The Sevarian Way - Page 17

Oh, please do!

His words spurred her on. Cheekily, she pushed out her bum, inviting the second stroke.

It hit the end of the butt plug, causing it to shudder inside her and increase the intensity of the vibrations. Vibrations all over her, from the sting, from the plug, from the dildo, from the clit buzzers, she was one big vibration.

“Two, Sir.”

He laid the third and fourth vicious cuts on the ‘sit’ spot where she would feel them for days on end. She counted them, and went further than that, thanking him as well.

“You’re thanking me?” he said in surprise. “You’re quite a girl, Suka. Quite a girl. Thank me for this.”

It whipped down across her lower buttocks, adding its burn to that which already licked across her punished skin.

“Five, Sir, thank you, Sir, oh, I’m on fire!”

“Last one. Brace yourself. It’ll be a hard one.”

He was right. It set her leaping from one extended foot to the other, yelping and yowling, powerless to do anything to douse that evil conflagration on her bottom. The vibrators made her come again, the sixth orgasm at the sixth stroke, a fusion of passion and pleasure and pain that left her shaking and tearful.

“You didn’t count,” chided Paul, but he seemed beyond caring, hurrying to pull out her dildo and replace it with his stiff, thick cock. His thrusts were quick and powerful, his abdomen slapping against her throbbing bottom, reawakening the sting, butting the plug, making her scream through a final climax that lasted for minutes rather than seconds, multiple melting orgasms that didn’t end until Paul had come inside her, his fingers bruising her hips, his last words a reminder that she belonged to him.

Suka trembled through the uncuffing and removal of the toys and fell against Paul, who gathered her close, lifted her and carried her to the one comfortable-looking prop in the whole room—an old-fashioned four-poster bed. He laid her down, then took off his boots and uniform and joined her, lying propped on his side. Through half-closed eyes Suka could see him looking down at her, his expression sombre, his face streaked with sweat.

She felt limbless, floating in the ether, everything inside her scooped out to make a hollow, weightless shell. She could feel the angry throb of the cane welts, but they seemed irrelevant somehow, and far below her surface.

“Who won that then?” wondered Paul aloud.

“We both did.” Suka’s voice was dreamy and faraway.

“I didn’t go too far for you, did I? You would have said something, wouldn’t you?”

Suka lifted a hand and put it to his cheek, barely managing to keep her arm raised, it shook so.

“Oh God, tell me it’s okay?” Paul sounded agitated. “You’re okay, Suka? I feel guilty. I’ve taken it over the edge.”

“No.” Suka’s languid tones seemed to soothe him a little. “It was the best thing ever. It was just incredible.”

“Really? You aren’t just saying that because you don’t want to go back to the ship?”

“No. Not at all. I mean it. It was. You were. Just like the old-fashioned doms I’ve read and dreamed about. Fantasy come true.”

“That’s…good,” said Paul, but he sounded troubled.

“Good.”

“Listen,” he said, whispering for some reason. “What are we going to do?”

Suka turned her head, the fractional effort it took depleting her of what little energy she still had.

“What do you mean?”

“Do you think you can forget about this? Because I don’t think I can. Pandora’s Box. Well and

truly open. But a box of pleasures rather than ills. Perhaps it should be called Suka’s Box instead.”

“You’re right. It’s too much to just leave behind here. It’s a part of us, Commander.”

“Call me Azed.”

Tags: Justine Elyot Science Fiction
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