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Dominium	By : Lost101 Category: +S through Z > Star Ocean 3 Views: 2414 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Star Ocean or any of the characters involved. This work is not intended for profit.

Chapter List
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Disclaimer: I do not own Star Ocean or any of the characters involved. This work is not intended for profit.
Title: Dominium
Chapter 1: Teaching Clair
A/N: I’m back for another go at writing smut. This is a direct sequel to Connubium. It came out a lot longer than expected. Actually have to break it up into chapters. Reviews are always appreciated.
“Master Fayt.” Queen Romeria studied the young swordsman from high atop her gilded throne. “You claim that the Sacred Orb is the key to defeating this new threat?”
“Yes, your Majesty. Without the Sacred Orb it will be impossible to stop the enemy.” Master Fayt did not hesitate, continuing to speak for his gathered companions. The lot of them, and the number may have doubled since their departure, stood in her throne room requesting use of Aquaria’s most sacred treasure.
“So you say.” Magistrate Lasselle snapped. His outrage at their request had been made clear.
“Silence, Lasselle.” Queen Romeria snapped. She had no patience for the Magistrate’s typical acerbic comments. She considered her options, or lack of them. Master Fayt was the Arrow of Apris, of that she was more certain than ever. It was not a matter of trust. And her own forces had yet to prove effective against the enemy. What other choice did she have? None, it seemed. But granting them the use of the Sacred Orb might cause a panic.
She could try to keep the loss of the Sacred Orb a secret, for however long that would last. Nothing would remain a secret forever and she feared Glyphan spies less than she feared her own court’s gossip. Word would spread, eventually, that she had handed over the Sacred Orb. It might take weeks, months, or even years, for others to learn but they would learn and there would be questions. Some would question her sanity, might question her right to rule. So her aid would not be given freely, could not be given freely. A price would have to be paid, if only to save face.
And Queen Romeria had no intention of just saving face.
She stared at the blue haired young man. Master Fayt was the Arrow of Apris, the savior of the kingdom, and a hero of the people. The man was practically a legend and should they succeed in saving their world… The advantages of having him remain in Aquaria were vast. “Your companions can retrieve the Sacred Orb without you, can they not?”
Master Fayt paused, the question catching him off guard. “Yes, your Majesty.”
Queen Romeria nodded. “Very well. In exchange for the Sacred Orb we will require a commitment from you, Master Fayt.” She stared into his green eyes. “It is nonnegotiable.” At her gesture one of the castle guards stepped forward. “Escort Master Fayt to one of our guestrooms. Please see to his comfort.”
“Your Majesty.” Whatever uncertainties Master Fayt felt, he did not voice them. The guard watched Master Fayt anxiously, knowing full well that he could not force Master Fayt to comply. Master Fayt locked eyes with her and her heart raced under the intensity of his gaze. The compassion she’d seen at their first meeting was still there. But he was a changed man. It was clear that, during his brief departure from her world, something had happened to him, had hardened his resolve. Master Fayt’s green eyes bore into her and for the first time in years Romeria fought not to squirm. Suddenly, Master Fayt turned to the guard and gestured towards the door.
Queen Romeria turned her attention to Master Fayt’s companions, sharing concerned glances between themselves as Master Fayt followed the guard from the throne room. “The Royal Pathway was sealed after the last attack on Kaddan. It will need to be made accessible.” Queen Romeria’s voice was steadier than she felt. “Please rest until then.”
The tall one, Cliff, answered for the group. “Thank you, your Majesty.”
They bowed and turned from the hall, Lady Nel included.
“Lady Nel, you will remain behind.”
“Your Majesty?” Lady Nel turned back to face her.
Queen Romeria said nothing, watching Master Fayt’s companions make their way from the great hall. Finally, the group passed through the archway and the massive doors shut firmly behind them. Only then did the Queen’s eyes find Lady Nel, still standing at the base of the steps.
“Is it not customary to kneel before your Queen?”
Lady Nel stiffened and quickly lowered herself to one knee, her head bowed. “Your Majesty.”
Lady Nel.
Of all the members of the Crimson Blade, the Queen would never have imagined Nel Zelpher would abandon her duties. Queen Romeria had chosen her as Master Fayt’s bride because of Master Fayt’s feelings towards her and because of Lady Nel’s unrivaled sense of loyalty. Lady Nel seemed the best choice, the only choice, to bind Master Fayt to Aquaria. Instead, Lady Nel had run off to be with Master Fayt, disappearing from the face of the planet without a trace.
Master Fayt paced the length of the guest room when the door opened. He froze mid step, turning to find her waiting in the doorway and bowed. “Your Majesty.”
Queen Romeria glanced at the attendant, still holding the door open for her. “You are dismissed.” She commanded, entering the room without waiting for a response.
“The pathway to Kaddan will be unsealed by tomorrow evening. Your companions will be allowed to retrieve it then.” She paused. Waiting for Master Fayt to thank her politely.
Master Fayt did not disappoint. “Thank you, Your Majesty.” He waited for her to continue, waiting for the price to be paid.
It wasn’t a charade of civility, not truly. She respected Master Fayt for everything he’d done for Aquaria. But there was no denying this was anything than what it was. She was demanding something else of him even as he fought to save their entire world. Nothing in all of Aquaria was more important to her people than the Sacred Orb. For such a request the cost would be Master Fayt’s vow to remain on Elicoor after the war.
She had taken the softer approach before, using Lady Nel to bind Master Fayt to Aquaria. That had backfired beautifully. No more. This time Master Fayt’s agreement to remain in Aquaria would be demanded outright.
And as for Lady Nel and her decision to abandon her duties… the Queen had the perfect bride for Master Fayt. “As we discussed a commitment from you will be required.” Queen Romeria paused for just a moment. “A bonding ritual. We believe you are familiar with it.”
Master Fayt studied her face, his eyes widened as comprehension dawned on him. “Your Majesty-”
He knew, knew before she said the words.
“A bride has been chosen for you.”
Master Fayt stared at her for a long moment. “Your Majesty,” he began slowly, as if searching for his voice. “Is the purpose of this ritual to bind me to Aquaria?”
“It is.” There was no reason left for false pretense.
“With your permission, I would stay in Aquaria once the threat is ended.”
“We are pleased to hear that. It will be a relief for your bride.” And it was a relief, to the Queen as well. Master Fayt’s pledge to remain on Elicoor would have been her next condition and she was unsure how to present it to him.
She stared into the young man’s clear green eyes. And her resolve waivered. What kind of person would demand such a thing? But there was no going back. Her decision had been made, the orders given, and they could not be undone. “As we stated, it is nonnegotiable.” Queen Romeria finally answered. Standing so close to him, without the trappings of her rank… Romeria suddenly felt very exposed, vulnerable… and excited. “Lady Nel has already been informed.”
Lady Nel had been informed… of everything. Queen Romeria felt a rush of vindication. Put mildly, the redhead had not taken it well. But Lady Nel had no choice. Such marriages had fallen out of favor in recent years but were still recognized under Aquarian laws. Given the gender imbalance following the war, it might see a resurgence.
Lady Nel would have to share.
There was no reason to drag this out. She could at least give Master Fayt the courtesy of privacy to gather his thoughts. “The ritual will take place tomorrow evening while your companions retrieve the Sacred Orb. We must ask that you rest here for now, Master Fayt.”
But first, one last detail.
Fayt watched as Queen Romeria made to leave the room. She stopped just short of the doorway, turning back to face him. “Your bride would speak with you.” Fayt’s eyes were on the door before the queen had finished speaking, just in time to see a young woman enter.
Clair.
Fayt’s mind reeled. Clair had agreed to this? Clair, who was Nel’s best friend, who was Adray’s daughter, and who was strikingly beautiful.
Evidently, that part of Fayt’s mind was faster to recover.
Clair’s eyes were down as she slowly approached him, a contrast to her normally confident and graceful stride. But otherwise, she was the same woman he’d met in Arias. And that felt like a lifetime ago.
Clair wore an elegantly cut dress, the same type of dress that served as her normal attire. The top was modestly cut but could do little to hide the swell of her breasts. While the skirt was long, well past her knees, the slit on one side went nearly to her hip. Only her matching stockings kept the outfit from being too revealing. Clair’s long silver hair fell smoothly down her back, past her waist, loosely wrapped in purple ribbons.
Neither of them noticed when the Queen slipped out of the room.
Clair stopped a few paces short of Fayt, staring at the floor. Clair lifted her gaze, found Fayt watching her intently and promptly returned her eyes to her feet, a warmth creeping up her neck.
She’d always found Fayt attractive. Handsome and so strong, fit. And that was before the Queen’s account of Fayt and Nel’s night together… Fayt’s actions… the warmth reached her cheeks, became a fire. There was potential… that Master Fayt…
Fayt listened patiently, his face betraying nothing as Clair laid her deepest desires bare. She’d promised herself to hold nothing back, to be unashamed. That was easier said than done. What must he think of her?
“Clair,” Fayt began. The single word made her shiver. “There is no going back. If you want this, it cannot be undone.” Fayt stepped closer, her heart raced and her eyes found the floor. Fayt took hold of her chin, lifting her face until she stared into his eyes. “The ritual will take place tomorrow. Until then you may reconsider. If you still intend to go through with this you must present yourself to me properly.”
Clair, despite herself, swallowed nervously. “I understand, Fayt.”
He studied her carefully. “I will forgive that mistake once.” His voice was firm. “and only once because you do not know what ‘properly’ means.”
30 minutes later Clair closed the guestroom door behind her. Her head spun with all the tasks before her. Fortunately, there was time. Time to gather all her things, time to practice, and time to decide. Except her decision had been made, made years ago. But now, so close, a nervous energy powered her every step. Clair feared her own nerves would keep her awake throughout the night. Perhaps she could take a sleeping draught.
She would need her rest.
Nel stormed down the halls of Castle Aquios, fury clearly written on her face. Her Majesty had… Nel wanted to scream or hit something.
Or someone.
Nel needed to know who. Did the queen expect her to step aside? To share Fayt so easily?! Never!
The doors to the bathhouse stood before her, the same dressing area where she had been prepared as Fayt’s bride. Nel threw them open without a second thought. A young girl in a priestess’ robes jumped as she burst into the room. Nel glared at the priestess for a moment.
Clair stood close by, wrapped in a thick white robe. An attendant stood behind her, slowly unwrapping the purple ribbons from Clair’s long silver hair.
Clair.
The silver haired beauty had the decency to look embarrassed, even if Nel was the interloper.
Nel gaped at her, too stunned to speak.
A second attendant entered the room. “Lady Clair,” the attendant held a length of dark purple, nearly black, fabric out to Clair. “It is the darkest shade we have.”
Clair took the fabric from the attendant and ran it through her fingers. A bridal sash, much like the red sash Nel still wore on her arm. Clair drew the silk taut in her hands, studied it against the light of the nearest brazier. “It will do. Thank you.”
The attendants shared a look between themselves. The older woman cleared her throat. “Lady Clair, are you sure about forgoing the traditional bridal dress?”
“My orders were clear,” Clair’s tone was polite, but firm. “Please use the garments I requested.”
Both of the attendants bowed. “Yes, Lady Clair.”.
Nel’s jaw clenched, watching the attendants gather Clair’s outfit in their arms. The two older women must have felt her glare but dutifully collected each item before leaving the room. Nel watched them leave before closing her eyes in frustration. Her Majesty’s fingerprints where everywhere.
“Nel. I’m sorry.”
Nel’s eyes snapped open. Clair stood within arm’s length. Nel looked away, crossing her arms. “What is her Majesty thinking?!” Her eyes began to sting. “Fayt’s agreed to stay…” She pressed one hand against her eyes. “It’s like she’s jealous.”
Clair reached out, as if to comfort her but thought better of it. Instead, Clair smiled gently. “She must have her reasons. Her Majesty may be angry about your sudden disappearance but I’m sure it’s not jealousy.”
Nel looked away. As angry as she was, she couldn’t deny it. She had abandoned her duty. “Clair.” Nel stared at her friend, her best friend. “There was no time. I couldn’t leave Fayt-”
This time Clair did reach out to her, taking hold of both of Nel’s hands. “I understand.” Clair’s amber eyes were as warm as ever, without any trace of judgment.
It just made Nel feel worse.
“Lady Clair,” both women turned to find an acolyte had entered the room. The young girl bowed to the silver haired woman. “The bathing chamber is prepared.”
Clair smiled apologetically at the young girl, “Would you give us a moment?”
Nel shook her head quickly. “No. You need to,” she swallowed. “You need to prepare.” Nel moved swiftly to the door, their eyes on her with every step.
“How strange,” Romeria mused silently, “the second time in as many weeks.” It was almost surreal, to find herself in the ritual chamber again, waiting for the new bride to present herself.
The room was in reality the master suite, one room in a private residence within the royal tower. The same massive bed dominated the room, standing waist high. It was larger even than her own and made the sizeable bedroom feel surprisingly intimate. Before the bed a thick white rug covered most of the floor. A single runological brazier stood next to the door, warming the room and painting it in the orange glow of the firelight.
Queen Romeria sat in the same chair as before, against the far wall and cast in darkness, to allow some illusion of privacy. She’d ordered one slight change in the chamber’s preparation. This time a flagon of wine sat on the table beside her. If Master Fayt’s exploits were the same as before, she would need a drink. Queen Romeria closed her eyes, recalling that evening and swearing to herself that she would not repeat her past performance.
Romeria opened her eyes, careful to avoid looking to her right, where Lady Nel was seated. She regretted letting Lady Nel attend. It was far too cruel. She wanted to say something to Lady Nel but every word that crossed her mind felt pitifully inadequate. Lady Nel’s actions… abandoning her duties to aid Master Fayt. It made sense, now. Knowing that the fate of their entire world hung in the balance... but at the time. For the first time that evening, she dared glance at Lady Nel. The redhead sat with the posture expected of a noble lady but the tension radiating off her was impossible to miss. Lady Nel stared straight ahead, at the massive bed. Now that the Queen’s anger had cooled, her jealousy waned, a part of her wished she could release Master Fayt and Lady Clair from the ritual.
She’d made the edict in her throne room, in full view of all her royal court. The benefits of Master Fayt remaining in Aquaria were too vast. It was in the best interest of the entire kingdom but that did little to absolve her shame.
Master Fayt.
Unlike last time, he didn’t pace the floor nervously. Instead he stood beside the bed, deep in thought. The firelight cast his shadow against the far wall. Master Fayt crossed his well-muscled arms over his chest. Queen Romeria’s eyes roamed over his body, settling on his crotch.
Romeria reached for her wine glass.
The wine, a bold red, was stronger than she remembered. Queen Romeria nursed the drink, watching Master Fayt. She managed to finish half the glass before a knock on the bedroom door pierced the silence.
“Enter.”
The door opened promptly and silently on well-oiled hinges. Lady Clair entered the room, surprisingly in her normal outfit: a dress with a high slit, stockings, and heels. A broach in the shape of a silver sun, the formal symbol of the Shield Legion, was pinned to her blouse. The broach gleamed brightly in the firelight. Would Lady Clair refuse to go through with the ceremony? As a ritual bride, Lady Clair knew exactly what was expected of her. Romeria was about to demand an explanation but there, wrapped around Lady Clair’s slender waist was a dark purple bridal sash. The Queen stared, thoroughly confused. What was Lady Clair doing?
Lady Clair stopped just inside the doorway. Lady Clair’s eyes swept the room, not sparing a second glance on herself or Lady Nel.
And then the world became even stranger.
Lady Clair’s eyes found Master Fayt where stood, next to the ritual bed. The silver haired woman walked briskly to the center of the room, stopping just short of Master Fayt, and immediately lowered herself onto her knees. Lady Clair stretched her arms before her, pressed her forehead against the ground, and prostrated herself before him.
Master Fayt stared down at Lady Clair’s prone form and said nothing. Slowly, he circled Lady Clair, scrutinizing every inch of her body. Finally, Master Fayt came to a stop in front of Lady Clair. “Look at me, slave.”
The silver haired beauty raised her head, staring up at Master Fayt.
“Stand up.” Master Fayt commanded.
Lady Clair immediately moved to her feet and stood before him: legs together, back straight, eyes down. Master Fayt quickly stepped behind her, grabbed both her hands and pulled them behind her back, low behind her ass.
Clair kept her eyes down, trying not to squirm. Master was watching her and she didn’t dare meet his gaze. Gods, Master could probably hear her heart pounding in her chest. She’d practiced her positions, how to kneel, how to stand, and still forgotten to keep her hands behind her. Master’s boots stepped into her field of view. Master reached towards her, only to brush his thumb across her brooch.
“What is this, slave?”
Clair swallowed. “It is the crest of the Shield Legion,” she answered, her voice a breathy squeak in her own ears.
Master traced the edges of the silver sun, the symbol of the Shield Legion, of her position as commander. “What value does this have to me?” He asked, his tone completely unreadable.
“It has no value, Master.”
Master closed his hand over the brooch. The sound of tearing fabric filled the room, echoed in her ears. Master held the silver brooch before her downcast eyes. Master opened his fist and Clair watched the brooch fall, its silver chain trailing after it.
It landed on the plush white rug without a sound.
Suddenly, Master’s hands were on her hips, pulling her forward. Clair fell against him with a gasp. Master found the knot of her bridal sash and it fell apart. “You’re overdressed, slave.” He growled into her ear.
His voice and the power behind it made her light headed. “Ye-yes, Master.” Clair whispered.
Fayt slowly unwrapped Clair’s bridal sash from her slender waist and gathered the fabric in his hands. He’d need it later. Clair still leaned against him, head bowed, and the swell of her breasts pressed against his chest. A subtle blend of floral scents teased him, jasmine, apricot, and others he couldn’t name. Fayt stared down at the top of her head, watched the firelight reflect off her beautiful silver hair. Her head was down, her eyes were down. Clair bit down on her lower lip nervously.
But he couldn’t reassure her, not yet. Clair needed a firm hand. Instead, Fayt’s eyes traced the slope of her neck, across her collar bone, down the front of her torn blouse.
She’d worn the style of dress that made up her normal attire, just as he’d ordered. Maybe it was the dark fabric against her fair skin or the fact that even Clair’s modest top couldn’t hide her hourglass figure but Fayt had liked Clair’s typical outfit. Most important of all, the outfit was practically a uniform and part of Clair’s identity. But the attendants had dressed her in the same type of undergarments as they had Nel. Through the torn fabric, the sheer white silk was easily visible and Fayt watched it straining against Clair’s generous endowment.
He was going to thoroughly enjoy her tonight.
Clair kept her eyes down, closing them as Master gently drew her hair aside and undid the tie at the back of her neck, gathering the fabric of her dress in his hands.
Then he ripped the fabric swiftly in two.
Clair stiffened as the fabric tore. Master pulled down firmly on the ruined dress before letting go. The tattered silk fell away from her breasts, slipped down her hips, past her legs, and pooled at her feet.
“Slave.”
Clair’s eyes snapped open, her heart pounding in her chest. Master stood before her, watching her, and his eyes were hard.
“Step forward, slave.”
Clair, not trusting herself to speak, stepped out of the ruin that was her official uniform without a sound. She stood, before her Master, stripped to her undergarments. She’d laid awake last night wondering what it would be like, to present herself to Master. Nothing had prepared her for this, not even her fantasies. Clair tried not to squirm. She could feel Master’s eyes on her, hear her own heartbeat in her ears.
“Remove your top, slave.”
“Yes, Master.” Clair whispered breathlessly. She fumbled with the knot at her back, fingers trembling. Finally, it came undone and Clair unraveled the silk they’d used to wrap her chest. Master’s eyes burned into her. Clair flushed under his gaze. Unable to meet his eyes, she let the fabric fall away, staring at the white cloth as it gathered on the floor.
Without a word Master cupped one of her breasts. Clair drew in a sharp breath. It was the first real touch, Master’s large calloused hands against her breasts. Master held her firmly, his hands rough against the sensitive skin. Clair bit down on her bottom lip, a familiar heat gathering between her thighs.
Master teased her, confident and practiced.
Fayt smirked at Clair’s obvious arousal. Clair’s eyes were closed, her lips parted, and her cheeks flushed. Clair stood, naked from the waist up and Fayt took the opportunity to admire her form. Like Nel, the silver haired beauty was slender and fit, lithe.
And the gods had been particularly generous with her.
Her nipples, dark pink, stood out against Clair’s porcelain skin. Fayt brushed his thumb across one nipple. Clair’s breathing spiked, her ample chest rising. And Clair, like Nel, had very sensitive breasts. Fayt watched her face as he brushed his thumb across her nipple lightly. Clair bit down on her bottom lip, trying to stifle a moan. He cupped Clair’s generous breasts, barely, kneading the tender flesh.
“.mmm…ahhh..” A moan tore itself from Clair’s pink lips. She arched her back, pressing herself into his hands. Fayt’s smirk grew. Nel could climax from the sensations alone and Clair, her breasts larger, seemed even more sensitive. Fayt continued to tease her, watching the soft pink flush growing across her skin.
“Slave, remove my shirt.”
Clair opened her eyes as Master’s words filtered through. “Ye-yes, Master.” She whispered, voice shaking. Master’s fingers found her nipples, teasing them before pinching down firmly. Finally, he let go of her and Clair, wet and aching, almost whimpered.
She stared at his shirt, eager to please and desperate to be touched. Clair slowly drew the zipper down. The front of the garment fell open, exposing the hard flat planes of Master’s chest. Clair stared at the scars that lined Master’s lean and muscled form, lightly tracing them without thinking. The scars were fresh, less than a month old. Master lowered his arms and Clair slipped the shirt off his shoulders, running her hands down his arms, down his biceps and along his forearms.
“Good, slave.”
“Thank you, Master.” Clair murmured softly, lowering her eyes back to the floor. She’d feared Master would be displeased with her. She’d let her mind wander, dared to touch him without permission.
Queen Romeria stared at the obvious bulge in Master Fayt’s pants, waiting anxiously for Lady Clair to undo his belt, for Master Fayt to command her.
Master Fayt suddenly closed the distance between them, cupping Lady Clair’s chin. She stared into Master Fayt’s eyes, face flushed. Master Fayt brushed his thumb across Lady Clair’s parted lips. “Now turn and face the bed, slave.”
The queen almost growled in frustration as Lady Clair rushed to obey.
Master Fayt moved behind Lady Clair, taking hold of her hips. He guided her back a step, positioning her roughly next to the bed with her legs apart. Master Fayt put one hand on her bare shoulder. “Brace yourself with your arms.” He ordered before bending her at the waist.
Lady Clair did as commanded, supporting herself with her arms against the mattress.
Master Fayt gently gathered Lady Clair’s long silver hair. His fingers found the ribbons she used to tie it back. Master Fayt untied each ribbon with painstaking care. With the last ribbon removed and cast aside, Master Fayt again gathered her hair, running his fingers through the silver locks and drawing them back over her shoulders. He leaned closer. “Beautiful.” His voice was low, gentle, even as it carried in the room.
His words, his tone, or maybe it was his touch, but Lady Clair inhaled sharply. She peeked at Master Fayt over her shoulder, a light pink across her cheeks. “Thank you Master.” Lady Clair’s voice was so soft, so delicate, that the queen’s heart ached for her.
Even as a different part of her ached for Master Fayt.
Master Fayt’s hands trailed down Lady Clair’s body, settling on her hips. He gripped her panties in both hands and smoothly ripped them from her slender hips. Lady Clair cried out, drowning out the sound of tearing fabric.
Master Fayt forced Lady Clair back into position, bending her over the bed. His touch was firm but not rough. Master Fayt ran his hands over Lady Clair’s backside, cupping her ass. He traced the fresh red lines he’d made on her fair skin before moving down her body.
“..ahh..Master..mm…” Lady Clair murmured as Master Fayt caressed her swollen sex. She bit down on her lip, tried to stifle her cries as he explored every inch of her. Like her nipples, Lady Clair’s swollen lips were a very dark pink and looked all the darker against her porcelain skin, nestled by short silver hairs.
“Beautiful.” Again, his voice low, his tone gentle. And the queen had no doubt in her mind, Master Fayt was being honest.
“Th-thank you Master.” Lady Clair whispered, voice shaking.
Then the smirk on Master Fayt’s face became absolutely devious.
“Stand up, slave.”
Clair straightened and assumed the position she’d been thought: back straight, shoulders back, and eyes down. Master took hold of both her wrists and pulled her arms behind her back. Clair obediently held her wrists together so Master could bind them.
Master had something more elaborate in mind.
Master brushed her long hair aside, draping her silver locks over her shoulder and in front of her chest before taking hold of her wrists again. This time he forced her to bend both arms are at the elbow, each hand gripping the opposite forearm. Master picked up one of her ribbons from the bed.
Master wrapped the ribbon across the center of her forearms, binding them together. Then another on either side. Something soft, smooth, and strong, ran across her skin. Master wrapped the fabric around her arms, horizontally behind her back, bicep to bicep. He pulled on the material and her arms were held tight, locked together. Clair looked down as he wrapped it around her torso, just below her breasts.
Purple. Her bridal sash.
Her ribbons, her bridal sash…
Clair swallowed. Master’s hands, firm against her skin, made her chest heave. Master had planned this from the very beginning, from the first instructions he’d given her the day before. Master wrapped the sash around her body a second time. Clair arched her back as Master pulled on one end of the sash, locking her bound arms tight against her back.
Fayt tied off Clair’s bridal sash and pulled on her bound arms, testing the strength of her restraints. Perfect. Clair was completely secured. Her own ribbons held her hands together but they were the least of her problems. The sash, wrapped horizontally across her arms, locked them in position and against her body. It left her arms trapped, her upper body fully restricted. But most importantly, it restrained her without hurting her or restricting blood flow.
Clair wasn’t getting out of those bonds anytime soon.
Fayt’s cock twitched at the sight of the bound beauty. Clair’s fair skin was like porcelain and the deep purple of her bridal sash stood out against her smooth back, across her taut stomach, and underneath her large breasts. Clair’s beautiful locks caught the firelight, a silver waterfall against her back, over her bound arms, flowing past her waist.
But he couldn’t ravage her just yet. What she wanted and the path to get there… Fayt steeled himself. His own desires would have to wait. A Master’s duty could not be ignored.
Master wrapped one arm around her waist, pulling her against him. Clair licked her lips, heart racing. Master’s scent teased her. She felt the heat from his body, the hard planes of his chest, and something large and hard pressing against her ass through the fabric of his pants.
Master cupped her breasts from behind. Clair inhaled sharply then moaned as he teased her tender flesh. Somewhere inside her, at her core, a familiar heat built with every touch. Master held her, bound and at his mercy, kneading her breasts with his calloused hands.
Clair rubbed her thighs together, aching for release. Her breasts were so sensitive and she was so close. Master found her nipples, brushing against them lightly. Clair moaned, shifted, and pressed herself into his touch. So close. She bit down on her lip Master’s fingers closed over her sensitive nubs.
Suddenly, Master stopped. He wrapped one arm around her hips, pinning her against him as he drew his other hand down her stomach, and between her wet thighs. Slowly, teasingly, he parted her swollen lips. Master chuckled softly, his mouth against her ear. “You’re wet slave.” He held his hand in front of her, rubbing his fingers together.
By Apris, yes. She was wet. Wet and aching. Clair stared at her arousal, glistening on his fingers, felt more of it leaking from her sex. “Yes, Master.” Clair whimpered, not trying to hide the need in her voice. Silently she prayed for Master to touch her again. Master’s fingers returned to her swollen sex. He stroked her wet folds, slowly. Teasingly, torturously, each caress grew longer than the one before, moving slowly towards her clit. A moan, desperate and needy, filled her ears and Clair rolled her hips against his hand.
Master swatted her cunt lightly. He grabbed a fistful of her hair, forcing her head back. His fingers settled against her swollen sex but Master held them still.
The heat twisted inside her. “Mast-…Master please.” Clair begged.
“Oh?” His breath was hot against her ear. His tone teased her, his fingers teased her. Master explored her slowly and then went still. “What do you want slave?”
Clair whimpered pitifully but didn’t squirm, for fear Master would pull away again. “I want to cum.”
“Hmm.” His fingers stroked her aching sex, rested against her swollen clit. There was the lightest touch, then he stopped and Clair fought not to cry. “What wants to cum?”
What not who. Clair bit down on her lip but didn’t fidget, didn’t dare move again without permission. “This slave wants to cum.” She answered meekly. Gods! The heat inside her flared as she said the words.
“Better,” he murmured into her ear. His finger brushed against her clit, circled her sensitive nub. Clair couldn’t hold back a moan as the pressure inside her built almost painfully.
“Who do you belong to slave?” Master voice penetrated the haze over her mind.
There was only one answer.
Clair gasped, struggling to speak. Again, Master gently stroked her, one finger, right there at her core. Her body ached as Master teased her, as he held her, bound and helpless, trapped within his grasp. “uhh…th-this slave is yours.”
Two fingers now, stroking her wet folds, and the heat inside her swelled. Master found her clit and the last of Clair’s resolve broke. Not to resist, she would never resist Master. But need overruled obedience and before Clair could stop herself she rolled her hips, rubbing herself against his hand. Her muscles gripped his fingers as they stroked her, as she shifted against him. The pressure, the friction. So good. “mmm…ahhh…” she moaned even as she cursed herself. Master would punish her, for her failure, and her weakness.
But instead of punishing her, Master released his hold of her waist and gripped her bound arms. He pulled her arms down, forcing Clair to her arch her back and press her hips forward against his other hand. With her aching sex pressed firmly against his palm Master continued to tease her, longer deeper strokes. “Again,” he commanded.
“This slave is yours!” Clair swore, pleasure and relief washing over her. Master wasn’t upset with her, with her weakness. He continued to touch her, rewarding her. His fingers teased her clit, stroked her walls, and went back to circling her nub. The way he touched her, firm but not rough, utterly confident in his ownership of her... The heat at her core spiked and Clair pressed herself into Master’s touch.
“Again.”
“This…mmm… sla-slave… ahhh…is yours,” she swore between her own ragged breaths, moaning and grinding her aching cunt against his hand.
“Again.”
Nel watched in disbelief. She’d never suspected this side of Clair ever existed but there was no denying Clair’s... enthusiasm. Her head was thrown back in ecstasy, her beautiful silver hair tumbled down her back. Clair gasped for breath, her breasts heaving and every inch of her fair skin was flushed pink. Clair rubbed herself against Fayt with abandon, for all the world to see, swearing herself to him. “This slave… ugh… is yours!”
Nel drank in the sight of Fayt, powerful and confident. Nel watched the muscles of his shoulders, his arms, flex as Fayt held Clair securely. Fayt touched Clair, teased her, and made her submit. “Again,” Fayt commanded, his control absolute.
“This slave is yours!” Clair cried out. A desperate moan tore from her lips. “Ahhh…this… slave.. mmm… is yours!” Clair swore, unbidden.
And Nel believed her.
Master cupped one of Clair’s breasts. Clair groaned as his thumb brushed against the sensitive nub. Her breasts had always been sensitive but it never felt like this. Master’s hands were larger, his touch rougher. Clair arched her back further, pressing her chest in to his hands. “This slave is yours!” She moaned the words, over and over without prompting. Master massaged the tender flesh with one hand as the other circled her swollen clit. Clair bucked against his hand as he teased her, aching for more.
“This slave is yours!”
Master squeezed her breast roughly, pinching the nipple as his other hand pinched down on her clit. “Mas-mmm…uhh!” Clair cried out as pure heat washed over her skin, stealing the air from her lungs. Her chest heaved, gasping for air as she felt the warmth running down her thighs. Clair’s legs went weak and she leaned forward, would have fallen against the bed except for Master’s strength. Master wrapped one arm around her waist, holding her against his chest as she trembled, and stroking her even as her muscles clenched against his fingers.
Fuck, she was gorgeous. Clair’s eyes were closed as she quivered in his arms, flexing against his fingers. Slowly, her breathing calmed though a light pink colored her very fair skin. Fayt held his hand before her face, the evidence of her release plain to see. Fayt leaned close, whispering into her ear. “You taste good, slave.”
“Thank you,” Clair murmured softly, automatically. A second later her flush deepened. “Master.”
Fayt smirked, resisting the urge kiss the exposed curve of her neck. “Clean me up.”
Clair obeyed, licking his fingers tentatively but gaining confidence as she went. Fayt smiled. She deserved a chance to rest but he’d been denying his own needs for too long.
Once Clair had finished cleaning him Fayt took her by the hips, guiding her closer to the bed. Fayt put one hand on Clair’s shoulder and pushed her forward until she was bent over, her feet planted on the floor, and her upper body lying across the mattress. “Stay.”
Fayt took a step back and his cock twitched as he looked Clair over. The silver haired beauty laid there obediently. She was quite the sight, bent over the bed: still in her heels, her ass raised and her stockings painted on her slender legs.
But he wanted her naked, totally exposed.
Clair panted softly, face pressed against the mattress. Touching herself had never felt like that, not even close. She could still feel the flush of her skin, the tingling of her swollen lips. Master gripped one of her ankles. Clair balanced on one leg as Master slipped the heel off her foot and tossed it aside. Without letting go of her, Master drew her stocking down and off her body. He repeated the action on her other leg. Her bare feet had just touched the floor when Master began running his hands up and down her legs.
Fayt traced the runes on Clair’s long shapely legs. Like the runes on her arms, they were a dark purple, and stood out sharply against her porcelain skin. Fayt held Clair by her hips, then cupped her ass, rubbing it absently as he noted the differences between Clair’s runes and Nel’s. (He knew the details of Nel’s runes intimately.) The pattern was different and Clair clearly had more. He’d count them later.
Master’s hands methodically explored her body, tracing each of her runes as he made his way up to her hips. Clair felt her face heat but she held position, like a piece of meat for his inspection. Finally, the warmth of his hands rested on her ass. Master rubbed her ass firmly in slow sinuous circles. Clair felt the warmth rushing to her face, felt the moisture between her thighs. She buried her face against the sheets.
Fayt felt a pang of sympathy as he watched Clair hide her face in embarrassment but he tightened his grip on Clair’s ass all the same. Clair had long since accepted her desire to be dominated. But even she needed help to get past her mental barriers. Fortunately, he had no reservations about demolishing those barriers. She’d asked for this. He’d warned her; there was no going back.
A slave belonged completely to her Master.
The silver broach caught the light from the brazier. There was no going back. Clair’s mental training was well underway. Teaching her how to kneel, stripping her down, making her beg, all steps towards bringing out her full potential. And Clair had incredible potential as a slave.
Possibly even more than Nel…
Master removed his hands and Clair almost whimpered as the cold air of the room settled against her fevered skin. The way he held her, the strength of his grip…
The rustle of fabric stole her attention. Clair opened her eyes to see Master standing just at the edge of her vision. His hands were at his belt. “Next time you will be expected to attend to all of my clothing.” Master’s belt came free and he dropped it unceremoniously to the floor. “Is that understood, slave?”
“Yes, Master.” Clair murmured, her eyes drawn to the dark blue fabric of his pants, straining against his manhood. Master slipped his pants down his legs and stepped out of them. Clair’s eyes widened at the sheer size of him, his length and girth. Something fluttered in her stomach.
“Present your cunt to me, slave.” Master’s voice echoed from above her. Clair raised her eyes from his cock to look at him. Master shifted towards her and Clair couldn’t stop her eyes from darting back to his manhood. The large swollen head bobbed slightly as he moved. Bound and nervous, Clair wordlessly spread her legs, exposing her swollen sex-… her cunt to Master.
Fayt ran his hands down Clair’s hips, cupping her ass. Partly to tease her, partly to admire her. Clair was fit and toned, every bit the warrior Nel was. Fayt slipped two of his fingers inside her cunt, testing her barrier. And like Nel, Clair was tight. He’d been surprised, his first time with Nel, to feel her barrier despite all her training and then again by how tight she was.
Fortunately for Clair, Fayt had a very good understanding of Elicoorian physiology.
Once onboard the diplo, all of them had passed through the medical bay. A routine medical scan of Nel had confirmed most of his suspicions regarding Elicoorians. He’d felt guilty looking through the reports when the ship’s database was updated, knowing the new information on Elicoorians could only have come from Nel.
But it was very informative. Elicoorians were similar to humans, were fully compatible, but there were key differences. Their eyes were the most impressive. Some, and Nel was a fine example, were capable of seeing symbological currents in the world around them. And there were differences that were less unusual but more significant on a personal level.
Nel had very sensitive breasts and with good reason. The scan revealed she had over ten times the nerve endings of a human woman spread throughout her chest, suggesting the trait was the norm among Elicoorian women. It didn’t stop there. Their vaginal tissue, their clits, showed the same heightened sensitivity. Being so densely packed with nerve endings, made their bodies significantly more responsive to even the slightest touch. It explained why Nel, who tried to be so stoic, would melt at the lightest caress.
It was a good thing the walls on the Diplo were soundproof.
Nel sat, entranced, watching the scene before. Fayt, the man she loved, prepared to have sex with her best friend. Distantly, some part of her swore it had to be a dream. A dream, not a nightmare. She wasn’t angry at them. Well, perhaps a little, mostly at Fayt. Nel couldn’t help it. She knew it wasn’t Fayt’s choice. Her Majesty had left no other option.
She should have been angry at Clair too, for agreeing to the ritual. She should have been. She had been. From the moment she’d forced her way into the bridal chamber and found Clair, of all people! She’d been angry. And jealous. And somehow, ashamed. That night… gods, it had been the worst night of her entire life. She’d raged and sobbed.
Her Majesty’s orders were clear, yet she’d never felt more shamed…
But now, hearing Clair’s heartfelt moans… the sheer honesty of Clair’s desires was heartbreaking. Nel’s anger had cooled, mostly, though her jealousy was still there. That much was normal. It was just her nature.
She’d never expected to be so painfully aroused.
Fayt pressed the head of his cock, large and thick, against the fine silver hairs of Clair’s sex. Fayt shifted his hips, parting Clair’s swollen lips. Fayt paused, giving Clair a moment to prepare herself before holding her hips and pushing forward. Clair whimpered softly and Nel winced, remembering her first time with Fayt, the pain and the pressure as she’d stretched along his length. Fayt was well endowed, even by human standards, and they were definitely bigger than Elicoorians.
Nel licked her lips. It was worth it. Nothing felt as good as having Fayt inside her, filling her, and feeling him shudder inside her as he came.
Clair gasped as Master buried himself inside her. She felt her muscles resisting, flexing against his length before yielding to him. Clair squeezed her eyes shut as Master pushed forward relentlessly, stretching her inch by inch. Clair moaned as his cock, hot and hard, forced its way deeper. She bite down on her bottom lip as the pleasure and pressure built inside her.
God, Clair was tight, just like Nel, and Fayt reminded himself that Nel had struggled to take him in completely. Nel still struggled, despite all the times they’d had sex since leaving Elicoor. Fayt held Clair’s hips to steady her, took a breath to steady himself. He barely managed to stifle a groan as he pushed himself deeper into Clair’s tight little cunt, not that Clair would notice. Her head was thrown back, lips parted, and Fayt could clearly her Clair murmuring to herself. “mmm..gods…yes.” Smirking, Fayt rolled his hips slowly. Clair gave a throaty rasp, “..mm…ahhh”
Suddenly Clair’s moans, loud and breathless, turned into a soft whimper. Fayt paused, letting Clair adjust to him. Unconsciously, Fayt ran his hands up and down Clair’s sides, starting from her hips. He brushed the sides of her breasts, as much as possible with Clair’s upper body lying across the mattress. Fayt rolled his hips and Clair moaned, shifting slightly to meet his thrust. Fayt grabbed her hips firmly, forcing her ass back down. He kept hold of Clair’s hips, controlling her as he settled into a steady and gentle rhythm.
It was completely unacceptable to hurt his slave… unless it served a purpose.
Nel watched transfixed as Fayt slowly began to thrust into Clair, knowing Fayt was holding back so as to not hurt her.
Just as she knew it wouldn’t be enough to sate Fayt’s needs.
Nel wasn’t sure if Fayt’s sex drive came from his powers, his age, or just being human. (One of the nurses on board the Diplo, a woman with cat ears of all things, had sworn humans were obsessed with sex. And while Nel still had no idea how the nurse knew she and Fayt were involved, she had to agree.) Their nights together were amazing and exhausting. Fayt suspected his developing powers might be having an effect.
Nel couldn’t deny she loved the effect she had on him, the way he hungered for her. Nel watched Fayt drive his cock into Clair’s aching sex, bending her to his will. Nel shifted restlessly, more aroused than angry. Clair moaned louder, bound and at Fayt’s mercy, breasts heaving as he took her from behind. How could she blame Fayt or Clair, when her own Queen had made this an order?
The Queen…
Nel glanced at the queen and her green eyes widened. The queen’s hands were tucked into her robes, one against her chest and the other buried within the folds of her skirt. She watched the queen discreetly, as a spy was trained to do. It wasn’t necessary. Her Majesty’s eyes were locked on the pair in front of them. Nel didn’t need to follow her gaze to know what she was staring at. The queen was lusting after Fayt, her Fayt.
Any anger towards Fayt was completely burned away. Fayt had told her, after their first night, that the queen had kissed him, and the way she’d looked at him… But Nel had doubted him, about the queen’s intentions. Nel had seen the kiss, written it off as odd. That entire night had been odd… and incredible. Nel’s hands tightened into fists. Angry at the queen but angrier at herself. She’d assured Fayt it was nothing. She’d teased him about it, mocking him when she should have believed him. Nel almost choked on her fury.
“Mmm…ohh…gods!” Clair cried, desperately, and impossible to ignore.
Nel eyes darted back Fayt and Clair, staring at their two beautiful bodies linked together. She drank in the sight of Fayt, powerful and controlling. Fayt gripped Clair by her hips, his arms flexing as he held her down and drove himself into her. Each thrust brought Clair onto her toes, tore another ragged moan from her lips.
Prim and proper Clair, who was never less than the perfect lady, had never looked so… free.
Lady Clair Lasbard lay, bent over the side of the bed, naked and bound, completely at Fayt’s mercy. “…yes! Mmm..Please!” Clair gasped, begging for more. Fayt drew back slowly, teasing, before thrusting deeper and pulling Clair down onto his cock. Clair threw her head back, her face the picture of raw ecstasy. “Mas-Master!..uhh.”
Nel’s mouth was dry and no glass of wine was going to quench her thirst. A smirk found its way to her lips. Nel swore she would give the queen a reason to be jealous.
Fayt stared down at Clair, watching her writhe with every thrust. Her pale skin was flushed, a light pink against the silver curtain of her hair. Fayt clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to pin her against him, and bury his cock inside her. Fuck. He wanted to ravage her. He thrust into her, just a little harder, felt her rising onto her toes as her muscles gripped his length.
“mm…aughh..” Clair gasped, face flushed and chest heaving. Gods. Her swollen folds gripped him even as he withdrew, stretched as he drove himself into her. The length the girth. The ache inside her swelled, threatening to scorch her from the inside. Master drew back, the head of his cock against her swollen nub, before burying himself inside her.
It was too much for her. Clair pressed her face into the mattress, screaming into the silk sheets, toes curling as the dam inside her broke. The silk sheets, rough against her fevered skin, and god, Master’s cock filling her. An alien moan filled her ears and her body shook as Master buried himself inside her over and over again.
Fayt couldn’t help but groaned as Clair tightened along his length. Clair gasped and moaned, even the mattress didn’t stop her voice from echoing off the walls. The flush on her skin deepened and a wave of fresh warmth washed over his cock. Fayt braced himself, gritting his teeth against the tightness building up in his balls. His hands tightened along Clair’s hips and he drove himself deeper into her tight little cunt. Clair was even more beautiful, bound and writhing underneath him. His cock twitched, almost painfully hard.
“Good slave.” Fayt growled at her, pushing Clair further onto the bed, until she was hanging off of it, and drove into her. Again and again. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh drowned out Clair’s raw and spent voice. Fayt buried himself inside her as his own orgasm washed over him. Clair trembled, her cunt clenching against his cock. “Good slave.” He groaned, cock twitching, pouring himself into her.
Fayt caught his breath, rubbing Clair’s ass firmly but affectionately. Her long silver hair was fanned out around her. Fayt gathered Clair’s long silken strands and drew them down her back, past her waist. Slowly, he leaned over hear. “Good girl.” He stated firmly, but affectionately, gently stroking her hair.
“Th-thank you,” Clair began, breathless, “Thank you, Master.”
Fayt smiled, playing with her hair and watching Clair lean into his touch. Clair had so much potential as a slave. Fayt stared at the soft pink flush lingering on her skin, listened to the sound of her ragged breathing. Clair was spent but it wasn’t the time to let her rest. He needed another go and this time he wasn’t going to hold back.
It was a slave’s duty to serve.
Speaking of slaves… movement and a flash of red caught his attention. Fayt looked down to find Nel prostrating herself at his feet. Idly, he rubbed Clair’s ass as he considered this unexpected development. Unexpected but not unwelcome. Nel’s form was perfect: on her knees, forehead pressed into the thick white rug, and arms stretched forward. The epitome of submission.
She’d been paying attention to Clair’s performance.
Good, that would make training Nel easier.
“Strip down to your sash.” Fayt ordered sharply.
A thrill shot through Nel’s body. “Yes, Master.” She answered, forehead still pressed against floor. Her hands eagerly went to her top. Without her armor it slipped off her shoulders easily, falling to the floor. Her skirt followed and Nel stepped out of them before toeing off her boots.
Fayt slowly drew himself out of Clair, still hard. Clair lay limply on the bed, her legs spread and her abused sex on display. Fayt’s seed leaked from her swollen lips. Nel’s eyes were drawn to Fayt’s cock, slick with Clair’s fluids.
She watched Fayt pick up one of Clair’s stockings, tying a knot in the center. He doubled, then tripled the knot, pulling it tight. He grabbed a fistful of Clair’s silver hair, lifting her head from the mattress. “Open your mouth.” He ordered.
“..ahh…” Clair opened her mouth, maybe to obey or maybe just to cry out. Either way, Fayt forced the knotted fabric between her lips, into the back of her mouth. He grabbed the ends of the fabric and tied it off behind her head, making sure it was too tight for her work loose with her tongue. Fayt lifted Clair by her legs, rolling her onto the bed completely.
Clair lay on her side, arms bound behind her, her own stockings wedged between her lips. Her soft amber eyes were wide as she stared at Fayt.
“Get on your knees.” Fayt commanded.
Nel watched Clair struggle to obey, shifting on the mattress. Nel knelt at Fayt’s feet naked, save for her bridal sash. The long red fabric was a keepsake, kept from their first night together. Every morning as they dressed he would wrap it along her left arm, from her wrist to her bicep. It was a ritual of theirs, a game, where she wasn’t allowed to tie or untie it herself.
Only now it didn’t feel like a game.
Fayt turned to her, his green eyes flashing. “On the bed. You’re going to assist in her training.” And it was no less an order.
Nel felt the heat pooling in her belly. Fayt was always the dominant one in bed, had been since their first night. She still blushed when she recalled the way he had touched her, dominated her, made her beg. The way it felt to be under his power… “Yes, Master.” She answered before rising from her knees. Nel climbed onto the bed, waiting on her hands and knees.
Clair had just managed to tuck her legs underneath her when Master settled down between her and Nel. Master sat with his back against the headboard. His large cock stood proudly, tall and thick, pointing at the ceiling.
Master looked at Nel. “Guide her into position.”
“Yes, Master.” Nel crawled next to Master, staring at his cock before looking to Clair expectantly.
Oh. Clair awkwardly rose onto her knees. She stared at Master’s cock, glistening with her own arousal. Master grabbed her hips, helping her to her feet. Nel wrapped her hands around Master’s cock, holding him still for her. Clair planted a foot on either side of Master’s waist. Master held her steady as she lowered herself. Clair groaned, muffled by her gag, as the large swollen head parted her, brushing against her clit as she took in inch after inch.
She’d thought it had been intense before, thought she’d taken Master in completely. Now she knew better. Master kept hold of her, not forcing her down but guiding her. Clair stopped when the pressure became too much, balancing herself on her knees.
Master looked past her, speaking directly to Nel. “Hold her from behind. Her breasts look like they want some attention.”
“Yes, Master.” Nel answered immediately.
Clair didn’t need to look to know her what part of her wanted attention. Nel’s considerable breasts pressed against her back and she knew Nel was just as eager. Clair couldn’t help but fidget as the redhead’s small hands cupped her breasts, or tried to. Nel began to caress her, gently teasing her nipples, and her breasts were so sensitive Clair found herself moaning softly into her gag.
Master smirked at her. “Now slave, let’s begin your physical training.”
Queen Romeria never imagined the night could get any more surreal. She drained her second glass of wine. The liquid eased her thirst but did nothing for the ache inside her. Master Fayt was… so powerful. She’d seen this side of him before, when Lady Nel had given in to him. Queen Romeria knew he was the Arrow of Apris, knew he possessed a power beyond imagination. But this was a different type of strength all together, primal, and exciting.
Queen Romeria slipped out of her robes completely. Her fingers found her swollen sex, stroking herself as she took in the scene before her. Lady Clair’s face was flush, her head thrown back as she moaned into her gag. Her arms were bound and her back arched as she rode Master Fayt’s cock. Lady Nel held her from behind, her hands on Lady Clair’s ample breasts as she did Master Fayt’s bidding.
“mmm…aaahh…” The gag reduced her wanton moans into muffled cries so Clair moaned with abandon. Master guided her down onto his shaft. Her aching sex rippled against him, clutching at his length, his girth. Master groaned softly and the sound, the subtle admission of his pleasure, made her ache in response. She lowered further, felt her muscles stretching, felt pleasure turn to pain. Too much. Clair pushed herself back up. Master grunted, his hands tightened on her hips but he didn’t force her back down, letting her settle into a comfortable pace.
Somehow, through the pleasure and the growing ache inside her, one thought overruled everything else: this was part of her training, to serve Master properly. Clair lowered herself back down eagerly, moaning as Master’s cock filled her, trembling along his length.
Nel squeezed her breasts, pinching her nipples gently. Too gently.
Somehow Master knew what she wanted. He took hold of Nel’s hands, guiding them down her body, trailing past her hips and between her thighs. Master’s voice was rough as he commanded Nel. “Work on her clit.”
“Yes, Master.” Nel murmured against Clair’s back even as the redhead found her clit, circling her swollen nub.
Master took his hands from her hips, returning to Clair’s breasts. Master’s hands were larger, his touch firmer, and it was so much better. Clair moaned and begged for more. “uhh…aa..ghhhh…” It came out as a garbled mess. She couldn’t even beg! Not with her own stockings stuffed into her mouth, wedged between her jaws. So she whimpered, wet and aching. Master palmed her breasts and Clair felt the countless hours of a swordsman’s training, rough against her smooth skin. Master watched her. His green eyes hungry and powerful, glowing in the firelight. Her own amber eyes stared back, desperate and pleading. Master smirked at her before cupping one of her breasts. His mouth found her nipple. Clair gasped around her gag, moaning. “..uuuuhhhh…mmm…” Saliva slipped past her lips, running down her cheeks. Her body trembled and her legs buckled. She felt herself stretching along his shaft, too far, and she whimpered.
Nel must have noticed, her hands moved to Clair’s hips, trying to steady her, to help her keep her rhythm. But unlike Master, Nel wasn’t strong enough to do more than guide her. Clair pushed herself back up with her fading strength, started to lower herself back down. She had to serve Master. As if to reward her, Master pinched her other nipple, sucked harder on the first. Clair threw her head back in ecstasy and slipped further down his cock.
She was a good slave, a good girl.
Clair lowered herself onto his shaft over and over again, moaning into her gag as his cock filled her, as her swollen folds flexed along his length. Then she went too far, just enough to hurt. She whimpered into her gag, pushed herself back up, moaning again as her muscles clutched at his shaft. But each time her legs felt weaker.
Master took his hands off her breasts just long enough to grab Nel’s smaller ones. He took Nel’s hands from Clair’s hips, guided them back to her cunt. Nel’s fingers circled her aching clit again, gently stroking her.
But that was the only thing that was gentle.
Master was far from idle. His larger hands were at her chest, fondling her, kneading her sensitive breasts, harder than before. He pinched her nipples, pulling until she whimpered. Master grabbed her bound arms, forcing her to arch her back further as his mouth found her breasts. Master sucked on the delicate skin, all across her chest, leaving bruises in his wake. And through it all there was Master’s cock, impaling her. Hot and hard. Filling her, stretching her.
Master moved his hands to her hips, guiding her as she rode him. He drove her on, moving her faster, and further on his length. Clair tried to match his speed even as her legs burned, as her walls stretched along his shaft.
Clair’s eyelids fluttered closed and her head fell forward, chin resting against her chest. Master’s hands controlled her, a constant pressure on her hips. He lifted her up and let her slide slowly back down his cock. Her muscles flexed, clutching him as he filled her and even as he stretched her. Clair moaned or whimpered. She couldn’t be sure. The pleasure, the pain, and the helplessness… She felt like a doll, a toy, in Master’s grip.
Her back arched as a wave of heat burst from her core. Clair gulped for air around her gag. Saliva spilled from her lips, running down her chin, and onto her heaving breasts. She felt her own arousal, warm and wet, pouring from her, soaking Master. She slumped forward, head bowed and body limp. Master had to hold her as she came, cradling her against his chest as her muscles clenched around him.
Fayt grit his teeth as Clair tightened along his shaft, holding her against his body as she shook. Fayt adjusted his grip and shifted their position, rolling Clair onto her back.
“Look at me slave.” He growled.
Clair’s eyelids fluttered open, looking at him through her long lashes, half-lidded and weak. Her soft amber eyes were full of devotion, so malleable under his power. It wasn’t enough. He didn’t want a slave that was malleable. She needed to be broken, to be taken. It was time to claim his property. Fayt stared into her eyes, lifted Clair’s legs over his shoulders, and buried himself inside her tight wet cunt without restraint.
Clair tried to keep her eyes open, to obey, but her head was light and her body heavy. Master leaned over her, forcing her legs up and her hips off the bed. He drove himself into her, even harder, using her for his pleasure. And Clair moaned with each thrust. Bound, weak, and utterly helpless, she stared into her Master’s eyes.
Master’s green eyes bore into her and a need, greater than Clair had ever felt, awoke inside her. It filled her, consumed her, and begged for release. His gaze was hard and cold and nothing had ever made her feel so vulnerable. She wasn’t Clair Lasbard, Maiden of Aquaria, and Captain of the Shield Legion. His eyes bore into her, stripping her of all the titles she’d earned and all the glory she’d won, until there was nothing left but her soul.
Something inside her broke.
She was his, in every way. Finally. She’d sworn herself to him, given her body to him, but that wasn’t enough. That wasn’t what she really wanted. What was given could be taken back. Master knew that, had known it all along. He’d warned her. She thought of her brooch, that had symbolized so much of her life, and the way he’d torn it from her breast. It was nothing to him, had no place here, with him.
It was nothing.
Master had made her beg, made her submit. He’d forced her to abandon any sense of pride. He’d bound her body, used her for his pleasure. He’d bent her to his will.
It wasn’t her choice anymore. Slaves didn’t get to choose. He’d stared into her soul. And he’d taken it, claimed it for himself. That part of her was gone. She was his slave and as his slave she could never be whole without him.
She was finally home.
Liquid fire washed over her, covered her body from head to toe. Her back arched off the mattress as lightning struck her every nerve. Saliva ran down her cheeks, her arousal ran down her thighs. Her lungs heaved but the room was so hot, stifling. Her muscles flexed and clenched all along Master’s cock and she felt every glorious inch of him inside her. Clair moaned until her throat was raw, thrashing in ecstasy with every thrust as Master gave her purpose. His pleasure. Her purpose.
Her Master had claimed her.
Fayt drove himself into Clair as she writhed underneath him, her alabaster skin flushed pink. Another wave of warmth washed over his cock, onto his crotch, as her muscles flexed against his length. Clair was tight and wet and warm, the perfect plaything. Fayt drove himself even harder, her perfect breasts heaving with every thrust. She moaned, clearly audible even through her gag. He felt the tightness in his groin, knew he was close.
Fayt groaned then grit his teeth as he drove his cock into the silver haired beauty. He felt her spasm along his length, heard her moan with every thrust. Fayt buried himself inside her again and again, savoring her submission.
Fayt’s cock throbbed and his hands tightened on Clair’s hips, bruising her fair skin. Clair collapsed onto the mattress, her head fell limply to one side as her body went slack. Fayt stared down at Clair’s beautiful form. Her silver hair fanned out around her, her eyes closed, her pink lips wrapped around her gag.
His silver slave.
The sight of Clair, so helpless, so utterly his, pushed him over the edge. With a primal roar Fayt buried himself inside her, pinning her against his hips. His cock shuddered. His body shuddered, firing stream after stream into his silver slave’s aching cunt. Clair rippled against him, milking him for every last drop.
Romeria watched, her head swimming as she drank in the sight of Master Fayt. He was leaning over Lady Clair… his slave, with the air of a man inspecting his property. Lady Clair’s eyes were closed, her chest slowly rising and falling with each breath. Master Fayt cupped Lady Clair’s perfect breasts, brushing his thumbs across the soft pink nipples. Lady Clair gave a soft moan. Her eyelids fluttered but stayed closed as she lay here, completely spent.
Romeria closed her own eyes, feeling the heaviness of her own limbs. She liked her lips, mouth dry despite the two glasses of wine. She refilled her goblet, raising the fresh drink to her lips. Master Fayt shifted back, withdrawing his very large and still very erect manhood from Lady Clair’s swollen sex. Romeria stared, wine forgotten.
Master Fayt appeared to be insatiable.
“Slave.” Master Fayt’s voice was hard, cold. Romeria nearly jumped at the single word. Lady Nel, naked except for a length of red cloth, wrapped around her arm, flinched. The redhead sat up, her back straight, hands on her knees, chest out, and eyes down. Master Fayt watched Lady Nel, staring at her, staring into her. “Come here.” He ordered sharply, as if commanding a well-trained pet.
“Yes, Master.” Lady Nel answered, voice meek, and head still bowed. She shifted forward, stretching her lithe form as she crawled to Master Fayt’s side.
I would like to add at least one more chapter to this. Someone did ask for a sequel to Connubium, so here we are. Please review!
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Dominium