Chapter Ten
Blythe opened her eyes when Ganza pressed the button that made the darkened glass change to clear. Tossing her arm over her eyes, Blythe groaned, throwing the blankets over her head. “Nahhhhhh!”
“Yes! Get up, Blythe.”
A sharp slap to her covered backside had her shouting and sitting up. The dull ache quickly turned to real pain, reminding her of the afternoon and evening she’d endured the day before. The memory of peeing with her legs spread sent an immediate flush to her face and chest, and she kept her eyes downcast.
“Ahh, I see. Yes, my girl, we all saw your cunny dripping with its juices while you were getting your whipping, and yes, we all watched you pissing in the yard. It’s what you deserved for your disrespect. I think you’ll be a bit circumspect before you flip off with your sarcasm or ignore a request from any of us.” Ganza stood with her hands on her hips, the crisp black dress a size too small, button ready to burst from the bulging flesh pressing against the seams.
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll behave.” Blythe cringed. She’d behave until next week when she’d be meeting up with Brinley and escaping to the cabin. If Xan responded like this for sneaking out of bed to get besloor and disrespecting staff, what would he do with that disobedience?
She shivered from head to toe, her nerves getting the best of her.
“Well, that was interesting. Are you cooking up some mischief, girl?” Ganza’s eyes narrowed, her gaze making Blythe’s skin crawl.
“N-no, ma’am.”
“Your Master wants your collar and tail put in today. And he says he’ll keep you naked again for further training.”
Welp! That isn’t good…for me or my backside.
It meant that he’d be watching her like a hawk, checking for any minor infractions, any facial expressions that didn’t meet his standards of respect. And all were precursors to her ass being spanked more than normal.
“Come. You know the routine.”
Blythe gracefully dropped to her knees on the floor at the side of her bed.
Ganza slid the wide leather-like material of her collar up to Blythe’s neck, the width keeping her head up. Dragging a long strip of leather up the back of Blythe’s head and resting the thin strip on her forehead and down the length of her nose, Ganza placed the hooks into each nostril. Any movement of Blythe’s head pulled on her nose and neck, forcing her to keep her gaze forward with little or no movement. This was evidence of the restrictions Xan had placed on her during training.
“Up.”
Blythe lay on her belly bent over the bed. She reached back, uncomfortably pulling her cheeks apart, waiting for the plug to be inserted. Her discomfort was inconsequential during these times. If anything, they seemed to enjoy her discomfort, feeling it was part of her discipline regimen. There were times during her training that she’d grown so used to the tail, that when it was absent, she felt lost…empty without it.
“Such a good girl. Your bottom is pretty red and bruised; I think you’d better mind Dr. Breckett well today. You know he’ll blister your ass regardless of what pain you’re in.” Ganza pressed the cold tip to Blythe’s bottomhole. “Push back on it…that’s right…let it in.”
Blythe clenched only briefly; it wasn’t worth the fight. She opened her sphincter and let the plug slide in. Her little hole closed tightly on the neck.
“Up. You’ll walk downstairs and have your breakfast. Master is waiting for you.” Ganza led the way knowing that Blythe would mindlessly follow, not daring to stay back.
Thankfully, the old woman took the back stairs that led to the kitchen. Upon entering the bright white room, counters and appliances gleamed in some sort of metallic finish. Blythe loved Xan’s kitchen; everything seemed so…sterile and new. She had asked on occasion if she could cook a meal for the two of them, but you would have thought she’d asked to sprout two heads. He had tilted his head like a German shepherd and said, “Why would you do that? We have a cook.” But someday she’d like to make a meal. She wasn’t sure she’d know what to make with their vile ingredients on this planet, but she was known for her culinary skills on Earth.
“Sit. Cook will get your laannes and eegle fruit.”
Blythe tucked her leg under her, preventing her ass from sitting directly on the chair’s hard surface. Agnes clucked her tongue, returning her attention to the toasting of the bread-like substance.
“Get up. Get up, now.” Her Master barked the words, walking briskly into the room. He snapped his fingers and then pointed his forefinger upward. He immediately spotted the manipulation of her position in the chair for what it was—skirting around the rules and hoping the staff wouldn’t notice.
And, truthfully, they hadn’t.
He walked to the counter, reached into a drawer near the stove, and extracted the dreaded spoon that Agnes had used on her one too many times. Grasping Blythe by the elbow, he placed two hard swats to each cheek. She swore that damn spoon must have drawn blood.
“You know how to sit in a chair, especially after a spanking.” He tugged on the head strap, the prongs pulling painfully on her nose cartilage. She didn’t dare touch her nose or her buttocks, so instead, she danced a bit, flapping her arms to the side of her.
Clearing his throat and kicking up one eyebrow was all it took for Blythe to resume her submissive—quiet—position. “Yes, Sir.” She stood by her chair, clasping her arms behind her, and due to her collar, her head was kept upright, but she closed her eyes, a tear leaking from one of her eyes.
“You’re to sit on that spanked ass. A sore bottom is part of the punishment, as you well know, but since you want to avoid it, instead you’ll sit on her heels, kneeling next to me so I may feed my naughty pet and keep a close eye on her.”
“Yes, Master.” She knew that she should see it as a punishment—that was how he wanted her to see it, but it had become a reward to her. She loved nothing more than the physical reminder of his love and devotion, the act of feeding her, choosing exactly what item she’d swallow and when. The loving process reinforced that he held all the power, which, if he wanted her to sit and smell the food all night, she had no choice. If he chose to feed her besloor all evening, it was up to him. She gave up all control and desire...entrusting it all to him.
She took her time, assuring her movements were just the way he liked. Once sitting on her feet, she kept her palms up on her thighs, watching him closely, keeping all her attention focused on him just as he preferred.
“First, you’ll drink from my cock, then eat. I’ll not have you vomiting your besloor and laannes onto me.” He opened his pants and pulled out his cock. It sprung free from the confines of his clothing, bobbing in a steady rhythm with his heartbeat.
She wondered if she’d ever grow used to the size of him. On Earth, she remembered women talking about men’s penises being the size of a baby’s arm, and truly she had never encountered one herself. But this? This was beyond anything anyone on her planet would be able to fathom. It wasn’t just the delicious length; it was the girth as well. The bulging veins were so prominent that she swore she felt every one gliding along her sensitive tissue.
She’d grown to love his cock, looked forward to sucking it, but she enjoyed fucking it much more and found the broad head battering her cervix delightful. At first, she found his length uncomfortable, almost in a sickening fashion, but now she savored the initial thrust, his body ramming cock up to the hilt. The steel rod prodded, doing its best to bore further into her; Blythe’s body welcomed him, squeezing the intruder, her neck lengthening, and with the resultant, tilt of her head upward. She would groan with both pleasure and pain.
“Hey!” Xan slapped her face with his cock, first one cheek and then the other. “What are you thinking about? Focus, girl.”
“I’m sorry, Master.”
“I’ll have to thank Ganza later for using this collar. Open.”
She opened her mouth wide, and Xan adjusted her head so the prongs pulled on her nostrils. He liked knowing that she struggled against the constricting device while servicing him.
The weight of his cock landed on her tongue, his musky smell filling her nostrils, making her close her eyes as her arousal climbed. Her tongue tasted the salty semen, and she fought against the urge to lick him.
She’d been trained to keep her mouth open, not moving a muscle until he gave her permission. He liked taking control of her this way, subduing her. He bounced against the back of her throat, the initial move always causing her to gag. She breathed deep, swallowing slowly against it, her eyes watering from the spasm.
Xan’s smile blurred in her watery gaze, and she couldn’t help but smirk back at him, knowing that he loved when she gagged.
“You’re doing fine, Blythe. Continue as I like.” He widened his stance, both of his hands weaving through her hair, not guiding her as much as affectionately holding and touching her.
The pointy tip of her tongue traced along the ridge of his cock, the white come beading on the tip. She flattened her tongue on the head, the salty fluid coating it. When his hips jerked, she giggled and then progressed to a laugh when he tugged tightly on a strand of hair.
Blythe licked along one of the many protruding veins running along his length, using the tip of her tongue to press into the soft vein, his cock lengthening even more. The wiry hair of his ball sac brushed along her nostrils, and, leaning forward, she slowly drew his testicles into her mouth, the brutal bite of the prongs reminding her of the damn leather hindrance.
“Yes, girl. Do the tines burn in your nose?”
Damn him!
She slowly licked his balls, the leather pressing tightly on her forehead, the prongs pulling her nostrils up so high she worried that they’d puncture the cartilidge. She suppressed a cry and refrained from jerking back, which she knew would result in a painful punishment; she’d already endured that the day before and didn’t wish to reignite it, but the agony made her eyes and nose sting, tears spilling onto her cheeks.
“You really are a good girl when you put your mind to it.” He wiped away her tears, drawing her head back up, relieving the sting instantly.
She licked and caressed him, sucking tightly on the length of him until he held her head in place, pistoning in and out, using her as a fuckhole. Her only goal—to keep her teeth from rubbing against him.
“I’m coming, girl.”
Inhaling deeply, she pushed her tongue out as he rammed his length down her throat. With a shout, he released his seed, her nose pressed into his belly and his finger pressed painfully into her scalp. He pulled back and he spurted his semen onto her tongue before thrusting in again for one more release.
His thighs trembled when he exited her tired, numb mouth and his chest heaved with his pants for air. “By the God Na, girl, I swear it gets better every time.”
The words of praise were a balm to her soul. Xan didn’t offer praise that often, so when he did, it filled her with pride…and made her want to please him that much more. She found that she didn’t just love him, but she’d grown to adore him. Many wouldn’t understand, especially her friends and family on Earth. She knew that it wasn’t Stockholm syndrome, not anymore at least. She’d grown to love him. Was he harsh? Yes. Was he cruel sometimes? Yes. But he was also kind, sweet, caring, and protective. And when she followed orders and behaved (as difficult as that was), she was rewarded with his attention and love.
And more than all of this, he’d be the father of her daughter. Their daughter. And she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he’d be a great daddy.
“What are you thinking about, Blythe?” His eyes searched her own, concern evident.
“I was thinking about how you’ll be such a great daddy.” She didn’t understand why, but her cheeks flushed saying the words out loud.
Xan cleared his throat. “Of course I will. Did you doubt that?” His eyes shifted and he briefly looked down. What emotion was she seeing? Was that hesitancy or insecurity? It couldn’t be; Xan didn’t feel those emotions, did he?
“Never. Well, initially I was worried that you’d be too strict or harsh, but I think you will be different…with her.”
His eyebrows shot up with shock. “She’s a baby, my dear. Our baby. I’m only harsh with grown women. In particular, my woman. You’re someone who knows the rules, knows how to behave—or should know how to behave. And when you don’t, you not only deserve punishment, it’s required. But a child; that is completely different. They’re learning, and don’t know any better. I’m a teacher and caregiver first, disciplinarian last. And I would never even contemplate using corporal punishment for a child.”
“I know. That’s why I said you’d be different with her, Master.”
He tucked himself back into his pants before sitting back into his chair. “Agnes, please bring our breakfast,” Xan called out to the cook.
* * *
Xan raked his fingers through Blythe’s hair, watching her quietly sit, not moving a muscle, keeping her gaze on him—watchful for any nonverbal command.
He felt a pang of guilt that his girl had been concerned, even if it was for a short time, that he’d be strict or harsh with their baby girl. It made sense when he thought upon all the different evil methods he’d used to bring about her obedience. His approaches were less than normal.
Blythe would soon see how gentle and nurturing he was. He loved children and was infinitely patient with them, teaching them to have a love of learning came naturally to him. He couldn’t wait to play with his little girl, and until she was old enough to engage with him, he’d have no problem whiling away the hours cuddling his baby girl.
He’d been harsh with her last night, but it was necessary. He couldn’t chance her finding information on his computer or in his office. She needed to adhere to the boundaries he’d made for her. The thought of losing her was more than he could fathom.
Agnes bustled in with both hands holding a tray filled with plates of food, glasses of chillpal, a strange fruity drink that Blythe said was so bitter it felt like it took every bit of saliva out of her mouth—similar to something her mother called choke cherries. There was a generous portion of safome, a decadent dessert that his girl could eat without gagging and didn’t even have to put eegle jam on.
“Here you be, Master.”
“Thank you, Agnes. It looks wonderful.”
He rearranged the plates and glasses onto the table, watching Blythe from his periphery. She was adorable with the pronged collar; it seemed that breathing through her nose was bothersome because she would suddenly open her mouth, inhaling deeply.
His cock stirred behind his pants, her pink tongue calling to him.
Later.
He needed to feed his girl before her lactation practice and visiting Tegan. Ripping off a piece of lannes with eegle, he placed it on her waiting tongue.
She chewed slowly, shuttering her eyes on the deliciousness of it.
He’d been fortunate; some of the other foster families struggled with their girls losing weight due to the food here on this planet. It’d been sheer luck that the jam had been so palatable to her. He couldn’t bear to watch her lose the luscious curves he had grown to love so much.
He tipped the glass of chillpal to her lips, pouring it slowly into her mouth, and then with a bit of mischief, he pushed it up too far, watching the orange fluid trickle down her neck into the valley between her breasts.
“Oh, poor girl. Tsk, tsk, tsk. Such a pity.” He pushed his chair back. “Someone needs to clean you up, sweets. Guess the task has been left to me.”
Leaning forward, he ran his tongue between the lush, milk-laden globes, her dark nipples pebbling—the nipples broad with the fullness of them. Since she’d begun producing milk, he’d grown to love them more than he thought possible.
Hefting up each globe, he slid his tongue along the area where the breast met her chest. “Mmm, you’re so sweetie.” He then gave the twin the same treatment, progressing up her neck, licking and nibbling gently.
Kissing her lips gently, he pulled away, tapping the end of her nose where the prongs were tightly ensconced. “You’re so cute with your collar; the metal makes your nose upturned.”
He did his best to ignore the spark of fire in her eyes and the slight narrowing of her gaze even though he wanted to smile at the obvious internal struggle to keep her barbed retort to herself.
“Good girl.” Xan winked at her, breaking more of her bread apart, dipping it into the jam before feeding it to her. He continued until her portion had been consumed before dipping into her safome. He held the spoonful near her and watched her eyes sparkle, a full grin on her face.
“Are you excited, girl?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Have you earned this dessert, bad girl?” He raised his eyebrows at her in mock sternness.
Her smile quickly faded and she was unable to drop her head due to the nose strap. Instead, she dropped her gaze to the floor.
“Hey. Hey, bad girl.” He tapped the underside of her chin and smiled at her. “You deserve this dessert. I shouldn’t have teased you. My good girl.” He put the spoonful into her mouth, watching her eyes close around the decadent pudding, and continued to feed it to her until the bowl was empty.
“Do you feel full, Blythe?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Good.” He put the napkin down after wiping her mouth. He needed to keep her caloric intake up as long as she was producing milk; and as far as he was concerned, that would be long past the time that Tegan needed her. Keeping her curves and breast milk flowing were some of his goals—not the main goals, mind you, but important enough to ensure direct orders were given to the kitchen for her meals.
Now they only needed to do her milk exercises and then visit their baby. They’d fallen into a nice placid routine, and if he had any say, that would be how it stayed too. So why did he have an odd inkling to keep track of what his girl was doing all day? He shrugged it off as his overprotective nature, but the niggling wouldn’t go away.
Watch what she’s doing, Xan. Keep track of your girl. Be diligent.