Chapter One

 

It is the mother of all wet dreams.

A girl -- an incredibly beautiful girl with long shapely legs, a thin waist, amazing tits, and a great mane of silver-blond hair -- is worshipping his manhood, alternately sucking, licking, and masticating the most sensitive parts of his genitalia in a sublime act of sexual pleasure. It's not all pleasure, there's an occasional spike of pain as she works, but it all comes together in something insanely rapturous. He desperately wants to come, but the lover in his dreams, his nocturnal paramour, wants more and she is devilishly clever, taking him to the edge then pulling back before the crescendo can occur. The ever-so-sweet agony of her succor is driving him mad.

Suddenly, she sits up in the bed and turns her back to him, throwing her leg over his head. Before he can reason out her purpose, she has straddled him, saddling his face with her wet cunt lips. The feel of her heat, the animal smell of her hunger, and her wetness make his dream mind question whether this is a figment of his hyper-sexed imagination or real...

What difference does it make, he thinks, as she swallows his member, burying her nose in his scrotum, her body jerking with an autonomic need for air. She convulses again then again, denying herself lifesaving breaths in her all-consuming desire to please him. She pulls back, her lips grasping tightly at his penis as if protesting his leaving...already missing him. A seconds later, she devours him again as if they had been apart for years.

This is no dream!

The realization washes over him while his tongue is pushing its way between her labial lips, searching for her clitoris. He feels the tiny hard member and licks and sucks until she is trembling atop his body then he shifts to her asshole and reams it out. The action sends her into a paroxysm of shuddering muscle and flesh, into an animal-like seizure. Her mouth discovers his balls, and she consumes them with a fury, squeezing, trying to suck out their essence.

He can't think any longer; his only purpose, the reason he exists is at hand. He must complete this copulation. It is impossible to deny himself this ecstasy. He lets go of all resistance of all inhibition, reveling in the pleasure of her oral fixations and her pharyngeal talents. Frantically, he wraps his strong arms around her hips, gripping her ass cheeks hard with his hands, and savagely pulls her vulva hard into his mouth. Moments later, they come together in a furious cacophony of sexual release that leaves them totally drained, oblivious to the world and all its second-place stimulations.

He emerges from his sexual trance first. The aftermath of their union has left him weak, stunned with its violent trauma. He can feel her body moving -- her head is between his legs, her tits and nipples are pressing on his stomach, her ass is in his hands -- she is still aroused, still ready to go again, to suck out any remaining semen.

I've lost control...

The realization that she has taken charge, that she has set their sexual agenda hits him like a rock. It's my fault, mine not hers, he thinks, dismayed. Leaving a hyper-sexualized kajira in your bed unchained is like asking a wild animal to be nice. Sex drives her now, sex and the need to please. After three years on Xor, Cassie no longer thinks like a Twenty-First Century woman; she thinks like a kajira. He is responsible, unfortunately, she is the one who must pay the price for his error.

It's important that he discipline her for her for the offense of taking the initiative, for her lack of discipline. Adopting a sixty-nine position without a master's explicit permission is a serious offense for a kajira; it is an expression of disobedience, disrespect, and to some degree, rebellion. In the back of every kajira's mind is a spark of defiance; it's what makes them so spirited and so wild.

It's a hard thing to do, to repay such extraordinary adoration, such pleasure with so much pain, but he knows that he has no choice. Every day now, Cassie is becoming more extreme. The sex, the pain, the bondage, the humiliation that satisfied her a year ago, two years ago, is no longer adequate.

That satisfied her...

That's a self-serving lie. He has been subject to the same creeping incrementalism; his responsibility to care for her has been the only thing that held him back, but even with this duty, he has been slipping. He felt a wave of panic and wondered what their end-game would be like. It was a vicious cycle for which he could not see any solution, any was to retreat for either of them. They were caught in an addiction of sexual need that was so great they could never break out on their own, especially amid Xor's uncompromising rules of submission and dominance.

Something had to give. He didn't know what or how, but he knew they were on borrowed time. In the meantime, he had to do all he could to delay the inevitable.

 

***

 

Two months later...

Transcribed recording of session with Cassandra M. Copeland

Larkspur, Marin County, the office of Dr, Jane Thornton, psychiatrist

 

Cassie:

"It's dark and my muscles ache.

"He has me sit still -- naked and blindfolded, on the floor, sitting back on my heels -- and I'm getting off on it. I know he's watching me from the couch, I can hear the soft leather creaking as he moves. I'm sure his eyes are roaming over my body, that he's fucking me in his mind, moving from one hole to another, searching for the ultimate thrill. The thought that I'm on display and helpless to stop him excites me, it always has.

"And he's not rushing it, which is a good sign. He's savoring my fear, getting off on it as any man any predator would...as any master should. 'Savor the feelings,' it's a favorite saying on Xor; eagerness is not admired in a master.

"I move my shoulders to relieve the pain but truthfully, also to animate my firm tits. I have a thin body, but men find it sexy, arousing, especially when it's in motion. I could see it when I was stripping in Vegas...their eyes got...bright. I can feel the tight ropes just above my elbows, they are holding my arms behind my back. He has done an excellent job with them -- my elbows are bent so that my wrists are locked in the small of my back to a double-loop waist rope. It hurts, but the pain just forces me to remember that I'm helpless, which feels, well, thrilling.

"I moan a little but hear only a muted sigh. He has tied the ball gag so far back in my mouth that it's pressing against my uvula. The tightness is another good sign. None of the others bothered with the details; they were rough but sloppy, more like sadistic schoolboys than masters. Not one of them took the time to make it feel...real...for me.

"But this one is different. I can feel my excitement growing -- the familiar mix of terror and thrill, the awful anticipation of the pain to come, the barely-controlled panicked realization that there's nothing I can do to prevent it, the glorious prospect of a pain-induced orgasm.

"Have you ever felt it, Jane?

"I'm not sure I have either, I just know it's there...a kind of hyper-orgasm, a super-orgasm that leaves you numb, stunned, and breathless. I want it, more than anything, I want to feel what it's like, but I'm scared of it all the same. I just know it is the most exquisite pleasure a human being can experience. I'm wet just from the thought of it, and I open my legs so he can see my cunt, so he can appreciate the effect he's having.

"A tremor shakes me. This is it; I think! This is what I've been trying to find all these months.

The creaking leather tells me he's standing, moving towards me. I shudder as I sense him looming. He's naked and his penis is rock hard, throbbing. I can feel the air between us vibrating; I can feel the blistering heat coming off his body.

"I appreciate him holding back, savoring the moment. My mind travels back to Xor and...and to Eric standing over me with his cane. The image of him in my mind is so powerful I nearly pass out. The gag; he's removing the gag. Desperately, irrationally, I hope he has a whip or a cane in his hand, even a belt nearby.

"T think...I'm going to need the pain, master, to please you...to come the way a grateful kajira comes. I can feel my heart pounding in my ears. The gag is off...and...and..."

Dr. Thornton:

"Are you okay, Cassie? Are you okay to finish this...?"

Cassie:

"That's what he said, Jane, those exact words. Are you okay...?"

"My heart stopped. I wonder if I heard him right -- Are you okay...? -- why would he ask me that at this moment? Did I hear him right? I reset my thoughts, desperately trying to salvage the moment.

"'I'm okay, Master,' I whisper, but I'm sure he can hear the disappointment in my voice. 'I'm okay with anything you want...I want to please you.'

"I CAN'T BE ANY CLEARER! Don't say anything, I think. Please...please don't say anything. JUST DO IT! Whip me, fuck me, whatever you like, anything, just please...be my master...just be my...then he spoke again.

"'I like it when you call me master,' he said casually. 'It makes this feal real. Let me know if I'm hurting you, though, and I'll stop.'

[Recording is silent for 30 seconds. Transcriber.]

"Do you see how he's ruined it? How he has declared that this is just a game, a bondage game, a fantasy. It's what weak men say to cover their ass, to step back from what they feel.

"The sexual excitement the thrill, the fear flow out of me like air from a balloon. I suck his cock mechanically and he comes, but the magic is gone. The urgency a kajira feels to please her master is gone. I don't have an orgasm, even a petite orgasme, which is what we on Xor called the minor shuddering. The connection between him and me is gone; he has destroyed it.

"We both know that something has changed as I dress. I leave him with a quick peck on the cheek and the vague promise of, "I'll call you," feeling like a dirty whore. I stand by the elevator debating which button to press -- down to the lobby or up to the roof deck.

[Recording is silent for 25 seconds. Transcriber.]

"There's an unsafe safety-rail up there; all the disappointment of the last few weeks...all my frustration could be over in a few seconds.

"My hand moves toward the up button but presses the down -- COWARD, I think!

"I don't have the strength for more disappointment tonight, I tell myself...maybe tomorrow."

Dr. Thornton:

"That's enough for today, Cassie. We'll start again tomorrow, okay?"

Cassie:

"Sure."

 

***

 

"Were you happy with Eric, Cassie? Dr. Thornton asked.

Cassie's hands were in her lap, resting on her thighs, palms up -- a not so subtle reminder of the nadu position, of Xor...of Eric. She had been happy there, she thinks.

Happy...? Had she been happy, she Wondered?

No.

"Happy" was clearly the wrong word. She had never been "happy" on Xor, nor had she ever been content, satisfied, or pleased. She had never found her niche there, never thought the people were nice, or the accommodations were comfortable. These were the weasel-words that people in the world used to make the things they hated seem tolerable. On Xor, she was either terribly distressed or deliriously ecstatic, either in awful pain or in the throes of exquisite pleasure, either bound or free...and truly enjoying her freedom, either...

Extremes...!

That was what was different about Xor. Life there was all about extremes; life in the world was all about compromises and half-truths.

"I didn't exist as another person when we were together," she said aloud, softly. "I was a part of him, like an arm or a leg...a hand maybe.

Her answer was almost inaudible, but Jane didn't ask her to speak up. A $750-an-hour psychiatrist has skills, she thought, and one of them was knowing when to shut up. It had taken her weeks to get Cassie to open-up and start talking. She wasn't going to interrupt her now.

Cassie paused as if remembering an important detail about her relationship with Eric then she began to nod her head. Jane made a note about her somnolent affect, her disconnection, it was getting worse.

"He...he...Eric controlled me with his mind. That was it! That was exactly what it was like with him."

She was nervously twirling the hem of her skirt between her fingers. Suddenly, she reached out and lifted the hot coffee cup without using the handle.

"Careful, Cassie, you'll burn yourself!"

"You see what I just did, Jane? I gave my arm an order and it picked up this hot cup even though it burns my fingers, even though it hurts. My arm didn't hesitate or argue, it didn't resist or stage a slowdown. This was what it was like between Eric and me. He gave the orders, and I obeyed them. After a while, he didn't even need to give them out loud, I just knew what he wanted, and I did it."

"You never pushed back...?" Jane asked, anxious to keep her talking...communicating. Her fear now was a total shutdown.

Cassie put the cup down and stared at her. The expression on her face was annoyance, anger almost.

"Your just not getting it, Jane," she said quietly, clearly agitated but trying to maintain control of herself.

"There was no pushback on Xor, no thoughtful evaluation of what he wanted and how I should respond. I didn't process his orders in my head and conclude that I should obey them. I was a kajira. By this time, my obedience was an involuntary reflex, something I did automatically without conscious thought. Can you understand that?"

She stared at her as if expecting her to challenge the explanation, but Jane stayed quiet and expressionless.

Cassie retreated, "It's hard to explain this to someone who has never gone through it. I know you're smart, Jane. I know you have all the right degrees and such, but this is something you need to experience to understand."

"Don't focus on me, Cassie, on what I understand or what I've done. Keep this about you. Just assume I understand what you felt, what anyone would feel."

"Do you, really, Jane? It's important to me that you understand what it was like. I'm not crazy, it was Xor. Xor is the reason I am...like I am now...Xor not me."

Cassie looked down then up and stared directly into her eyes.

"I need you to understand, Jane. IT's important to me."

It was almost an apology, a desperate last gasp for someone else to appreciate what she was going through.

"I do, Cassie. I do understand, but it's more important right now that I know what is going on in your mind. Our job here is to get you right...with yourself. What happened on, ah, Xor is not that important. It's in the past. We need to think about the present and the future...your present and your future."

Cassie looked up at her wild-eyed and frustrated. She didn't agree that her understanding didn't matter. She needed her to understand that Xor did matter, that it was all that mattered. She began to speak softly in a flat clinical voice.

"If he wanted me to kiss him, Jane, I kissed him with my mouth open and my tongue flirting with his. If he wanted me to strip naked, I rushed to take off my clothes and stand straight in front of him. I waited like that while he fucked me with his eyes for as long as he wanted. There was no 'me' in this equation, it was all 'him.'

"If he wanted me to suck his cock, or lick his balls, or ream his asshole, I did it. I did it with gratitude as if he was doing something for me. When he felt like putting his cock into a tighter hole, I bent over so my asshole would open and be within his easy reach. If he wanted to use my vagina, I lay back and eagerly spread my legs for him; I squeezed so hard to make it pleasurable for him I thought I was going burst a blood vessel."

She paused again, remembering, then rushed on.

"I literally trembled at his touch. I shuddered all over. It wasn't a conscious or voluntary reaction. I couldn't help it, the feel of his bare hand on my skin drove me crazy. I dreamed of him fondling me when I was asleep, and I thought about it all day long when I was awake.

"If he sucked on my nipples or nipped them with his teeth, I would have a minor orgasm. Those rare times when he went down on me were like I was in heaven; I had epiphanies and felt like I knew God in those moments. The orgasms that followed, all the orgasms he caused, were so long and sweet. Sometimes, it took me several minutes to regain control, to get back into my right mind."

Jane felt uncomfortable with the directness of Cassie's description, but she suppressed the any expression of her feelings including the urge to squirm. The girl had been in a near-catatonic state for weeks. This was the first time she had revealed any details. It was a breakthrough.

Of course, she felt the power of her words. The salacious impact of her monologue had, well, aroused her, but she hid it by keeping her eyes on her notepad. She didn't have time for sex, except vicariously through her patients. Anyway, the little she had had was, well, ordinary, nothing like what Cassie had just described, not even close.

"Are you beginning to understand now, Jane?"

Jane cleared her throat and said something she hoped would keep her talking.

"Those are all sexual references, Cassie. Maybe you, ah, maybe you were just aroused, and this, ah, this arousal made you a little crazy. It's understandable. Could that be it? What do you think? Could I be right...?"

Cassie didn't bother to answer. She just continued almost as if she was alone talking to herself.

"You have no fucking idea, Jane," she said dreamily. "Sometimes, he would lock me in this thing they called the kajira-stand. He said it was because I had offended him or didn't perform up to his expectations. Sometimes, he didn't give me a reason for the punishment. Let me tell you what that was like so you can appreciate what loving him meant.

"The kajira-stand was a metal stock, like a coat rack, which held the kajira in an upright position with her arms and legs spread apart, splayed open like a butterfly in a tray."

Jane could see that Cassie was using the gruesome details to make her point. She let her continue.

"The stand a horizontal bar halfway up that pushed your middle out so that your cunt or your ass stuck out. They were better targets that way...for his whip."

Jane had been taking notes, but she stopped writing at the mention of a whip. She didn't look up or move a muscle, but the sound of a pen scratching the paper stopped.

"I couldn't scream, I couldn't even beg him to stop because the kajira-stand had a metal tongue and dildo-gag that held my head back and kept me quiet."

She hesitated again, shaken by the power of her memories.

"I can still feel the fucking dildo in my mouth sometimes..."

She paused again and Jane thought she was finished, but she wasn't.

"When...my...skin was cherry red and every muscle in my body was trembling with pain, Eric would switch to the crop. It allowed him to direct the pain more precisely. This was when he would target my clitoris or my nipples, sometimes my underarms. The pain was...

"...Has anyone ever cropped your underarms, Jane?"

Jane looked up and blinked then stared at her without answering. Again, she kept her expression neutral. It was important that the patient not feel as if she was being judged...that anyone in her story was being judged. This was the hard part. She felt nothing but revulsion for Eric, her abuser...and, if she was truthful, for Cassie as well for allowing it, but she didn't reveal either.

Cassie smiled, happy that she was finally getting through, finally stirring some feeling in her psychiatrist.

"No, No one has ever done that to me..."

I wouldn't allow it. I'm not a submissive, a fuckling masochist like you, she thought.