Chapter Three
Blythe sat on her heels, head down, palms up on her thighs, reticently waiting for her Master to don his uniform for work. Her heart raced with the excitement of seeing her baby girl. She took a deep breath to steady herself, her sphincter flexing around the plug as she jumped; not a lot, just minutely, but enough that Xan may have seen it. She held her breath waiting.
“Forgot your tail, Pet?” A hint of humor and pompousness were behind his words, and she swore she tasted blood fighting a sarcastic retort back.
“Yes, Sir.” It was the safest response, and the tail did remind her to keep her lips buttoned. Dropping her gaze to his muscular legs and his cock had her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and sexual arousal. Her pussy clenched, her clit thrumming with anticipation even though she’d given him an orgasm, she had yet found her own release and feared that she might come just from watching his semi-hard penis sway with his movements. Her hips thrust with her spasm.
Xan didn’t even look her way as he pulled on his pants. “You know to restrain yourself, right, girl?”
“Y-yes, Sir.”
His long slender fingers put his dress shoes on, tying them methodically and slowly. His manicured nail beds, along with the bulging veins on the top of his hands, had Blythe yearning, wishing for one—or two—of those digits to slide along her sensitive sex bringing her to orgasm.
God, how will I make it without tumbling over into my release?
A melodic tinkling diverted her attention.
“I found these at a shop here in Endermere. Look.”
Holding them by the clamps, one in each hand, was a miniature wind chime. Xan jiggled them just enough to keep them chiming beautifully. “Be still.”
Squatting in front of her, Xan tugged on Blythe’s pebbled nipple, the clamp biting into her flesh, eliciting a gasp from her, unbidden tears filling her eyes. Before she could recover fully from the jaw of the pincers, he affixed the other chime to her breast. The second chime chomping on her delicate nipple had the tears falling in huge droplets down her face and onto her chest.
“Oh, baby. Here, let me ease back on it a bit.” He fiddled with the mechanism, and it did make the pain abate. His large thumbs brushed the tears from her face, and tilting his head a bit, he gave her a crooked smile.
And although she wanted to be offended at the addition of a painful device to her body, she couldn’t resist his boyish charm. “It hurts.”
“As so many things do. But you look amazing.” Reaching out, he grasped her hand, placing it over the crotch of his pants. “Feel that? The anticipation of the chimes, tail, and collar have done this to me. You’re enchanting, Blythe. Don’t disappoint me with any defiance. Daddy has the most beautiful girls…and you’re both mine. Let’s go see our little girl.”
Cupping the fullness of his cock and balls in her hand, she squeezed gently, smiling mischievously when he inhaled sharply.
He quickly stood, adjusting himself. “Ready yourself.”
She moved to her hands and knees, the wind chimes tinkling sweetly. She dropped her head and waited. The clink of leash snapping onto her collar was her cue to lift her head, eyes forward. She groaned inwardly, knowing that the time of her humiliation was just moments away. He’d not miss a chance to remind her of her place—and delight in her shame.
With every move of her body, the nipple clamps were a reminder of her status.
His pet. His slave. His woman.
The humiliation of her walk of shame had her gritting her teeth, but the sexual dominance over her had her cunt seeping, her juices dribbling down the inside of her thigh—for everyone to see. She tried rubbing her inner thighs together, but it made her gait slow and awkward, causing her Master to do an about turn.
“You’re to keep up, pet. What is the distraction? Answer honestly.” He slipped the loop on the end of the leash from around his wrist, holding it in his hand like a strap, patiently waiting for her answer.
“Noth—”
He slapped the leather onto her ass in short, harsh whacks. “Spread.”
Keening louder than she’d meant to, she did as directed, knowing what was coming.
The cool, broad pad of his finger swept up her thigh, dipping into the well of her sex, followed by a loud sniff.
“My, my, bad girl. It seems that you were dripping, and my guess is you were hiding the evidence by rubbing those broad thighs together. Am I correct?” He licked the evidence of her body betraying her.
Dropping her head in added embarrassment, she murmured, “Yes, Master.”
“Who owns this cunt, girl?”
“You do, Sir.”
I do, and so one would assume, as one has been told many times, hasn’t she? This cunt and its juices belong to who, pet?
“They belong to you, Master. I’m sorry.”
“We’ll take care of this bit of defiance. Sit on your heels and spread your thighs wide.”
Sitting as directed, her breasts making music with the movement, and the cool air in the long hallway brushed against her damp sex. He once again squatted in front of her, his thighs spread wide also, the outline of his hard cock visible—every ridge begging to be massaged. Her pussy spasmed, and a gush of fluid pooled at the opening of her sex, threatening to spill over. She did her best to squeeze it tight but feared that the act alone pushed it down onto the floor beneath her.
“With your finger, scoop the overflow of your arousal and feed it to me as a good slave should.”
She blinked…and blinked again. It wasn’t the first time he’d requested such a lewd and lascivious act, but it never failed to jar her.
How far have I fallen since being taken into Dr. Breckett’s house? How much depravity can one soul endure?
It felt like he reveled in her anxiousness at these requests, enjoyed the blush overcoming her, and the aghast look she no doubt had was conveyed on her face every time.
“Pet, do you need incentive?”
“N-no, Sir.”
“Then do it.”
Plunging into her dark, dripping channel, she scooped out a more than generous finger full and hesitantly slipped it into his open and waiting mouth.
He closed his eyes, moaning low and deep, the rumble vibrating through her. “So, sweet. Again.”
“Don’t forget your puffy pussy lips; they’re glistening with it, girl.”
“Oh God,” she whispered. Could it get much worse? She swiped along her labia, gathering the fluid covering the inner ruffles, immersing her finger back into his waiting mouth, and watching his delight in the taste…and process.
With two more swipes, she fed him obediently, and when she went for a third brush against her sex, he interrupted her. “That’s enough, pet. Have you learned?”
“Yes, Master.”
“I like knowing that you’re dripping for me, that you like what I do to you. Like a good girl, you’ll let it flow knowing that it pleases me to smell you, and then I’ll lick my way up your leg suckling at the pouch of your sex, your arousal coating my tongue and face.”
He chuckled, pleased with himself. “And there are those pink cheeks I adore. Come along, girl, our baby awaits.”
She jingled down the long, quiet corridor toward the main foyer and kitchen. And as expected, he walked her through the kitchen, loudly announcing their presence. “My good girl and I will be visiting our baby. We wish for privacy with no interruptions. Say hello to your nanny and Billex, pet.”
A rush of heat immediately spread over Blythe’s face and chest. But Xan’s training with the leather leash whipping her ass had reinforced that she kept her eyes forward, responding appropriately. “Good morning, Nanny and Billex.”
“Morning, ma’am,” they responded in unison.
At the top of the stairs, Xan lightly tugged on Blythe’s collar. “Up.”
She stood, keeping her eyes downcast until further direction. They’d spent countless hours traipsing up and down this staircase, or even worse, making the trek from upstairs to the lab dozens and dozens of times, stopping only to discipline her for an infraction until her calves and thighs ached from climbing the stairs. But his persistence that she perform the task perfectly had resulted in her obedience without any deviance.
“Hand on the railing, pet.” He held her arm at the elbow until they reached the basement.
“Ready.”
She assumed her previous position, waiting and watching his black dress shoes. Once he’d stepped forward, she heeled as expected, her head held high. The cold hard floor, something resembling a mixture of tile and steel, she would love to know what the material was, shone much more than marble, and at least to her, it felt much colder than tile, more like steel. It was hell on her knees, but as they rounded the corner, all thoughts of the fucking floor fled. The gleaming metal and clear doors with those damnable bright lights meant they were here—the lab. Just inside was Tegan.
His dark eyes looked down at her, watching closely for any sign of misbehavior or divergence from the stringent routine.
Focus. Focus, Blythe.
Xan had stripped away visitation before and after her success today with producing milk. Her hormones raging, she had to see her baby. She had to touch her and know that their little angel was fine. Oh shit! He stopped. If her knees had been tires, they would have screeched to a halt. She swallowed past the lump in her throat but didn’t even look at him out of her periphery, keeping her facial expressions like a stone.
The door, sensing his presence, opened and Blythe followed Xan in. There she was—Tegan. The large “uterus”—more like a silicone-like substance, soft, pliable, and flexible filled with a substance resembling amniotic fluid. Xan assured her that their planet had gone to great lengths with years and years of research to formulate it perfectly. They’d been incubating embryos for hundreds of years this way on Pra’kir, and the failure rate was almost non-existent at this point.
He knew that she’d find comfort in the figures, so he’d shown her all their statistical data for the past century and shown her their success rate. It was quite impressive, and it eased her fears immeasurably.
But Xan knew that character trait of hers. Having only been with Blythe for such a short time, Xan knew her better than most of the male friends and ex-boyfriends she’d had on Earth.
How? How had this man intuitively known her inner workings this well?
Blythe, as an anthropologist, had made a living in the study of people, societies, and customs, but she wasn’t sure she could hone in on a person’s weaknesses and strengths as quickly as this alien had with her. It made her wonder if it was part of their makeup—she’d have to study other Pra’kireans to be sure. In her short time with Billex, he didn’t seem to have the skill that Xan did, but maybe it was a type of skill or gift, like with all talents that humans possess that are different from their peers.
Having never been in a submissive or slave relationship on Earth, she couldn’t help but wonder if the unequal power dynamic made her weaknesses more apparent. During times of anguish or pain, did her fear and insecurities become visible—somehow rising to the surface for all to see, which would explain why Billex wouldn’t read her as easily? Maybe.
Billex had threatened to punish her, had given her swats to her backside, but had never taken it to a severe discipline session. And she didn’t want to think about allowing that to happen for research purposes. The alien was mammoth, broad shouldered and chested with no obvious neck. His hands were large and meaty; Blythe had no doubt would pack a wallop. But curiosity had begun to grow in her mind as to whether it was the dynamic that made Xan more aware or their DNA.
“Sit.” Xan’s deep voice rumbled through her. She sat back on her haunches, dropping her head in submission.
This was the hardest part of their routine. How many times had she been dragged out of here sobbing having failed and suffering from punishment—denied visitation with her baby girl for a minor infraction?
Obedience above all else.
That was his mantra. Obedience surpassed all needs, wants, desires, and even creature comforts. If he required that she piss on command, then so be it. If she was to stop what she was doing to suck his balls, she immediately and obediently crawled over and sucked his balls until her jaw ached.
She was, as he’d put it on her first day, his fuck toy. She was there to meet his needs first and foremost.
He murmured in his native tongue to their baby. Cooing to her with a lilt in his voice, almost melodic, Blythe knew without looking that Xan was stroking and playing with his little girl.
Don’t look up. You’ll ruin it, Blythe. Just obey.