CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Kade

I t was fine. Everything was fine. I lay in bed as the morning sun filtered around the blinds, trying to convince myself to relax and enjoy the moment. Because now that we were home, everything was going to be just fine.

It had taken my master several days to make use of my body because we’d been on a difficult mission in the jungle. He hadn’t taken me at the military base because… well, I wasn’t exactly sure why, but it could have been any combination of the small bed, the gloomy room, the presence of his colleagues in the rooms around us, or tiredness from the long trek.

But that was fine. Because he’d wanted to touch me last night.

Okay, so I’d all but bullied him into it, in the shower. I’d honestly thought that when he’d reminded me of the rules about sex, he’d been about to tell me to stop being so demanding and remember my place. But then he’d touched me.

And he’d allowed me to touch him. He’d climaxed in my hand. I was so proud of that. I had brought my master pleasure. So everything was fine.

So what if he’d only touched me with his hand? That was fine. There had been no kissing, or mouths in… other places. I was very talented with my mouth. Maybe one day, he would allow me to show him…

But he’d been very tired last night. Almost as soon as he’d crawled into bed, he’d been asleep. So maybe that was why it had only been hands. I’d lain awake and listened to him breathing for a long time, getting used to the slow rhythm of it, and being so very grateful that he was my master. He was a little unexpected at times. As he’d said, he didn’t know all the rules I’d been taught during my training, which was quite unusual for a master. But he’d given me food, and let me sleep in his bed, and touched me in the shower, instead of telling me to stop misbehaving. This was going to be fine .

I lay still, listening to the soft rasp of his breath and wishing that more of his body was touching mine. He was facing away from me, and the curve of his buttock was pressed very lightly against my right thigh as I lay on my back. But that was the only place we were touching. I wanted to roll over and press myself against his back. But that would wake him up. And waking masters for anything less than a dire emergency was very bad behaviour.

As the minutes drifted by, I became aware that my dick was hardening again. It had done it all by itself in the shower last night, and it seemed to have taken a mind to doing the same thing this morning. That, unfortunately, was one thing I hadn’t learned to control. I was exceptionally good at holding back a climax, having been taught quite thoroughly how disobedient it was to experience pleasure without permission. But I’d never been very good at willing an erection away. Dimari who were trained as erotic companions received much more thorough instruction in the erotic arts. They could harden or soften at will, and could even come on command. Though my trainers had attempted to teach me that trick, I’d needed to spend far more time on combat training, so they’d let the more advanced sexual education slide.

But despite my dick’s ideas, I was well aware that I was not likely to be allowed another orgasm today. Masters liked to make their dimari work for their pleasure. I would have to do something more helpful to earn his hands on me again.

My master’s breathing changed, and he snuffled his face into his pillow before pulling back and stretching, his long legs stiff and straight, down the bottom half of the bed. He turned to face me, his hair mussed, his eyes half closed, and I expected him to tell me to get up and go and make breakfast. At the base yesterday morning, a lot of the humans in the canteen had been eating either bread or pastries for breakfast, and more than half of them had selected little pots of sliced fruit as well. We hadn’t bought any fruit yesterday, but I was sure I could prepare some bread with some sort of spread on it without needing further instructions.

But to my surprise, instead of kicking me out of the warm cocoon of his bed, my master wriggled closer and wrapped an arm around my chest, and then slid one leg over mine. “Morning,” he mumbled, closing his eyes again as he used my shoulder as a pillow. He sighed, making a comfortable little humming noise, then asked, “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, sir,” I replied. I’d slept as well as I ever did. Which was to say, fitfully. I woke easily. I suffered from vivid and convoluted dreams. And even in my dreams, I was constantly aware of the need to please, to obey, to not take too much pleasure for myself.

Thankfully, though, I had long passed the stage where I’d panic if I woke in a strange place, unable to remember where I was. These days, I didn’t sleep deeply enough to lose track of my surroundings entirely, and I’d instantly remembered going to sleep in my master’s bed when I’d woken this morning.

My master didn’t move again for a long moment, and he apparently didn’t require me to move, either. I let my body relax again, feeling his warmth pressed against me, and it occurred to me that this was… nice. He had hair on his legs – where as I had no hair anywhere other than on my head – and it was very slightly abrasive against my scales. His fingers were tracing patterns on my chest, which I found oddly soothing, and I felt my eyes drifting shut again. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been allowed to simply relax. My cock was still making its desires known, tenting the blanket a little over my groin, but given my climax yesterday, I was able to ignore it relatively easily.

Slowly, over the course of several minutes, I began to notice that my master’s body was becoming more tense. His soothing stroking had stopped, and his breathing had become uneven. Finally, he lifted his head, propping himself up on one elbow to look at me.

“Kade?” he asked, in the sort of tone that I was quickly learning meant he was going to ask me a very confusing question.

“Yes, sir?” I asked, turning to look at him.

“If I give you an order that’s a long term thing, then that would work for you, right? Like, for example, if I said the floor needs to be vacuumed once a week, then would you do it every week, or would I have to tell you to do it every time?”

I shook my head. “No, you would only have to tell me once. My education was very thorough. I’m equipped to understand a high degree of nuance and abstraction. I’m generally trained to respond to the intention of an order, rather than sticking to the exact terms of it.”

“For example?” my master queried.

“As a simple example, if you told me to stay here, then left the house to go shopping, I would interpret that to mean ‘stay here, in the house’, not ‘stay here, in bed’. As a more complex one, when we were in the jungle facing the Culrads, you told me to hold my fire. I understood that to mean not to shoot them, but only for as long as they weren’t directly threatening you.”

He seemed a little surprised at that one, but not unhappy with the answer. “Hm. Good to know,” he said. “One more tricky question; you said yesterday that dimari are not allowed to masturbate. Because your master controls your pleasure.”

“Yes, sir,” I confirmed. The idea of my master controlling my body made my cock twitch.

“So… if I gave you permission to masturbate, would you then be allowed to? Or would it still be forbidden? ”

“I would be allowed to,” I answered easily. “As part of our sexual training, we were taught that some masters may enjoy watching us pleasure ourselves. The act itself is not a problem; it’s the need for the master to control it.”

Despite the very obvious connotations of the conversation, I was not prepared for what my master said next. “Okay, then I’m giving you permission to masturbate.”

My cock swelled at the news. “Now?” I asked, not quite sure I understood him. “Or at some other time?” The instruction itself had been phrased oddly. He was not commanding me to do it, but rather giving me permission. The difference between the two was subtle, but important.

“At any time,” my master said, and then hastily added, “within certain limitations. It should be somewhere private – ideally at home, not in front of any windows without the curtains closed, not in front of any guests. If we’re away from home for several days, you might opt to do it in your room at the base. My point is, it’s generally a private thing that can be done in front of me, or alone.” He watched me carefully. “Do you understand?” he asked, then once again corrected himself. “If you have any questions, please ask them. I would like you to understand this, and if you don’t understand, then that means I need to explain it better.”

I was deeply uncomfortable with the idea of questioning my master. But he had commanded me to ask any questions I had, and I didn’t want to misunderstand what he was giving me permission to do, lest I inadvertently disobey him at a later date. “Are you saying that for the foreseeable future, I’m allowed to masturbate as often as I wish, provided that it’s in an appropriately private place?”

“So long as it doesn’t interfere with other necessary activities,” he clarified. “If there’s housework to do, for example, I would expect that to be done first. But aside from that, yes. Any other questions?”

There was one, blazing bright and loud in my mind, but it took me a few moments to find the words to express the idea. “Why do you wish me to have permission to do that?” Good dimari did not ask why. I was here to obey, not to question. But since I had been ordered to ask my questions…

He took a slow breath, seeming to contemplate the answer deeply. “Because it’s entirely possible that I won’t be here all the time to see to your needs. And I don’t want you to be unnecessarily frustrated if I’m not available.”

“Under what sort of circumstances would you anticipate not being available?” I asked. This was thoroughly confusing.

“Well, there’s always the possibility I’ll be sent on a mission without you. I think we will be working together a lot of the time, but I can’t guarantee it’ll be every mission. But a more likely scenario is if I’m injured. If I’m in hospital for a while, or if my injuries stop me from doing certain physical activities, then it allows you to take care of your own needs. But I want to make the point,” he added, “that I’m not just giving you permission for times when I’m not here. It’s for anytime, within the guidelines I listed. And also,” he went on, when I thought the news he’d already given me was shocking enough, “if we’re doing anything sexual together, then you have my permission to climax whenever you’re ready. You don’t have to wait for me to come first, or for any particular milestone. Just whenever you’re ready.”

I blinked at him, trying to get the idea to settle in my head. It was a ridiculously generous offer. But I had to admit, there was a certain practicality to the first part of it, at least, given my master’s career. If he worked in an office, or some such mundane location, such provisions would probably not be necessary.

Then again, perhaps my master wanted me to be clear-headed for the obviously dangerous missions we would be working on, rather than being distracted by my body’s demands. I had the stray thought that so long as my master continued to touch me himself from time to time, I wouldn’t be disappointed about being allowed to do it myself.

But being allowed to come at any time during sex with him? The idea buoyed me, if for no other reason than that it firmly implied that there would be more sex with him. But the degree of control he was giving up was confusing. He’d said that humans didn’t usually buy dimari. Did they not like to be in control? Was there some cultural standard I wasn’t aware of here? I thought about asking more questions… but I couldn’t figure out how to phrase them. How did I ask a question about something I didn’t know, if I didn’t know if the thing even existed?

“Kade? Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” I said, because I did understand what he expected of me, even if the reasoning behind it was blurry. “Thank you, sir,” I added, because surely that was the polite response to such a gift?

My master glanced down the bed, to where there was now a prominent tent in the sheets. He placed his hand on my chest, then ran it down under the sheets, but stopped before he got to my groin. His skin was warm against my abdomen, and the heat made my cock throb all the more.

My master smiled. The expression seemed to hold genuine joy, rather than anything cruel or manipulative. “Did you enjoy the shower yesterday?” he asked.

Did I enjoy it? What did that even mean? My job was to ensure my master’s pleasure, not my own. What was the correct response? Did he want me to have enjoyed it? Or was I supposed to say no, to avoid coming across as greedy and demanding? I didn’t understand what he wanted. But then I considered that he wasn’t necessarily referring to him touching me. I had touched him as well, and given him pleasure, and I had enjoyed that very much. “Yes,” I said eventually. “I did.”

The answer seemed to please him. His dark eyes crinkled slightly at the corners, and his lips quirked upwards. His hand slid down a fraction further, rubbing gently against the very base of my cock. I was naked beneath the sheets, because I’d had no suitable nighttime clothes to put on.

“Would you like to try something a little more advanced?” His tone was sultry, but he was watching me intently.

I was flustered, after all the discussion we’d already had. “What sort of something?” I asked, before I could realise that it wasn’t quite the correct response. I should have said, ‘Yes, sir’, because whatever he was going to ask of me, I would obey without question. But even so, it wasn’t a rude or disobedient answer. It was merely asking for clarification on his orders.

“I was thinking something involving my mouth.”

I grinned, and before I could think better of it, I blurted out, “I’m very good with my mouth.”

My master burst out laughing, even as I wanted to die of embarrassment for having made such a bold claim. My trainers had said often that I had a talented mouth, but ultimately, that was for my master to decide, not them.

But it seemed my master wasn’t put out by my boasting. “I’m glad to hear it,” he said. I braced myself, expecting him to give me an order to use my mouth on some particular part of his body, but instead, he sat up, pulled the sheets off my body, and shuffled down the bed a little. His eyes roamed over my erection. “Remember, Kade; you’re allowed to come whenever you’re ready.”

I opened my mouth to point out that I was supposed to be the one making him come… but before I could get a single word out, he leaned down over me and sucked half my length into his mouth. My breath hitched in my throat, and I gasped out a moan. I’d expected that after having been quite thoroughly satisfied yesterday, my desire would have dimmed a little.

That was clearly not the case. I felt hypersensitive, a sudden rush of lust coursing through my balls and up my shaft. My master was… Stars above, he had his mouth on my…

Masters did not do this. At least, we’d never been taught that they did. Dimari were expected to do it to their masters, but not the other way around. And so, nothing like this had ever been done to me before. I pulled back hard on my desire to come. Years of training made it an automatic reaction to intense desire. I was not to come until he had…

But no. He had already given me permission. Whenever I was ready, he’d said .

But I wasn’t ready. Oh, physically, I very much was. But I didn’t want this to end yet. Because when it ended, he would take his mouth off me, and I had no idea when I might ever get the chance to feel this again.

One of his hands stroked up and down the sensitive scales on the inside of my thigh. I could feel my concentration slipping, and a moment later, my entire body flushed blue. That was odd. It hadn’t happened when I’d been in training. But being with my master was so much more intense; the fulfilment of a lifelong dream, fantasy made real. There was no way I could maintain my colours and hold back my orgasm at the same time.

He pulled off me for a moment, and I was worried he’d decided this was already over. But instead, he just said, “Whenever you’re ready, Kade,” then went right back to work. I gave some sort of garbled response, spreading my legs further, wondering how I was ever going to last when we got to the point where he was inside me. On top of me. Holding me down with his weight, demanding I open for his intrusion…

I came in a rush, my master pulling back so that my release splattered all over my abdomen. The initial wave of pleasure dimmed into a second rolling crest, and then a third. I groaned, back arched, eyes closed, hips rocking as I chased the last tendrils of pleasure. Stars, my master was wonderful .

I opened my eyes again when I felt a soft rasp against my scales, and looked down to see my master cleaning me off with a handful of tissues. He saw me watching him and smirked. “Does that always happen? The blue, I mean?”

I was still breathless. “It shouldn’t. I’m sorry. I can try to…”

“It’s fine,” he interrupted me. “I like it. I was just curious.” My master was wearing a pair of underpants, but his erection was thick and hard inside the material. As I watched, he lay down beside me, lifted his hips, and stripped the fabric down his legs. His erection sprang up, slightly shorter than mine, but noticeably thicker. He looked at me with mischief in his eyes. “Think you can take care of that for me?” he asked, with a nod towards his erection.

“Yes, sir.” I scrambled down the bed until I was situated between his legs. I didn’t hesitate, just took him into my mouth, as far as I could fit him, and massaged my tongue along the underside of his shaft. I didn’t know him well enough yet to know whether he liked to come quickly, or to draw it out, so I went reasonably slowly, licking him, sucking him, then backing off a little, as I tried to gauge his reactions. He seemed content to let things progress slowly, moaning occasionally, giving little bits of encouragement; “Oh yes. Just like that. Harder, just right there… Yes, Kade, please…” Eventually, his hips started to lift, attempting to thrust into my mouth, so I sped up my motions, working him harder, holding him steady with my hand as I bobbed my head over him. “Fuck, I’m going to come,” he blurted out, and though the dimari were all trained to let their masters come in their mouths, since he had pulled away, I did the same, letting his come splatter over his belly. It occurred to me that there were an awful lot of details I would have to learn about his likes and dislikes, despite the extensive education in sex I’d already received.

My master lay sprawled on the bed, legs akimbo, arm thrown over his eyes. His heaving chest slowed, and then he lifted his arm, peering down the bed at me. “You were right,” he said, with a soft, sappy expression. “You’re very good with your mouth.”

I grinned, then tried to hide it.

“Would you mind going and getting a washcloth to clean this up?” he asked, indicating the mess on his stomach. “Wet sheets are never fun.”

I hopped off the bed and fetched a cloth from the bathroom. I was halfway back to his room before I realised I should have run the cloth under warm water, instead of cold, so I ducked back again and corrected the oversight. He lay still while I cleaned him up, watching me with an oddly studious expression. I rinsed the cloth out, back in the bathroom, then returned to the bedroom. Would he want me to make breakfast now? But he was tucked back under the sheets, and he held up the corner as I arrived, a silent invitation for me to join him. I slid into bed and he snuggled up beside me, apparently content to rest for a bit longer. I had a harder time relaxing. Surely there were chores to be doing? Things to clean? Food to prepare? Bills to organise? All dimari were trained in the basics of domestic household management, along with whatever speciality they learned, and I felt negligent, just lying here. But he hadn’t yet told me much about my duties in the house. So short of irritating him with a hundred questions – which would most certainly not be good behaviour – I had little else to do but lie in bed with him.

But that was fine. He’d touched me. He’d enjoyed my body. He’d rewarded me with more pleasure, showing that he truly was pleased with me. I’d just been anxious before, and he’d well and truly proven I had nothing to worry about. Neglected household duties aside, I felt a pleased little smile settle on my lips. This was not just fine. This was wonderful.