Sit? Sit! Panicking, I look around briefly for the place that makes the most sense. Unfortunately, my flustered brain decides that right where I stand is the best option, and plop right down on my sore knees, thankful for the soft rug beneath me. For a few moments, he continues to watch the television. He appears to be okay with my placement, momentarily. But then, he turns to me. I avoid eye contact by staring forward at a button on the sofa cushion. This displeases him greatly.
His chisled jaw moves along with the gritting of his teeth, as he scowls. My heart sinks further down into my gut, with every pulse of hot blood through the protruding vein in his neck. What in the celestial stars is going through his mind right now? As if hearing the question in my thoughts, a deep sigh leaves his lips in reply. He leans forward, bending down to meet my gaze, and we lock eyes with our faces only an inch apart. The ice in his eyes has been replaced by fire.
"We could have done this the easy way.", he says, as his hands slip under my thighs.
Swooping me up onto his lap, so fast that I have to wrap my arms around his neck to prevent myself from falling backwards, I make no secret of my shock. Now straddling him, I can feel my face growing hot and tingly. Everything within me is screaming about the improperness of the position of our bodies in relation to each other. We shouldn't be this close, shouldn't be touching this much. Everything about this is all wrong!
"Much better.", he says, leaning back into the sofa, and returning his attention to the television.
What do I do? It's not like I can just get up and leave. I just have to wait it out. Coming to my senses, I release the death grip I had used to cling to him, as he lifted me up, and I stiffen my body to reduce as many contact points between us as I can. The voices on the television are talking about some events in far away places, about the weather, and occasionally, about how much better some products are than others. And then, I feel something familiar begin to poke at my thigh.
The growing pressure makes me a bit uncomfortable, and I shift my weight slightly. At that moment, my master takes his right hand and gently places it on my left knee. In my heart, I know that I should not enjoy this feeling, but his warm touch on my cold skin is nice. It's enough to give me chills, but I'm so nervous and anxious all at the same time. I don't want to enjoy the feeling of him touching me. I just can't stop the goosebumps from spreading over my body.
His left hand soon follows suit and begins to caress my other knee. Then both hands simultaneously make their way slowly up both my thighs. I grab onto his shoulders, looking straight at the wall. What is happening to me? I'm terrified, but my body has taken on a mind of it's own, reacting to his touch with involuntary responses. His thumbs begin to caress my panty line and it tickles, but it doesn't feel as bad as I thought it would. It's quite a pleasant sensation, actually, and makes my heart flutter.
Slipping his hands under the skirt of my dress, he grabs my hips, and shifts my position on his lap. All of a sudden, I feel an intense burst of sensation between my legs. The hard lump in his pants is now nuzzled, right beneath my sensitive spot. A surge of warmth fizzles through my legs, then I feel it twitch beneath me, and I squirm in response. A wave of heat and steam fills my head, as I gasp and fight the urge to let my head fall back with the dizzying haze, overtaking me.
"Guess I found it.", he says, turning his eyes from the television to me.
His hands start creeping, slowly higher up my waist, but my mind is more focused on the hard, pulsating lump underneath me. I'm so tempted to just let go of my inhibitions and embrace all the sensations threatening to cloud my judgement. Then, the tips of his fingers brush the underside of my breasts, tracing the wire of my bra. Shocked, I snap back into my right state of mind, and jerk my arms up to my chest, covering them tightly with my hands.
From the look on his face, my reaction appears to upset him. It doesn't take but a moment to realize my mistake. I should have just held it in. Now, I'm going to be in trouble for sure! I shouldn't have pulled away from him, I just panicked. And now, he's going to punish me, I'm sure of it. As my eyes plead with him, he removes his hands from under my dress. Taking both of my hands in his, he pulls them away from my chest and raises them up, high above my head.
"Did I hurt you?"
"No, Master."
"Do you want me to?" he asks me with a primitive growl behind his words.
"No, Master!"
His eyes spend the next few minutes surveying my face. It's almost like he's trying to read hidden words etched on my skin, and soak up a story that only he can see. They scan back and forth, memorizing my eyes, lips, nose, even my hair. I watch him, as he seems to count the bruises from my forehead to my shoulders, and I wonder what use he could possibly have for the information he's gathering. Suddenly, he blinks, before making direct eye contact with me again.
"Are you going to make me...", he starts, before I cut him off.
"I'll be good. I promise."
Why did I even have to pull away? It's not like he was trying to take my virtue, he was just touching me. And he made me feel so good. It's just that nothing about the way I feel when he caresses me makes any sense! It's just so dramatically different from the way he speaks, the way he looks at me lifelessly. His voice and eyes are so cold, yet his fingertips warm me to my soul, from the outside in. Like fire melts snow in the kettle during winter, when the rivers are frozen over, his touch heats the icy words flowing from his mouth.
I should hate him. I do hate him. At least, I think I do. But, despite how barbaric it is, the fact of the matter is, he owns me. As long as what he's doing doesn't cause me pain, I can just bear it. More than that, though, there's something about the way his fingers kiss my bare skin that makes me desire more. The touches that I know should make me feel dirty, and lacking in virtue, they make me crave those sinful sensations over more of me.
"Good.", he says, placing his hands back under my dress.
Before I can lower my arms from their forcibly placed position, he pulls the dress up over my head, and tosses it onto the floor behind him, in one swift motion. Shock, embarrassment, shame, and even a little hint of thrill intermix within me, creating a cocktail of mixed emotions as the air's chill brings my nipples to harden against my bra.
He runs his long fingertips gingerly across my waist, just above my belly button. Then they move their way up to my ribs, as if tracing some invisible map to all my senses. As his hands explore me, he moves his hips underneath my own, and the motion rocks me back and forth on the mystery mass. Over and over again, he slowly sways me as the heavy fog fills my brain again. Before I can stop it, a soft hum escapes my lips.
I'm so embarrassed that I just made him aware of my satisfaction. I hate it, but it feels so good, and even though I want him to stop, I never want this intense pleasure to end. He slips his thumbs under the wire in my bra and pushes it up, causing my breasts to escape with a jiggle out the bottom. The feeling of the fabric scraping my nipples along the way only adds to my state of absolute euphoria. Now I'm blind to everything but his touch.
He leans into me, pulling my knees up higher, almost wrapping my legs around his back. My face is now against his hard chest and I can feel the rise and fall of his heavy breaths. Without thinking, I reach my hands up and grab his shirt, fully leaning into him as well. He runs his fingers down the curves of my back and brings them to cup my bottom.
After a minute of pulling me against himself a bit more aggressively, a satisfied groan escapes him. He rocks me harder against the lump, while moving his hips along with mine, and I let out another little moan as well. He buries his face in the small of my neck, as he thrusts me into him more furiously and he pants into my ear. With a final jerk of my hips, he exhales loudly and pulls me tightly against him. What is going on? Is it over? I don't know if I should be relieved or saddened?
I feel the mysterious object twitching, and after a few minutes, it gets soft. All I can do is wait in silence, and think to myself until he makes the next move. Why am I so comfortable? I don't even want to move. I just want to sleep here, with him holding me like this, like I'm someone he cares for. But could I ever be someone he cares for? I don't think that's why he brought me here. He could have his pick of any of the beautiful ladies in the world. Many of them work here in Inspiria, I've noticed. I wonder how many of them he treats like this...
I just want to be special to someone, not played with like a toy. I've got no family, no friends, nobody who cherishes me or even sees me as human. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to allow myself to be cared for in this way. I won't be allowed to marry anyways, right? Wait, what am I thinking? No, I can't feel this way! My master is just that, a slave master. I can't develop warm feelings for him. He owns me and I hate that. I will never forget everything that's happened to me over these terrible past few days!
I'll never forget that I'm a slave, and that I've lost everything I knew and loved, for the sheer greed of men like Zion Velucia. He will never have feelings for me. He only wants to toy with me and I can't let my mind get clouded by feelings. Just as I start to come to my senses, he takes me by the hips and places me next to him. He takes the coat from where it's draped over the back of the sofa, and tosses it over me. Then, he presses a button on the table, and Anna comes rushing in, returning to her position behind where he's seated.
"Run us each a bath."
"Right away, Mr. Velucia.", she replies, with a crackling in her voice, as she turns to walk away.
"And use lavender for the girl."
"Yes, sir.", she agrees, before taking her leave.