8 - Table

Content Warning: MFf, Slavery, NonCon, Training, Humiliation. Degradation, Submission, CuckQueen, Jealousy, BetaFem, D/s, SciFi

“Kneel here,” Kessa said with a soft smile while pointing to a woven mat. She didn’t understand this was humiliating torture. She thought she was helping me adopt the proper attitude. Turning back, she continued her instructions, “Knees wider. Shoulder back. Hand on your thighs. This will be a proper lesson for you.” 

There was no malice in her voice. She thought she was helping me. I was just grateful to have gotten a small bite to eat before we came to the tent. Jaxon was being delayed so that we could ‘prepare’ for his arrival.

My cheeks burned. The pink silks, already too sheer with panels whispering against my skin, parted as I obeyed. I tried to ignore the tickle of cool air between my thighs, but it was another reminder of how exposed I was at all times. 

Kessa paced around me, inspecting. I looked up, hoping she would have some mercy, that she understood how devastating everything had been for me recently. I was older than she was, her skin glowing with youth. Even though we both looked in our twenties, I knew she was considered a fresher little thing. The thought of someone so young and uneducated commanding me about rubbed a nerve.

Her fingers brushed my thick waves. “Master Thrain says that watching will help you learn. Please, sister, do so… It will make things so much easier for you. I’ve been told to tell him if you close your eyes. You are expected to watch everything and learn.”

I cataloged the impulse. Violent retaliation would be satisfying but strategically useless. I bit my tongue. The raging inferno in the back of my mind made me want to jump up and slap the silly little girl senseless. She had no right to instruct me. Her entire value was cleaning service and spreading her legs on command. I’d advised admirals on fleet operations, analyzed data, and delivered actionable intelligence that prevented ambushes and one-sided battles. I’d captured dangerous men who would snap this girl in half.

She looked down at me, her eyes scanning my face as I looked back at her. She didn’t know exactly what I was thinking, but she was aware that I was processing my situation.

“You’re hunching. Shoulders back,” her voice softened, “Don’t you want to please your master? Don’t you want him to own you with pride? Show him your breasts, let him see what is his, make him hungry for you.”

Knowing she wouldn’t stop until I was posed perfectly, I pressed my shoulder back and arched my back.

“You are so beautiful, Selene. Share it with your owner. Let everyone be jealous of what he has.”

I had so much more to be proud of than my breasts. If I were with Jaxon, they should be revealed to him alone, not everyone for kilometers around.

There was a rustle at the tent entrance. Kessa dropped to her knees and touched her head to the ground, arms thrown into the grass in front of her. “Welcome, master.” She said breathlessly.

Closing my eyes, I took a long, deep breath. I couldn’t hear any movement. With my back to the entrance, I could only assume that Jaxon was frozen, considering the best course of action. 

Kessa lifted herself off the ground and crawled on all fours past me. I turned my head to watch her. Jaxon had let the tent flap close and watched Kessa as she moved up to his feet and pressed her face into his thighs. I watched his face closely, tracking his gaze. He looked so conflicted. I could practically see his Federation principles fighting against the sight of two half-naked women completely at his mercy.

He was no longer in his flight suit. The clan had dressed him in warrior leathers, loose leather pants with a hanging loincloth, and a woven leather shirt meant as armor. When Kessa leaned down to kiss his dusty boots, I was shocked.

She didn’t just kiss his boots, but pressed her face to them, one cheek then the other. Then she pressed her lips to each one again. He’d been riding all day in those boots. My mind recoiled at the thought of putting my mouth anywhere near his filthy boots. And based on the way Kessa did this so eagerly, I imagined it was an expected behavior to reinforce the lowly position of a slave in the hierarchy of society.

When she was done, she lifted her torso up and pressed her breasts to Jaxon’s leg, rubbing her chest against him as I watched wordlessly. She pressed herself against him like she couldn’t get close enough, like an eager little pet in heat. I noted the tactic; youthful enthusiasm used as a weapon. It still made my stomach turn. I could feel my heart racing, thumping rapidly in my chest. My hand had curled into fists, and the palms felt sweaty. I noted her enjoyment as either genuine conditioning success or exceptional acting. Either way, the effect was the same.

There was a pained look on Jaxon’s face. He was torn between wanting this and knowing it was utterly wrong. He’s never looked at me with the longing I saw while he stared at her.

She rose to her feet fluidly and took his hand, pulling him deeper into the tent. With a roll of her eyes, she instructed me to move to the furs, exactly where she led him. I got to my feet in an angry stupor and followed. When she got to the furs, she again dropped to her knees, “Let me care for you tonight, master,” she said in a husky, seductive voice.

Turning her head to me, she whispered, “Table.”

Having endured two solid days of women and men barking orders at me, my body acted immediately. I dropped to my hands and knees and straightened my back as Kessa guided Jaxon backward into me. He gasped, but could do little as she eased him down to sit on my back.

I went rigid, my mind blanking out completely. Jaxon was sitting on me like I was a piece of furniture.

The thought literally froze me in place as she worked to remove his boots. All I could do was stare into the soft grasses that had been pressed down inside the tent. My junior partner, the man I was supposed to be in charge of, was sitting on me. It was a dehumanizing tactic, aimed at making me feel like the lowest thing in the room, and it was working. I told myself, this was transitory, I was more than this, but it was difficult to feel like I was more with his weight crushing down on my hips.

Kessa worked his boots off, with kisses and breast rubs as I sat there seething. As she rose, I turned my head to sneak a view from the corner of my eyes. Pressing her breast into his face, I watched as his arms wrapped around her. He leaned in, enjoying the feel of her and rocking heavily against me. Kessa moaned, whispering how good it felt as his hand went around his neck and began working at the lacing of his shirt. Did they mean to have sex on top of me?

“Oh, sir!” she exclaimed while reaching down to pull his leather shirt off him over his head. She swayed away from him out of his reach, letting his fingers drag across her skin. Quickly, she folded the garment and set it down on a mat with care, as if handling a holy relic. His eyes flicked to mine, then shot away as a flush crept across his cheeks.

She returned, watching me watch her as she pressed her breasts against his bare back. Her hands were everywhere, stroking and encouraging him. Leaving a trail of wet kisses over his shoulder, she was once again in front of him and tugged him, pulling him up into a standing position. Falling to her knees, she worked at the fastenings under the loincloth, yanking his pants quickly down his legs. From where I was, the loincloth hid nothing in the back. I saw the dimples in his ass as she pulled his clothes down. I wanted to look away, but my eyes kept dragging over the muscles in his legs anyway. It stung more than it should as I  remembered he had once been mine to command. He’d won a GravBall scholarship in University, and looking at him, I could see exactly why. She stood and pressed him back again, using me as a stool a second time.

I was nothing but furniture beneath him. A silent stool while a younger woman sucked his cock. My entire purpose reduced to this. My only function was to support their pleasure. The thought stabbed more painfully than the strain of supporting him on my back. I existed only for their convenience, not my own self or desire.

His bare skin burned against my back, and my body responded to the heat of him. It felt like betrayal from the inside out. Under his weight, it was all too easy to imagine him mounting me like this, just firmly grabbing my hips and letting his heat consume me. I hated how my eyes kept tracing a man’s body while she stripped him. Some weak, traitorous part of me still hated watching another woman claim what I no longer had.

Scooting up between his spread knees, she tilted her head back, threw her arms around his neck, and pulled him into a long kiss. Her mouth worked passionately on his, as if she needed to feed off him. He hesitated a moment, then one hand slid up along her back into her hair. Making a fist, he held her as he leaned in, devouring her back. I didn’t want to watch this, it felt sickly voyeuristic, but I couldn’t look away. Heat and shame twisted together in my gut, making me squirm uselessly against the ache building between my legs.

Her hands worked at the cord holding the loincloth, and it parted. As she continued kissing him, moaning into his mouth, I watched her pull his last garment away, leaving him sitting on me naked, while he kissed a younger woman. Her hands were stroking him everywhere. My mouth felt dry, and I licked the roof, watching as they continued inhaling each other.

She broke the kiss with a shuddering sigh. “You make me want to please you, sir,” she whispered to him. Before he could reply, her hands pushed his thighs apart, and she bent down to kiss his cock. I couldn’t see through his thigh, but I heard her wet kisses loudly. 

Jaxon groaned like he was in pain. I knew he wasn’t. The real pain was mine. I was watching someone else pull those sounds from him. I wanted to see him. But I didn’t really. I wanted to be back at home alone in bed. But I didn’t, I wanted my mouth on him. Everything was fuzzy, and the heat between my thighs was an inferno, making coherent thought difficult. 

Her head bobbed in that steady rhythm, the wet sucking sounds were loud and filthy in the tent. Every time Jaxon groaned and pushed deeper, something ugly twisted in my gut. I stayed frozen in position, but my body kept flooding with an unwanted heat.

Kessa must have realized that his weight was too much for me. She sat up with a pop as he left her wet lips. Her face was nothing but desperate need as she looked up, pouting lips and begging eyes focused only on him. 

 “Come, lie down, sir. Let me take care of you,” she begged him. Still on her knees, she tugged at his arms, pulling him off me so he could spill down onto the sleeping furs. His cock was hard and covered in her saliva. She’d made him hard while they both ignored me. And now I was forgotten again, just a thing to be used when convenient. The shame was like a physical thing, stabbed through my chest. She nestled in between his thighs and took him in both hands, stroking him, slick with her saliva, as she turned to me.

Nodding at the spot beside them, she spoke softly, “Brace, hands behind your back.”

At this point, I was just numb. I’d heard that command plenty of times in the last few days, and in a stupor, my body just went. On all fours, I crawled next to them, then lowered my face and chest into the furs. Reaching behind me, I clasped my hands around each wrist and spread my knees. Just thinking about how I must look if someone walked in made my skin crawl in revulsion

“Turn your head to watch us,” she said.

I closed my eyes. I did not want to see her fucking Jaxon while kneeling lewdly right next to them. I didn’t want to see her at all. She was less curvy than me, smaller chest, but she moved like someone who’d never questioned her place. That somehow made the whole thing sting worse.

But I knew she’d report any failure to Thrain. And that would lead to unforeseen consequences. And it was getting so hard to fight every time. Especially when I wanted to see. When I wanted what she was getting. So much easier to just do as told. I turned my head to look at her.

Kessa spared me a radiant smile. She wanted this. There was no malice. She’d been trained her whole life to be of service to men. This was what made her happy. Given enough time in federation re-training, she might go on to develop her own career skills, but here, she was exactly the eager fuckmeat she had been trained to be.

She smiled, watching my emotions play out on my face. Then she turned back to Jaxon, held his cock in both hands, and kissed it tenderly. She humiliated herself after that, pressing it across her lips, turning her head into it, rubbing it across her face. Women across the galaxy had fought so hard for equality, and here this stupid little thing was practically worshipping cock, making love to it with her face. And Jaxon groaned, unable to stop himself from enjoying it.

Worse than that, I thought, he may even believe his cock, that he himself deserves exactly this. That this red-haired girl did in fact exist solely to sate his every perversion. He was rock hard, and she had helped him get there.

With an eagerness that shocked me, Kessa placed his thick top at her lips, then shoved herself forward. Jaxon was big, and she was smaller than me. She took him so deep I didn’t know how she could breathe. The wet choking sounds twisted something in my stomach, disgust and a sick little stab of envy. She was taking him so deep and eager, in ways I never had with any man. Jaxon groaned loudly, “Void!” 

His hands wrapped in her hair, and I soon couldn’t tell who was more enthusiastic. Kessa bobbed and choked loudly. Her moans sounded like a desperate little whore while Jaxon shoved her face down on him.

I was numb. No one had ever fucked me like that. Not once. The violence of it should have sickened me. Instead, the worst part was the ugly little voice whispering that I wanted to be the one underneath anyone like that. To feel a man so consumed with me that he would treat me with unhindered passion. I wanted someone to want me that badly. Raw and out of control. Instead I was the older one he was stuck with.

Kessa’s fingers clenched around Jaxon’s thighs, and I heard a strangling gurgling coming from her. His fists were locked in her hair, holding her face down by the roots. I could imagine the poor girl choking to death on his girth. I could imagine choking on him again. He began grunting, and I could see his muscles tensing rhythmically. He was cumming inside her. Using her mouth to empty himself.

Gritting his teeth, Jaxon whistled and groaned as his hips jackhammered up into Kessa’s face. Kessa responded by shoving her face against him, both hands working him as he emptied into her.

I felt relief. With that over, they could all get some sleep for the last day of travel. Kessa, however, kept her mouth locked on Jaxon, slowing her pace to a crawl, but still devoting every ounce of her attention on him. 

Jaxon sputtered, “Oh no… I’m not in school anymore.”

Refusing to yield, Kessa kept working at him. He pulled on her, and she let him slip from her mouth, as her hands continued their motion. 

“That was… Amazing,” he whispered in a husky voice.

“But you are still tense sir,” Kessa murmured to him, refusing to look away from his cock, as if it were the most amazing thing in the universe. Sure, it was impressive, I thought, but this level of acting was probably not called for. He’d already finished after all.

“I don’t know that I have any more in me…” Jaxon began.

Kessa pressed her breast to his cock and finally looked up, “Please, sir. If I can stoke your fires again, promise that you will sheath in me?”

His brow knitted, and his eyes flicked to mine, then away quickly. “I think I’m good…”

“I was told to please you. Not just once, but three times to show you the elegance of our ways. I know you are far from home, and have your own consort, but allow me to welcome you to our lands and our ways.”

He was visibly uncomfortable now, sitting up on his elbows. “Your people have already given me… us… so much…”

“Please, sir,” she now begged. “If I do not care for you three times, I will be severely punished. Moreso, knowing I wasn't enough for you.”

His cock literally twitched. A stab of anger flared, knowing he was getting off to her begging.

Jaxon said nothing, instead staring up to the tent peak as if salvation might be delivered by some miracle. When he didn’t answer, she squealed, “Thank you, sir… Allow me to relax you…”

I watched, growing more irritated with both of them, then broadly at everything on this world. Mostly, I decided I hated Drayce. He’d engineered this entire scenario, picking a world on the no contact list, ensuring it had a specific type of slavery to limit hunting opportunities, and using illegal gear to shoot us down. All of this rested on his shoulders, and the more I watched Kessa rubbing herself against Jaxon, the less likely the man was to survive when I finally found him. In chains or not, I was going to bring him in. Probably dead. Possibly in many small pieces.

Their second time was with Kessa on top of him. She worked her thighs easily, sliding up and down, milking him to climax quickly, even though he protested. When he came with a growl, she howled loud enough that I was certain the entire camp could hear. I knew that tomorrow, everyone would be talking about how Kessa took care of the outlander, while his slave watched and learned. I was in for another brutal day of hiking, with men commenting and women snickering as they ordered me to expose myself.

Watching was bad enough, but what really echoed in my mind were the sounds. Kessa high pitch gasps, like she was a badgered, wounded animal, and Jaxon’s groans. The more noise she made, the more he felt he had to follow suit. Even closing my eyes couldn't make it stop, and I found my hips aching to be touched, to be pushed, held in place while the fires in my core blazed out of control. When she spotted me with my eyes closed, Kessa would tap my cheek discreetly, all while continuing to carry on with her sighs and gasps of ecstasy.

When my arms ached from being behind my back for too long, I dropped them into the furs. Kessa said nothing, so I pretended nothing had happened. There were too many times when I found myself driving my fingernails into my own thighs. Not to distract, not to calm the turmoil roiling inside me. I did it to keep from touching myself. I was less than a hand's length away from the two who rutted like wild animals. It was impossible to be right there and not have some of that heat infect me.

Kessa gave me a light slap on the exposed cheek. My fingers had only lightly brushed against myself, following the trail of hot, slick, dampness of my inner thighs. She knew and let me know. 

For their third time, she rolled on her back, dragging him up over her. With every stab, she squealed, driving him into a frenzy. He fucked her like he was losing control, grunting and driving into her the way I’d never experienced or seen before. The sound of it made my chest ache with something ugly.

When they finished, they lay panting for a moment, then Kessa cleaned him completely with her mouth. I was finally remembered, and Kessa had me clean her as well, commenting just like our earlier encounter that a slave should always treat her master's seed as sacred. When she finally released, my hair was lying settled into the crook of his arm like she belonged there. I was allowed to sleep on the other side of him, and I scooted far enough away that I wasn't touching them as they continued stroking each other. 

The scene played out in my mind for what seemed like hours. His charade of an attempt to refuse her, token gesture without any intent to back them. Her over-the-top squeals and eagerness to please him in any way. While I’d been set aside, a toy not played with. It was a good thing, I was his commander after all. It kept things cleaner and would make emotional encroachment less real. But the thought of having Kessa sleeping with us every night caused a withering spike of irritation. It would be better for the mission, but I knew having to be in the middle of their intimate trysts would affect me. No matter how much I didn't want it to.

The more I replayed it, the harder I tried to deny it affected me. My thighs clenched uselessly against the memories. My hand slipped between my thighs before I could stop it. Just the lightest brush against my slick skin sent a sharp, humiliating throb through me. I hated the loss of control. After watching every second of their performance, my body still refused to obey logic. I couldn’t stop. I only touched myself with two shaky fingertips, fast, quick little circles. I hated myself for needing it, but I couldn’t stop.

I knew the recordings would capture this. My superiors, the analysts, the sociologists, I knew they would all witness my weakness. The worst violation was the part of me that no longer wanted to fight it. Even though I knew better, the part of me that no longer wanted to fight was the worst violation of all.

I covered my mouth with my other hand, groaning into it when the climax snuck up on me. So fast. As I shuddered and floated back down to the furs, I realized I was being watched. Kessa had propped herself up on an elbow from the other side of Jaxon’s body. Her eyes were mere slits, and she said nothing, but I knew she would be reporting this to Thrain in the morning.

Lying back in the furs, I felt like an empty shell. It was the first time I’d ever come close to what felt like an out-of-body experience. She saw me. She heard me. She would tell Thrain. He would tell Jaxon. Everyone in the clan would know. And when I returned home the recordings would do the same. 

I’d let a moment of weakness humiliate me irrevocably.