“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. Thi
s 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.
He took her face in his cupped hands and kissed her through the strongest orgasm of her life, plundering her with his tongue as she twisted and kicked beneath him, accepting her helpless screams into his own throat.
Later, after his own powerful climax, filling her with his hot essence, he slumped on top of her, his face beside hers, damp and slippery. He was heavy—six-feet-two of solid muscle on Suka’s slight frame, and she gasped underneath him.
“Sorry,” he said, sounding far away from her. The altar was not wide and it was not possible to lie side by side. “Like this.” He manoeuvred her on top of him. She sighed and untensed as her sore bum unpeeled from the damp fabric and felt the breath of cool air. She burrowed into Paul’s arms, letting herself fall into satiated exhaustion. He held her so well. Never had she felt so protected, so cherished. Just like it says in the vows.
“The audience would be all over each other now,” said Paul softly. “And it would be one long orgy for the rest of the day and night. Some masters and mistresses liked lending their bond subjects. Others preferred exclusive rights over them. Either way, you would be leaving this place sore and used up.”