Slave Girl
by Laura Bryannan

We only play it when Jin's not around. I couldn't bear him knowing I want Mugen like this, for I'm sure he'd be disgusted and I'd never get over the humiliation. I believe the desire stems from one of my stays in a brothel, witnessing a lineup of girls—a few even younger than me—being ogled and fondled as the men made their choices. I felt awful for them, so horrified and ashamed, and yet when I look back at that experience now that I'm all safe and sound it turns me on like nothing else.

And so I stand in the middle of the room in only my juban, hands tied behind my back, eyes cast downward. He's left me here for long enough that my heart leaps when I hear him return, my skin prickling as he draws near. His feet come into view and I breathe in his scent, which makes my guts do flip flops.

“She might do,” he says to the imaginary madam. “Lemmie take a closer look.”

He cups one breast in his hand, swirling his thumb over the nipple, causing me to gasp. Chuckling, he unties the belt of my juban and it falls to the floor. My face is burning now, I just know it, but I'm starting to warm up in other places that make it all worthwhile. A gentle finger touches my temple, traces my ear, then ghosts along my neck down to my shoulder. It pulls my juban to the side, exposing my breast and leg, and the shivers that began above travel across my body all the way down to my toes.

His eyes bore into me—it's almost like I can feel the heat of them as they look me over—and I try not to figit. “Not bad,” he says. “You suck cock, girl?”

I nod.

“Speak!” he commands.

“Yes, sir,” I reply, meekly.

“You do it good?”

I think I do. He tells me I do, so I answer proudly. “Yes, sir!”

He leans near, voice dark and husky, and I break out in goosebumps. “You like to do it?”

My face goes up in flames again. Why is this question so embarrassing? “Y-Yes,” I whisper. “I like it.”

He traces my lips, tugging at the lower one, so I open my mouth obediently and a finger slips inside. Mugen's hands are rarely clean. They either taste of dirt, of life—all the gunk he's accumulated that day—or they taste of his crotch. Sometimes both. Today I note the evidence of his morning ritual, as Jin calls it, and it makes my knees weak.

“Show me how you do it,” he commands, as another finger enters. I lap and suck, teasing my tongue along the seam between them, tickling and swirling. He slides them slowly in and out of my mouth, pushing against the back of my throat sometimes, stroking my tongue. I want to devour them, pamper them, send loving messages to the creature in his pants, so I practically faint when I hear him grunt in satisfaction. I resist as he pulls them out, using tongue and teeth playfully, but he withdraws in spite of my efforts. I moan in frustration until those fingers make a wet line down my belly and I tremble in anticipation.

A warm hand palms my curls, waiting for my decision. I'm aching with need—so embarrassed, I want it over soon, and aroused enough to never want it to stop—so I shift my stance, shamelessly parting my thighs to give him access. My torturer is merciless, however. I feel fingers between my legs, pressing against my outer lips but making no further movement. I try to remain still, but my muscles clench of their own accord, and he chuckles again as I squirm against his hand.

“You're a frisky one,” he notes, a smile in his voice. “I think I'll keep you.” The flattery mushes me out, even though it's just a crazy game. I keep waiting for him to touch and tease me, but it doesn't happen. His hand comes back to my mouth and two fingers seek entrance again, so I allow it. Now I taste myself too, as I clearly lubed up his hand while it was visiting, and I find these new flavors just as arousing. I love his fingers a little more, smiling to myself as he lets a moan escape before commanding, “Kneel.”

I try to lower myself gracefully, ready for what comes next. He tugs at the tie of his shorts and there's no hips to keep them from falling on the floor. He removes his fingers from my mouth and traces along his length, leaving a shiny trail, then grabs himself and pumps sensuously. A drop of clear liquid emerges from the tip and I yearn to lick it off, but he's out of my reach.

“You want it?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?” His fingers graze along himself and when he gasps at the sensations I gasp too.

“Yes please, sir.” I'm actually salivating. I can't believe it!

“That's better.” He cards his hand into my hair, takes a step forward, and it finally touches my face. Warm and musky, I nuzzle like it's my favorite pet, which it is, in a way. “Open up,” he says, and I do. The immense monster enters and I work to keep my teeth from scraping him, grateful he's being gentle and not making me gag. Even with my hands tied behind my back, I still feel all-powerful when I have my mouth on Mugen. He loves it so much, he's ever enthusiastic, and I think I could do it all day just to listen to him make those joyous sounds.

So we're both getting into it when the door slides open. My blood runs cold and I turn to stone as I watch a scowling Jin take in the scene, looking back and forth between us, unsure what to make of my bound wrists. Mugen doesn't hesitate. “Faster, slave!” he demands loudly, and I catch a glimpse of Jin's eyebrows arching before I'm grabbed by the ears and my face is taken for a ride. The experience absorbs so much of my concentration I don't have the wherewithal to feel embarrassed, but suddenly there are hands sliding up my thighs, and I'm so incredulous I skip a beat and mess up the rhythm.

“Pay attention, slave!” my master intones, and I do, I do, to the skillful touch exploring where I've been craving it all afternoon.

“Yes!” comes a deeper, beloved voice. “Pay attention, slave.”

My whole body flushes with heat, and it's a good thing they're holding me up because my spine's suddenly become as bendy as a willow branch. Mugen pulls me off himself and allows me to answer. Forcing me to look into his face for the first time, I meet gray eyes smoky with lust and my heart melts as I promise, “I will...sirs.”

end