Y
Part Two
9
Working outward was key. Haru licked the upper inside of her lips and opened her mouth, almost yawning, though she was not in the least bit tired. She was practically throbbing with anticipation, in truth. She was sure to be fucked today! and not just fucked but fucked by her Master!
Her Master! Haru’s pussy ached with the force of her kindling. She had been bought!
She had a Master! The Yn slavegirl took a deep, calming breath. She recalled with difficulty her lessons in self-discipline from the Academy. I want to please men, she thought. So, first things first: she reexamined her reflection in the mirror, pursed her lips, picked up the small application brush, and added a touch more of yellow gloss to her mouth. When done, Haru looked at her face from different angles, critically judging. She frowned. She picked up a cloth to gently blot at her lips.
Behind her, the slave proctor made a low sound in her throat. Haru turned to face her.
The woman shook her head. “It’s fine. You could add more color to your eyes.”
“Yes, Theru,” the newest slave in the citadel of Baor Korez said with the correct level of servility, on her knees. She turned again to the mirrored stand and picked out the proper brush.
A third slave stood next to the proctor. “She’s lovely,” she remarked, staring at Haru.
“Her boobs are too small.” Haru’s freshly painted lips trembled. The proctor’s own bosom was expansive. The brief segments of black cloth she and the other slave wore barely held anything in. Her cleavage too was canyon-like. Haru’s breasts were at least two sizes smaller than either girl.
“Zabronz didn’t seem to mind,” the slave, Onora, said, throwing her hair. She laughed prettily. “Suloert didn’t complain either when he enjoyed his use of her.” Haru smiled uncontrollably. Those men had fucked her so completely! She was giddy from the memory and the hope of further use to come.
The proctor’s companion put a hand on Haru’s shoulder. “Use the mint. And your breasts are fine.”
“Thank you,” Haru said humbly. She surveyed the makeup tray and dabbed her brush. The lighter shade of green complemented her coral complexion. Onora and the proctor were both pure crimson sluts. Their lips were gold; their cheeks were highlighted in violet. They were stunningly beautiful.
Haru felt very insecure as they supervised. She was still very new.
She had been brought to the Rexus’ citadel a little over three days ago, wrapped in the traditional chains and padlock of sale, wearing the time-honored gag and hood. She thus came into the residence not as a person but as a piece of property, as was appropriate. She had been graduated from the Academy only the day before and told only that she now belonged to the Chief Rexus of the city. Haru believed she had been given this information as a warning so as not to embarrass the prestigious slave school, not that she would have done anything differently even had she been purchased by the most common warrior of Tolaam. She was a slave. She had been born to be a slave. She had been born to please men . . . all men. Still, that she was an item of purchase for a Rexus couldn’t help but thrill her.
Before her time at the Academy, Haru had only the vaguest recollections. Her lack of specific memory didn’t disturb her, though. She was a slave. When she was done with her makeup, and, more importantly, both the proctor and Onora agreed that she was done, Haru stood and posed at Theru’s order. The head slave walked about her slowly.
“Left hand on hip,” she indicated. “Lift your chin higher. Keep your mouth slightly open at all times.”
Haru complied. Both her fellow slaves examined her at length. She tried not to shiver, but it had been hours since she had been used, and that last time she had been kindled with great fervor! It was thus not just eagerness to meet her new owner for the first time that had her so hot and wet. It was her natural slave’s appetite as well, fired up through her previous appraisal uses to a monstrous passion.
“I suppose she is not entirely an embarrassment to this house,” the slave proctor said finally, grudgingly.
Onora was about to add something when all three slaves heard the heavy tread of a man down the hallway. They were deep in the underchambers of the Rexus’ citadel in the middle of Tolaam. The slave kennels were nearby, and this was one of several preparation rooms for the girls.
The three slaves knelt as the citadel’s slavemaster, a huge maroon man named Suloert, entered.
“Is she ready?” the Yn male asked. Haru felt a deep longing for the massive cock she knew was hid behind his simple leather kilt. She had very much enjoyed having that massive cock inside her earlier.
She could feel his cock inside her, still, a little. He had swayed her. He had made her squirm beneath him, his hardness long and powerful and filling her with his mighty girth, making her scream: “Oh! Oh! My Master! Thank You, Master! Thank You!” She had been taken so well, so thoroughly, so joyfully penetrated. “Oh yes, oh yes, my Master! Oh yes, Master!” I am a slave. I was born to be a slave. I was born to please men. I want to please men. Haru’s nipples were hard and throbbing. Her pussy was hot and moist. She needed him, any man, again. It was only by the virtue of her restraint training that she was able to keep from throwing herself at the slavemaster’s feet, begging to be raped.
Without a man’s permission or instigation, such behavior would have been unseemly. More was expected from Academy sluts.
“Yes, master,” Theru said, her eyes down. Though she oversaw all of the slaves in the citadel, Theru was herself only a slave. A man was always in ultimate authority. “She is practically dripping in her excitement.” This was true. The slavemaster stood over Haru and ordered her to her feet.
Lightly, so as not to disturb her makeup, Suloert turned her face from side to side. He nodded. From the corner of her eye, Haru saw Theru sigh with relief. Although she herself would not have escaped punishment, any penalty Haru faced would have been nothing compared to what the proctor would suffer had the slavemaster not approved her. That was the price one paid for being the head slave.
“Stand here,” the slavemaster ordered Haru. She did as he bid. “Lower your head at an angle . . . no, too much. Like this.” He touched her, and the skin on skin contact sent pulses of pleasure racing through Haru. She liked men to touch her. Suloert stood back. “Now, tilt your head this way. Smile.”
The slavemaster ordered her to the floor. He had her recline on her side and lift her right leg high in a wide-angle split. Exposed, the huge male examined Haru’s pussy closely, fingering her and remarking on how moist she was. He asked Theru to come over and inspect the new slave as well. If being touched on the face had enflamed, this dual intimate caress was almost too much for Haru to take.
She shivered in barely restrained total arousal. Her lips trembled, but she said nothing.
“Ass to the floor now,” the slavemaster bid. “Spread your legs wide, as wide as you can.” Eyes asking permission, and this being granted, Haru used her hands to brace herself in front and extended her legs out to either side, straining. Her hot pussy moistened the cool stone floor. “Very good. Very limber.”
The slavemaster ordered Haru to assume other positions. From her splits, she was made to climb to her knees, fold her legs beneath her, and place her hands on her thighs. She pushed forth her bosom for a soft petting from the strong, attractive male, but he declined. Later, Haru turned over and knelt as an animal, arms before her and resting on her elbows, knees behind and lifting her ass high.
Once again, the slavemaster brushed his hand against her warm slit.
“Stand,” he ordered. “Bend over and grasp your ankles. Lift on your toes.” He used his hands to spread her legs. He fingered the crack of her ass. He slapped each buttock lightly, causing Haru to moan in even greater heat. “She is a hot slave.”
“Yes, master,” Theru said. Haru enjoyed a moment’s worth of slave’s pride: Suloert’s erection was prominent beneath his kilt. “Well done,” the slavemaster said. Haru resumed her original posture.
The giant male sighed and adjusted the front of his kilt, exposing himself to the three slaves. “I am distracted.” A sharp pang passed through Haru’s loins at the sight of the enormous member.
Onora and Theru’s breaths increased too.
“Onora,” Suloert said. “Attend me.” Haru hid her disappointment.
Suloert grasped Onora as soon as she was within hand’s reach. She cooed delightedly. Suloert flipped her around, raised her ruffle out of the way, spread her legs, and speared her.
“Oh!!” she exclaimed at once. “Oh Master! MASTER!!”
The slave’s face took on an expression of transcendent happiness. Suloert put her to a quick and utilitarian use. “Yes, Master! Yes! Use your slave! Use your slut! Ohhhh!! Aihhhh!!”
Such was the power in the slavemaster’s thrusts that Onora’s whole body jiggled. Her mammoth breasts bounced excitedly. Her stomach clenched as she contracted on that which Haru knew was her and every slave’s purest joy. A man’s erection was equally task and reward to a slave. It was what the slave dreamt about at night. It was what she tried everyday to achieve.
Suloert grunted as he ejaculated inside Onora. She screamed in utter bliss. The slave’s feet dangled without purchase in the air, held as she was in the man’s giant grip. Haru observed with a slave’s envious eyes the climax come over Onora. She watched her eyes glaze over and felt even more jealous. The swaying, she thought, feeling flush. Haru’s nipples stiffened. It was exciting even to watch. The knowledge that Onora’s mind had now been opened and was ready to be fucked, as her body had been fucked a moment earlier, only increased Haru’s yearning for her own abject raping.
Onora’s lips recited the slave’s mantra: “I am a slave I was born to be a slave.” The repetition was automatic, Haru knew. The mantra was one of the first things swayed into every slave’s mind.
She wished it was her impaled on the slavemaster’s cock. Unbidden, silently, Haru recited along with the favored slave. “I was born to please men. I want to please men.”
The huge male eventually lowered the spent girl to the floor. He steadied her on her wobbly feet.
“You have pleased me,” he told Onora. Deep while in his sway, the slavegirl’s face became even more serene. Haru felt happiness for her. Her fellow slave had pleased a man.
Onora’s eyes cleared. She turned, still within Suloert’s arms and pressed herself against him.
“Thank you, master,” she said gratefully, breathing hard, skin redder than usual. She went to her knees.
Suloert stretched, and the slave at his groin began to clean him with his tongue. The slavemaster luxuriated with Onora’s lips and mouth on him for a long moment, his massive hand resting on top of the slave’s head. After a minute he pulled her to her feet again.
“You are a good slave,” he informed her. The divine cum had once again put Onora in his sway. “I am a good slave,” she repeated mechanically, obeying.
Suloert looked at Theru. “Come here,” he told her. He reached down, tilted Onora’s face upward towards him, and used his finger to scrape around and inside her mouth.
He let the slave proctor suck the digit clean. “Thank you, master,” Theru said, licking her lips.
“You are a good slave, too, Theru,” the slavemaster swayed the proctor. She shivered ecstatically in his power. A minute later Suloert’s kilt was refastened, and he led Haru out of the preparation room.
She walked ahead of him. Her tread was the graceful, elegant slide of a trained graduate of the Academy. Every step was feminine and beautiful. She felt the weight of the slavemaster’s eyes on her ass and legs as she moved. Through direction and the occasional tap on her shoulder, Haru was guided through the smooth-floored citadel. They climbed out of the slave basements, passed through a male barracks, where Haru enjoyed the crude compliments provided her by the men, and then climbed more stairs into one of the upper wings.
“This way,” Suloert told Haru. “When you see him, the Rexus will be occupied with the business of the city. Do not interrupt him.”
“No, master,” Haru replied. “I won’t.” She would never have interfered with a man’s work. What did this man think she was? she thought of asking the tall slavemaster, she was a slave. But her common sense told her that this would be inappropriate. They came into a large room full of books.
Once again, Haru’s breath came faster. She didn’t need to be told which of the men in the room was her Master. It was obvious! Her Master was the tallest and most handsome man there!
My Master, she sighed to herself. Her pussy was on fire for her dire wanting of him!
The men were seated in council, talking, arguing. Behind them, reclining on their knees, were three white-garbed, state-owned slaves busy writing. Though short on the sides and showing much cleavage, their restrictive garments were much too concealing for Haru’s tastes. She wanted men to gaze upon her naked skin. It excited her. She had been born to please men, after all. The rest of the men, they wore either white tunics or were bare-chested and kilted. Haru’s Master was singular in his solid blue surcoat and thin, golden coronet worn about his brow. He was so incredibly handsome!
Haru’s legs trembled. She felt Suloert’s hand grip her shoulder.
“Stay here,” he commanded, whispering. “Stay on your feet, slave.”
“Yes, master,” she replied, equally softly. Suloert was not her Master, but he was a man, and therefore a master, so she obeyed. Suloert padded up to her Master, who was listening to another man speak, and spoke in his ear. The Rexus Baor Korez casually turned his head in Haru’s direction.
Her heart skipped a beat. She was being gazed upon by her Master! Haru pushed forth her undersized breasts and enjoyed the wet heat between her legs. She was glad she was a serving slave! She would have hated being a neglected scribe like those girls over there! She wanted to be fucked all the time.
Her Master beckoned Suloert to come close. He whispered in his ear. The slavemaster nodded. A moment later Suloert was ordering Haru to come with him. Her heart tossed in turmoil. She didn’t want to leave sight of her owner. Had she been displeasing in some way? She suddenly hated her underdeveloped tits! Then the slave realized—hoped, anyway—that since her Master was in the middle of a council meeting, he probably didn’t have the time for her now. She understood. She was a slave.
It was her birthright to be only a slight diversion—a momentary and meaningless pleasure—for a man.
Suloert escorted Haru into another part of the citadel. They passed guards who gazed frankly and speculatively upon the new slave. Eventually, the slavemaster brought Haru to the Rexus’ bedchamber and private study, or so he informed her. She looked around wonderingly, marveling at its vacant nature, the lack of furnishings for such a powerful ruler of men. Aside from a bed, desk, some chairs, the chamber was practically empty. There weren’t even weapons displayed on the walls. There was, however, a slave ring set at the foot of the bed, and a long chain.
Suloert collared Haru and left her there alone, trembling.
She knelt at the foot of the bed and didn’t budge, even when after an hour another slave entered and left a tray of spiced meats on the desk. Neither girl spoke, and Haru kept her face pointed at the floor.
She rehearsed mentally, recalling her lessons, and tried to ignore her nervousness. She didn’t want anything to get in the way of her pleasure service. Her anxiety made a pit of her stomach. Finally, after nearly another half-hour, the door opened, and Haru’s Master stood in the open space.
Haru spread wide her legs, thrust out her small breasts, and put her hands to her thighs. The chain descending from the collar about her neck didn’t so much as rattle, so close had she been already to that standard position of slave submission.
The Rexus looked upon her, his face blank. After a moment, he entered the room, ignoring Haru and proceeding into the lavatory for a few minutes. She budged not a centimeter. He came out without his tunic, the glory of his entire masculine body displayed for the slave to revel in.
The heat blazed within her. His cock was huge! Haru whimpered uncontrollably and immediately chastised herself. She must be perfect for him!
He appeared not to notice any lapse. He sat at his desk, crossed his legs, and relaxed. He wrote something down on a piece of paper and put it in a drawer. Then he turned to look at Haru.
“Have you eaten today?” he asked. He had spoken to her, he! to her! Haru was breathless.
“No, Master.” She had been too anxious for food.
The Rexus nodded and made a humming sound. He got up and approached the kneeling slave. If it had been possible for Haru to straighten even more than she already was, she would have done so. As it was, her limbs were practically vibrating in their coiled tension. Her Master disengaged the chain from the wall and went to the bed where he reclined against the headboard. “Bring the tray here.”
“Yes, Master,” Haru said. Chain jingling softly, she went to the desk and back. She returned to her knees and offered the tray above her head, face down. “May the meats meet with your approval, Master,” she offered. It was an old joke as well as something of a double entendre.
She was offering him more than just the meat which lay on the tray.
“Come here,” her Master said, patting the bed beside him. He took the tray and lay it to the side.
Unable to believe her great fortune—Her Master was inviting her to his bedside!—Haru sat down.
She was trembling and couldn’t stop. She felt so small and delicate beside him.
Her Master picked out a small tidbit from the tray. He dipped the dainty piece of meat into one of the small cups of sauce that ringed the metal surface. He raised it to Haru’s face.
“Ma . . Master?” she asked in a voice that trembled as much as she. He hushed her. He put the food to Haru’s lips gently, letting her experience the rich, spicy sauce for a brief moment on the very edge of her lips. He drew back then, teasingly, smiled, and slipped the morsel into her all-so-accepting mouth.
Her soft lips brushed against his steel-hard fingertips.
The morsel was delicious.
“Another?” he asked. Haru was unable to speak; she could only nod, the barest of inflections.
The Rexus’ hand lingered over the tray. “The jurin sauce, or the soodr? The soodr is hotter.”
“The . . the jurin, Master,” Haru softly spoke. “I’m . . just a slave.” She blushed pinkly.
The great Baor Korez chuckled. He dipped the sliver of meat in the milder sauce and once again brought it slowly to Haru’s lips. He deliberately hesitated at the last moment and missed, dabbing the end of the slave’s nose with jurin sauce, eliciting a surprised laugh from Haru. He laughed with her.
She blushed even more so.
“Now you,” and her Master lay back again, “feed me.”
Men feed us, Haru remembered the old Academy adage, but we are the ones who serve. With the seductive grace her Trainers had drilled into her, Haru curled her feet under her on the bed and moved into a crouching position, dangling her breasts before her owner. She raised her rump invitingly, stretching her limbs out to crawl before him. With delicate fingertips, she selected a single morsel, arched her back, and lay down on her side facing him. His eyes roamed her exposed body. Holding the piece of meat between thumb and forefinger, Haru slowly, sinuously placed it within the hot sauce and lifted it out, giving the piece a tiny, well-practiced shake of her hand to rid herself of the excess.
Her mouth was open. Faintly, she ran her tongue over her lower lip. Her chain dangled between them.
Keeping herself well within arm’s reach, the heat of their bodies perceptible on the other’s skin, the slave rose and crawled over her Master. Her breasts brushed softly against his broad chest; her thighs brushed his. He opened his mouth as she offered him the tidbit. She placed it daintily on his tongue.
Her Master swallowed, their eyes but centimeters apart. He put his hand out, gripped the back of her head, and drew her face to his. Their mouths met in a long, passionate kiss.
Haru’s heart was pounding. Her skin was on fire. Her body ached for his to fill her.
Taking hold of her, the Rexus stood beside the bed and lifted his new property in his arms.
She could see nothing else but him. She wanted nothing else but him. The tray went to the floor. Haru was put to her back on the bed, and a moment later her Master was atop her, his magnificent hardness resting upon her soft belly, throbbing against her skin. “Master,” she breathed. “You are my Master.”
His mouth fell against her own in reply. Their tongues intertwined. Her chain rattled. Her small arms reached over his broad back, pulling him down. Her legs spread, rubbing against his own.
He entered her, and she gasped deeply, her breath merging with his, bending her body as the fullness of him settled within. He clasped at her small, frail breasts. Haru in turn clenched around the joyous member inside her. She rejoiced at the depths her Master probed. She squeezed. She squeezed around that delightful, godlike cock, kissing, and as she felt his seed burst inside her, their hips rubbing together, skin on skin, Haru’s orgasm rolled through her, raw ecstasy like a tidal wave drowning her.
His fingers moved between them to rub at her clit. Haru’s head fell back. Her pussy continued to grip him mightily. He unlocked the chain, threw it across the room, and, holding her hands above her head, making her absolutely helpless, he proceeded to fuck her.
“Oh, Master! Master!!” His hands roamed over her hardened nipples. He stroked her thighs. She ground her hips against his, spreading her legs. His cum sent a surge of power all along her spine, electrifying her body. He kissed her again, his mouth open against the warm hollow of her neck. He slipped his fingers around her breasts, caressing, petting. He pressed his hands deep into the flesh of her shoulders, her arms, her legs. He kissed her nipples. Her flesh was rippling like water. Haru mewled with pleasure. A second overwhelming orgasm enveloped her. “I am your slave, my Master!”
A third orgasm. The world faded. Everything became sublime, nothing but pleasure. I am a slave, the words came. I was born to be a slave. I was born to please men. At the same time, her Master’s powerful voice rang in her ears. “This feels so good. You are my slave. You will always be my slave.”
His cum was in her. She was in his sway. The words—the commands—settled easily in her mind.
“This feels so good,” she repeated. “I am your slave. I will always be your slave.” The injunctions meshed easily within the framework the mantra had established, the identity Haru already had, the knowledge she was a slave, that she had been born to be a slave, that she was a hot and needy slave, that she needed to be fucked. She needed to be fucked, and so the heat rose again. She was kindled.
Her slave’s appetite blazed with new fire.
“Master, please,” she begged, staring yearningly into his eyes. “I need your, Master! I need you!!”
Stroking her breasts, tickling her clitoris, igniting more so her slave’s body with his tongue, these, combined with the huge cock once more hardening inside her, soon had waves of excruciating pleasure coursing through Haru. Her Master took his time with his property, stretching out his pleasure longer and longer, leaving her all the more helplessly needy for her next orgasm. Her body remained pinned beneath his. She could not so much as budge without his leave. “Oh, Master!” Each wave of pleasure would build, crest, then tease mercilessly, holding on without giving Haru the satisfaction she increasingly needed and craved. And then the tidal wave finally, finally broke, pouring pleasure through every centimeter of her body. I am a slave. I am a slave. She was in her Master’s sway. He owned her.
He laughed. How amused he was. How many times had he done this to a woman? A hundred? A thousand? Her Master had reduced her to absolute begging NEED in minutes! Haru thought her body was going to go up in flame! She . . she . . she needed him to fuck her! Again. Forever!!
She needed him inside her! Again!!
“You want to serve,” he said calmly, looking down upon her. “Serving is your greatest pleasure.”
“Oh, Master! I want to serve! Serving is my greatest pleasure!!” He was so deep inside her. Another crushing climax. Her joy was absolute. “I am a slave! I am a slave! I love you, Master! I love you!!”
She screamed in complete ecstasy, in total womanly satisfaction, in blinding orgasm, yet within a minute she was burning again, her need for cock screaming within her veins, within the hollow of her wet sex.
He would not quench her. He let her kindle anew.
I am a slave. I was born to be a slave. For a second time, her slave’s appetite burned, made even stronger from the previous two fuckings. Her need of a few minute’s prior was nothing in the comparison. It was the way of things. If a slave was not quenched, she was kindled, and a slave kindled was a slave made increasingly needy for sex, for fucking, for utter and complete use.
Her need inspired his strength. He hardened again inside her. She shifted her hips against his own in response, rotating rhythmically, whimpering in her pleasure-agony. “Master, please,” she begged. She squeezed her cunt muscles about his member and cried out as he slowly extracted himself, her flesh tugging at his longingly, achingly. “No, please, don’t go.” He said nothing, merely turned her over so that her asscheeks faced him. His hard cock rubbed up against her, settling between her buttocks.
“Spread,” he ordered. A moment later he was pushing inward, and Haru was screaming in a great painful ecstasy. “Ohhhh! Ahh!! Master, PLEASE!!” He remained as always as hard as a metal rod.
His cock slammed into her. Haru’s face was forced into the pillow, mouth opening and closing in frenzied sips of air. She felt her owner reach around. As he probed her from behind, his fingers found and inserted themselves in front, squeezing the bud of her clitoris until she was spasming mindlessly.
Ass clenched as her pussy before, she held him hard. His kisses on the back of her neck set her blood burning. He stroked and pulled at her long black hair. He pumped her and drove her into yet another orgasmic epiphany. I am a slave, she thought.
The heat of her existence blossomed anew, even stronger than before.
For an entire afternoon, the Rexus of Tolaam indulged himself with his new slave. He would use her, whisper the words of the slave’s mantra into her unresisting ears, and let her rekindle in his arms.
Sometimes he instructed her to fight him, to resist, and, as a slave commanded, Haru would. She tried to push him off then. She clawed at his back. She screamed in anger and outrage.
And then she would climax, rekindle, and be swayed anew.
“I love you, Master,” she would whisper in these lucid moments he permitted her. Once, he lifted her body within his arms, still deeply inside her, and took her to the window. He held her outside by the wrists, cock impaling her so utterly she was in no danger of falling.
“I am your slave!” she screamed joyously, feet dangling a hundred meters to the pavement below. “I will always be your slave!!” Her orgasm in the air above Tolaam was like lightning striking her.
It was devastating, and yet oh so good!
Not long afterwards, after so many sessions of sexplay that the poor slave of her lost count, Haru was finally quenched. In the wake of her last climax, she heard the calming words: “You have pleased your Master. You are a good slave. You have been used well.” I have been used well, she thought.
“Relax. Relax, my little slave. You have pleased me. You have pleased your Master.”
I have pleased my Master. In a way, that knowledge was better than all her orgasms put together.
In the evening, Haru’s Master called for his head slave. “What think you of her, Theru?” he asked soon after she came in.
She stood next to him and carefully contemplated the new arrival. Haru would never have had the courage to stand so confidently beside her Master. Her knees were weak just looking at him!
“She is an Academy-trained slave, Master,” Theru answered. “Suloert was not entirely displeased with her performance. Her eyes are pretty. The men of the citadel will richly enjoy her.” Or else, the head slave’s stern gaze added. Master nodded. He continued to scrutinize the well-fucked Haru.
“Too, she is far from the shy young waif she was when she first came here.” Haru frowned. She had been owned in this citadel before? She had no memory of that. Then again, she was a slave.
Again their owner nodded. He appeared to want more.
“She has a small chest. And her memories of what she once was have been swayed. Respectfully, Master, this may not have been the best choice for her.”
Master stood up and smiled. “Yes, that’s it. That’s your killing blow. I rather enjoyed owning a girl from so very far away.” As he came to his feet, Theru sank gracefully to her knees and lowered her head. Their Master approached Haru, and once more he seized her.
Once again, her slavish softness was invaded by his masterful hardness. “Oh, Master!!” she cried out.
His use, as always, was far from quick. He reduced Haru to little more than a helpless animal in his arms. “You are a slave,” he swayed her after this latest climax. “You were born to be a slave.”
“I am a slave,” Haru dazedly responded. The words and the commands underlying them were so deeply engrained, she could hardly close her eyes without hearing them. “I was born to be a slave.”
She felt pleasure and hunger flow through her. She was a slave. She had been born a slave. The mantra was a fire inside. The mantra stretched out the ecstasy of her kindlings into a long, blazing glow.
Her Master took her small, pretty face in his hand and turned it toward him.
“Remember,” he commanded, firmly. “Remember the starship. Remember Alpha Centauri.”
Haru began shaking at once.
“Ma . . Master?” she sputtered, suddenly dizzy. The world, her native world of Y, spun sickeningly on its axis. “I . . I am a slave. I was born in Nuun.”
“No,” Haru’s Master told her, and she felt even more sick. She had displeased him! She had displeased her Master! “You were once another woman. You were once a woman named Bea Stoc.”
He continued to hold her face. With his other hand he explored her slick and inviting pussy.
“Remember.”
“I . . I am a slave. I . . I was born to be a slave. I am a Yn slavegirl. I was born to please men.”
“Remember the woman Bea Stoc. You were once this woman.” Images of unfamiliar things filled Haru’s head. Faces, the names of people and places. The Flags of Centauri Independence. Her homeworld, the Planet Y . . no, Beta Prime . . no, Y . . . . She was so confused and so very, very sick.
“Remember.”
“Master . . Master, please,” Haru begged. She had been such a good slavegirl. She didn’t want to remember. She didn’t want to remember the woman Bea Stoc. She had fought her slavery. Haru wanted only to be a pleasing slavegirl, forever. “I am a slave. I was born to be a slave.”
Her Master stroked her tenderly, intimately. He was so in control! “Remember Bea Stoc. Remember the starship. Remember Alpha Centauri. Remember.” Delicately, he traced the scent of his essence under her nose. He moistened her lips with his cum. His hardness brushed against her soft folds.
He swayed her.
She opened her eyes, and in his sway the world was clear. She was a slave. She was a living, willing fucktoy for men. She wanted to obey men. She wanted to please men. She wanted to please them with her body, with her obedience, with every facet of her existence. Pleasing men was her existence.
It was her sole purpose in life, and she wanted no other, nor could imagine one. She felt hot and wet.
Her Master was swaying her, and she needed his cock. Her need to serve him came stronger and stronger. She needed to be used, desperately. The slave’s fervent desire to be used was so strong, in fact, that she became nobody. She didn’t know her own name. She had no name. She had no past.
She had no memory of an existence prior to this single ecstatic moment. She was naked, and a man, a great man, was fucking her, but she had no idea how she had come to be in either of these conditions, nor did she particularly care. What she did care about, along with her need to be put to even greater pleasure-use, was a recognition of the most important fact of her life: there was a man fucking her!
The slave gasped in awe, pushed herself toward him.
“Master!” she breathed, gazing adoringly up at him. “Remember,” he ordered the slave.
And suddenly she did. Just like that, she was Haru, again.
But she was no longer just Haru the native-born slavegirl, of the city of Nuun, known for its seafood and shining bay. She was still of the Planet Y, but she was Haru, the former Bea Stoc now; she was Haru, the former Senior Lieutenant of the Centauri Expeditionary Force; Haru, the former Chief Astrogation Officer of His Holy Sovereign’s Starship The Flags of Centauri Independence; Haru, of Beta Prime.
First and foremost, she was Haru the slave. But she was those other things as well.
Haru gasped. Her mind cleared. The sickness she had experienced faded away.
“Master . . I remember!” She was in the arms of her Master, and she loved him! She licked and kissed him, thanking him for his maleness. She climaxed explosively. His sperm lit a wondrous fire in her.
He quenched her, again. “You have pleased me, slave. You have pleased your Master.”
“It was a minor swaying the Academy trainers gave her,” he explained a little later, partially to Haru, mostly to Theru, still kneeling on the other side of the room. She got up to bring him a towel. Minor swaying, Haru thought, as she cuddled against her owner, shaking in awe, fear, and her complete adoration of him. It was frightening. He and every man on this planet had such total power over her!
They could make her think and remember anything! She had actually believed she had been born on Y.
She remembered not remembering, of being just that uncomplicated girl from Nuun. I was Bea Stoc, Haru thought too, amazed. But now I’m not. Such power they had. It excited her no end.
She looked down at her chest. Small, Theru had said. She almost laughed. Undersized. How ironic.
Since her transformation into a Yn, she had grown more than three times her original size. She had the bust of a pleasure drone. Her oversize tits pulled at her shoulders in a way that was natural and yet wondrous at the same time.
Haru remembered who she had been. It didn’t change the fact that she was still Haru the slavegirl. She had been named—renamed, really. For all her reawakened sense of self, the slave still thought of herself as Haru. She thought of herself as a slave, because that was what she was and wanted to be.
Haru used the heated towel to wash her Master. She trembled again, running her hands over his steel-hard thighs, this time in desire. She loved her owner. She knew his name was Baor Korez, but to her, he was her Master. She was an owned girl in a private citadel on Y.
She could think of nothing better.
“You will serve my pleasure again tonight at the twentieth hour,” he told Haru, finally getting up to leave.
“Yes, Master,” she replied fervently. She kissed the back of his hand as he caressed her. It was more than just the ecstasy he could give her that inspired her devotion.
It was him, his maleness. It awed her. She worshipped him.
Both girls knelt when he left the room. When Theru stood, Haru remained on her knees.
She was an Academy-trained slave indeed. She knew her place.
“Clean this chamber,” the head slave ordered. “You are the new slave in the house. You have the benefit of freshness, but that will soon pass. If you want to remain of interest to the men here, if you want to remain of interest to our Master, you will not rely on mere novelty.”
“No, Theru,” she said modestly, staring down at the floor.
“You will strive to be pleasing in every way.”
“Yes, Theru.” She felt a hand reach down to stroke and lift her face. The head slave bent down and kissed Haru’s forehead. Her expression was affectionate.
“Seek out the advice of your sisters. They know well how to please the men of this citadel.”
“Yes, Theru,” Haru said. The head slave helped her to her feet. “I will, Theru.”
“You are low girl. If you displease them, they will not help you. If you displease me, I will punish you.”
“Yes, Theru.” She shivered, remembering now the whipping the proctor had once given her.
The proctor looked at her severely. “If you try to be pleasing so as only to be quenched at night, you will fail. You know that, do you not?” Haru nodded vigorously. She did. “Yes, Theru!”
“Why then will you be pleasing to men?”
“Because I am a slave, Theru. Because I was born to please men. Because I want to please men.”
The proctor nodded, satisfied. “Remember that, and you will be quenched and often.” She chuckled. “You were a foolish slave when you first came here. Do you remember?”
“Yes, Theru. I remember everything now.”
“Good.” She suddenly leaned in and kissed Haru on the cheek. “You have pleased my Master . . . our Master. I think you will do well here.”
“I hope so,” Haru whispered. “I want to with all my heart.”
“I don’t want to see even a speck of dirt in here,” Theru said, turning to leave. “After you are done here, spend the intervening hours thinking about our Master’s cock. It will make you hot to serve him.”
“Yes, Theru!” Haru cried. Already the heat was upon her at the suggestion. Her Master’s cock! Was there anything better in the entire universe? The head slave left, and Haru devotedly began her duties.
No. There was nothing better than her Master’s cock. Haru giggled, overcome with happiness.
She was a slavegirl on Y!