Enslaving the Master (6 page)

Never before had Shedir wanted to take a
mate, to share his life with another human being. Now he did. If it were not
for his plans, his dreams…

But no. He had set a course and he could
not waver. He had sworn, as a young man freshly accepted in Star Command, that
he would earn the power and prestige his ancestors had lost during the
conflagration. He would stay steadfast now, even in the face of the greatest
temptation he had ever encountered. Covering that sexy, sensual temptation with
a light blanket, he dressed and strode toward the bridge.

Perhaps there, surrounded by the tools of
his trade, bombarded by a panoramic view of the vast blackness of space, he
could reclaim a firm grip on his ambition, his goals in life. Perhaps his brain
would overrule his cock, and, he feared, his heart. Maybe reason would prevail
and allow him to do as he should and let his woman go.

When he reached the control room, Shedir
saw Conan. Apparently drawn by what he had lost, Conan had emerged from his
quarters and sat at the control panel on the bridge, a wistful look on his
face. Bathed and freshly shaved, he might have been a second pilot flying check
with Shedir—not a fugitive from Federation justice, stowed away on one of its
starships as Shedir would claim he was, if his superiors should learn about his
undocumented passenger.

“You miss it, don’t you?” Shedir took the
other place at the controls and met the solemn gaze of the man who once had
been his mentor.

“The ship? The feeling that I am in command
of the heavens? Of course I miss it. I always will. The rulers? No. I’m
grateful to have escaped their clutches, for I did nothing any decent man would
not have done to save his brother.

“Love isn’t wrong. It’s a necessity. Lose
the ability to love, and you lose your humanity.” Conan stretched his legs out
before him and gazed out the window toward a distant planet whose color and
luminosity caught Shedir’s eye. “I fear that loss will eventually mean the end
of the Federation, though I’m certain I would be dead now if I had said so
before my tribunal.”

Shedir had no doubt that was true. “So you
made it out unscathed other than for losing your command and your right hand?”

“Hardly. If it were just this,” he held up
his stump, “I would have bought an intelligent prosthesis and made do with it.
I wouldn’t have risked stowing away on your ship and taking a chance on getting
us caught if you’re boarded for inspection. Not just for the purpose of getting
Pak Song to do his illegal magic with my hand.”

Fury bubbled up from Shedir’s gut, too
fierce to tamp down. The rulers took too much, demanded more than any man
should have to pay.

“Yeah. My lawyer had to do a lot of talking
to keep them from having me turned into a drone, as punishment for saving my
brother from that fate. Unless and until Pak Song can do even more of his magic
for me than he did for Guy, I’m useless to the woman you’re so protective of.”

Shedir looked at the red stump of Conan’s right
wrist then met his solemn gaze. “You mean they castrated you?”

“They took it all. It wasn’t enough that
they cut out my testicles. They did to me what they do to little boys they deem
unfit to breed.”

When Shedir pictured Doreen’s eunuch twins
with their smooth, empty crotches, he shuddered. “They took everything?”

“Everything. Cock, balls, even my prostate.
I’m completely useless, like the eunuchs that used to guard your ancestors’
harems. I will go back into hiding now, in case Star Command decides to place
you and your ship under surveillance. I wouldn’t want you to pay for helping me
as I’m paying for having helped my brother. As soon as we land on Obsidion,
I’ll change to my ‘official’ eunuch’s robe and make my way to Pak Song. Perhaps
someday we’ll meet again.”

Official robe? Of course. Since the
tribunal had ordered Conan made into a eunuch, that meant he must wear the
white robe to indicate his altered state. A chill permeated Shedir’s own
recently satiated cock, and it was all he could do to keep from hunching over,
protecting his own sex. As though that would help him if the rulers caught him
flaunting their orders.

Hopefully Pak Song would be able to restore
Conan’s manhood as handily as he’d restored Guy’s sight and hearing…as easily
as he had created bionic limbs to replace those lost or made useless in battle.
Shedir shuddered when he imagined the processes involved—the mental and
physical agony of losing part of oneself, the undoubtedly painful process of
having the surgeons and Pak Song replace the missing parts with robotics.
Shedir knew Conan could afford to pay for any of Pak Song’s services, if the
old man could even perform that miracle.

Looking at Guy, knowing his eyes and ears
were not his own but electronic substitutes, realizing he moved with ease only
because of Pak Song’s genius, still gave Shedir pause, for he had been the one
to bring in Guy’s broken body.

A three-beep signal sounded, signaling
their approach to Obsidion. Needing distraction, Shedir took the controls from
the pilot bot and guided the starship into the planet’s atmosphere, and on to
its assigned pad. While on Obsidion, he would fit Doreen with all the symbols
of her concubine status, because no matter what, he could never willingly let
her go.

* * * * *

“Why did your friend not join us?” Doreen
asked later as they walked along Obsidion’s famed strip.

“It would be dangerous for me to be seen
with Conan. If any of the other starship captains who are docked here see you,
they will think I’ve rented myself a woman. An unusually beautiful, desirable
one who must be robed and veiled lest she inspire the lust of those who have
not paid.” Shedir paused and slipped his hand between the folds of her veil to
stroke the satin column of her throat. “Since most of my fellow officers do the
same when business brings them here, they will not report me. They would,
however, if they realized I had transported a fugitive off Earth.”

“Oh.” Her eyes widened. “After going naked
for so long, it feels strange to be swathed from head to foot this way. Must I
always wear the veil?”

“Only when I take you with me, away from
Luna Ten. And only then, where other men might see you. I find myself not that
much different from my ancestors in that I want you for myself alone. I want to
hide you from other men’s lascivious gazes.” In the window of Eli’s Fine
Jewelry Emporium, Shedir spied the collar he wanted to clasp around Doreen’s
neck. “Come.”

“I wish to see the collar in the window,
sir,” he told the prosperous-looking jeweler who hurried from a back room to
greet them.

“Yes, Commander. I am Eli, the owner of
this fine establishment, at your service.” When he looked at Doreen, Eli
flashed a yellow-toothed grin before scurrying to the display window, keycard
in hand. Even robed and veiled, with only her compelling dark eyes visible, it
seemed to Shedir that Doreen drew broad smiles from every man they passed. In
the case of the wizened shop owner, however, he allowed that perhaps the
jeweler’s happiness emanated from the prospect of starting his day off with a
large, profitable sale.

Shedir watched impatiently while Eli made a
show of laying a deep-green velvet cloth on the counter before arranging the
beautifully crafted collar on it so each of the diamonds and emeralds embedded
in the smooth, gold finish caught the light just so. “You have good taste,
Commander,” he said as though he found it common for Star Commanders who passed
through his shop to have their concubines in tow. “This collar comes with other
accouterments,” he said, shooting Shedir a sly glance.

After making his purchases, they headed to
Makeovers by Leander—a popular grooming salon—Shedir’s bank balance
considerably shrunken. Justifiably so, he decided when he pictured Doreen
adorned only with the collar, matching wrist and ankle cuffs and the glittering
diamond studs he had impulsively bought for her ears and her right nostril.
Marks of his possession. His dominance.

At the old-fashioned barber pole above
Leander’s shop, Doreen paused. Shedir turned. Her eyes focused on the image in
the window, of a Master shearing away his slave’s hair, which would then be
used to fashion a flogger. “I wish you would take my hair that way,” she said,
her voice small as though it pained her to speak.

He wished he didn’t have to remind her that
their relationship would not be what she so obviously wanted. “If I had your
head shaved except for the part used for your flogger braid, it would be grown
to an impressive length by the time I come to you to stay. It would be as long
as a full-size whip.” He smiled and wished the sad expression would leave her
dark, expressive eyes. “It is better to wait, as I have no desire to hurt you,
only to enhance your pleasure with pain.”

“Yes, Master.” Eyes downcast, Doreen fell
in step behind him as they entered Leander’s shop, but it was clear she wanted
to flaunt the symbols of submission. Of being his loving and beloved slave.

Shedir couldn’t bear to tell her no. By her
every act of submission she commanded him to do her bidding. To please her as
much as she pleasured him. No harm would come from allowing her what, to her,
must seem the ultimate symbol of commitment. “I want you to weld this collar
and wristbands on my submissive.” He paused for a moment, considering the
implication of his next words to the pretty young attendant. Then, because he
couldn’t disappoint Doreen, he continued. “Also, pierce her ears and nostril to
accommodate my other gifts. And prepare her for a ritual mating.”

The attendant smiled. “Yes, Commander. May
I have at least two hours with your slave?”

“You may. I will occupy myself by having
Leander take care of my own preparations.” Although he usually went no further
than having his skull waxed and polished, Shedir decided that today he would
endure a full-body waxing and allow the barber to polish his skin to a fine
sheen. Because he thought Doreen would like it, he would also switch out the
jewelry in his genital piercings, choosing larger and thicker pieces, possibly
even studded with a few smooth, precious stones to enhance sensation—his as well
as hers.

As he lay back on Leander’s chair and
closed his eyes, he found himself looking forward not only to his mating but to
the coming sensations—the heat of the wax drying on his body, the painstaking
and painful removal of every hair from his skull to his toes. “Leander, when
you are finished with the waxing, I want you to apply your special lotion that
retards new growth,” he said quietly, hoping no one was listening—for Earthling
males generally prided themselves on needing frequent depilation.

When he came together with his slave, he
wanted nothing between them to dull the feelings. Nothing but naked skin on
naked skin. “Tell your assistant to use the lotion on my slave, as well.”

Chapter Four

Two hours later, Doreen stood before Shedir
inside the transporter as he set a direct course for Luna Ten. Her gaze locked
with his. She shed her robe and veil as he removed his uniform. Her skin
gleamed like pale ivory, so much more delicate than his own burnished body. He
yearned to use his hands to stroke every satiny surface of her body yet
disciplined himself to wait, feast his other senses on her ethereal beauty
before devouring her.

“I like the way your new jewelry matches
mine,” she said, her gaze on the new, thicker ring with an emerald-studded captive
bead that winked out from his slit while faceted diamonds sparkled from each of
the heavier, thicker barbells in his frenum ladder.

“So do I.” His collar and cuffs sparkled
around her throat, her wrists, and her slender ankles, their clasps welded shut,
marking her as his concubine—his personal property. Her skull gleamed in the
dim light, pale and bare like his but for the golden flogger at her crown,
whose stiffened braided tendrils beckoned his fingers, his tongue. At their
mating, he’d take that, too, and use it for her discipline and her pleasure.

If there was going to be a mating, which
there was not. Not now or for a long time. Not until he achieved all he wanted,
all he had dreamed of since he was a fledgling starfighter pilot clawing his
way up through the Federation’s hierarchy. Only then would he be able to walk
away into exile, into the arms of the woman he adored.

Trying to put all this into perspective,
Shedir moved closer to Doreen and grasped his cock, wincing a little when he
squeezed the flesh Leander had stretched earlier that day to accommodate his
new, heavier jewelry. “Kneel,
houri
,” he told Doreen, “and pay me homage
while I give you your new baubles.”

When she began to stroke his cock and balls
with gentle fingers, he fastened the three diamond studs he’d bought into the
new piercings in her ears and nostril. “Suck me,” he ordered softly, pleased
when she immediately took the head of his cock in her mouth and ran her slick,
velvety tongue along the sensitive tip, catching the ring and rotating it
through his flesh.

He fantasized that, if they mated, her
tongue stud would feel like velvet and steel, its round, metal surface pressing
into his flesh, tugging at his cock jewelry and enhancing his pleasure. His
tongue would be studded, too, to bring her greater pleasure when he licked her
nipples, her cunt. Mated for life, their mutual responsibilities would be to
feed each other’s lust.