La Kajira

"I know of him. I've never met him or anything and I haven't met Christopher either. But I know of them. Everyone around Sulfur's regularly knows about both of them. You know that movie based on the book by Beagle, The Last Unicorn, how the Unicorn is quietly tucked away in her forest until she's ready to leave out and at the beginning she's not really part of the world yet? And you know how at the end, she ends up with human emotions like regret and it's the saddest, most angering thing in the fucking world?"

"Yeah, I remember." I hated the book and movie for that reason. Why the sad ending? It didn't need a sad ending. Life was sad enough without bittersweet stories.

"Okay, yeah, he's the unicorn. Except he doesn't lose his immortality and he's not going to. Both of them are like that. They're unicorns, really, really hardcore, all-encompassing lifestyle unicorns. Like, the caliber that you hear about and daydream about being part of, but that no one actually takes part in because there is no halfway with that kind of person, in anything, and once you start being their slave, it's all the time, always and it's not games anymore. There's no more Kansas or Toto."

There is no halfway. I shivered. "Tara... Will you-" I broke off because I'd been about to ask her to tell me more about what she knew.

I couldn't do it. I couldn't finish the request and the scary part of that was the reason why, when I was forced to realize that reason. I couldn't ask her more about his personal, kinky life because I was asking to be a slave to a Master who I didn't think would have asked questions about me like that from a third party. He hadn't even given me indicators of the things he might disapprove of, when he so rarely gave outward disapproval of anything, but it was in the way that he held honesty in such high regard. "Will I what?"

"Will you talk with me later, when I get done with the date?"

"Yeah!"

And that brought with it another strange sensation, which was how I had made someone else happy, when I was standing on the edge of a slavery aspect that revolved around being of service. I placed my face in my palm when I hung up, turning so horny that I ached with these thoughts and I needed to focus while being at work. Bloody hell, I missed the rope around my wrists.

I wanted a collar around my throat even more.

----

He was waiting for me outside the door when I got to the address he gave me and his face lit up with that approving pleasure that showed off in every smallest aspect of his features. It made him glow sometimes, or at least that's how I felt when he looked at me like that. "Brave girl," he said, a repeat of the words he'd already used to encourage me, and I was starting to get addicted to them when they felt like they meant something coming from him, when he was free with his affection when he said them, because he tugged me into a happy embrace again, as well. He felt warm, too, when our city was cold nearly all the time and had been getting colder. Everything about him was inviting and fantastic and soft. He made the world go still and quiet. "I'm proud of you."

I had the thought that I was dangerously close to craving those words already and he hadn't even seriously started the games he wanted to play. Even so, I'd been like a writhing cat in my bed the past week or so, stroking my clit over my thongs and panties again to the memory of how he'd tethered me to one of those rings beside his love furs, to the way his hand had been persistent in his petting me over my jeans, when the fabric felt like it should have been too thick for me to be able to get off. But he'd been masterful - Oh, God, please - with his silent insistence to pull me to orgasm, so much so that I didn't think I could have avoided it, had I wanted to.

And why the hell would I want to do that anyway?

"I like it when you tell me what makes you happy."

He made a low sound in his throat and forced us both to walk inside together, which was good when I would have stayed there until we both froze. "You're bad for me, Missy." I looked around at the BDSM decorated surroundings and side skipped closer to his side with a little bit of nerves. I wouldn't have called it fear or anything like that. It was more an introvert's tortured sense of anxiety, really, which wasn't new. I'd felt that for everything from birthdays to holidays, so really, it was just a little stronger at that moment, with the thoughts of where we were.

I tucked closer to him when I realized that the person in front of him showed the door guard a card, but Nathan just waved back at that same guard when the man grinned and didn't even bother looking at Nathan's. At least I seemed to be in well-known and good hands. I shivered when I considered what that would mean in a place like that one and looked up to him, so that he smiled wryly down at me. "Come here. Let's see if a little atmosphere helps you take things in."

He tugged me to a side door, a kind of locker room, while I had a glimpse at the play space, catching sight of a lot of latex, a long tailed whip being swung, and a girl on a stage laying on a medical table while a guy stood over her. My voice turned squeaky with my response. "That might take a miracle."

Nathan laughed. "One day, I'll break you of that high pitched voice entirely, when your real one is the most gorgeous sound on its own. Deep breaths. Seriously, Missy, you okay? This place is meant to be for fun, so I don't want to do this if you feel too much."

I stared up at him and blinked with another terrifying thought. The answer to that question was that I wanted to be there with him because I craved to make him happy. "I'm fine. Just introverted. Can I call you Master again?"

He touched my cheek and I closed my eyes. "I think maybe that's a good idea."

"Yes, Master." The feel of him made me nuzzle closer and he let me have the moment, ever patient, like such an honor bound...

Like such an honor bound Master. "Brave girl."

Jesus. I shuddered and my anxiety might have caught up to me for a moment, but the truth was I was more aroused than ever after calling him that, with the image of that whip mid stripe and the way it had curved trapped on repeat in my head, along with his lust darkened voice promising that I'd learn the joy of the whip, if he had his way. When I opened my eyes and looked up at him, the moment was another one of those magical kind that I had once thought I'd never get again, except he was ensuring I kept getting them. For a moment, fantasy collided so hard with reality that I had the sensation of being a scared, frightened slave girl, waiting for the heated iron that would give me my brand and the pain that came with it. "Thank you, Master."

And that was another thing, the way that word fit him in the same way that a blood stained sword looked comfortable in the hands of a knight you only dreamed about. He didn't stand straighter or anything with that word. Because he already stood so straight that it felt like I should have been calling him that all along. "Good girl. Come here, I have presents for you, and the idea with this is that I want to show you some of my style, while you see the way other people play or live. I'm hoping it will reiterate the differences, so you can decide better. I'll show you some things that come with how I play as well, some of my fantasies while you hear about other people and their fantasies."

It felt like I was floating after that brief exchange. I didn't know why, but I felt lighter, happier. He had already made life seem quieter, but with that, it felt like I could deal with anything if I was in that blissful mentality of wanting to please him. It might sound crazy, but it was just the way he was. He was so much of a person out of time and place that it was clear the kind of moral behavior that would please him, and it gave me a kind of determined energy with the knowledge that it wouldn't always be an easy thing.

If it felt like that then, it got worse once he started dressing me. That was the kind of thing that made me feel like I never wanted to go back to any other way once he got done. He had the hopes that it would show me the differences in how he played, when I didn't know enough and I appreciated that, but that hope of his was pretty damned well obliterated by the time I left the locker room with him.

See, he started by stripping me naked and I shivered at that for a moment, feeling insecure, but then he caressed the scars on my side and stared into my eyes until I went still and accepting, and then he rewarded me with more of his approval. "Good girl." He winked. "Kajirae learn quickly enough that being self-conscious is not part of their lives." And I had to grin... only to moan in a kind of lust when he started to dress me the way he had in mind.

The chastity belt was first and it was a smooth, unbroken band of silver that he fitted to me in a methodical way, calmly stroking between my legs to check that it covered me fully. "How pretty." He caressed up my torso and I arched, whimpering when his hand stopped right beneath my breasts, so that he smiled. Part of me had the thought that I should feel more self-conscious when I had felt nothing but terror at being seen naked, so much that I hadn't had sex, for Christ's sake. But I... just... couldn't. I couldn't when he was so obviously pleased, his eyes alive with interest and appreciation. "Let's make it better." Better? Better? If he kept getting better, he was going to end up with a shivering, begging wanton of a slave at his knees. I had Tara's voice repeating in my head, breathily whispering, "Unicorn," with a kind of fear when she was the kinkiest person I knew and had once found she was fucking a guy who was cheating on her with dead bodies. That was followed by the image I still had of the whip in a graceful arch through the air, the sound of its hiss and crack.

His laugh was low with whatever my face must have looked like. "Now, that's the kind of reaction that makes a man feel validated, if I'm being honest, love." And he did make it better.

He made it into one of those fantasies that held hands with his building a bath house and setting up a slave's room with love furs with every smallest gesture. "Oh, my God..." I whispered it when he turned around with the dress he had for me and held still when he eased it over my head.

It was a white shift style dress, lacy with an uneven hem to give it an innocently barbaric appearance, and the sides of it were slit far up so that it showed off the chastity belt I wore. The collar was next, a small, silver circlet that he fitted to my throat, and I noticed how it didn't have a tag or engraving naming my Master, a thought that made me shiver. After that was the anklet of bells. "I know these are supposed to be for mischievous slaves, so they can be easily heard if they try to run, but they're just so pretty when they chime." He touched my nose and that sensation of floating felt like it had somehow transformed into a physical sensation, so that my skin felt... It almost felt like I had been cleanly waxed hairless all over and then dressed in silk. It was this soft, blissful feeling, one step away from ecstasy.

"Thank you, Master." And that. Those words. They only intensified that strange serenity. They felt right and he deserved that honorific, when he was the one person who had made me feel so safe that I had just stood naked without wanting to say, No, I don't think I want to anymore.

He paused, gently touching beneath my chin to tilt my face up. "Look up. Slaves like to be pleasing and your eyes are too beautiful to hide."

When he said it like that, it felt like my fear was something to get rid of for a reason that was beautiful. Especially in whatever sensation tide I was caught in that made me feel like something mystical, as if I was a fae or living in a world where magic existed and I was bathed in that magic. "Yes, Master."

Cum was slick over his chastity belt, messy, and I felt in pain in that way from before, the same one that made me feel empty, so empty. The strict discipline that was part of him was something I felt like I could see in his gaze and something about that was wildly satisfying when that gaze turned to pleasure with what I'd done. "Good girl. Offer your wrists."

"Yes, Master." I crossed them, turning hornier over the fact that the command to give him that surrender was something he knew would be followed.

His rope was just as soft as before and this time it was white to match my dress. He did the same crisscrossing style as before, too, tethering it off with an amount trailing for him to use as a lead, which he took up easily. "Brave little Missy. Let me show you around."

"I'd like that, Master."

And I did, a lot. The fear from before simply would not come back to plague me and I already felt like I was lost to him, because I never wanted the night to end, even if it wasn't what I'd normally do, even if it had scared the hell out of me, even if I had all the warnings from just about every red flag imaginable that the man who had placed a collar around my throat was not someone who did anything partially. He was all or nothing.

I wanted his all around that point and I knew that fact with how I never wanted to be free of the rope around my wrists. Especially when he took up one last thing and that was a short whip that he held doubled over, watching me with a look of satisfaction when I whimpered at the sight of it.

----

It felt like being trapped in a dream, the kind that you joyfully let take over your world, closing your eyes to float in bliss, knowing that real life could never be so wonderful. It felt like being caught in a story, a chivalry tale maybe, except I was in a fetish club.

He led me and that time I was dazed enough to look around me, to take it all in, especially when I knew that he wanted me to do that. I watched the whip scene for a while with him, feeling heated with the sight of it, thinking of his whip hanging on the wall, thinking of whips from the book, thinking of the Slaver's Caress. I shifted and was reminded of the rather effective metal prison forming a belt to cover me. Nathan was careful about letting me watch, too, keeping his distance even while he occasionally steadied me with a hand at the small of my back, a soft reminder that he was with me and only kept that distance to let me watch as I liked. When I went to the girl on her back on the raised dais, I shied away from watching and Nathan smiled. "It's okay, Missy, that's why the play styles are out in the open. Come here." And he gently tugged me to where he knew I was curious about being, soothing me when he did, so that I could watch a Dom drip candle wax on the back of his submissive, making a sensual mess with different colors, as if creating an artwork. "You'll find that a lot of Doms are proud about the scenes they do in exhibitionism," Nathan said quietly, laughing low in my ear, so that I grinned with the thought. "A lot of them have a fondness for making a decent show."

It was a while before the night changed and it started with another dark haired man waving to Nathan before he disappeared. I had the happy thought that the man with the shoulder length hair was a lot like looking in a mirror to what Nathan himself might be when older, before my thoughts were interrupted with the gentle, guiding tug of the rope knotted around my wrists. Nathan watched me for a long moment and whatever he saw made him smile in a great deal of pleasure. "Jesus, the sight of you is addictive. It looks better than I would have ever imagined it to look... and I imagined it to be rather fucking amazing."

It made me feel warm with the realization of being told I was better than my Master's perfect fantasy. I shifted closer to him when a Dom paused at the sight of me, blinking with a slow smile crossing his face. Nathan very obviously realized the reason for my sudden fear and he kissed my forehead with playfulness in his eyes. "This is just fun. I knew there were going to be at least two people who would recognize and appreciate this, but it feels rather like having my ego stroked when someone else gets it, too."

I laughed happily, even if I was still afraid (although not quite for the original reasons at all anymore), and followed him closer when he led me again, this time following the man who had waved at him. I tried to imagine being in a tavern or something like that and it made me grin all the wider. "It's pretty here."

He glanced back at me, his face so young in appearance when he was obviously so happy and at home there, too. And I could kind of see why, for someone like him. It was true that I didn't know as much as Tara, but I knew she had said this place was on the safe side of setups and I knew what it was like to enjoy odd books and feel isolated in the enjoyment. It wasn't so hard to imagine that he would feel comfortable here, in a place where people shared the same fringe interests, where he wouldn't be judged. "Do you know, I have always said the same thing and people have always given me such strange looks for it. To be fair, I can see why when I don't think a fetish club is going for 'pretty'." His voice was light and teasing, even if I still thought of him as my Master for the moment, and it thrilled me that he flirted. Some of my favorite moments in the Gor stories were Masters and slaves being flirtatious and teasing each other, both with a kind of respect for the dynamic they were in. "But even so. I can't help but think of it as at least enchanting when I have so many magical fantasies in mind. Here we are. For the record, if we do continue together and we end up here again, Christopher's office is actually down the other hallway that was a ways down from this one. I asked him to meet me in one of the dungeons." He paused, then gave me one of those sheepish grins. "There's two indulgences for that request. One, I think you'll love this dungeon. And two... Ah, it's something of a build up for when I can finally show you my own dungeon."

I laughed happily. "My Master is indulgent."

He touched my nose. "My slave is a romantic."

And then he froze while I stared up at him, feeling hot thrills like vicious spikes through my abdomen. It was like he'd been trying to avoid calling me that, as if I was allowed to call him my Master, but he was trying to keep from reciprocating the dynamic. And I suddenly realized why, when the word left his mouth.

It felt like a seal of some kind, felt like the kind of thing I couldn't escape from anymore. It wasn't just that I loved the sound of him saying it when it came with such a possessive tone of voice. It was the way his eyes were alive with the amount of pleasure it gave him to say the words. I shivered and moaned when he lifted my face with the whip beneath my chin, a frisson of fear trailing down my spine even while my pussy clenched beneath the chastity belt, a strange twitching of craving. So empty...

He pulled away and tugged me, opening the door to let me in.

If all of that wasn't enough, then the sight of the dungeon he led me into along with the two people in it definitely sealed everything.

----

I skipped in so much joy, so happy with the sight of it. The dungeon was... It was something I would have never expected to love as much as I did, but I did. The padded leather bed against the wall was set up with a rack in front of it, as if a slave girl would be spread wide and restrained for a pleasing view while other things happened. I had a deliciously dark image of being restrained wide open, waiting like an ornament or a toy while someone had other kinds of fun in that bed, while I was just made to watch and want. The wall sconces were something rather like Master's Tarn's room and I thrilled to the sight of another whip on the wall.