Chronicles of Raan (Three BDSM Fantasy Novellas) (5 page)

“But I’m not done punishing you yet.”

I smiled inwardly. I was ready.

Leila must have heard us, because she was once more kneeling at the steel pole. Salif gestured to the wooden bed in the corner, a gesture of absolute command; we moved instantly to obey, standing by the bed.

“My queen. A choice for you. The two of you will lie on this bed; one on top of the other. If you are on top, you will feel the brunt of my whip.” A flogger had reappeared in his hand. “But you are queen, and can order Leila to take your place.”

My sweet Leila, whipped on my account? I rejected that idea instantly.

“I will go on top, Mage King.” My voice was steady.

He smiled at me, the smile not reaching his eyes. “A chivalrous choice, my queen. But probably the wrong one; I judge Leila to crave the pain far more than you.” He was right; Leila needed the pain in ways I didn’t. Salif was perceptive.

He positioned us so that I was lying on top of Leila, my mouth positioned at her pussy, her mouth at mine. My legs were spread open, as were hers. There was nowhere to hide.

I gulped. So close to her sweet juices, I couldn’t help myself, my tongue reached out, took an exploratory lick. She tasted delectable; her soft moan a powerful aphrodisiac. I creamed in response.

Crack. I flinched, but the whip had cracked in the air.

“You will both come for me.” His voice was soft, dangerous. “You may not use your hands, just your tongues to pleasure each other. And I will whip you till you both come.”

My Mage King. Were his words supposed to be menacing? I knew him well; I knew him incapable of causing us true harm. My mind had unravelled over grief at Katya’s death; but despite that, I would never forgive myself for doubting him. 

The flogger swung. It caught my ass with a sharp flick; little waves of pain coursed through me. “He might not cause you true harm,” I thought to myself ruefully, “but the flogger can still sting.” I bent myself to my task; that of making Leila come.

I could see our reflection in the mirror. Her firm legs, her soft thighs, right now, strained open in obedience to Salif’s command. Her brown pussy lips, open to reveal the soft pinkness underneath. The glistening, as the excitement rose in her, as it did in me. I licked her lips delicately, and watched her hips thrust up into my mouth. Sweet Leila.

The flogger swung again, distracting me. Her tongue was dancing in my slit, she knew how to make me come; she sucked in my clitoris between her lips, flicking it with her tongue in a movement that was designed to drive me insane. My hips thrust upward as my body mutely begged her to continue. I could hear Salif chuckle in the background, watching my response. The flogger swung again, this time on my
upper back, leaving blazing warmth against my skin. I moaned into Leila’s pussy; she arched into me in response.

Again and again, the strokes fell, raising me higher, lifting me to a world where pain and pleasure were intermingled, and I had no ability to tell them apart. I could sense the presence of my beloved, watching with dark eyes as we took our pleasure in each other. My body could only feel; my mouth taste the gushing sweetness of the girl under me; my skin on fire as the flogger struck me with unerring skill; the flicks of Leila’s tongue against my clitoris, causing me to writhe, to moan, to silently plead for her to keep going. 

“Mistress…” a muttered moan from Leila, and I could feel her explode in my mouth, her pussy pushing hard against me as she came in shuddering waves. And that was all it took to push me into orgasm as well. I bit my lip as I was engulfed in the tide; my body shaking, my pussy quivering, my entire body stiffening as the pleasure overtook me.

Time passed; awareness slowly returned to me. I was still atop Leila; but Salif had stopped whipping us. He moved towards us; a quick nod of dismissal to Leila. He lifted me up in his arms; strode to his bedchambers. Finally, we were alone.

I lay on his bed, and looked at him with glazed eyes, still recovering from the intensity of the orgasm that had ripped through me. Salif smiled back at me. When he spoke, his voice was silken.

“So, my queen. You decreed that I have no pleasure slaves, and I have promised to take you in all the forbidden ways…”

I bit my lip, lowered my eyes. “Your will, Mage King.”

I felt him grab something in his hand; my eyes were drawn to it. A wooden object, clearly designed for my nether passage, its length carved into balls of increasing size. The whole thing must have been a foot long; the largest ball, at the base of the object, was wider than the length of my hand. I gulped, nervously. Even my trainers had never used something so large on me.

“So, Raina, what do you think? Shall we call for a pleasure slave instead?”

I stiffened. No other woman would serve my king. I looked at him, resolve in my eyes. “I am here to serve you, my King,” I said quietly. I lowered my gaze again, as I inwardly chanted the chant of peace; reminding myself that Salif would never truly hurt me. 

I heard him chuckle.

“Kneel on the bed; put your head on the pillow; arms on your ass.” The orders were terse. I complied quickly; my pussy gushing in response.

“Spread your knees wider.”

I spread my knees as wide as they would go. It appeared that Salif didn’t agree with me; he slapped my inner thighs till I spread them still wider; as wide as he desired.

“I can see you cream for me, my queen. It appears your body desires what I do to it.” An arrogance in his voice, but also, pure, male pride. My heart swelled in love. My beloved.

“Spread your cheeks for me, Raina.”

I swallowed. I would have to hold my cheeks open as he invaded me with that monster. I obeyed, with hesitation.

He had noticed the hesitation. “Not too late to call for a pleasure slave, my love.” His voice was filled with amusement; he knew that I would not yield.

I gritted my teeth, used my hands to open my ass cheeks wider. There would be no pleasure slave, not if I had any say in the matter.

I could feel the oil trickle down my back, feel Salif’s strong fingers massage the oil into my puckered bud. He inserted two fingers in without warning, twisted his fingers in me. I bit my lip; his fingers were sending pleasurable waves through my body.

He added a third. Now, a tiny hint of pain, but his fingers were stroking my pussy as well to distract me. He was well trained in the art of pleasure. I moaned softly, as the feelings cascaded over my body.

In the silence, I could hear the drip of oil on the wooden monster. I silently gulped. From the brief glimpse I had of it, the first ball wouldn’t be much larger than Salif’s three fingers, I told myself. I can take that.

I could feel the object at my puckered hole, I forced myself to spread my cheeks; to keep myself wide open. Salif’s hands were exerting steady pressure, pushing, pushing, and then the first ball was in. I groaned, but there was no respite. He was still pushing, I could feel my ass yielding under his steady assault, and now, the second ball was in me as well.

I moaned. The feeling of fullness was overwhelming. I could feel Salif’s hands running over my body, running over my hands, caressing the sides of my breasts, stroking my jaw.

“How does that feel, Raina?”

“I wish only to please you, my lord king,” I replied automatically.

Whap. His hand had smacked my ass, jostling the plug, moving it in me. I moaned.

“Try answering my question, Raina.” His voice was icy.

Too late, I realized I’d triggered one of Salif’s demons. After Katya, he no longer was enamoured by pleasure slaves who were unthinking in their obedience. Katya’s training had held till death; and it had taught him that a training so thorough that the slave would always obey instantly was a training to be feared; constant, unquestioning obedience was a double-edged sword.

I paused; took stock of how I felt. “I feel full…” I said, from my position on the bed.

“Does it hurt?”

I took stock again. “No…” I said, thinking about it. “It was a little painful going in, but now, I just feel full.”

He probed me; checked for himself the truth of my words. He had learned caution after Katya. In a few seconds though, I could feel him touch the object again.

“You can take some more, then.” It wasn’t a question. He pushed again, I did my best to relax my muscles, keep my ass cheeks spread for my king.

I felt stretched, violated, the waves of pain pulsing through me, but the pushing was steady, and now, the third ball was in. I winced. This was probably as large as the largest object I’d learned to take in my training as a pleasure slave. I dreaded the final two balls.

“We will get the final two balls in, my love…” His voice was soft. “But not today. Today, I need you too badly.”

With those words, he plunged his steely length into my wet, waiting pussy.

To say I felt full would be an understatement. The balls in my ass; Salif’s cock in my pussy; my head on the bed, my arms still holding my ass open; I was completely in the power of my king, and my king was determined to take his pleasure. He pounded into me, hard, fast, as I whimpered into the pillow, lust rising in me. I moved my hips back to meet him, each of his motions provoking a response in me, a fiery response that was determined to be heard. My cheek rubbed against the pillow; staining the white of the linen with the rouge of my cheeks. I was uncaring; reduced to just sensation; the feel of him as he slid in and out of me, the sound of his groans as his cock was stimulated by the balls in my ass; and finally, the tug in my hair, as he came, with a muffled shout into my pussy.

He removed the anal invader quickly from my ass, and then we were lying next to each other in bed.

“Was that my punishment, then?” I asked, the faintest challenge in my voice. I left unsaid that I wished him to repeat this, to devise other punishments for me in the future. 

But Salif was Mage King, and my mind was unshielded to him. I couldn’t hide my thoughts. He laughed, a rich, life-giving sound, took me in his arms. When he spoke, there was a world of promise in his voice.

“Your will, my queen.”

By Tara Crescent

It was two years into my training as a pleasure slave when I first realized something wasn’t quite right with the way I was being trained.

Let me explain.

There are many worlds in the galaxy that provide pleasure slaves, but all of them – the pleasure slaves of Sarth; the pleasure slaves of Nushur; the pleasure slaves of Tibra; they all paled into insignificance when compared to the pleasure slaves of Argentia. One only contracted with a pleasure slave from Sarth or Nushur or Tibra, or any of the others, if a pleasure slave of Argentia was not available.

In my youth, I assumed that was because the pleasure slaves of Argentia were the most beautiful; the most submissive; the ones best able to tolerate pain, and the ones best able to provide pleasure.

As my training began, and I spent the first two years untouched by any, I started to realize my mistake. I was rushed from class to class; languages, music, art appreciation, protocol, geography, politics, advanced politics, economics, advanced economics. Knowledge was being poured into my open mind; I was getting an education that the rulers of many worlds in the galaxy would be happy to receive.

Slowly I started to realize, the pleasure slaves of Argentia were the best in the galaxy not because of the toughness of their bodies but because of the strength of their minds.

“Lust is in the head, Leila,” my mentor Arya said to me once, when I asked her about it. She was getting ready for her final exam, though anyone who knew her knew there were few doubts that she would graduate with flying colours. “You entice because of who you are; your intelligence and wit keep your contract holders coming back, not the softness of your skin or the tightness of your body. There are many in the galaxy with a tight body and soft skin. You are better. You have a mind.”

I redoubled my efforts in class, determined to be the best pleasure slave I could be. I was also secretly glad. When I had arrived on Raan, to apply to be a pleasure slave, I had been conflicted. My body craved submission and pain, but I was reluctant to give up my individuality. It seemed that as a pleasure slave of Argentia, I would not have to choose between the two.

My raw edges were smoothened, of course. Endless hours of dance lessons made me graceful; music lessons lowered my voice to a lyrical murmur; one designed to give pleasure to any listener. Painful posture lessons corrected my tendency to slouch; hours spent in utter stillness posing as a model for art class corrected my restlessness.

Then, two years into the program, the pleasure training began.

***

Aah. Pleasure training. The words were a misnomer, of course. I was training to be a pleasure slave; it was not my pleasure that was important; just the pleasure of my contract holders. If I’d thought my
dance trainer harsh, it was nothing compared to the trainers that were training me in the art of pleasure.

New classes were added to my schedule. Classes where my ass was trained to accept a contract holder’s cock, fist, or almost anything else they chose to insert, classes where I would practice contracting the muscles in my vagina to best pleasure my contract holder. I was trained to swallow a cock, lick a glistening pussy, and much more.

Very few things were not taught. There were some restrictions on what a contract holder was allowed to do with a pleasure slave, of course, but they were few and far between. 

***

But first, there was the matter of my virginity.

I was taken to get an examination by the Healer before my pleasure training started. He measured the diameter of my jaw, used a device to open up my ass so he could see how much it could be stretched; and had started doing the same to my pussy when he stopped abruptly.

“You are a virgin?” His voice was surprised.

I nodded. He made a notation; dismissed me. I headed to my Advanced Politics class, thinking nothing more of our conversation.

My Head Trainer was waiting in my quarters when I returned from class. I eyed her with surprise; I saw her once a week as part of my ongoing evaluation, but I’d never seen her outside of that.

“I hear you are a virgin,” she said without preamble.

I blushed. I didn’t understand why they were making such a big deal about it. Surely some of the girls were virgins when they applied for training. I said that to my Head Trainer.

She laughed. “You’d be surprised,” she said wryly. “Most of our applicants find out they like to submit, to fulfil their partner’s desires, and then they apply. It’s pretty rare to find a virgin here, actually.”

“We’ve all discussed it,” she continued. “Your pleasure training will be harsh, often very painful. It seems a shame to have that experience be your first exposure to sex. So, Leila, for once, and once only, you get to choose. If there’s any trainer or teacher here that you’d like to pleasure you for the first time, speak, and if that person is willing to instruct you, you will be deflowered by him or her.”

I gulped. Choice was the first thing you gave up in the training. I wore a uniform daily; my schedule was determined for me; every hour of my life tightly allocated. And now, I could choose anyone I wanted to sleep with.

I knew who I wanted, of course. For over a year, I’d been fantasising privately about my Advanced Economics instructor. Hassan. He was tall and lean, with a trimmed beard just starting to grey, and a caustic sense of humour that made us all scramble to do our best work in his class; else be the target of his sarcasm.

“Hassan…” I mumbled, my eyes on the floor, my cheeks flaming with embarrassment.

My Head Trainer laughed out aloud at my fiery cheeks. “Oh, Leila, you’ll soon get over that; Hassan also teaches some of your pleasure training classes. But I’ll send him a note, ask if he’ll do me a favour.”

It stung; the way she worded that. Sleeping with me was a favour Hassan would do for my Head Trainer, not something that was pleasurable in its own right. But then I considered the nation of Argentia, where women were well-versed in the art of giving pleasure; arts that I, as yet knew nothing about. I flushed at my presumption.

But that evening, I received a message from Hassan, telling me to show up to his quarters.