Surrendered

  Gently but firmly, she inserted the tip of one gloved finger into his entrance.

  The muscle in his jaw clenched again and he bucked against her hand and gave a muffled noise of protest.

  “It’s all right,” Neh’sa murmured soothingly. She continued to stroke his shaft with her left hand while she held the right one still, with just the tip of her finger within him. “It’s all right—that’s just me inside you. Not very far but you’ve loosened up enough to let me in. That’s very, very good.”

  “Uh…I guess so,” Thorn muttered uncertainly. “How…” He cleared his throat. “How long are you going to, uh, touch me like this, Mistress?”

  “Why do you ask? Does it feel bad?” Neh’sa inquired.

  “Not…exactly,” he admitted in a strained voice. “Feels strange but it doesn’t hurt.”

  “There’s something I’d like to show you,” Neh’sa told him, pressing her finger just a little further into his tight entrance. “A spot inside you that’s going to feel very, very good when I touch it. But I have to go deeper to find it—can you let me do that, Thorn?” She kissed his cheek gently. “Can you give up enough control to let me make you feel good?”

  For a moment he closed his eyes and simply breathed, his broad chest heaving with emotion. Clearly he was gathering himself—trying to decide what answer to give.

  Neh’sa waited patiently—this part of his training absolutely could not be rushed. She’d broken many new body-slaves to the act of penetration before and it was never easy—especially not with Alphas who always felt they ought to be the ones doing the penetrating. If Thorn denied her further entrance she would withdraw and they would try again another time.

  But she hoped he wouldn’t deny her. She wanted to see the uncertainty on his face change to pleasure as she brought him to the peak—wanted to watch him shoot his cum as she stroked him from both inside and out and he gave up his control to her at last.

  At last, he nodded.

  “All right,” he said, his deep voice hoarse. “I can stand it—I can take anything you can dish out.”

  “I don’t want you to just ‘take it’—I don’t want to torture you,” Neh’sa told him. “I want you to give yourself willingly. Can you do that, Thorn?”

  “If…” He took a deep breath. “I think I can if you keep stroking me.” He nodded down at her gloved left hand which was still caressing the rigid length of his cock. “It helps somehow, I don’t know why.”

  “It’s a more familiar sensation—a more familiar pleasure than the one I’m about to give you,” Neh’sa told him. She sped up her tempo and at the same time, allowed her gloved finger to sink deeper into his hot tightness.

  Thorn shifted uncomfortably but didn’t try to pull away as she slipped further and further inside him.

  “Mistress…” he began and then Neh’sa found the spot she’d been searching for and his words were cut off with a low groan.

  “There,” she murmured in his ear, still stroking his cock with her other hand. “Right there is the spot I told you about.” She pressed hard, massaging it, rubbing it just the way she knew would stimulate him almost unbearably.

  “Gods!” he groaned, thrusting into her fist as she continued to milk him. “That’s…I’ve never felt anything like that! I think…think I’m going to…”

  “Come?” Neh’sa breathed in his ear. “That’s good, Thorn—that’s what I want. I want to watch you come while I stroke you—while I open you. Come for me now.”

  As she spoke, she tightened her grip on his cock and rubbed extra hard on the special spot inside him—the gland that helped produce his seed.

  With a low, hoarse shout, Thorn jerked in her fist and began to come. Neh’sa watched in satisfaction as his hips jerked and rope after rope of thick, white seed splattered across the black leather mat of the training room floor. Either Thorn hadn’t had a physical release in a while or Kindred were heavy producers. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d milked so much seed out of a submissive. It was damned sexy.

  Of course, she was usually standing back, giving the orders to have another do the milking. The fact that she was doing this to Thorn herself—allowing herself to get so close to him—made the whole act even more erotic. Neh’sa felt the high of giving pleasure as he spasmed in her grasp and loved it, just as she had used to with Heloth.

  At last he finished and sagged, going limp in his chains, his broad chest heaving.

  “Gods,” he muttered. “Can’t…can’t believe I just let you do that.”

  Neh’sa withdrew her finger and stripped off the black leather gloves, tossing them into a wash-bin. Coming around to face him again, she looked into his eyes.

  “Now,” she whispered softly. “Was that so bad? Was it torture like you thought it would be?”

  “No.” His mismatched eyes were wide and wondering and for the first time since she’d seen him, Neh’sa saw that the brilliant sparks in their depths were almost completely still. “No, it…it wasn’t bad at all. It actually felt fucking incredible.”

  “I’m glad you thought so.” Neh’sa smiled at him. “I’m so proud of you, Thorn. You gave yourself to me beautifully. For just a minute, you gave up some of that control that’s so important to you. Thank you for that.”

  “You’re welcome, Mistress,” he breathed. “I…I don’t think I could have given control to anyone else. I’ve never met anyone like you.”

  “Oh, Thorn…”

  His words—so open and unrehearsed—touched her to the core. Impulsively, Neh’sa slanted her lips over his and drew him in for a kiss—a much deeper one than the light, barely-there brush of lips to lips she’d done last time.

  Thorn surprised her by kissing her back hungrily. Though his arms were still above his head, he surged forward, invading her mouth with his tongue, taking her lips and learning her mouth as though he owned her instead of the other way around.

  The ravenous intensity of the kiss shocked Neh’sa and for a moment, she felt herself giving in to it—allowing Thorn to plunder her mouth and dominate the action between them in a way that shouldn’t have been possible after the way he’d submitted just moments before. He ought to be all wrung out—his cock as limp as a week-old stalk of jentha grass after the way she’d milked him. Instead she could feel his shaft surge to fresh life, pressing insistently against her inner thighs as he tried his best to claim her with only the power of a kiss.

  Then she got hold of herself.

  What are you doing, Neh’sa? You can’t allow this to continue. His Alpha tendencies are coming out again and you have to get a handle on them. He’s got such strong dominate instincts it will be impossible to keep him in check if you don’t get control of yourself and him right now.

  Reluctantly, she withdrew from the kiss and told herself it couldn’t happen again. Such deep physical intimacy led to emotional intimacy which she could ill afford. She couldn’t let herself become attached to the big Kindred—not if she hoped to be able to sell him and stand at his Devotion Ceremony to another Mistress with anything approaching clarity and calm.

  But just the thought of that—the thought of watching Thorn kiss another woman’s panties and vow his eternal love and devotion to her—made Neh’sa’s stomach clench unhappily. The idea of him with someone else was unpleasant—deeply unpleasant—which told her she needed to back away right now before she started getting too attached.

  Of course, she would give him some aftercare—that was important, especially after what was essentially his first submission. But she couldn’t let herself become emotionally involved in it.

  “All right,” she said briskly, stepping back. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Training is over for now.”

  Chapter Eight

  As she unchained him, Thorn still felt dazed from the incredible orgasm she’d drawn from him. His new Mistress was amazingly skilled—there was no doubt about that.

  He still couldn’t believe how easily he’d submitted to her. Well—it had
n’t been easy at first of course—but after he’d made up his mind to try and be open to what she wanted from him, the whole situation seemed to become much simpler. And then when she started stroking that spot inside him…

  “I said, are you all right, Thorn?” Neh’sa’s soft voice cut through the confusion in his head and he looked up to see that she was staring at him anxiously.

  “Uh…yes. Thank you, Mistress. Just fine,” he muttered as she unchained his hands and ankles. She did leave the non-contact bracelets on him but Thorn hardly noticed. He felt strangely dazed—not quite himself.

  Inside his head, he kept reliving the scene that had just played out between them.

  I gave it up for her—gave up control, he admitted to himself. He’d been afraid if he loosed the iron grip he had on himself, even for an instant, the fire inside him might blaze up. Instead, for the first time since she’d touched him at the slave auction, he felt completely at peace—the fire banked and quiet—at least for now. Was that due to the earth-shattering orgasm she’d given him? Or was it simply the by-product of letting someone else have total control of his body for a while?

  Thorn had no answers and his brain still felt fuzzy. He allowed Neh’sa to get him dressed in a long pair of black silk sleep trousers and drank the electrolyte replenishment shake she insisted he needed. Through it all, he felt like he was sleepwalking—like he wasn’t fully awake somehow. The sensation should have bothered him but for some reason it didn’t.

  What’s wrong with me? he thought woozily. I’m behaving like a drunk idiot—not a member of the Espionage Corps. No one would guess I’ve been on over forty successful missions the way I’m acting.

  But still the sensation persisted. He responded to Neh’sa’s questions and allowed her to lead him into her private sitting area to relax on a large, comfortable couch in front of a blue and green thistle-flame fire, but still he didn’t feel quite himself.

  “Thorn,” she said to him, frowning. “Are you certain you’re all right? You’re very quiet.”

  “Fine, Mistress,” he replied, making an effort to rouse himself. “I feel…fine.”

  Neh’sa was still frowning. “I just—”

  Just then the mechanical voice of the house information system came over the speaker in her room.

  “Mistress Neh’sanna, you have an urgent call on the vid-screen.”

  “A call from whom?” Neh’sa snapped. “I really don’t have time for any of Lady Wraith’neck’s nonsense. So if it’s her barrister, let her know—”

  “It is from M,” the information system informed her.

  Neh’sa’s face paled. “M? But why would he be calling? It’s not my night for duty.”

  “I only know that he says he needs urgently to speak to you. Will you take the call?” the system inquired blandly.

  Neh’sa sighed and ran a hand through her hair.

  “Yes, all right. I’ll take it on the vid-screen in my bedchamber.”

  “Understood,” The information system said. “Routing the call now.”

  It cut out and Neh’sa jumped up, looking more agitated than Thorn had yet seen her, and went quickly into the bedchamber.

  Curiosity cut through some of the strange, drugged sluggishness Thorn was feeling. He stood and made his way to the door that connected the sitting room to Neh’sa’s bedchamber.

  Putting his eye to the crack in the door, just as he had earlier at her office, he saw Neh’sa—her robe now tightly and modestly belted—looking into the flat, rectangular vid-screen mounted on her wall. There was a male in his mid thirties with long black hair and pale amber eyes looking back at her.

  “…really can’t come tonight,” Neh’sa was saying to him. “Can’t this wait?”

  “I am afraid not, Mistress Neh’sanna.” The male frowned. “This is a grave injury—I fear without your touch I will not be able to heal it.”

  Neh’sa bit her lip. “Of course I want to help but I’ve already used my touch several times today and I fear—”

  “It’s a child,” the male told her. “Barely eight cycles old. Please, my Lady.”

  “All right.” Neh’sa nodded. “Of course I’ll come.”

  “The faster the better. I fear he’s slipping away even now.”

  “I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Neh’sa promised.

  The vid-screen clicked off and she ran quickly to her walk-in closet, shedding her robe along the way.

  Thorn frowned at what he’d seen. Where was she going? What was all the talk of her “touch”? And who was the male who had compelled her to come to him?

  This was the kind of puzzle he was normally used to solving. If his head hadn’t been so fuzzy he felt certain he would have known at once what was going on. As it was, he was barely able to make himself go back to the couch before Neh’sa emerged from the bedchamber, dressed in a somber dark-gray cloak with a hood that nearly hid her face.

  “I have to go out, Thorn,” she told him. “I’m sorry—I don’t like leaving you alone on your first night with me but this is an emergency.”

  “It’s all right, Mistress,” he heard himself say dully. “But…where are you going?”

  “No place you need to know about,” she said briskly. “Now listen—your room is the smaller one adjoining my bedchamber. You’ll find a sleeping platform and a closet stocked with clothing in your size. Well—we’ll get it stocked tomorrow, anyway. I think it’s best you go straight to bed and get some sleep. You’ve had a very tiring day.”

  Thorn frowned at her, feeling irritated.

  “I’m fine, Mistress,” he growled although to be honest, he still felt off somehow. “I’ve done everything you asked. Are you really going to send me to bed early like a naughty child?”

  Neh’sa looked taken aback.

  “No—no of course not,” she said, frowning. “I only meant—” She shook her head. “Look, I’m sorry Thorn. You may, of course, have the run of the domicile. The only room off limits is my office. I’ll be back in a few hours—I hope.”

  Then, before he could ask anymore questions, she was gone.

  * * * * *

  Neh’sa rode down her private lift, her mind full of questions and concerns. She hadn’t liked leaving Thorn alone after his first submission. Such things could be traumatic, after all. But when Matmon called, she had no choice – she had to go.

  Her private lift took her all the way down to the bottom floor and opened onto the outside of her building rather than the inside. Neh’sa drew her cloak around her tightly, shielding her face, and walked briskly down the main street. Soon enough she turned into a small side street and then an even smaller alleyway.

  A crumbling brick wall shielded the entrance to her destination. This was the main reason she chose to live in downtown Opulex – because it was so close to this place which was like an extension of her heart.

  The minute she walked around the wall and rapped her knuckles on the sagging wooden door, she felt her heart left a little as it always did when she came here. The door creaked open and she was at once enveloped in controlled chaos.

  The front of the building, which was an empty dream gas warehouse that had been repurposed, was like a makeshift waiting room. It was filled with long wooden benches where rows and rows of injured males sat waiting for treatment. Some of them were body-slaves and some were simply down and out males with no one to care for them. But though they had no Mistresses and no way of knowing where their next meal was going to come from half the time, they were still envied by some of the males who were owned.

  “So I told her, I said to her, my Lady I can’t take no more of those pain bracelets. Not if you want me to be able to carry your fine Fruckian plates without dropping ‘em all over the place,” Neh’sa heard one male telling another as they waited for their turn to be seen. “And what does she do? She shocks me again! Now I can’t feel any of my fingers – it’s like I’m wearing gloves all the time. I’m just hoping they can help me out a little bit—I keep dr
opping things and my Lady is getting very angry with me.”

  “Even though she’s the one as did it to you,” the other male said sympathetically. Mistresses are cruel bitches, make no mistake about that.”

  “You said it brother!” The other man said. At that point both men seem to notice Neh’sa walking through the waiting area. They gave her unfriendly glances from the corners of their eyes and one of them muttered to the other, “What’s she doing here? I thought this was an all-male safe space.”

  “This is the lady who pays for this place and all your treatment,” a deep male voice spoke up. “You’d best pay respect and be glad she cares for your wretched hides.” It was Matmon striding towards her and Neh’sa was concerned to see blood splattered across the front of his pale blue smock.

  “Oh Matmon,” she exclaimed. “Please tell me I’m not too late! I came as quickly as I could.”

  “No I think you may be just in time if we hurry,” the large male told her. “But it’s going to be touch and go. Come on!”

  Neh’sa followed him through the swinging double doors that led to the back part of the clinic. Here there were several spaces devoted to triage where other med techs, mostly trained by Matmon, treated patients of all ages. But there was one thing both patients and techs all had in common – they were all male.

  She had founded the clinic soon after Heloth had died in the male-uprising riots ten cycles ago. A safe space for mistreated males, of which there were many here on Yonnie Six. It was her tribute to him – a lasting legacy of their love – and Neh’sa tried to spend at least two or three evenings a week here helping Matmon out with the more difficult and dangerous injuries.

  Not that she had any medical training – other than a few first-aid courses. But she had the healing touch, something that was passed from mother to daughter in her family. It was limited in her, as was her empathic ability.

  Her mother had had a much greater gift – she had been able to read a whole range of emotions and heal a whole range of injuries with ease. Neh’sa could only feel pain and do her best to heal it.