Chapter 9
Iwake in the cage, naked, the elegant black collar around my neck, and I know, deep in my heart, that I won’t go to bed the same woman I woke up as.
Talarin does not make coffee to start the day. Instead, he takes me straight to the Med-Bay. I climb onto the slab, and the scan takes only a few minutes.
“One hundred and fifteen pounds,” he says, checking the readout.
“I’m healthy enough, aren’t I?”
“You are.”
There’s a note of pride in his voice, one that makes me realize he’s viewing this very differently than I am.
For him, it means I’m recovering. My cheeks pink, my ribs less visible, my body healthier.
For me, it means pain.
When we return to the hall, Arrek is waiting by the fire, sitting in his chair. He’s wearing only loose charcoal trousers, his bare feet planted on the stone. Slabs of brutal muscle, chiseled abs, violence in his being.
Across his lap lies a broad black collar, little silver bells hanging in a cluster from its front ring.
“I’m ready. Let’s get this over with.”
He doesn’t give me that wolfish grin. Instead, he looks over my naked body approvingly, from the top of my head to my feet, then back up again, pausing on my naked slit, my breasts, my collarbone, every part getting its own ogle.
“No. You’re going to look forward to it all day.”
I was worried he might say that.
“Okay, fine, but?—”
“Silence.”
My mouth shuts, instantly.
“Here,” he says, pointing to the blanket by the fire at his feet, the one I was on last night. “Kneel.”
I kneel, lacing my hands behind my back, the posture so automatic, my nipples hardening into little points, the heat between my legs, the rush of lust I no longer pretend doesn’t exist.
He reaches forward, undoes the collar and sets it aside. The little bells jingle as he lifts the new one from his lap and fastens it around my neck.
“Sit.”
I sit back, carefully.
“Lie down,” he says, and I lie on my side, facing away from him.
“Good girl. Now stay.”
And with that, I hear him crack open a book. Every time I move, even the slightest bit, the bells ring, and it floods me with new lust each time.
I’ve been conditioned. Pavlov’s pet.
I hear him breathe in, know he tastes my lust, my need.
“Naughty pet, getting all horny thinking about the spanking you’re going to get. Come here and sit on my lap if you want me to take care of that.”
I can’t resist. I won’t resist. I’m not going to torture myself, not when he can give me all that I crave, all that I have stopped pretending I don’t want.
I get up, the bells chiming, and look at him.
Fuck, but he’s so… big.
His cock, with that wicked downward curve, is already hardening against his right thigh, and I know every part of it, every vein, where it thickens even thicker.
I can’t stop myself. I don’t want to stop myself.
I sit on his lap, feeling that huge, throbbing thing hungry for me, and let myself surrender to his strength.
“I like how I’ve changed you. You don’t deny yourself so much anymore. You don’t pretend you don’t need this.” His hands are rough, groping my breasts, pinching my nipples hard enough I gasp and flinch, making the bell ring and causing me to grind my body against that huge, throbbing erection.
I reach down to touch myself, and he grabs my hand. Hard. “I did not give you permission to touch yourself, bitch. See what a fair master I am? I could have let you touch that needy little cunt and let you earn another ten hard spanks.”
I moan, his words so dark, so seductive. Then his hand comes down, cupping my wet slit, feeling my groomed pubic hair. “Already growing out. I’ll have you trimmed again before I punish you tonight.”
Then his fingers find my wetness. He raises his fingers to the firelight, slick and sticky, with my nectar between them. Then he puts them in his mouth, licking, sucking, and I need that touch again, need it in between my legs.
He reaches down into his pants with a grunt, and when he pulls his hand back out, it’s covered in sticky, pearly pre-cum, the Aurelian seed, and then he brings those soaked fingers to my clit, rubbing slowly, teasing me, making me mad with desire.
I throw my head back and whimper, the bell ringing louder.
“Tell me you want me to dress you up before I punish you,” he orders me, and I bite my lip, fighting against it, but he knows me. His fingers slow, simply waiting, teasing, demanding my response.
“I want you to dress me up,” I gasp, and instantly he circles my clit again.
“How?”
“I... I...” I can’t say it. I just can’t, and his fingers slow, but they don’t stop.
“I don’t really...”
“Say.”
“I feel so fucking stupid when you make me wear pink,” I gasp out. “I hate it.”
“Pink frilly panties, with cute little satin bows and a tiny pink skirt. Tell me what else you hate.”
His fingers go faster, quicker.
“I want you to make me spend hours on my makeup, then ruin it,” I gasp out, and the admission puts that edge of dark, dark shame in my scent that only makes his cock harder.
“Good girl,” he croons in my ear. He can feel I’m getting so close, and I can feel it too, this wave of shame and lust and twisted need cascading.
“Now cum like the brainless bimbo you are, cum bitch, don’t hold back,” he growls, his words a hard, brutal command, and I moan out, my orgasm hitting me and rushing through me as it slams into me, bucking against his hard cock, gasping as I get my release, and it all hits me at once, the shame and need and humiliation, and he doesn’t stop, his fingers faster, circling, quicker, quicker, until I am so sensitive it almost hurts…
And then I collapse against him, a gasping, trembling mess.
He reaches down with a grunt, ignoring his own lust, his brutally hard cock, and grabs the blanket, pulling it around me.
He pulls me tight against him and whispers something in my ear, but I’m so overwhelmed I can’t even make it out.
Then he kisses me, soft, gentle against my neck, my ear, while he caresses me, holding me until the last tremble ends and I’m left with the ball of guilt and shame and utter satisfaction.
I told myself I’d stop being ashamed.
Told myself I wouldn’t feel guilty for what he makes me want.
But it’s all so fucking...
Intense.
There are tears in my eyes, and I blink them back, feeling so foolish.
He breathes in. His nostrils flare. “Relax, my sweet little pet. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
I breathe out, my breath shaky, and let myself press against his huge bulk, let his massive bicep pull me against his chest.
The man who makes me feel the most safe in the world...
Is the man who scares me the most.
He holds me there, I don’t know how long, until I’m sleepy against him, totally spent.
“Now go to your cage, pet. No more speaking.”
I blink back to awareness, and he releases me, helping me off his lap. The bell chimes as I walk toward the open door of the cage. I pause at the entrance before he can stop me, feeling the command before he says it.
“Stop,” he says, then makes a low sound of approval at me anticipating his command. I don’t hide myself, letting my ass arch up for him, knowing he can see everything.
“I changed my mind, pet. You’re going to grow it out. Into your cage.”
I shiver and pull myself into the furs, the warmth of the fire relaxing me.
Then he stands, fully, achingly hard, his dick pressing downwards against his trousers, every inch of that massive thing pressing against the material, the head of it outlined and spitting pre-cum with each beat of his heart.
He doesn’t give himself release, and that is even more terrifying, that for once, he is waiting.
“I changed my mind about something else.”
I swallow, looking up at him.
“Three p.m. I’m going to punish you at three. Paw.”
I blink for an instant, then my cheeks flush as I raise my left hand, curling my fingers inward.
He reaches through the bars, pressing something on the wristlet.
It shows a countdown.
6hr 47m
“You have free rein until then. Be here, ready, or it will be all the worse for you.”
Then his grin comes, wolflike.
“Unless you want it to be so, so much worse.”
He reaches through the bars and flicks one of the bells.
Arrek leaves the door open and goes into the kitchen. I watch him prepare breakfast, the knife moving quickly over the chopping board. Then he makes the coffee and sets the table.
With that, he leaves, walking outside without eating or drinking, his hand at his belt. I hear the screech of Orb-Blades from the back. Talarin and Mero have begun training, and he goes to join them.
When he’s gone, I crawl out of the cage, the bells ringing and jingling with each movement, the collar so much louder than any before, each ring making tingles rush between my legs.
I’ve been so... trained.
I sit at the table. A spiral of the last peaches of summer and ripe red apples, all cut so thin they are translucent, with a boiled egg in the center. A mug of coffee, and a little pot of cream.
And his words, echoing in my mind.
“Unless you want it to be so, so much worse.”