A Day At Castle Rhysh
Anar, Ring 02, 00519
They must have let me sleep late, because the first thing I remember is coming to consciousness by myself, which is pretty unusual in itself for Rhysh. I went to the bathroom and my appearance in the mirror was pretty wretched, so I washed my face off with a cloth and soap and decided that I looked better.
I hate Gessler nullifiers! The first thing I knew as I looked in the mirror was that hand about my throat and the words “What are you doing standing?” at my ear. Lynn!
“Yes, mistress,” I said, dropping to my knees quickly.
“That’s better, Kennet. I let you sleep late, you know. We have a lunch date.” A cold band was snapped about my neck and she said, “Come!,” walking way. There was a jerk at my throat. Leashed, I was led out into the hallway, which was now bustling with slaves going about the more mundane activities of cleaning and carrying. Lynn led me through a variety of halls to the western covered dining square, a large room set with many tables and whitewashed mesh chairs. I crawled as quickly as I could to avoid the choking leash as she led me to one of the larger tables. I could see a pair of black bellbottom pants under the table. Next to the chair knelt a young FemTindal. “Teela,” Lynn said.
The legs uncrossed. “Lynn! Oh I’m so pleased you decided to take me up on my invitation. You look good. How have you been?”
“It’s been interesting,” Lynn replied.
“Is that your choice?” Teela asked. “He looks a touch scrawny, my dear. Why him?”
“I have my reasons. Have you seen his face?”
“No. May I?”
“Of course,” Lynn replied. Warm, furry fingers traced under my jaw and lifted my head up, and I was looking into the eyes of a somewhat Siamese Felinzi, examining me carefully.
“Oh,” she said as she let me go, my head immediately dropping back to its more submissive downward gave. The floor was very carefully varnished wood, set with little rivulets as each plank met plank. “I see your reasons.”
I couldn’t see it, but I could feel Lynn’s smile. “Yes. He is quite a prize, don’t you agree?”
A large Uncia came by and said “Mistresses, what would you have?”
Teela and Lynn ordered lunch as I knelt on the floor, waiting.
“You have to watch tonight,” Teela said. “It’s positively the hottest scene being acted out in the castle.”
“Oh, really?” Lynn asked quietly. “What’s been happening in my absence?”
“You remember Dane Grell?”
“Isn’t he that tall Markal? The one with the big roleplaying kick?” Lynn mused for a moment. “As I recall, he was quite a hit among the younger set. Although anyone with the time could have found that he took his ideas from watching old Terran cinema.”
“Only AIs have that time, Lynn. Quite a strength to give up.”
“But I like being human. It has such advantages. Especially when one has such lovely pets.” She reached down and stroked my hair. The shame of being her ‘pet’ was starting to overwhelm. “Now you were talking about Dane.”
“Yes. He has this wonderful little scene that you simply must attend. His latest conquest is a slave named Debard. And you must watch these two in action. They’ll be playing tonight, in the main courtyard. Promise me you’ll watch.”
Lynn nodded. “I shall. Since you say it’s quite a sight.”
Naked, I kneeled on the floor next to my mistress, quietly waiting her next command, painfully aware. Teela’s own toy was a tall, lovely girl who never looked up, never spoke. Better trained than I, I realized. Lynn’s hand would sometimes fall into view, sometimes with a small morsel that I gratefully licked from her fingers. She seemed to find that amusing, and would stroke my hair afterwards.
The hour passed quietly, and Lynn took my leash and said, “Come.” Leading me quickly across the floor, past chatting masters and kneeling slaves, I became quickly aware of just how lost I was, how mixed in with this environment where I was just one of many. Well, not ‘just.’ I was still a prize slave, if only for my origin if not my training. And Lynn still had the respect of the populace of Rhysh, as she had said yesterday.
She led me to a wide curtain and spoke to someone standing there, “Have him washed. I would like him prepared before the evening’s festivities begin.”
“As you wish, My Lady,” the voice replied, indicating to me that I was listening to an Uncia. “You,” the voice continued, tugging at my leash, “Under the curtain.”
I complied with the command, crawling under the curtain and coming into another wide circular area, at the center of which was a large pool. “You may stand in here,” said another voice.
I slowly rose to my feet, feeling the change in demands to my sore and aching muscles. The punishments of the morning had faded somewhat, but I was still aching. I looked for the origin of the voice and when I recognized the speaker, I stuttered for a moment before managing to stammer, “Ally?”
Ally Kowling smiled her patented smile at me. “Hello, Ken.”
“What are you doing here?”
She shrugged. “Acting out my fantasies, just like you. Come, I have to wash you.” Ally was dressed in a tight-fitting blue-black latex one-piece and knee-high boots, which she was already in the process of stripping them off as she spoke.
“Do those ears really work?” I asked.
“What, these?” she asked with that marvelous smile as she batted at her ear with one hand. A long time ago Ally and her sister had had what been known as the Markal variation done to her ears: the outer ear is removed, and ten centimeter tall rounded ears are molded to the top of the head, much like a cat’s or mouse’s. The middle ear is angled appropriately. Most of the work is done by AI directed nanotech. It only really looks good if the person having it done has a lot of hair. Ally has a lot of hair. I used to joke that among the things that are bigger than they have to be (My ego, the Ring, ect…) Ally’s hair was definitely at the top. It is enormous, a shocking white collection of silky, almost flyaway hair that erupts about her head and shoulders and falls down her back past her butt. Her sister, Cynshia, has the same.
“They work great. And I like the way they look. Come with me,” she said, taking my hand and leading me towards the pool. There is one problem with all that hair; it hides her extremely attractive ass. Ally is a wasp-waisted and hard-bodied woman. “In,” she said.
I stepped into the water, feeling it’s warmth seep into me as I settled into it. She snapped her finger and we were joined by two other slaves. They placed the trays they carried next to her and disappeared back into the shadows from which they came.
She ordered me to get my hair wet, and proceeded to give me a rather professional shampoo. Her fingers caressing my scalp made me go limp in all sorts if places, and I sat in the warm and circulating water enjoying it all. “Rinse.” I complied, and as I came up for air she said, “Lay on your back, on this towel.” I stepped up and lay back as she had ordered. I felt her fingers spreading something warm and soapy over my legs and crotch, and I felt my sex harden as she stroked around it. “Whatever you do, don’t move.”
I blinked, wondering what she meant by that. There was a touch at my leg, just at the crotch, and I suddenly realized what she was doing. “Ally?”
“Don’t move.” The cold touch slid down my leg and I heard her dunk her hand in the water. I picked up my head and saw what she held in her hand– a straight razor. I groaned aloud and closed my eyes. “Ally…” I said plaintively.
“I have my orders, slave. I am to shave you clean. Now hush.”
She was quick and efficient, clearing off the insides and tops of both thighs and calves without a nick, working her way down. I’m going to let you in a little secret; I have a phobia. Levophobia. I’m terrified of knives, as long as they’re in someone else hands. I can easily and comfortably handle knives, feel no fear in a museum full of swords, but the sight of a butter knife in even P’nyssa’s hands terrifies me. It has been long enough that I no longer have to leave the room when I see a knife, but it’s still frightening. Lynn had to have known that when she directed Ally to take a straight razor to my privates.
And Ally was much more careful there, pulling my sac tight and slowly stroking the razor’s blade over the skin. Traveling with equal care over my hardened cock, she gave my crotch close scrutiny as she shaved, looking up into my fearful eyes once in a while. It took every vestige of my self-discipline to control myself, to keep from running away. I’m obeying, I’m obeying, was all I could think sometimes. “Over,” Ally said.
I turned over and Ally took her razor to the backs of my thighs and calves, and then I felt her fingers pry apart my buttocks and shave clean the little pubic hairs that were there. “Back,” she said again, and she moved down to my feet. “You’re a Hobbit, Ken,” she said, jokingly, shaving the rather thick hair which grew over my feet and toes.
I swallowed and said “I’m a little tall for one.” She chuckled softly, easing the soap into my other foot and shaving that one as well. “In,” she ordered.
I jumped into the water and rinsed the shaving soap off of me. Ally slid in next to me and began to lather my body, cleaning off my chest and legs. “Arm up,” she said. I raised my arm and with a few frightening, flashing cuts I was denuded of hair. “The other one,” she said, and when that was done she again ordered, “rinse.”
She picked up a small cloth and shook a light powder from a small bottle onto it. “Smile,” she said.
I complied. She opened my mouth with her hand and pressed the cloth to my teeth, polishing them with small circular motions. It felt strange to feel her manipulating me like that, but I let her; she was under orders from my mistress.
When she was done, she directed me out onto the marble floor, where she dried me carefully with a large terrycloth towel, smiling all the while as my cock throbbed and stuck out with frustration. She knelt down and picked up one more small bottle, pouring oil into her hand and rubbing it into my skin, covering me with a glowing sheen. The oil was soothing to my newly shaven skin and I sighed. She smiled a tight smile and dripped some of the oil onto my cock, stroking the oil into the head and soft, loose skin. I knew she wasn’t allowed to let me come, and the knowledge and pleasure only fed my frustration. And, despite that knowledge, I still whimpered when she stopped.
“Aww, poor little slave. Can’t stand to be teased.”
“Not by another slave,” I hissed.
Her hand flew, striking me hard across the cheek. But her voice was calm when she said “Shouldn’t talk so impertinently. Yes, I am a slave, but you have orders to obey me. Down!”
I obeyed her order, the right side of my face burning with shame, the left with her palm. She snapped her fingers again and again a slave brought her something. She slowly combed my hair until it was to her satisfaction, tying it in back with a leather tie, then knelt on the floor and looked at my face, touching my eyebrows gently with a brush. “Just a little silver glitter, Ken. I think it looks so very sweet on you.” Her ears twitched in time with her motions, I watched her as she watched me. She picked up a silver armband and slid it up my arm, tightening it in place. It was a simple silver band, imprinted with the ring-and-star of Pendor and the phrase “Lynn’s slave.”
Ally stood and stepped back, examining me. “Excellent,” she said. She walked back to the doorway and returned with my leash, strapping the collar around my neck. “Open your mouth and hold this,” she said, holding the leather strap at the other end of the leash. I bit down on it and she smiled, satisfied. “Go to the door and wait. When your mistress is ready for you, you will be told.” I crawled to the door she had indicated and knelt in place. There was one person already there, a Felinzi male. He looked marvelous.
I waited. After a while a third person joined us, and I looked over to see Ally. She smiled at me, a slightly sad expression to her smile. She, too, held her leash in her mouth. I wonder if she had had to put it on by herself.
We were interrupted by a voice from outside. A deep, masculine voice said, “You are ready. Good,” and the Felinzi was led out. I never got to see who the Felinzi’s master was.
Time passed. I winked over at Ally, who would sometimes sit in melancholy silence. Her expression bothered me a little. Even in Rhysh, or maybe especially here, even the slaves should be happy.
“It’s my last day,” Ally whispered, reading my mind. “My master, Cedza, is leaving Rhysh tomorrow. He doesn’t want to play anymore.”
There was a silence for a while. “I don’t…” She stopped. “I don’t love him, but he has been so good to me. I want to be his slave, be good for him, and I feel like I’m failing because he’s leaving. I liked being owned by him.”
I nodded in the semi-darkness of the alcove. Sometimes, people ‘break.’ They stop wanting the fantasy. And they sometimes leave behind a lot of hurt. In Rhysh, sometimes our fantasies become enormous structures of the mind, and a single missing pin can do a lot of damage. We waited.
The door opened after a little while longer and Lynn walked in, looking down at me. She took the leash from my mouth and said, “Now you look like a proper slave.” She led me out into the hall, and down passageways again.
We reached a large, oaken double-door, which parted as we approached. I recognized them as the doors that led to the dining hall in which I had punished Kathy a few years back, and moaned in fear as we entered.
Lynn stopped suddenly, backed up and with a loud -SMACK- a sharp slap across my backside echoed. “Hush, slave,” she said. “I haven’t even touched you yet.”
There was a small contingent of people standing around, dining as we entered, and she greeted them quietly. There was a bit of socializing going on as well as the expected treatment of slaves. I looked across the floor and was surprised to see a Ssphynx restrained to the floor on the far side of the room, his leonine half jutting under a wooden pillory and his arms pinned to the arms of the ‘X’. A tall Tindal had a wide whip in hand and was systematically whipping the Ssphynx. The blows made loud cracks echo across the room, and the expression the Ssphynx’s face was both pained and transcendent. He looked beautiful as he hung there. Crack. And again. Every time his body would jerk, just a little, and he would settle. I was shocked to see little rivulets of blood trickling over his fur; the sight of blood is usually a safesign, but these two were going past that.
I lost count of the whips. It seemed to go on forever, and I was hyperventilating, breathing fast and hard and in sync with the suffering of the Ssphynx. He would open his eyes rarely, but once we locked eyes and the smile on his lips told me that everything was okay. Then the whip came down again and he jerked back, eyes clamped shut.
“That’s a rare one, isn’t it?” Lynn said, addressing me.
Her fingers trailed along my backside, her sharp nails closing around my testicles and pricking them oh, so gently. “They did a good job shaving you.”
She tugged on the leash again and I was led to a wide marble pillar that was illuminated clearly by the sun streaming in from the huge single-pane windows. It was also warmed by that sun, and she pulled me to feet and ordered me against it. “Arms around.”
I complied, and felt fetters being secured around my wrists. These were pulled up and away from me, wrapping my arms around the pillar and holding me against it. My legs were pushed apart I was secured to the pillar by those as well. Off balance yet restrained, I waited. “This is a whipping hall, slave. And now it’s your turn.” She stood back and I waited. “No, wait,” she said.
There was a pause, and then she took a bit and secured it to my mouth and tied it tightly in the back. “Not interested in your protestations, slave.” She stood away again. The bit bit into the corners of my mouth. I sighed quietly. “Let’s see,” she said. There was a whish through the air, and the wide strap she wielded came down on my buttocks. Hot pain spread across me, and the strap came down again. The inflaming pain was more than I could bear, yet I thought to myself that I will endure, I will take. If not because I am a good slave, but because Lynn is so dear to me. I wanted her to push herself, and this pushed me.
The strap came down again, and again. There was a voice in my ear; I had lost track of reality as I was whipped, but I knew who this was: the Ssphynx I had seen earlier. “Enjoy it,” he whispered. The pain flowed into me, and I could feel it wrapping itself around me, even to parts pressed against the column. My head spun as shock after shock struck me, and the strap lowered to my thighs, pain streaking out of there with crystal clarity. Oh gods, it hurt, but I understood the Ssphynx, as I only understood during punishment, the sole isolation of pain, taking me further and further. My body burned, tears flowed from my eyes as I rested my head against the column, tension in every knotted muscle, as the strap fell again and again, in unending torment. Nobody counted, nobody sought to stop her. And as she pushed me, I knew she could flay the flesh from my bones and I wouldn’t have cared, lost as I was in the release that punishment gives.
But, mercifully, she didn’t. The blows stopped, and soft fingers stroked something cooling onto my tortured flesh. But it was only when the fingers left me that I sagged away from the column. I couldn’t tell my condition, so utterly drained was I.
I heard Lynn speaking, and the fetters were released. I was grabbed by strong arms and lowered to the floor. Blinking and looking up I could see Lynn and the Ssphynx standing over me. “Rowan tells me you’ve never been pushed so hard before, slave. I’m proud of you. You did very well.”
Pleasure at my Mistress’s satisfaction washed over me. “Thank you,” I said hoarsely.
“Thank you, what?”
“Thank you, Mistress.” I said.
“Rest for a little while, and then we will go see this little show Teela has told us about. Although after watching you, I doubt anything could thrill me as much.”
“Thank you, Mistress.” I lay, on my back, feeling the coolness of the marble floor in the unlit corners of the room seep through the towel I lay upon and penetrate my tortured flesh.
After a while, Lynn returned and tugged on my leash. “Stand,” she said. “Having you crawl is fun, but it also slow us, and we have a sight to see.”
I walked three paces behind her, her short blond hair bouncing with every step. She was definitely enjoy her first days as an organic. There was a spring in her step that radiated sheer pleasure, and I was determined to be everything she wanted in a slave.
We walked to the main hall, which had been re-lit with a baleful yellow-golden color and at one end the throne had been elevated. “Stand back here,” Lynn ordered.
After a short while, a tall Markal wearing loose-fitting robes made of gleaming black walked in imperiously, followed by three males in tight-fitting leather bodystockings on each side. He walked to the throne and sat. The scene unfolded as another contingent walked in from the left, dragging an enormously muscled human, who was fighting and kicking and roaring as they did, but since the four ‘guards’ were Uncia, I doubted him much success. He was hauled in front of the Markal, who sat looking at the this scene with a touch of amusement. Rising, the Markal said, “So you are Debard. They say you have yet to be broken, although you came here as a slave.” Dane (the Markal) had a deep and gravely voice, perfect for his role.
“I am no one’s slave,” Debard answered, sweat or oil glistening off his skin as he moved. His hair was a long strand of gold down his back, braided and falling.
“Ah, but you are. You are MINE!” Dane’s roar was wonderful. “And you will learn what it means to come to Rhysh as you did.” There was a long pause. Debard glanced left, then right. He leapt for the stage.
The four guards who had led him were more than ready. They soon had him back on the lowest step, struggling. “Bind him,” Dane said with a throwaway gesture.
Long, thick ropes were secured to Debard’s wrists, and then to rings set into posts placed in the Hall for just such a purpose. “Now then, Debard,” Dane said, in the most off-hand voice I had ever heard, “kneel.”
“I am nobody’s slave, and I. Will. Not. Kneel.”
“YES, YOU WILL!” Dane roared. “Yes, you will. Or I shall wreak unspeakable harm upon you.” The Markal gestured, and a slight wisp of a femFelinz walked up behind Debard. In her hand was a whip made of something other than leather for it glowed oddly. She pulled it back and the glow grew brighter, erupting in a hot blue-white light. The whip surged into the air, and I marveled at the gravitics necessary to make it snake and slither like a living thing before the Felinz lashed it in Debard’s direction. The whip came alive, aimed at its target with all the accuracy of a sword, slashing hard across that beautifully muscled back. Dane watched, his eyes closing into tight slits, as the whip came down again, leaving a bright and angry trail over Debard’s shoulder.
The whip crackled and hummed in the air, growing louder and brighter than ever with every stroke, as if it were feeding off its target’s suffering. From where I was I couldn’t see Debard’s face, and I wondered at his strength. The whip fell again, and a quick glance at the room around me confirmed my thoughts. I could feel the question in the air… How far will he push it? How much can he take? Except I knew the answer, as the room crackled and hummed with the whip’s electricity, the snap of flesh and the groans of the heroic victim. The answer was simple; he can take as much as he needs.
Dane sat down, leaning over slightly in the chair and resting his arm on his knee, cupping his chin in hand. A small smile played across his face, but every time the femFel brought the whip down a shot of fear ran through those eyes, a little quiver wracked that body.
The whipping went on and on, and I began to feel the tip of the whip inside me, touching me as I fell into Debard’s pain as I had the Ssphynx’s earlier. Finally, after it had gone for so long that I had lost count and track, Debard fell to his knees, head down. Despite the length of the punishment, no one had left; the scene held an intensity all its own.
“Enough,” Dane said, barely whispering. The femFel stopped, and the whip dimmed to a dull grey, falling to the floor, slithering against the stone, unwilling to cease. Dane rose from the throne and stood in front of Debard, saying “Your strength lasts only so long, my love.”
“Yes, master,” Debard answered, each syllable forming around a deep breath of pain.
“You are my slave. You understand that.”
“I… I do. Forgive me.”
“There is nothing to forgive. You have learned.” Dane knelt in front of his plaything and kissed him on the forehead. “We should return to our home. Come.” He walked slowly, exiting, stage right. Debard took a few careful crawls in the same direction, then collapsed.
Dane turned, his look one of concern. He turned to the guard closest to himself and said, “Have his wounds bound, and washed. Then, bring him to me.” The guard nodded and all ten moved to lift Debard, carrying him down the center aisle to the medical center.
I shivered. Despite my whipping earlier, the last scene had been more than anything I’d experienced yet. I hurt just from the empathy in the room.
“Mistress Lynn,” came a voice from behind us that I recognized immediately. It was not my place to turn, so I did not. But Lynn responded naturally, turning and addressing the man behind me.
“Master Borodir,” she said gently. “Quite a scene, wouldn’t you agree.”
“Frightening,” Borodir responded.
“Because I have excellent knowledge that Debard was not given a safeword, Lynn. That is… discomfiting.” Borodir has a deep and soothing voice, the sort usually reserved for the hero. Or the villain.
“Some couples no longer need them, Borodir. And as I was mistress of this castle, I know how that sort of thing feels. Debard was as safe as a child in his mother’s arms, if not as comfortable.”
“As you say,” Borodir intoned. “I have a request of you.”
“Your pet for this evening and mine have a long-standing rivalry going. I was wondering if I could borrow yours.”
“By all means,” she said, tugging on my leash gently. I turned and the two of them led me to another of the columns scattered about the room and being used for a variety of purposes. Tied to it was a very muscular Mephit, his tall black tail squashed against the post, his usually beautiful fur matted with sweat and oil. I didn’t need to guess; he’d been at the party last night. And the look in his rather dazed eyes told me he recognized me as well. “Kneel,” Borodir said.
I complied, and he walked me slowly in front of Aaden. “Your task, old slave, is to keep his sex hard. He has been frustrated all day, and his strength is ebbing. Amuse us. But if he comes you will both pay. And do not use your hands.”
I nodded; the instructions were clear. I leaned up against Aaden’s large, uncircumcised cock and its soft sheath covered with a gentle smattering of fur. I bit at the sheath gently, clamping down tightly with my lips, getting fur on my tongue as I stroked his cock through it. Slowly I felt Aaden’s heartbeat in his body grow stronger, pulsing softly as I coaxed him further along. After a while his cock was just slightly hard enough that I could push the covering down with my lips and expose the head; taking it into my mouth and licking it intently. Aaden groaned in frustration. I began to take care, sucking him gently and softly, trying hard not to give in to the impulse to push.
Dammit, this was dirty pool! I like sucking cock. I’ve an oral fixation a terr wide; I chew pencils to death. The feel of having cock in my mouth, stroking and caressing and tasting it overwhelms me. Having to control myself was just damned unfair! And despite my rivalry with Aaden, I like him. I like him a lot. Being asked to torture him like this was only more torture for me.
Oh, but that only proves that both Lynn and Borodir understand me all too well. I tried to follow their instructions, and as my mouth and jaw tired, I nuzzled Aaden’s balls softly, trying to brush against him and reassure him, the frustration of not being allowed to exercise either mine or his pleasure bringing tears to my eyes again. But as his erection sagged again, I returned to his cock, unmindful of the events around me, uncaring if Borodir or Lynn watched, trying to be a good slave to both my Mistress and former Master, trying to be a good friend to Aaden. It hurt, oh Gods it hurt; more than last night’s utilitarian abuses, more than today’s whipping, this hurt.
“Stop,” Lynn said. I sagged back onto the floor, my face wet with crying, my chin dripping with tears and saliva. The few early drippings from Aaden’s penis were sweet salt on my tongue, and I craved more. Aaden was limp against his restraints, drained of all strength. Borodir eased him out of those restraints and into a large, overstuffed chair that had been set nearby. “Crawl to him,” Lynn ordered.
I obeyed, crawling towards Aaden, who lay limp and exhausted in the chair. “Put your head in his lap.” I groaned quietly. Please, I thought, no more. Despite the thought, I had no desire to see it end, no desire to use my safesign. “Arch your back, slave,” Lynn ordered.
I thought that an odd command, but I complied nonetheless, arching my back. There was a cool sensation at my anus, and Lynn said, “Let’s see how this is done.” I felt her get between my legs, and the cold sensation of a dildo being pressed against my tiny asshole. If it hadn’t been for the cold, it would have slid in easily, but this took a little effort. It finally slid in, the head a thick, flared oval that stroked and caressed the lining of my rectum as it slid into my depths. Then I felt someone’s skin against the back of my legs, and realized that Lynn was wearing that dildo. She was fucking me with it, and not gently either, as she plumbed my depths forcefully, fucking me with her artificial cock. I rested my head in Aaden’s lap, pushed against his belly with every thrust, luxuriating in the soft wonder of his fur as Lynn raped me, his hand gently caressing my hair. I closed my eyes and wrapped my arms around his midsection, holding onto him, feeling his warmth as she fucked me. Borodir walked to the side of the chair and whispered into my ear, “He may come, now.”
I looked up him, his image bobbing back and forth as Lynn grabbed my hips and began shoving harder. I nodded and buried my head into Aaden’s crotch, taking his much-abused cock into my mouth and stroking it harder, letting Lynn’s momentum carry me back and forth as the smooth shaft of Aaden’s penis slid into my throat. The pleasure I felt at being allowed this treasure was so immense I lost all track of myself, losing even the will to breathe against the force of Lynn’s poundings and the taste of Aaden’s growing cock against my tongue, my lips gliding across soft flesh until they touched softer fur, his body tensing, tensing, his grip on my head firm and insistent.
Lynn’s pounding grew stronger, and I wondered what she sought, but then I realized what; Aaden’s pleasure. I redoubled my efforts, stroking him, adding my strength to every push and pull of Lynn’s dildo. Between two shafts, at the center of a universe only I could feel, being ravished from behind and putting my all into the friend/enemy/lover/slave before me, his body growing more tense, his claws digging into my hair, and he finally came, screaming, roaring, clawing and quaking with release, rising from the chair and pushing me into his lap, his cock going deeper into my throat, my throat swallowing, gulping, taking his seed. Yes!
And then it was over. Lynn was no longer within me, and Aaden sagged back into the chair, collapsing, now truly exhausted. My last remaining strength ebbed away and I collapsed onto the floor, my head still in Aaden’s soft lap, and I smiled gently as I realized that his cock was still in my mouth. I lay there, trying not to nurse on it, and finally moved my head away from his cock slightly, knowing how sensitive he must be. Lynn reached down and stroked my hair. “You have done well, slave,” she said gently. “I have one last thing to ask of you.”
I waited. “Stand,” she said. It took some doing, but I finally managed to get to my feet. “Come with me.” Her voice had the sound of request rather than command, a voice that made me intensely curious. I felt saddened that I was leaving Aaden behind, but I was sure he would be well cared for. As Borodir had cared for me.
She led me down hallways to a residential section of the castle, opening one of the door and leading me into a large but spartan bedroom. There was one large mirror on the wall to my left, a huge four-post bed on a rug, and a dresser in a corner. Other than that, it was the bare slate-grey stone of the castle. Two bright lantern burned on opposite walls.
Lynn turned around and reached up, unclasping my collar and casting it onto the dresser, then easing the armband from around my bicep. “Undress me,” she said.
I gestured imploringly for her to turn around, and she did. I pulled on the knot of her dress, unlacing the bodice that restrained her, then pulling the laces all the way down. The dress fell about her, and underneath Lynn had had the common sense to wear more practical clothes. Image was important for her, not historical accuracy.
In a very short time I had her completely undressed, and she was quiet as I worked, stepping when I asked her to. When I was done I stood in front of her and waited.
“You don’t have to call me ‘Mistress,’ Ken. In here, let’s just be Ken and Lynn.”
I shook my head slightly, just to clear it, and said, “Okay.”
Lynn turned slightly and walked to the bed, sitting on it. Her gengineers had given her a cute ass. “Come here?” I joined her on the bed, pulling one of the pillows into my lap out of habit. She took a deep breath and said, “She said I shouldn’t mention her when I did this, but it is her advice. I’ve been mistress of Rhysh for over half a millenia, and I know everything there is to know about sex, about pain, about dominance and about submission. I’ve watched you and two million other go through these walls, and most stayed for less than a whole day, while some, like you, stayed for a while, and some, like Borodir, can come and go at will. For them, like me, Rhysh is home. And when I was an AI, I could not understand why some AIs chose to give up all that strength and speed to be human, or Tindal, or whatever. To be fragile.
“Today I played the role of mistress, and I found I could do it; I could judge you, feel you, know what was right for you and what was wrong, even though I pushed you beyond your previous limits. Maybe someday I too will play the slave.
“But I’ve always been a mistress, and a servant, giving orders to keep the illusion going and taking orders to fulfill a fantasy.
“I don’t know if I’m making sense, but it all reduces to this: I do not have the… piece of flesh that makes it official; my doctors took care of that, but in this, my body, I’m still a virgin. I want you to change that.”
I had a feeling that was coming. I nodded, not saying a word, and crawled easily to the front of the bed, pulling aside the covers. “Join me, Lynn.”
She crawled over next to me, settling next to me. I leaned forward, and pressed my lips to hers. Her kiss back was awkward and unpracticed, but she tried, and after a few seconds it became a warm and familiar kiss. We separated and I said, “How was that?”
“Nice,” she breathed huskily.
I laughed quietly and leaned over, taking a breast in hand and holding the nipple up, lowering my mouth to it and sucking gently, circling her aureole with my tongue. Her arms wrapped tight about my head, then loosened. You’ve got a lot to learn, I thought. I pushed against her belly with my hand, pushing her down to the bed, kissing her belly as I passed my hand. “Do you want me to eat you?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said.
“Yes, what?” I asked, mischievously.
“Yes, father.” THAT was NOT the answer I had been expecting, but it would do. I dove into her pubic bush, licking the thin blond hairs and pushing them out of the way, spreading her lips with my hands, sliding my tongue about her cunt. Avoiding the top, diving down to her vaginal opening and down lower, getting a few soft licks at her anus, just barely in reach between her gorgeous cheeks. She moaned and twisted on the bed, and as I worked my way around and around her cunt she groaned and panted.
I slid my tongue over her clitoris, and a new chorus of moans escaped her as I did. Her body wracked in near-instantaneous orgasm, and she shuddered violently as I licked her. “Stop… Please,” she begged after a few seconds of this. “I can’t take that. It’s so… so much, too much. Please!” I finally relented as her hands tore at my hair, imploring me away from her sweet cunny.
My cock was standing straight up, against my belly, as I crawled up to her face, kissing her. She looked up at me and said, “I’m ready.”
“Yes.” She rose to a kneeling position and crawled over to me. She pushed me back until I was sitting on my heels. She spread her thighs wide, encompassing me, pointing my cock into her cunt. I looked up at her as she put her hands on my shoulders, my cock poised at the entrance to her womanhood. She closed her eyes. I put my hands around her waist and guided her downward, my cock sliding into her with almost no resistance. She sighed.
Her eyes fluttered open and she looked down at me. “It’s… interesting.”
I laughed. “Interesting?” I asked, incredulous. “Is that all?”
“Feels good,” she sighed again, her eyelid closing slightly. I slid my hands down to her ass and squeezed them gently, feeling their firmness. She laughed a little. I used the position to gain some forward leverage, and pushed hard. We fell over, down onto the bed, her on her back, me on top.
Her face wasn’t afraid; she smiled, in fact. “Do it,” she said. “Fuck me, Ken. Just like Ember said you would.”
I laughed with her as I began stroking in and out of her. Am I that predictable? Ember; It figured. My cock was hard and insistent, taking her pleasure as she gave it. Her hands roamed over her bosom and down between her legs; I could feel her fingers against my pubic bone as she slid wet fingers over her clitoris.
The pains of the day vanished, and only little hints of Ally’s teasing and Aaden’s pleasure remained, making me smile more as I made love to Lynn, going deeper and faster, listening to her moan in pleasure as I got closer and closer, and when I came it was strong and silent thing, shuddering and kissing her.
I rose from her and looked down. Our eyes locked for a moment, and then we began laughing uncontrollably again. I rolled off of her and cuddled up again, putting my leg over hers and my arm across her breasts, lying my head on her shoulder. “How was that?”
“It was… interesting.”
“Interesting? Is that all?” I asked again in mock suffering.
“I loved it and you know it, silly Shardik.”
“I asked, she gave me that answer. ‘Go to Ken.’” We both laughed.
“That’s the second time that’s happened to me.”
“What, virgin sacrifices, or people coming…er… going to you on her advice?”
“People coming to me on her advice.”
“You’re not going to be mad at her, are you?” Lynn asked, concerned.
“No, I’m not going to be mad at her. It’s okay.”
“Do you want to go to bed?”
“It’s kind of early, isn’t it?”
“You slept late. I didn’t take a noon nap, either. I’m very tired.”
“And I can’t leave because technically, I’m still your slave.”
“Oh, be serious. I could have Rowan bring you a change of clothing. But I want you stay. Please?” The look in her eyes would have put a puppy to shame.
“I will,” I said, pulling the covers over us.
“Rowan, turn the lights down.” The ‘lanterns’ faded into darkness.
“Good night, sister,” said Rowan’s voice from the walls. “And you, too, Ken.”