Seeing Stars Read online

  “Really? You’re a, you know, what they used to call a…dom?”

  His apparent embarrassment was so endearing to Suka she felt a rush of emotion for the man she had cursed and reviled for the past months.

  “I can’t deny it,” he said. “When they finally perfect time-travel, I’ll be first in the queue at the dungeons.”

  Suka giggled. “You’d have to hold me back.”

  “Believe me, it would be a pleasure.”

  They maintained wry eye-contact, glowing at each other, neither quite ready to say the thing they were both thinking.

  “So, have you done that before?” Suka asked.

  “Not on a human person,” he admitted. “Not outside my imagination.”

  “You seemed quite the expert.”

  “I’ve studied widely.” He patted her bottom. “How does it feel?”

  “Very sore.” She sighed contentedly. “Gorgeously so. It…” She held herself back. Even given the powerful emotional experience they had just shared, she was not about to tell her commanding officer that his whipping her had made her insanely horny.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. Just…it was nice. I wish we could do it again. I mean, I could do it again.” She corrected herself swiftly, but Paul had stiffened and released her from his embrace.

  He shrugged. “If only,” he said neutrally.

  Shit, now he thinks I’ve got a crush on him, thought Suka, cross at herself. But I have. Oh, stars. I really have. The way he did that…the way he whipped me…oh, I want him. I really want him. Oh, this is awful. I wish I’d never come down now.

  “Well,” said Paul briskly, putting the whip in his belt beside the landing pack. “That’s one way of introducing yourself to the local customs. Shall we look further?”

  Chapter Two

  Suka dusted herself down, still naggingly aware of the tug of need for Paul at her crotch, but determined to ignore it. Difficult when your arse was hotter than Mercury and every step caused friction between the unforgiving fabric of your trousers and the smouldering surface of your behind, but it had to be done.

  “Right,” she said. “What is that building over there? Is it a temple of some kind? A religious edifice?”

  “Let’s see, shall we?”

  He strode a few paces ahead of her, so she could not help feasting her eyes on the broad shoulders, the strong back, the long booted legs and the perfectly-shaped behind in front of her. The head of close-cropped hair made her want to reach up and run her fingers across its prickling fuzz. Everything about him seemed designed to torment her with unassuageable lust. The universe hated her—it was official.

  She concentrated on shaking herself free of these inconvenient longings by taking a keen interest in her unusual surroundings.

  The building they were entering was made of something a little like marble but with a glow about it. Before Paul and Suka reached the top of the steps, Suka was stopped in her tracks by a feeling.

  When Paul turned around to look at her, Suka knew he felt it too.

  “This is…what’s this then?” she asked helplessly. She had a violent urge to drape herself around Paul’s neck and cling on to him.

  “This must be the coupling place,” said Paul, visibly struggling to keep control of himself. “One of the little tricks the Paladians had—infusing building materials with emotion traces. Their cultural signature, if you like. Or one of them, at least.”

  “When you enter this building you feel—”

  “Love. Erotic love. Romantic love.”

  Suka had not noticed herself doing it, but she had managed to wrap herself up in the crook of one of Paul’s powerful arms. Her head rested against his chest as she lifted her eyes to his.

  “It’s like a spell,” she murmured.

  “I know,” he said, bending his head lower until his lips were close, so close. But he tore them away in time. “We can’t do anything about it until we leave. Perhaps we shouldn’t go inside.”

  “Oh, we should,” gasped Suka, putting a hand to Paul’s cheek, the physical connection of skin on skin almost knocking her off her feet.

  “It’s not your call, Suka,” he said, but his voice was a croon now, low and deep, his chest vibrating against her ear. He was losing this fight.

  “Think of the book I could write,” she marvelled.

  He gave in and pulled her into the vast chamber with its jewelled ceiling and fragrance of musk.

  “This was where Paladians would have their weddings,” said Suka, her arms around Paul’s neck now, their foreheads bumping.

  “Yes.” His breath warmed her ear and neck. “All the congregation would come together in the spirit of love and passion, to celebrate the joining of the couple.”

  “Come together…literally?” Suka’s hand had found its way to Paul’s backside. Paul grabbed one of her thighs and lifted it so her leg was hooked around his and a convenient resting place for his hardening cock was provided.

  “Yes. The Paladian concept of a good wedding party was an orgy.”

  “I kind of love these people. I wish they hadn’t died out.”

  “I might have settled here.” Paul’s words poured directly into Suka’s ear now, hot and savage with lust. “I might have brought you with me.”

  “Oh lord.” Suka sighed blissfully, though the tiny part of her that retained its rationality wondered with unease whether it was just the erotically-charged stone speaking. “I would have come.”

  “You most definitely would,” he agreed, and his hands stroked down the curve of Suka’s back until they met the swell of her bottom, still burning sorely from the whipping, so that she winced when his palms rested there.

  “So.” Suka shuddered, feeling she should probably look up from Paul’s chest and take in her surroundings, but somehow unable to do so. “Talk me through the Paladian coupling ritual.”

  “Mmm, okay,” he said. With an effort of will, he unwound Suka from his body and led her to the raised dais at the centre of the chamber. “Let’s say we’re the happy couple. We come up here, where the crowds can see us properly.”

  They climbed the steps and stood in front of a piece of furniture resembling an altar, but with padding, all covered in richly coloured, water-resistant fabrics, reminiscent of earthly silks.

  “Now, the form of service depends on the type of bond,” Paul explained, his hand coming again to rest on Suka’s bottom while she drank him in, longing for him with every fibre of her being. “The type of bond I think you’d be most interested in is the subjection bond.”

  “What is that?”

  “It’s the pledge of a man or woman to offer full and lifelong submission to their bondmate.” Paul’s free hand cupped Suka’s chin, his thumb pressing into her cheek, forcing her to hear and absorb every word. “Do you think that would appeal to you?”

  “Oh…my,” was all she could say.

  “Let’s re-enact the process, then, shall we? I don’t know all the words of the service, so I’ll give it my best guess. First of all, you have to kneel at my feet.”

  Suka dropped to her knees as if shot, bending her forehead so it touched Paul’s glossy black boots.

  “Exactly like that,” he approved. “Then some vows are spoken. You would say something about giving yourself to me unconditionally and obeying my every word. I would say something about cherishing and protecting you and not sparing the rod.”

  Suka gulped and kissed his feet. She was soaking wet between her legs and almost twitching with need for him.

  “That’s nice. I’m not sure it’s part of the service. But this is.”

  He pulled her to her feet and she fell with infinite gratitude into the heat and fury of his kiss. Their lips smashed together and their tongues curled around each other, greedy and insatiable. For Suka, the intensity of the passion was almost like anger, causing her to crush her body up against his and take rough fistfuls of his flesh. He moved her round and round on the spot, ravaging her mouth until it w
as dry and her lips throbbed, swollen and spent.

  “Now you get your clothes off,” he panted hoarsely, tugging at her top. “I have to display my new acquisition to the crowds.”

  “Acquisition?”

  “A wealthy Paladian could have up to five bond subjects. Of course, if it was me, I’d stick with one. One is enough.”

  Suka, beyond argument or reason now, pulled off her boots and peeled down her tight trousers until she stood naked on the dais in front of Paul, who turned her around to better inspect the state he had made of her arse.

  “Gorgeous,” he muttered, cupping the welted flesh. “I’d keep you like that.”

  “Ohhh,” sighed Suka.

  “I will keep you like that. When you’re mine.”

  This cathedral stone was strong stuff, Suka mused. It sounded as if he really wanted her, seriously, long term. But that was the illusion, wasn’t it?

  “Now,” he said, wheeling her around roughly so her nude front view faced the vast emptiness and the patterned windows beyond. He planted his hands on her hips, standing behind her, then bestowed a long, hard suck on her neck, marking her in a place that would only just be concealed by the high collar of her uniform top when she dressed again. “Here is my subject, Suka,” he declaimed to his imaginary audience. “All of this is now mine. The expanse of her flesh. The sweetness of her lips. This curving neck and these soft breasts.”

  His hands were on the bare mounds, squeezing them together to give the audience the optimal view. He stroked and caressed the nipples, letting the blood swarm into them and harden them into stiff little buttons. Suka threw her head back, nuzzling her crown against Paul’s still-clothed chest.

  “No, you have to look out at the audience.” He tutted, twisting the nipples now, making her gasp and squeak at the leaping pleasure-pain. “You must have your subjection witnessed, and you must witness it yourself. That’s in the rules of service.”

  “When…did you read that?”

  “Oh, years ago. As a student. Stuck in my mind somehow.”

  “I’ll…bet…ooh.”

  He slid the tormenting hands down her sides, flipping her around by the hips to display her whipped bottom.

  “This bottom will be kept tender by my disciplinary attentions,” he promised his invisible witnesses. “It will be used in any way I see fit.” Fingertips travelled slowly, whisper-lightly, down the crack, opening the cheeks to expose the secret within to the audience. “I will train her to accept what I have to give.”

  “Train?” Suka swallowed, imagining some kind of anal sex boot camp. Not that that prospect was without its allure.

  “Slowly,” soothed Commander Paul. “Gently. But firmly. And relentlessly. I will give your most private place my very special attention. You will undertake to keep it ready and prepared for me at all times. Won’t you? Hmm?”

  He encouraged her assent with a thumb on her lower lip and a narrowing of eyes. Suka could only nod.

  Then she was facing the front again, her feet nudged wide apart while Paul’s capable hands pulled her sex lips open to reveal the glossy red fruits within to his eager supporters.

  “And this. This is mine. These lips, this clit, this opening. This, as well, will always be kept in readiness for me. You will work on maintaining its tightness and wetness, and this will be subject to testing at any time.”

  “They would have to stay wet all the time?” queried Suka, though at that moment she could not imagine finding any problem with this requirement. She squirmed against Paul’s confident touch, trying to trick him into rubbing her clit properly.

  “The people of Sevarium had ways,” said Paul, probing inside her with one finger, then two. “Lords, but you really are wet, Suka. I could take you here and now.”

  “Is that what happens next?” she asked hopefully.

  Paul chuckled softly. “Patience,” he chided, causing her to wriggle her hips frustratedly, pushing her bottom into the hard bulge in his trousers.

  “First, according to the ritual, the master would invite each and every member of the congregation up, one by one, to inspect and admire his new bond subject. Imagine it, Suka. Here you would stand while I presented you, front and back, to all-comers. They were encouraged to feel you, to take a handful of your breasts, to check your cunt for wetness and your clit for fatness, to perhaps give your bum a good smack before standing down for the next person.”

  “Oh my, wouldn’t that take hours?”

  “Yes, I imagine so. There would be upwards of a thousand guests at these shindigs. Think of it, Suka. Thousands of hands, feeling you up, fingering you, opening and examining you. It makes you wet, doesn’t it? Well, wetter,” he amended, his fingers rotating easily inside Suka’s soaked passage. “And you weren’t allowed to come. Not unless the master permitted it. If you did, you would be shamed straight away and sent to the punishment suite.”

  “The punishment suite?”

  “We’ll have to see if we can find it later on.”

  Eek! Must we? thought Suka, but the idea excited her beyond belief. She needed just the tiniest flick of Paul’s thumb on her clit to bring her to spectacular orgasm. But he was not about to grant this favour and he took his fingers from her pussy to the accompaniment of her desperate protests.

  “Once all that was done,” said Paul into her ear, bending low because she had slumped forward, chin on breastbone, sulking at not being allowed to come yet, “there was the ritual clothing.”

  “Clothing? You mean I have to get dressed again?”

  “Not really. I wonder if…” He turned around and crouched before the altar, scrabbling around inside the silk drapes that hid the space beneath it. “Brilliant!” he crowed, emerging with a web of slender silver chain, exquisitely delicate and expertly crafted. “Subject links,” he said, holding up his discovery.

  “What do they do?”

  “Look.” He began to arrange them about Suka’s body, slipping them first over her shoulders, then letting them cross her breasts at the nipple, where a small clip midway along the linkage was conveniently placed. The clips, when attached to Suka’s nipples, were not painful, but they awoke a permanent throb, keeping the nubs hard and full. Once the two strands met at the base of Suka’s cleavage, they joined and passed down through her pussy lips and up the crack of her bottom until the end was fastened to the strip of chain across her shoulder blades. Suka shifted from foot to foot, instantly aware of a tingle transferring from the metal to her sex, keeping it stimulated as if by electricity or magic.

  “Oh God. This is how they get the constant horniness thing going,” she exclaimed, rubbing herself against Paul shamelessly now. “This is impossible. Oh, Sir, it’s unbearable. I will come!”

  “You won’t. It won’t let you. It stimulates without ever tipping you into climax. Clever lot, weren’t they, the Paladians?” His grin was sadistically gleeful and she was sweating now, struggling to keep a tenuous grip on her mind.

  “Genius…es,” she tried to say. “I feel like…I feel like I’m going to…oh God, please let me…”

  “You would get used to it,” Paul said, unreassuringly. “But I think it took a week or so.”

  “It’s torture.” Suka dropped to her knees, pushing the chain further between her lips, crushing it against her clit, but finding no real relief, whatever she did. “Please take it off!” Her voice broke into a wail of tension.

  Paul lifted her from the floor. “I think the time is right,” he whispered in her ear. “I have to take you. No recriminations? No regrets?”

  “I promise, seriously, I have to have you, Sir.”

  “I won’t hurt you.”

  “I don’t care about that! Please…just…”

  He laid her flat on the padded altar, then swung his legs over to straddle her.

  “This is the ceremonial mounting,” he informed her, though Suka was long past requiring any educational material.

  “I get the picture. Just fuck me.”

  “
I’m not sure that’s the right attitude for a bond subject, Suka. I think we will be visiting the punishment suite later,” teased Paul, but he was kicking off his boots and freeing his cock from its long imprisonment, ready to indulge Suka’s desire.

  He unclipped a connecting link from the base of Suka’s slave harness, immediately releasing her from the worst of the frustration, though her clit still throbbed and her pussy continued to drench the padded leather beneath it.

  “This,” gritted Paul, lining up the tip of his cock with Suka’s cunt and bathing it in the wetness there, “is where I lay my claim on you. When my cock owns you, you become irrevocably mine. Put your arms above your head.”

  She obeyed, although every instinct told her to grab his backside and force him inside her.

  “Make me yours,” she whispered, and he took her at her word, impaling her swiftly and without ceremony on the thick curving rod of flesh that was now her master.

  “A harsh master might insist on making you beg permission for your orgasm,” said Paul, holding himself in at the hilt, teeth gritted, every sinew strained. “But I won’t do that. You may come whenever you are ready.”

  “Thanks.” Suka’s tone contained just a hint of snark, and she knew she was paying for that when Paul began subjecting her to a blistering, head-banging bout of fucking, showing no mercy, just the way she wanted it.

  In between the starbursts of pure sensual stimulation, Suka found stray thoughts weaving through her consciousness.

  Commander Paul is fucking me. I am lying underneath him, taking his cock, on an altar. I am his. He is good at this! Very good at this. Oh shit, am I in love? I want him to look at me, I want him to…

  He looked at her and she convulsed, heart and soul, seeing in his eyes exactly what she sought. Desperate, furious need, but also tenderness and a touch of bewilderment. Events had overtaken them, Suka realised, both of them. She was not the only vulnerable one here, perhaps not even the most vulnerable.