I can say anything, Bogdan has already moved his fingers away and is back behind me.
“Perhaps it is time to move on to the real discipline," he says.
"But—" I start to protest and then gasp as his wet fingers push into my asshole. I'm not a virgin there, but it's been a long, long time since that area has been touched by anyone other than a nurse. The burning stretch hurts and feels good all at the same time. My fists clench the sheets and I groan, my muscles trying to clamp down around him.
Bogdan
Penetrating her secondary entrance seems to have the exact response the manuals indicated it would. I can feel her submitting to me, her body working to accept the abrupt invasion of my fingers and allowing me to do with her small hole whatever I please. The hot, dry channel intrigues me greatly and my cock throbs, my seela straining eagerly toward her. I ignore my own impulses though.
This is about my duty, not my body's sexual needs.
Pulling my fingers from her tight hole, rather than continue to test my willpower, I select an Enforcer. It’s a small one, made of organic material much like the wood of her former planet. An oval shape not much larger than her hand. I’ll pepper her bottom with rounded marks, layering sting over sting. A flick of my wrist is all I need for a warning. Nothing that will leave a mark for longer than a day or so. I tested the Enforcers on my own flesh first to prepare for my Tribute.
She’s breathing easily, her body limp on the platform I’ve molded to my purposes, satisfied from the orgasms. I wish for a moment she was draped over my lap, bottom upturned over my knee, hair hanging to the floor.
My seela strain under my armor, reaching for her bare skin. Next time. Next time she will be over my lap when I discipline her.
The thought makes me pause, because why should I desire such an intimate change?
But part of my duty is to discipline my tribute as I see fit. If she is over my lap, flesh pressed to mine, I will better determine her responses. The fact that I will enjoy her writhing is not a consideration, I reassure myself.
"I will discipline you now." Her breathing becomes more rapid as I touch the hard surface of my chosen Enforcer to her rear.
I tap the Enforcer over her quivering buttocks, lightly at first and then harder. Her skin is darker than Tribute Dawn's and does not show the same pink, but I can still see the color changing. Her legs kick up helplessly and I pop the implement against the wet skin between her thighs.
With a yelp, she reaches back to try and protect her pussy. I grab her wrist and pull it to the side.
“If you cannot keep your hands down, I will restrain you.”
“No, please, Master. I’ll be good.”
I keep hold of her wrists as I finish with a flurry of sharp smacks that leave her writhing and panting, a sob dragging from her throat, but she does not try to escape my hold. Only when she keeps her word to not fight do I let her go.
I am not done, though. This first discipline must be thorough and set the stage for what she can expect in the future. That each solid thud against her chastised flesh sends a hot gush of arousal through me has nothing to do with it. I select another Enforcer, modeled much like the previous one, but with a larger head, square-shaped. I angle it to catch the crease where her buttocks meet her thighs.
Pareena
I am on fire.
No matter how I try to convince myself that I'm not really feeling this pain, my brain doesn't cooperate. Each hard smack of the wood against my already burning bottom makes me jerk and flail, tears sliding down my cheeks at the blooming pain. Not just at the pain though.
At the release.
At the sheer joy of feeling something.
At the conflicting mix of sensations that sink into my skin, the utter ecstasy of feeling so alive, and the submissive rush that always accompanies a spanking for me. Or, that always used to. I still feel it though. The heady submission, the growing ache, each hard swat sending me higher and higher.
The hard wood smacks against my sit-spots, hurting me perfectly, deliciously, and sending more tears spilling down my cheeks. I am throbbing, burning, stinging all over. Not just on the surface of my skin, but deeper. I crave Bogdan's touch and he does not disappoint.
The spanking pauses and his fingers dip into my pussy. I can feel the excessive wetness from my previous orgasm as he rubs his fingers through my lips, exploring my sensitive slit.
“You are doing well.” The praise is sincere, if a bit formal.
“Thank you, Master." I feel dreamy, but also a little hollow. As much as I enjoy his hand now curving over my bottom, the masochistic side of me craves more. I want the pain, the endorphins. I want to fly.
“As you have been so good, I will allow you to choose the next Enforcer.”
It takes a moment for his words to penetrate the erotic haze that the spanking has sent me into. As soon as they do, I feel my anticipation surge and my bottom throbs. Nothing too harsh, not after the spanking he's already meted out but... “The belt, please.”
I can hear the begging in my voice as I turn to look longingly at one of the implements he'd left hanging on the wall.
“This?" He leaves my side, walking over to touch the long, hanging strip of leather. At least, that's what it looks like to me. The kurdzu hide?"
“Yes, I love the belt.” I almost sigh with happiness as he picks it up.
Bogdan
I pause on my way back to her, thinking over her words. When I reach her again, I caress her right bottom cheek and then squeeze the soft flesh. The chastised skin is warm to touch. “You have been disciplined before.”
“A few times. At a club. And a party." Her words are slightly slurred from the pleasure. So, she has been courted before. But either her previous master abandoned her when she sickened, in which case he was no master at all, or...
“Have you ever belonged to a master?” I squeeze her bottom more firmly and she croons happily as I dig my fingers in. The nanotech tells me that she does feel the pain, but she also feels pleasure along with it. Some part of her enjoys the punishment. Just as the manuals indicated. Truly, they are far more helpful than I could have believed.
“No. But I obviously fantasized about it.” She lets out a little laugh, as if she just told a joke. Before I can ask what sh
e means by that, she adds, “The belt was my favorite. Leather feels yummy.”
Now it is my turn to chuckle. I do not know what 'yummy' means, but it's clear she means it as a positive thing. “I wonder if you will be able to say the same when I am through."
Unbelievably, she smiles at me through her hair, tilts forward on the modified bench and offers her already darkened bottom. “Do your worst.”
I can’t stop the swell of pride under my breastplate. My Tribute is strong and courageous. I unwind the strip of hide and crack it beside her head before doubling it over in my hand to give me more control over the long length.
“Breathe,” I remind her when I notice she’s gone still. From fear? From expectation?
Perhaps this discipline is not as effective as it should be, considering how she seems to be enjoying some of it. But I do know that she feels the effects, thanks to the nanotech. It also just seems to arouse her. In that way, she is very like a Tsenturion female.
The reminder nearly causes me to drop the kurdzu strap.
I shake myself, focusing on the here and now, because even if she is not a Tsenturion female, even if she is not my chosen bride, she is my Tribute and she deserves my full attention when I am disciplining her. When she wiggles her reddened bottom, it is easier to focus on her.
I lay the belt across her rear, admiring the pink edged mark that appears on the sultry curve of her bottom. She cries out but manages to hold her position, her bottom bobbing up and down, the welted stripe standing out against even the rest of her punished flesh.
"More, please," she begs.
I step back and paint thick lines on her backside, enjoying the loud crack of the Enforcer. As I work her over, my own body heats with exertion. My seela are practically screaming, dying for release from the hard shell of my armor. Judging by the slickness between her legs, she is enjoying the discipline, too. Her pleading words fall sloppily from her lips.
