Owned by Luna Voss
22
Melyta
“I don’t even understand why you need old-school books made out of paper,” Barion remarks, looking amused. “What’s the point? They’ve only been obsolete for about 2000 years.”
I chuckle and roll my eyes at the same time. “And yet somehow, there are still about a hundred bookstores in Dalax City. Apparently they’re not that obsolete, if people keep buying them.”
“But I mean, you could just download all those books to your communicator, and then you wouldn’t need to lug a paper copy around with you all the time. Wouldn’t that be better?”
I shrug. “Lug? How heavy do you think books are? Besides, it depends on what you mean by better. More convenient, sure. But then I wouldn’t get to open it, touch the paper, get that new book smell. It’s a whole experience.”
Barion grins, as though he finds me cute. “Well, if you want to have time to stop at the bookstore on our way to the funeral, you’d better go get dressed.”
It’s been a week since Gurtion’s death. Today is his memorial service, and even though neither Barion nor I are exactly sad over the whole thing, apparently we can’t just skip going. As the underboss and the underboss’s mate, we’re expected to be there, and we’re expected to be very somber about it.
We’re feeling the exact opposite of somber, obviously. Whatever it was Barion did that night (in the interest of protecting me, he still hasn’t told me the details), it gave us a new lease on life. A new chance to be together, as a couple, here on Tarsheb 8. Without the stress of that little scumbag waking up, and everything around us crumbling all at once.
The last week with Barion has been heaven. A little slice of heaven I never would have expected, living as the owned woman of one of the most powerful Vostra players in Dalax City. The man is as doting as he is authoritative, buying me presents, making me food, and generally spoiling me in whatever way he can. But he never lets me forget where the line is. He expects complete obedience from me, and I know very well that if I ever disobey, or even disrespect him, I’m going to get a firm spanking over his knee until he feels I’ve properly submitted. I can’t deny, there’s something exciting about the way he enforces boundaries. It’s a constant reminder of his strength, of his ability to protect me.
Today, though, isn’t my favorite. The prospect of the event we’re about to attend sets me on edge.
I’ll admit, I take a little longer than is necessary to get myself ready. Usually, I’m the one who pays more attention to our social obligations, but in this case? Who gives a shit about Gurt’s funeral? The man tried to kill me. Fuck Gurt. Honestly, I really don’t want to go. It’s the bookstore that I’m actually excited about. I just discovered a new shop, and I’ve been looking forward to checking it out for the last couple days.
“Babe, we literally have to leave now or we’ll need to go straight to the funeral,” Barion calls from the other room. “Are you dressed?”
“Almost!” I call back. “Actually, what do you think of these shoes with this outfit?”
I hear his footsteps, then he appears in the doorway, looking incredibly handsome in a simple black suit. He glances at my feet.
“They look fine. Ready to go?”
I roll my eyes. “I don’t see what’s the big hurry. Seriously, why do we even care about this?”
He sighs. “I told you. Sarizor would be pissed if we didn’t show up. This was his son, after all. It’s a big deal. Whenever someone at his level in the Vostra dies, everybody pays their respects. It’s just the way we do things. There will probably even be people from the other Families there.”
“That’s stupid,” I say. “Nobody liked Gurt. Why do we all have to show up and pretend? The whole thing is like a big, dumb pageant or something. Literally, Sarizor might be the only person at the whole funeral who’s actually sad.”
Barion can’t hide a momentary chuckle, but he keeps his overall demeanor serious. “I don’t disagree with you. But this is the life we live. Appearances matter. And I hope you know better than to talk like that when we’re actually there.”
For some reason, I feel like pushing him. I’m not sure whether I’m being moody, or genuinely defiant, but I decide to just roll with it. Worst thing that happens is I get a spanking.
“Of course I know better than to talk like that at the actual goddamn funeral!” I reply indignantly. And in that moment, my frustration feels real. I don’t really know why I’m so argumentative all of a sudden, but I am. Maybe I’m getting closer to my heat. Or maybe I’m just feeling needy, and looking for Barion to pay a little more attention to me.
Either way, I have too much experience with him not to know the direction I’m heading.
“Hey,”says Barion, raising his eyebrows and using that calm-but-firm tone that I sometimes find sexy, sometimes infuriating. “I’m going to need you to lose the attitude.”
This is the decision point. I know I won’t get punished if I apologize and submit to him now.
“Sorry, Vostra,” I say meekly, hanging my head. “I didn’t realize you woke up with such a fucking stick up your butt today.”
A long pause. Very long. Uncomfortably long, so long that I have time to consider my words, regret them, and get properly nervous for the punishment I know I just earned myself.
Shit.
“Melyta, go get your plug from the closet,” Barion instructs me, his voice low and even. “Now.”
I stay where I am, my cheeks immediately reddening. “Okay, I know I shouldn’t have said that, but you don’t have to—”
He takes a step forward, towering over me. “If I have to say it again, you’re getting a spanking right here and now, and then you’re going to be sitting at the funeral on a very sore bottom.”
Ugh. Why does it turn me on so much when he treats me this way? It adds such a sense of vulnerability to being disciplined, knowing that he can smell my arousal, that I can’t even hide the evidence of what it does to me when he exerts his authority. It takes so much trust for me to be okay with that. But no matter how much I may resent it in the moment, it’s trust I know Barion has earned. It’s one of the things I love about him so much.
Of course, that’s the last thing on my mind as I walk slowly over to the closet, my face burning, and retrieve my butt plug from the little wooden chest we keep it in. It’s been over a week since Barion has ordered me to wear my plug. I’d almost forgotten how embarrassing it is.
“You really want me to put this in before the funeral?” I ask, trying for some leniency. “That doesn’t seem very… appropriate.”
“You’re the one who said the whole thing was just a big, dumb pageant. Are you going to put that in yourself, or do you need my help?”
“I can do it,” I say quickly, cheeks on fire.
“Nullion,” says Barion, nodding respectfully to the other vostrat. “I hope you’re well.”
“As well as I can be on a day like this,” says Nullion. “And how are you and Melyta?”
“Very well,” Barion replies. He puts an arm around me and squeezes my waist.
Walking around the funeral reception with Barion as he makes random small talk is excruciating. Not just because it’s boring, although it is.
No, it’s having the plug inside me that’s making this so difficult for me right now. Its constant presence is something I can’t ignore, the feeling of pressure, of fullness, the reminder of Barion’s dominance, the fact that I’m still in trouble with him. I know damn well I’m going to get a spanking when we get home, and the plug makes it impossible to forget. Every step, every time I shift my weight, it makes itself known.
It also has me wet with excitement for what Barion is going to do to me after the spanking. Lately, he’s taken to claiming my bottom hole after he disciplines me, or my punishment hole, as he calls it. The orgasms this gives me are always deep and powerful, and leave me feeling completely, utterly dominated.
I’m pretty sure I have that to look forward to after we leave this stupid reception. But to look at Barion, you wouldn’t know a thing about it. He’s cool as anything, chatting up the other vostrata and looking appropriately somber about the whole occasion. It really is impressive, the way he can go into that professional mode when he needs to. I try to follow his example, doing my best to play the part of the dutiful wife, a wife who doesn’t have a plug in her ass and isn’t nervously awaiting a spanking when she gets home.
After giving our condolences to Sarizor, we wind up at a table with a couple of other Vostra guys I don’t know very well. They’re all drinking and reminiscing about their days as recruits, and I have to admit I find it fairly boring. Maybe on another day I might appreciate the opportunity to learn more about my new extended family, but right now I’m feeling horny and submissive and I really just want Barion to get my punishment over with so he can have his way with me.
“What do you want to do when we get home?” I whisper to him, hoping he’ll take the hint.
He leans in and whispers back so that only I can hear him: “When we get home, you’re going to get a hard spanking on your bare bottom, and then I’m going to fuck your punishment hole until you submit to me completely.”
Then he smiles, takes a sip of his drink, and returns to the conversation.
Goddammit. I swear Barion gets off on leaving me in suspense. As my Fated Mate, he’s the only person here able to smell my arousal, so he must know exactly what he’s doing to me. I’m sure he would say that’s part of my punishment.
But I’m feeling mischievous. And like I said, horny. And I mean, I’m already in trouble.
So I shift positions slightly, scooting closer to Barion, and in the process I allow my hand to rest on his inner thigh about halfway up his leg. Everything I’m doing is hidden by the table, but I get a jolt of devious satisfaction as I see him stiffen at my touch. I leave my hand there, waiting, and then start to slowly inch it higher.
He barely reacts, but I still notice the change in his breathing. He’s obviously very, very aware of what I’m doing with my hand. And soon, another part of him becomes aware as well: I feel the thick, throbbing mass of his cock expanding down his thigh until it’s basically impossible not to stroke it over his pants.
His breath catches for a moment, and for a split second he freezes. I swear I even hear a low rumble in his throat. And then he gives me a knock it off look and continues listening to the gangster on the other side of the table.
Yeah, knock it off, my ass. I’m going to press whatever advantage I have. I start to stroke his cock gently with my fingers, running them up the length of his shaft as I nuzzle against him. To anyone looking, I’m just being an affectionate vulta, comforting my mate on a tragic day.
Barion grunts. He looks at me again, but there’s less sternness in his eyes this time, and more need. “Melyta, you’re playing a dangerous game,” he whispers in my ear, his voice very low.
“I’m also winning,” I whisper back, his massive erection giving me confidence, making me feel triumphant. “Want to do something about it?”
He pauses for a moment and his jaw twitches. And then he stands up and grabs me by the wrist.
“I’m sorry to leave you like this, but Melyta and I have something we need to take care of,” he says to his conversation partners, although honestly, he doesn’t sound very apologetic. “You all take care of yourselves, okay?”
He whisks me away from the table without even waiting for an answer, walking with strides so long that I can barely keep up. He takes me down a long hallway, away from all the guests, and then into another portion of the venue that seems to be unused. Then he pulls me into a bathroom, puts his hand around my neck, and pins me against the wall, growling.
“You…” He mouths wordlessly, his beacon bright gold.
And then his lips flare and his fangs extend. “Down,” he snarls, pushing me to my knees.
I obey without a word, victorious in my quest to bring the animal out of him. My fingers scramble at his belt buckle and then I free his shaft, fully hard, a shiny drop of pre-cum already at the tip.
“Suck me,” he orders, but I don’t need to be told. I wrap my lips around his cock, relishing its warmth, the way it twitches in my mouth, even its musky, masculine smell. His fingers lace into my hair as he starts to guide me on his shaft.
Fuck, I love the way he groans when he’s in pleasure. It’s music to my ears. I take him as deep as I can into my throat, wanting to hear that sound as much as possible. He gasps in satisfaction and holds me there for a moment, looking down at me, his cock buried almost to the base. I do my best to make eye contact with him as I sputter around his shaft.
“Fuck, you see what you do to me?” he groans, keeping me on his cock. “Look at what you fucking do to me, Melyta. Look at what you turn me into.”
He starts to fuck my mouth, growling with happiness, sliding my lips along his cock. I clench my ass around the plug as he has his way, savoring the feeling of it inside me and all the pleasurable tingles it creates.
With a throaty growl, Barion starts to thrust into my mouth faster. I know this means he’s going to come soon, and I moan around his shaft in anticipation, trying to encourage him. Sure enough, a moment later he gasps and I feel his cock begin to twitch. He cups my face in his hands as he empties himself into my mouth, giving me spurt after spurt of his warm cum.
Barion looks tremendously satisfied, no, relieved, as the throbbing of his cock begins to slow. I keep him in my mouth, looking up at him, waiting for him to finish completely. He gives a great sigh when he finally pulls out, his breathing heavy, beacon glowing a calm blue.
“Swallow that for me, vulta,” he whispers, stroking my cheek.
I do, not breaking eye contact. He pulls me to my feet and then turns me around so that he’s holding me from behind, his crotch pressed against the plug in my ass.
“You know you’re still getting a spanking when we get home,” he says with a laugh, his voice very hoarse.
“I know,” I giggle, wiggling my butt against him.
He kisses the top of my head, then gives my butt a squeeze. “Come on. We should get back to the reception.”
* * *
Barion
When we return to the area where the rest of the guests are, no one seems to have noticed our absence. Which is good, because taking Melyta into the bathroom to fuck her mouth during a funeral isn’t exactly my best look.
Still, no regrets. The way she was riling me up, she barely even gave me a choice. The alternative was to sit there in public with a cock so hard it was threatening to rip through the table. Not exactly a good look either.
Goddamn, that woman knows how to push my buttons. It’s like she was designed to turn me on with her every action. Of course, it doesn’t help that she seems to have developed quite the mischievous side lately. She knew damn well what she was doing when she started rubbing me under the table.
The problem is, I find it a little too arousing when she makes me put her in her place. And she knows it. She fucking knows. I can’t even hide the effect she has on me. Even when she’s disobedient, all I want to do is give her attention. She plays me like a Dajorkan harp.
Even now, as we walk through the crowd of dour-faced vostrata all dressed in black, just about the only thing I can think about is that plug in her ass. She’s probably feeling it right now with every step, probably leaking into her panties the way she always does when I make her wear her plug. I can’t wait to get her home, flip her over my knee, and see it sticking out from between her cheeks as I spank her until she fully submits. I won’t be surprised if she puts up a bit of a fight with the way she’s been acting today, but by the time I’m done with her, she’ll be calling me Vostra and begging for my cock.
“Let’s make the rounds and say our goodbyes,” I whisper to Melyta, guiding her with my hand on her waist.
She gives me a shy little smile, clearly relieved to be leaving. “Okay.” She kisses me on the cheek.
We go around the room and pay our respects to everyone important. Last is Sarizor, drinking in a dim corner at a table with Nullion. They both look up as we approach.
“Sarizor,” I say, bowing my head. “I wish I had words for you. Gurtion was young, and he was a good man. He didn’t deserve any of this.”
Melyta nods solemnly next to me, putting on a very good impression of sadness.
“Funny,” says Sarizor, staring past me, “no one here seems particularly sad.”
I blink. “I’m sure that’s not true. Nothing could ever compare to a father losing his son, but we all feel your loss. I feel your loss. For the entire Family, this is a tragic day.”
“Oh, you’re all good at faking it,” Sarizor grumbles, “but none of you ever liked him. You’re all glad he’s dead.”
“I’m not glad he’s dead,” I tell him firmly. “And nobody I talked to is, either. We’re all here to mourn him, and to honor you.”
Sarizor doesn’t look completely satisfied, but he gives me a slight nod and leans back in his seat. I whisk Melyta away after that, and feel Nullion’s eyes drilling into my back as we exit.
