"I most certainly will not!" she stated unequivocally, clutching her clothes around her as if they had some sort of magical powers against him. "There can't possibly be nudity involved. It would be highly improper. You're supposed to wear what you're wearing—the only thing I need to remove is the pouch. And I'm supposed to wear what I've been wearing ."

Vallon grinned down at her. "Coupling is meant to be highly improper." He did a fair imitation of her, simply continuing to smile at her deep scowl. "It's meant to be hot and hard and fun and sweaty and absolutely, unbelievably blissful. And that can't happen while we're wearing clothes ."

Deliberately not looking at him any longer, and still holding the collar of her shirt up against her throat protectively, she said, "Well, then, I'm sorry, but I can't possibly ."

And then she turned back towards him to see that he had shed all of his clothing, including the beautiful, expensive pouch. None of it seemed to be missing—it was all just pooled on the floor to one side of his feet .

Cika had never seen a man naked before. In truth, she hadn't seen a lot of men really at all, as she hadn't had one of her own and was therefore kept more judiciously away from them .

She was dumbstruck at the sheer beauty of his form. He wasn't quite as beefy but was just as broad as the other men around him in the lineup had been—in fact, he was several inches taller than all of them. He was lean, but powerful looking, with well-formed muscles in all of the most enticing places—clearly defined pectorals and arms, hands that were large and had the look of hard work about them, but she knew they could still achieve a very tender touch, a flat tummy with distinct ripples, and clearly cut devil's shoulders that led to that part of him that had seemed so mysterious, and that she could barely avoid staring right at. Instead, she forced herself to continue down his body, noting the heavily muscled thighs, prominent calves, and large, long feet .

But then her gaze returned—automatically, it seemed—to that place on his person where the two of them were so strikingly different .

Cika knew she shouldn't have been staring at it, not that he seemed to mind in the least. He even seemed more than a bit proud of himself, straightening a bit and adjusting his stance to be a bit wider. This was where her innate curiosity overwhelmed her natural reticence .

"What is it?" she asked, wanting desperately to get closer to it—to him, perhaps even to touch it ?

She wondered what would it feel like beneath her fingertips. It looked awfully hard and was almost an angry red in some places, bulging with veins in others, and was nearly purple near the strangely shaped end .

Frankly stunned at the depth of her innocence, he answered, "My cock ."

She gave him a very studious look. "A cock is a male chicken ."

Suppressing a grin because he really didn't want to laugh at her, he said, "It's also a part of the male anatomy and the way we join our bodies to mate ."

"Oh."

She found herself drifting slowly towards him, no matter how much she tried to convince herself not to. Vallon remained quite still as she did so, not wanting to frighten her, but the intensity of her stare nearly had him unmanning himself right then and there .

"Does it…hurt?" she asked, stopping not far from him and still gazing down at it in stark wonder .

She was doing amazing things for his ego .

"Why do you think it does?" he countered .

"It's red and hard and it just looks…angry ."

"Absolutely not," he answered emphatically. "It doesn't hurt. In fact, just the opposite. It aches in a wonderful way because I want you. This is what happens to a man when he wants to couple with a woman—this part of him swells—it's not usually this size—so that he can take her." Vallon used that verb very deliberately, knowing how she'd react .

There was the expected frown, right on cue, but he'd also just heard her breath hitch when he'd said it, too. "Oh ."

"And I very definitely want to with you, Princess ."

Cika's eyes found his face for the first time in a while. "You do ?"

"Oh, yes! I can't describe properly—because I'm not a bard—just how utterly amazing the sensations are, but once you've done it, you'll want to do it again and again ."

Her look was rife with doubt .

"Would you like to touch it?" he asked, hoping he could control himself if she did .

Cika nodded slowly before she thought too much about it .

"It's quite sensitive, so treat it as you would like me to treat you when I touch you ."

That was apparently the wrong thing to say, because she skittered several feet away from him. "You're going to touch me ?"

"Yes, of course, I am. That's how it's done ."

He thought she'd done really well so far, considering how completely she had been kept in the dark as to what would happen between them, how much he'd thrown at her about what he wanted to do, but this was apparently too much for her .

"I'm not sure that I want you to touch me ."

"All right, then," he said calmly and quietly, taking a few steps towards her. "For the moment, why don't you just touch me?" Vallon reached out and gently captured her hand, curving her soft little fingers around his hardness then just leaving them there .

"I don't want to hurt you." She let her hand slip away .

Her very real concern for him touched him yet again. "You won't. You know what would hurt you—nails, scratching, pinching, etc. Just touch me the way you like to be touched—softly, gently. I guarantee that I'll love anything you want to do to me, Princess ."

"Really?" she sounded amazed at that .

"Really."

He was very surprised at her resilience when she brought her hand back to him quite quickly, knowing she was not at all sure she should be doing any of this with him. And when her fingers were back in place around his thickness, he let himself groan in pleasure, head falling back, eyes closed .

"Please. Move your hand a little, up and down it?" he whispered .

She complied and felt more gratification than she ever had in her life when he groaned loudly again as her lightly gripping fingers stroked up and down the surprisingly velvety soft skin. "You're sure I'm not hurting you ?"

"Absolutely not. Don't ever be afraid to touch me like this. You can explore my body in any way you like ."

She took him at his word, and he found himself both entranced—and torturously teased—at the depths of her tentative curiosity. Those little fingers touched, fondled, groped and cupped every bit of him—including his balls, which she seemed fascinated with—and then went on from there to examine the rest of him .

"Feel free to kiss me, too, if you see anything you'd like to kiss," he suggested breathlessly, his hands in tight fists by his hips, fighting the urge—so far, successfully—to either press her head against his cock, hoping she might take the hint and open her mouth to receive him or simply throwing all caution to the wind and lifting her onto him so that he could end this torture in one swift stroke .

She didn't take him up on his suggestion about kissing him—at least not on the front of him, anyway—but when she wandered around behind him, she gasped and stopped in her tracks, those gentle hands falling completely away from him .

He'd forgotten about the scars, some of them still really wounds that hurt, but certainly not now. Turning, he apologized, "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you ."

Her hands covered her face and she looked as if she was going to cry. "No. I'm so sorry that woman—or whoever—did that to you. You're right. It's barbaric, and I shall see that my mother outlaws the practice immediately ."

"Thank you, Princess," he answered solemnly .

"Turn around again, please," she asked, sounding much less imperious than she had with him. He complied immediately .

The ugly, raised, red pattern of stripes across his otherwise perfect back were an abomination to her. She couldn't even begin to imagine how much pain they represented, and all she wanted at that moment was to make him feel better, so she began to kiss them, as her mother used to kiss her scrapes and stubbed toes, knowing it was a ridiculous, futile gesture, but it was the only thing she could think of to do for him .

Cika didn't even notice that she was crying until he turned again and took her into his arms, holding her tight against him while she sobbed. "I'm so, so sorry ."

"Stop. I'm fine. It hurts some, but nowhere near as much as it did. I'll live, I promise ."

She was hiccoughing sobs, her hand out as if she was going to touch him, but not quite making it there, as if she was afraid to do so for an entirely different reason this time. "So, so sorry," Cika whispered under her breath .

"Shhh. It's all over and done with. Don't cry, Princess. It breaks my heart to see you sad ."

At that moment, she looked up into his eyes, hers wet with tears when it really should have been his, and then she suddenly presented him with her back, shirking the collar of the robe off her shoulders .

Stunned, it took him a minute to realize what she wanted him to do, but he remembered his manners and helped her off with the wrap. Beneath it was a beautiful, flowing white gown that hugged her little figure most indecently, with a line of tiny pearl buttons parading down the front, he noticed when she turned back to him .

She shyly, hesitatingly began to undo them, avoiding his eyes, until he brushed her hands away, whispering in a low growl that set all of her nerves on edge, "Let your servant do that for you, Princess ."

His fingers were much bigger than hers, and it took him a bit to get the hang of it, and she found herself giddy at the very idea that he had to place his finger in the neckline of her gown—against her skin—in order to slip the buttons through their holes. He was patient, not hesitating in the least to drop to his knee before her to finish the last of them .

Far from doing what most men might and simply flinging the garment as far away from her as soon as they could, Vallon rose slowly and kissed her again, deeply, bending her back a little, letting the gown part from her body naturally .

He ended the kiss by simply moving his mouth, leaving a moist trail of kisses along her delicate jaw line, then down the side of her neck, which he soon discovered was quite ticklish, nibbling on an earlobe or two, then kissing the divot at the base of her neck. From there, he gladly bent himself to follow the line of bare flesh that stretched out before him, kissing down the center of her chest, watching as her breasts swelled and her nipples peaked enticingly beneath the fabric .

When Vallon rose, he met her eyes. Then, holding them, he brought his mouth to what he could see through the diaphanous material was a deep rose nipple, first simply breathing on it, causing her to try to jerk away from him in reaction, then placing his hand on the small of her back to prevent her moving away from him and drawing his lips closed to suckle once, lightly at one before moving on to worship the other in the same fashion .

Her hands were on his chest in what he knew was silent protest—he could feel them trying to push him away—although not in a panicked manner at all—as she attempted to lean her nipples out from under his avid attentions—but he did nothing more than that, ignoring her reluctance until it had dissolved and was replaced by a hesitant desire, her back arching, not in avoidance, but in offering, instead, the hands that had been on his chest slowly creeping up to cup the back of his neck and hold his mouth to her .

Her first whimper of pleasure was almost the end of things for him. It was so tentative, still so disbelieving at the core, yet it was an undeniable triumph for him. He continued to do what he had been doing, until, eventually, he took the nearest edge of fabric in his teeth and moved it away from her breast, licking and suckling his way from the underside of a breast that was quite generous, especially for her delicate size, around to the top, acquainting himself with the intimate flavor of her skin before he settled his mouth back onto that now bare peak .

He thought she was going to collapse in his arms at that, but she didn't. She was panting, though, and her head moving restlessly back and forth, that beautiful silver hair of hers falling nearly to the floor as it undulated, those tiny little moans of hers that he thought were going to drive him crazy coming nearly every second now as he worshipped unabashedly at the altar of her beautiful breasts .

When Vallon lifted his head, he reached up and slid his fingers beneath the fabric of her already parted gown, unhooking it from her shoulders, but not insisting that she relinquish the safety of it entirely—yet .

"You are stunningly beautiful, you know ."

Her blush was full body, enhancing her already natural glow, and she tried to hide her head against his chest, which he found sweetly endearing, but he wouldn't allow her to. Instead, he tilted her head back with a finger beneath her chin and said, "I mean it. You are unbelievably gorgeous ."

He could plainly see that she didn't believe him, and then her words confirmed it. "You don't mean that. I'm nowhere near as pretty as either of my sisters ."

His hand was already halfway to her bottom before he managed to bring it back. If she was already his, if they were where they should be, in his father's kingdom, he wouldn't have hesitated to wrap his arm around her waist, bend her over at his side, and spank her most thoroughly in order to drive his point home that she wasn't to doubt him or be coy when he said something like that. He was being truthful with her, and he would expect her to simply accept the compliment graciously .

As it was, he reconsidered his previous decision not to touch her there, tightened his arms around her and reached down to cup her bottom despite his reservations, earning himself a delightfully startled, 'Ooh!" when he squeezed a globe gently, then patted her there in a manner that could only be described as filled with warning as he frankly waited for her to push that damned button and send him into agonized convulsions because he'd gone entirely too far .

When that didn't happen, he found himself a bit emboldened. "I've only seen one of your sisters, but I can tell you that you are much prettier than she was—inside and out. I can't see your sister ever taking the time to stop a lowly slave from getting a beating. She would simply say that I deserved it, and—in some cases—she would even probably be right. But I meant what I said. I may merely be a slave here, but I still have my honor. I would not lie to you, and, if we were on my home planet, I would make certain that you knew how to correctly receive a compliment by spanking your equally gorgeous bottom every time you didn't simply say thank you, Sir , as a good wife should ."

She snorted, giving him an outraged look. "Well, it's a good thing that our situations will never be reversed, because I don't believe I would like that at all ."

"You're not supposed to like it—you're supposed to learn from it. That's what punishments are for ."

Cika huffed at him, but Vallon was glad to see that it didn't evolve into anything more, and let go of the breath he was holding against the inevitable pain he had anticipated she might cause him .

But then, she was proving to be quite different from her sister, thankfully, as he had suspected she was from the moment they met. Her sister had delighted in causing him pain once the chip was inserted, using it frequently all afternoon as he was made ready, even when he hadn't done anything wrong, simply to prove to him that she could, and, he suspected, to satisfy her own prurient desires .

His princess, however, didn't seem to be at all like that—everything about her made the urge to possess her rise up in him until it was the nearly the only thing he could think about .

His hold on her still relatively tight, he adjusted her just enough that he could use his hand to cup her breast, and although she squirmed and tried to get away, he didn't allow it, and she didn't put up anywhere near as much of a fuss as he would have thought she would .

"Shh-shh-shh. You touched my chest—I'm just doing the same thing to you—and I bet it feels just as good, if not better." It wasn't exactly the same, but she seemed to buy it, although she was dancing agitatedly within his hold as he pinched that impudent berry between his forefinger and thumb, tugging it slowly up and away from her as far as he could, then releasing it as she began to truly whimper, only to repeat the process again and again before squeezing her breasts tightly from the base, all the while listening carefully to the sounds of the pleasure that he was skillfully eliciting from her .

Then, abruptly, and hopefully before she could really register it, he moved his hand quickly down, between the fabric—and legs—that had parted naturally as he had fondled her, to cup her womanhood .

When she felt his enormous hand fitting itself to the contours of the most private, personal place on her body like that, large parts of her wanted to push his hand away, run to a safe part of the room and stand on the button that would reduce him to a writhing, drooling mass on the floor before her .

It was exactly what she should do, she knew .

But she couldn't quite bring herself to the point of actually accomplishing it .

His hand felt so good there, and everything else he'd done to her had made her feel amazing—achy, needing something intangible as of yet, but those desires only made her want him to touch her there more, not less, as if that area was the epicenter of it all .

It went against everything she had ever known, everything she had been taught or had learned during her lifetime, but him holding her like this—so tightly that she could really barely move, crammed up against his towering strength, touching her as if he had every possible right to do so and coming perilously close to actually disciplining her when he'd patted her behind—she was beside herself, a complete wanton already, and she never wanted it to stop !

Vallon could feel her coming closer and closer to surrendering herself to him, and he had to clamp down tightly on his own desires in order to bring hers along as he already had, to get her—hopefully—to the point where she would begin to—quite naturally, as far as he was concerned—submit herself to him .

"This," he said as he contracted—slightly—the fingers that were cupping her crotch, making her rise up on her tiptoes as if to avoid the increased pressure, although he easily made sure she couldn't. "This is your counterpart to this." He took a small hand that had been clutching at his bicep and placed it on his still excruciatingly rampant cock. "You are the sheath to my sword ."

Looking up at him breathlessly, she admitted, "I don't understand ."

He smiled gently down at her. "I know, but you will, soon, I promise ."

With that, he began to move them towards her bed. But when they arrived there, and he leaned down and lifted her into his arms, laying her on it on her back then positioning himself next to her, that was apparently the last straw, and he didn't see it coming in the least .

She sat up and, before he could stop her, scrambled to the other side of the bed to stand there, her gown caught on her elbows, one breast completely exposed, her hair wild around her as she stared down at him accusatorily .

"No, that's not how it's supposed to be—you're supposed to be on your back—that's what's done. You're chained—" She pressed that spot on her wrist once, lightly, and he girded himself for the agony to take a hold of him again, but that didn't happen. Instead, chains simply appeared from beneath the bed and were suddenly clamped onto both wrists and ankles, and Vallon found himself lying spread eagled on the bed, completely and utterly helpless. "—And I get on top of you ."

He knew he had to think fast. Although he couldn't really justify it, he felt quite strongly that this was not how he wanted to begin their relationship. It was unnatural. He needed to be in charge—that was the way things should be between a man and a woman, especially in regards to coupling. The female was never in charge of such things unless given leave by her husband to do so, and even then, he couldn't see most men allowing their wives to do so for very long .

"Yes, Princess, but—" he blurted out, deliberately cutting himself off and turning his head away from her .

"What?"

"No, I am the slave here, after all. You are the one who's in charge .

"What—I command you to tell me!" she ordered almost shrilly .

He turned his head back to her, deliberately meeting her eyes then flickering his away, as if he was ashamed of what he was about to say. "Well, I-I am embarrassed to admit—because where I come from, men do not complain about the pain they are in. We have been bred and are trained from when we are very young to ignore any discomfort we might find ourselves in—pain, cold and so forth—in favor of winning battles against our enemies or defending our women and families ."

"Yes?" Cika took a small step towards the bed .

He allowed himself to writhe a bit, but not much, as if on the horns of a dilemma, not wanting to tell her. But finally, with great reluctance, he said, "Since I was whipped, I have slept on my side or my stomach, but never my back, and—well, at the very least, Princess, you might wish to put something under me so that my wounds don't soil your very fine linen ."

Her hands flew to her face. "Oh, I'm so sorry !"

The chains retracted with a clink, and he sat up immediately, saying gravely, "Thank you, Princess." He had achieved his goal, and he had not lied to her. He'd skirted the issue and allowed her to think that, but everything he'd said to her was the absolute truth .

"You're welcome. I'm so sorry, I didn't think about the fact that it might hurt you to lie there like that ."

"You are too kind to your slave," Vallon murmured. His honor was a bit bruised because he truly didn't want to deceive her in any way, and although he technically hadn't, he knew what he had done was not strictly truthful. But his concerns about how they began this relationship overrode those feelings—however strong. He meant to begin as he meant to continue, and that definitely did not include allowing her to ride him as he lay helplessly beneath her the first time they came together .

His overriding impulse was to lift her up and lay her down again as he had, but he decided against it, opting instead to simply offer her his hand from where he was, inviting and encouraging her, he hoped, to join him on the bed of her own free will .