Kink, Love, and Galactic Domination

"Oh, come on, I'm sure we both know much more invasive things than that, don't we?" Leora steered with such a light touch that she wasn't sure if she was actually steering at all. Wherever they ended up might be where they'd been headed anyway.

"I feel like there isn't a right answer to that question," said Trisque.

"There definitely isn't a safe one," Leora agreed, sipping her wine expectantly.

"Okay, okay, fine," said Trisque. "The implant that regulates your cycle? They gave me a schedule for it."

Leora had been prepared for worse, but she let him see her discomfort.

"I know that you get a 'companionship' stipend," she said, "to make up for having to keep yourself single for this."

"What, you don't get one?" Trisque replied easily. "Seems kind of harsh."

"And I know that your favorite service to spend it on is called, 'Deranged Dungeon Dames.'"

At this, Trisque went very still for a few seconds. Recovering, he shrugged. "It's more common than you might think. Maybe don't knock a harmless personal passtime until you've tried it."

"Was I knocking it?" Leora asked, trailing the remaining ribbons of fettucine around her plate.

Trisque searched her eyes like a document in an only semi-familiar language. "I don't know. Were you?"

"I have tried it, by the way," said Leora. "I had to. Just like everything else my team thought might have a hold on you."

"Oh. Right. Of course." Trisque wound up his last bite of pasta and chewed it thoughtfully. "I don't normally go around apologizing to strangers for what I do with consenting professionals on my own time, but you and me, this whole situation, it's..." he let out a long breath between his lips, "...unique. If I was accidentally the cause of you getting dragged into, well, something you didn't choose—"

"You mean other than marriage? ...Sorry," Leora added, when Trisque's face said she might have cut too deep. "Bad joke. I know this wasn't your idea any more than it was mine. And we both had the same option to go through with it, or to set a generation's worth of planning and negotiation on fire. A totally normal choice for someone to have to make."

Trisque's smile returned, tentatively.

"But the BDSM stuff," Leora circled back around. "I'm actually glad you accidentally put that on my curriculum. It was fascinating."

"Fascinating?" Trisque repeated. "Were you getting your freak on, or writing a scholarly essay?"

"No, I'm serious!" Leora laughed. "The whole urge to control someone, or to hand off responsibility to someone else. It's everywhere. It's in everything we do. And you'd think those sex games would be the most stripped-down, naked version of it, and in a way, they are. But there are a million different ways to do it. How does it work for you? Are you into pain? Is it more about the talk, for you?"

"Woah," Trisque leaned back on his stool, holding onto the edge of the bar. "After a decade-long intelligence war, all in preparation for this day, you think I'm just going to start telling you what I do and don't like?" He grinned as if it were a joke, but did not proceed to answer her question as if it were. "Sorry, wifey, you're going to have to do your own legwork."

Leora grinned back. "Challenge accepted."

#

This was not at all how Trisque had pictured this evening going.

Well, maybe a few times, while lying awake at three in the morning, he'd pictured it going a little something a little like this, but that was only to calm the nightmares about the whole thing going to hell. He'd only ever gotten a few steps into a scenario like this one before the absurdity snapped him fully awake.

Only an hour after getting away from the least romantic wedding he'd ever been to, he was sitting naked on his enormous new bed, watching the beautiful, sharp-tongued woman who was now his wife, at least in name, test out the lingerie from her prepared honeymoon bag. There were all different combinations of leather, latex, fishnets, and lace, as well as more specific costumes — a teacher, a royal guard, a corrections officer. With each selection, she gave herself a little shake or a twirl in front of him, watching his cock for the reaction he refused to give her in words.

Part of him, the part installed through endless prep sessions with Aidrom, was screaming that anything he had a chance of liking this much had to be a bad thing. It meant she was winning.

But then, he had also promised Aidrom that he'd jump into bed with Leora as soon as she was willing. He was practically obligated to go along with this, as far as she wanted to take it.

Intimate acts caused bonding in the brain. "Especially in women," Aidrom had always said, though Trisque wondered if that was just a way of making him feel like he had the upper hand, so that he would. A verbal placebo.

Leora tossed aside the blanket she'd been using to cover herself during her costume changes. This time, it revealed a babydoll nightie in the black and purple stripes of the ceremonial Empress robe. Trisque let out a breath without meaning to. Halfway out, it became a low whistle.

"Ooh, sounds like we have a winner," said Leora, twisting in the middle to admire the way the nightie cascaded over her generously rounded ass, stopping just above her thighs. "Interesting."

She set the rest of the bag aside and climbed onto the bed, kneeling over him.

"It makes sense, though," she mused. "Submitting to the Empress. Nothing in your entire life has ever been more taboo than that, has it?"

That was self-evident enough that Trisque couldn't see the harm in shaking his head in confirmation.

"Now I just have to figure out what that looks like in the deepest, dirtiest corner of your brain."

She ran a finger up his bare chest to the curve of his ear, sending a shiver across his skin.

"If I strike any nerves you don't want struck, literal or figurative, just say, 'reset,' and we'll go back to sitting on opposite sides of a table, chatting about all the work that's gone into making this the most paranoid first date in history," she whispered. "Or, of course, feel free to pipe up at any moment and teach me exactly what all your buttons do."

Trisque bit his tongue.

"I was advised to spank you tonight," said Leora, wedging her hand under his ass and giving him a firm squeeze. "Would you like that? Or is that as obvious as Kedujian mollusks? Your ass is probably tougher than it looks by now. Maybe you'd prefer to be punished here instead."

She moved her hand to his inner thigh.

"Or here."

She brushed his balls, which contracted reflexively under her touch.

"Here."

She gave his left nipple a light flick.

"Here?"

She stroked his cheek, the same one he'd had repaired right before the ceremony. He flinched away before he could stop himself.

"Nope." Recognition and pity crossed Leora's face for a fraction of a second, and she moved on quickly. "Definitely not there."

Hit me anywhere, Trisque thought at her. Just don't be angry with me. Make me beg for each one, so that you're absolutely sure that I mean it.

That would be difficult for her, of course, if he refused to give feedback.

"What are you, right now?" she asked him, wrapping her hand gently around his half-erect cock. She held it perfectly still, not stroking.

"Pet. Slave. Student. Toy." She tested the words, pausing slightly after each one, eyes piercing his. "Good boy. Bad boy. Secret slut."

He felt the twitch under her fingers. So did she.

"All right." Leora shifted her body a little closer to his. "What kind of slut are you? Are you ashamed of your dirty, dirty appetites? Or shameless? What makes you feel sluttier? How desperate you are for your own pleasure, or the ways I'm going to use you for mine?"

Disappointment twinged at the pit of Trisque's stomach as the moment passed, and Leora pulled him down the lesser of two roads.

Her calling him a slut was... well, it was fine, especially in the husky voice she used for it, but slut wasn't the word that had started to harden him.

Give me a secret, he pleaded silently. Hide it inside me, where no committee can demand a part of it. Take something I'll miss. Leave something I can't get rid of. Splash tonight all over tomorrow. Make me think of you so often that I forget what loneliness and boredom feel like. Don't let my real life swallow me back up again, ever.

He was not so far gone that he didn't notice the strategic opportunity she'd left open.

"Use me," he answered. "However you want. I'm your..." he prepared to say the word as if he loved it, "slut."

"That sounds suspiciously like you're asking me what I like," Leora caught him.

"You could always lie," Trisque pointed out. "You could just, like, make me fold socks all night and act like it's the hottest show you've ever seen."

"Oh, yeah, baby, preserve that elastic!" Leora moaned and straddled him.

He ran his hands lightly along her thighs. "Yeah, you like the way I check both the heel and the cuff to make sure they match?"

She leaned down over him, letting her hair fall forward around their faces. "If you do a good job, I might even let you jerk off into one of the worn-out ones at the end."

Trisque bit his lip, very aware of the closeness of hers. "Tell you what," he said. "If you tell me the truth, I promise to overthink the shit out of it. It won't even count as data when I'm done with it."

She bit her lips as well, both of them, holding back what looked like temptation, then sat up with a thoughtful sigh.

"All right, I'll use you, just this once. If it's what you really want. But I'll be watching to see if you're lying to me." She touched the tip of her finger to the tip of his now quite solid erection. "And not overthinking."

"You can do that?" Trisque half joked.

Without answering, Leora rolled off of him, shifted onto one hip, and pulled down the matching satin panties from under her imperial nightie.

She threw her leg back over him — this time over his face.

Her neatly trimmed pussy hovered right over him, not smothering, but close enough to touch without even lifting his head from the pillow. The rest of his vision was taken up with a perfect vista of her ass and the underside of her fluttering hem.

He reached out with his tongue, caressing her outer lips first, testing the waters.

Sweet-smelling moisture rushed immediately into place, as if it had barely been able to wait for its cue. He gave her a few more licks around the edges to be sure, but the responsiveness was so intense that it felt right to move on to her clit almost immediately.

It was as hard as an uncooked bean under its hood, and the first stroke of his tongue prompted another wave of moisture and an unreserved moan of pleasure.

Maybe that part was an act — she'd been pretty convincing while she was moaning about socks — but something was definitely turning her on for real.

Was it him?

Or the act of riding someone's face?

Or the things she kept murmuring above him, about what a gifted little slut he was?

Trisque wished he could have talked back, to measure her reactions the way he knew she was measuring his, but once he started on her clit properly, she brought it down to rub it harder on his tongue, taking most of his breathing room.

Whatever it was that was working, he kept going.

#

Leora was doing everything she could to hold back, to give Trisque the chance to put in some work. If she came too fast, he might not believe it.

She was certain now that her deprivation protocol had been entirely ill-calibrated for how hot Trisque actually was. Every time he opened his mouth, she ended up wanting him more, even when he was yammering on about all the things she'd expected to go unspoken about their arrangement. Maybe especially then.

As she rubbed herself against his quick, gentle tongue, she watched his cock bob in the air in front of her, dripping a steady flow of fluid.

It looked delicious, so smooth and clean and eager, but some instinct held her back in that regard as well. She fully intended to make him cum for her tonight, but she couldn't let it be taken for granted, or over too quickly.

She blew on him and watched the dribble of fluid speed up in real time.

With the back of one finger, she spread the fluid evenly around the crease of his head, and then pulled away.

His ass tightened before her eyes, straining his cock a little higher, a little closer to where her attention had last been. He kissed and sucked at her in a sweet little pattern that felt almost like a message, but also made it impossible to remember what she'd been thinking about a moment before.

#

Trisque was reaching the end of his ability hold still by the time Leora came on top of him.

It might or might not have been the mind-blowing fireworks she made it sound like, but it was real; he could feel the involuntary pulse-pulse-pulse of her clit against his tongue.

Maybe that was what made him feel far enough in the lead to make an honest request. Or maybe he was just so deep in the haze of arousal that he couldn't stop himself.

"Write on it," he whispered, when Leora lifted herself from his face and knelt beside him.

"What?" she asked, sounding pretty hazy still herself.

"Write something on my cock," he repeated, clearer. "Whatever you want."

Leora needed a few moments to process, but then nodded. "Sure. I have some lipstick in my bag."

Trisque shook his head. "It'll smear."

"It's good lipstick," said Leora. "The kind they use for, I don't know, royal weddings, maybe?"

"There's a permanent marker in mine." He pointed. "Outside pocket."

Leora grinned. "All right then."

She found the pen and returned to the bed beside him, stroking him lightly with its cool plastic shell.

"This won't come off for days, you know," she said, sounding like she was enjoying the prospect as much as he was. "Not without using some pretty harsh products on some very sensitive skin."

"I know," he assured her.

She bit off the cap and wrote with quick, precise strokes, up and down the sides of his erection. He could feel the letters without needing to bend to read them, and smiled as she reached the end.

JUST MARRIED.

"Yes, yes I am," he said.

Leora re-capped the pen and blew on him again, this time drying the cool ink.

"So, you like being marked?" she asked.

"I've said too much," said Trisque.

"Do you ever fantasize about being someone who's not a public figure? Someone who could get away with wearing a collar around in public?"

Trisque raised his shoulders noncommittally.

"Or maybe hiding it is half the fun for you," she guessed.

He felt a guilty grin overtaking his face, rendering his shrug useless.

"Ah," said Leora. "Your handlers wouldn't like this, would they? If they knew there was proof just under your clothes that you'd done something, anything, off-script. One wardrobe slip, one use of a urinal in front of even your closest guards, and people would have something to talk about. And the thing is, that scares you almost as much as it would scare them, only you like being scared."

She touched the words she'd written.

"It's not coming off now," she said approvingly, running her hand all the way along his length, with more pressure. "Nope, not a smudge." She stroked him properly, spreading more pre-cum over the ink without disturbing it.

Trisque pressed his head back into the pillows, thoroughly enjoying himself, but hoping to show off at least a little endurance, as a promise for future activities.

"Would you like to step things up and take a mission from me?" asked Leora.

Trisque's unease must have shown on his face.

"Nothing seditious, I promise," she said. "Just a little adventure. I want you to carve our initials into the main conference table, surrounded by a great big grade school heart."

Trisque laughed. "You mean, right where everyone who's ever told either of us not to catch grade school puppy love for each other is sure to see it?"

"I'll make it easy," said Leora. "It can be the underside of the table."

Her hand kept pumping, and Trisque stalled, enjoying the attention and the fun of imagining that task, without actually promising to do it.

Leora slowed her hand slightly, leaning down toward his cock so he could feel her breath again.

"If the carving's there by tomorrow night, I'll check whether this ink licks off."

Trisque moaned playfully at the unfairness of it all. "Okay."

He was on the verge of asking for an advance on that reward, when the first blinding, blissful contraction in his pelvis told him it was too late for that to matter. His warm ejaculate flooded uncontrollably down over her hand, without chasing it away. She kept rubbing, gently, with just enough pressure to see him through to the end.

#

"This is amazing work," said Flissom, scrolling through Leora's report the following morning.

"Really amazing," agreed Cordic, the aging Chief of Staff Leora had inherited from her uncle's days as king. "A really amazing start."

"Thanks," said Leora, keeping the bile out of her voice with tremendous effort.

This was what she'd been training to do since she was a teenager. Most nights she'd gone to bed wishing only that she wouldn't fuck it up when the time came.

She'd been prepared to feel dirty afterward, but she'd expected that feeling to start with the wedding night itself, not the writing of the report.

Calling Trisque names, making him lick her, taking a marker to his dick, letting his cum roll down the back of her hand in rivers, that had all felt fine.

Converting it all to dry data and delivering it into the hands of her entire administrative team — that was what made her feel sick.

The longer they looked at it, the more of them who commented on it, the more intense the gross feeling at the back of her throat became.

"I think the first order of business at this point is to cut him off from any other sexual supply," said Cordic, as if he were discussing slush fund apportionment. "You'll tell him that he's not to go back to any of his dungeon services now that you're married. It's a standard demand for a wife to make on any planet, and not one he'll want to air publicly, so you shouldn't have to worry about him making you look unreasonable. You'll be happy to cater to the same tastes he's always had, just so long as you know you're the only one."

Leora nodded. It made sense, even if she didn't like the way he said it.

"Next, I'm thinking this kink for wearing a reminder of you under his clothes presents a hell of an opportunity. Better than anything we planned for. Do you think you could persuade him to wear a chastity device?"

Leora laughed, partly because it was ridiculous, and partly from a nervous feeling that it might not be quite as ridiculous as it sounded.

"Sure, that'll go over great," she said. "Hey, hubby, I know we just signed a treaty swearing to rule the known galaxy as equals, and I know we both obviously went in in bad faith with every intention of getting the upper hand on each other, but what would you say to letting me hold the only key to your dick? It'll only be for funzies and not a political tool at all, I swear."

"It might be a hard sell at this interval," Flissom agreed humorlessly.

"Still," said Cordic, "we should be prepared for the possibility that you'll progress the relationship to a point where it won't be."

"On it," said Kevina, the former head of top secret development. She officially had no title anymore, and was allowed to remain on Leora's advisory council as a courtesy.