Bavel

Bavel

by Ms. Michele

(This is an alternate universe set in the future and on another world. This story contains aliens. If there are scenes you'd like to see written, a favorite fantasy, please don't hesitate to email the Author with your suggestions for Her contemplation. No children, no animals, no scat.)

 

Boots sounded firmly on the brick floor, the echoes bouncing off the walls on their way to the inner chamber of the business office.

“Good morning, Ma'am, there is a new applicant waiting inside,” troy announced politely as he handed her the morning mail. She gave his thick, long brown mane a stroke, igniting a low, rumbling purr.

“Good morning, troy, thank you. The one from New Jeri? Good, I've been expecting him. First impressions?” She could always count on her assistant for an honest opinion in this atmosphere of courtiers and toads.

“Subby,” he said with a slight twist of distaste to his lips, briefly baring a gleaming white fang. “I suppose we could use someone to clean the showers.”

Clare chuckled and tsk-tsk'ed. “They have their uses in other areas,” she said with a gentle reprimand to the tip of his nose. “Yes, Ma'am.”

“The litter-box,” she heard muttered as she went into her office.

Cats , she thought with another chuckle. Such snobs ....

Glancing at the applicant kneeling in the middle of the floor, she could tell immediately what set troy off; the boy had a definite dog sense about him. Looks like a boxer , she thought, wondering if this new boy had discovered his inner animal yet. Probably not, if he came in from New Jerusalem.

“Good morning, boy,” she said, tossing the mail on her desk and turning to stand in front of it, facing him. “I am Madam Clare. You may call me Ma'am.”

“Yes, Ma'am, good morning, Ma'am.”

He remained in Presentation, his eyes fixed at her feet. Clare gave a small nod of approval.

“Stand,” she ordered. He stood in one fluid movement, a surprise for such a compact body. “Inspection.” His hands went behind his neck.

“Why have you come here? You would fetch a pretty price in a private household.” She took a nipple between two fingers and gave it a harsh twist. He grunted but didn't move. She found it interesting that he wasn't pierced anywhere. Clare gave his taunt butt a pat in approval. Nice and round, a good target area....

“My Masters felt that I had too much pride, Ma'am,” he confessed after a moment. Honest. She nodded. And Troy saw a submissive in this boy? A titanium wall was what she saw. And a hell of a lot of scars. Whips and thunder sticks, from the looks of them , she thought, running her fingers gently over a few lines. He flinched slightly at one near his left side. Clare gave his hair a stroke.

She pulled her chair from behind the desk and sat, pointing at her feet. He dropped to his knees, back into Presentation, hands appropriately behind his back.

“My boots are new,” she commented. “They got dusty on the way in. Clean them.”

He hesitated. “Does Ma'am have a preferred method, Ma'am?” he asked politely. Point ..

“Use your mouth.”

Starting at the tip of the toe, he began with small licks and then extending into lapping over her ankles. She could feel the warm moistness of his tongue through the new black leather. His lapping grew into slurping as he sucked at the toe of the boot, low growls of pleasure emerging from his throat. Clare raised an eyebrow. What's this? She noticed that his hips where moving in small rutting motions. Reaching over to her desk, she quietly took the newspaper and rolled it up.

Smack!

He jumped as the paper hit his ass.

“Bad dog!” she snapped. He hid his face in the floor and whined. That was fast , she thought, congratulating herself on the guesswork.

“You were not given permission to hump. Turn.”

He scrambled, keeping his face to the floor as he turned, presenting his butt to her.

She smacked at his ass a few times, the flesh reddening nicely as he whined. He tried to pull away. Clare put her boot against his hole, smashing his balls with the sole, grinding his hips to the floor and continued to beat his ass and the backs of his thighs with the newspaper.

Satisfied that she had his attention, she tossed the shredded paper back onto the desk and watched his quivering form for a moment.

“Hips in the air,” she commanded, removing her boot. “Not that high.” She slid her boot under him, digging into his spongy balls. He yelped into the floor.  “You will come when I want you to come. Your cock and balls belong to me. Under no circumstances are you to masturbate without my permission. You should have learned all that under your previous owners.”

“Ma'am, yes, Ma'am,” she heard muffled from the floor. His previous owners probably didn't know there was a dog lurking inside of him , she thought.

She rubbed her boot on his balls, stepping a little more firmly to get her point across, and he grunted with a small quiver of his hips. Suspicious, she used her boot to flip him over. His belly and her boot were covered in a sticky whiteness. He whined, paws in the air as he presented his belly to her.

Clare sighed, looking at her new boots.

“Clean my boot, dog.”

She patted her long black braid made a mental note to herself to tell Troy to order more newspapers.

 

***

 

A gag, she thought, definitely a gag . That annoying woman with the equally annoying laugh was back, Clare noticed as she went for a walk out into the Grand Hall. The energy was high, a fine hum underlying the atmosphere as people talked, laughed, and danced to the band. It was impossible not to notice her, with that air-head braying sounding through the room. Clare had a fairly high tolerance for most people but a certain leggy blond simply rubbed her fur the wrong way.

“What are you growling about?” she heard in her ear. Was she growling?

“Her,” Clare said in a low voice, jutting her chin in the direction of her ire. Every time the woman visited, Clare was inundated by employee and customer complaints about her. She invited herself to scenes, tried to push a No into a Yes, which got her kicked out. She got back in despite the warning by smiling sweetly at the Reservations clerk who didn't understand why everyone ignored him for weeks afterward.

Dark Star glanced in that direction and arched his whiskers in agreement. His iron gray fur gleamed as a back drop for a dark spot in the middle of his chest, earning him his nickname which was just as well since most Humans couldn't even begin to pronounce his Chosen name. Clare had a sore throat for days after making repeated attempts at the snarls and growls it took to get out the appropriate sounds. Her own attendant, Troy, was relegated to a shortened version of his own name, Hssioteroynio. Clare immediately called him Troy. Most Thayans had pronounceable names, but a few had to be difficult....

“Yes, I've been avoiding her. Don't tell management.” Clare smiled a little, she being one of the owners of Crossroads. Dark Star was one of the senior associates of Crossroads who was usually training new-comers when he wasn't entertaining himself with the customers. He was high-priced, being a Thayan. Most Humans referred to them as Cats. Last she knew, his appointments were booked solid months in advance, which irritated her slightly; it meant that he wasn't home as much as she liked him to be.

The high stone walls of the Grand Hall, the main meeting area of the Crossroads , was alive with activity. The restaurant was doing a brisk business, a waiting line for seating was being set up. It looked to Clare to be about a thirty minute wait. Assignations were being made, trading going on.

An off-duty Master and several slaves were being introduced to the woman. She held out a hand to Jordan. He barely glanced at it. Clare stiffened as did several employees and locals who sent quick looks her way. Could the woman not see by his clan marks that he was House Alexander? No woman in the room would have presumed to place herself as his equal.

“Master Jordan, who doesn't shake hands,” the woman commented, withdrawing the untouched hand. She went on to speak animatedly with the others.

Clare's new pup, marc, came up and held out the ordered glass of iced tea. She swore silently to herself; the last thing she needed was for House Alexander to be in a snit over an off-worlder's mistake in her establishment. Most Masters from that particular House would have taken a finger off the offered hand, and that was just for starters. She gave a small nod to Master Jordan who looked her way with a disapproving scowl before snapping his fingers, calling his slaves to his side as he moved away from the woman.

“Fetch that paddle,” she quietly ordered marc, gesturing toward the decorations on the outside of the Dungeon's entrance. The “decorations” were real. marc returned with the requested item which Clare hung from her belt. Looking over to the Monitor, Clare signed a discrete question. The Monitor checked the log and gave a nod; the woman had signed all consents and releases, and had been Oriented. She wouldn't put it past Alexander to inundate her establishment with an unauthorized slave raid.

Most of the woman's friends scurried off at the sight of Clare approaching. She recognized a few as having visited the Dungeon in the past. The woman blithely rambled on, her high-pitched voice grating on Clare's nerves. Clare contemplated a gag once more. Veronica, that was her name , Clare remembered.

“Oh, hi!” the woman sparkled with high animation at seeing Clare stepping up to the table. “Am I ready for my close-up, Ms. Demille?” A couple more friends moved away hastily.

“It's Ms. Clare, girl,” Clare forced herself not to snap out. “I believe you have signed all the paperwork and you've had your introduction to the Dungeon? Procedures, accountability, rules ?” Veronica nodded at all the points, blond hair flying prettily.

“You understand that you are under my temporary Ownership for the next 24 hours?” She got another flying nod. “Good. Stand.” Veronica stood quickly, breasts that were too perfect to be real were thrust out, hands at her sides, shoulders back. Clare pulled the chair away from the table and sat down. She reached up, grabbed a lock of golden hair, and yanked the girl down. The girl stumbled, yelping, and fell across Clare's lap. Screams of dismay echoed throughout the Grand Hall as the paddle landed on the girl's perfect butt. Everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to watch, silence reigning except for yelps, screams, and the sound of a paddle on flesh.

“Now hear this, girl,” Clare said over the screeching. “You will NOT reprimand a Dom. You will NOT hold your hand to your betters. Shaking hands is a sign of equality. you are equal to none here. When spoken to, you WILL answer “Yes, Ma'am” or “No Ma'am”. I don't hear heads rattling. You WILL crawl, that means on your hands and knees, over to Master Jordan, and there you will prostrate yourself at his feet, wait for him to notice you, and beg his forgiveness at your rude assumption. If he cares to do so, HE will be your Owner for your time here.” She shoved the sobbing girl off her lap, taking a deep breath and a sip of her iced tea which marc had placed before her on the table.

It took the girl a moment to gather herself together enough to begin to crawl, her bright red ass quivering in the air. A bruise was already beginning to form on one high cheek.

“The other way,” Clare murmured. The girl hesitated, confused, and then turned, heading off once more. People quickly pulled back, a passage opening up for her to crawl through, leading directly to the booted feet of Master Jordan who stood waiting.

The girl remained on her hands and knees, breathing hard. His alpha slave put a bare foot on her back and shoved, sending the girl to her belly.

“Prostrate means on your stomach, girl,” slave martin growled.

The girl sobbed quietly, her face pressed into Master Jordan's boot. He waited a good few minutes, standing patiently as he lovingly stroked his alpha's hair and face. His two other male slaves stood nearby, looks of disgust on their faces, lips sneering at the thing at their Master's feet. Clare worried for just a fleeting moment about putting the girl with a Master from House Alexander where females are little more than dirt under their feet. Clare gave herself a mental shake; she trusted Jordan or he wouldn't be working in her House. slave martin, Jordan's alpha slave, was harsher than some of Alexander's Masters but he was also an excellent trainer, if one liked humorless soldiers.

“Speak, girl,” Jordan acknowledged the girl.

She took a gulp and raised her head enough to talk.

“Sssir, I bbbeg your forgiveness for my my rudeness, Sssir,” she stuttered. He looked over at Clare who nodded and made an offering gesture. She mentally crossed her fingers and sent up several quick prayers to which ever gods were listening.

“On your knees,” he ordered the girl. She got to her knees, approximating a Present position. Master Jordan unbuttoned his pants and took out his thick cock. He grabbed a fistful of blond hair and shoved his cock into her mouth. Deep in her throat, he let loose a hot stream of urine, emptying his bladder into her stomach. She opened her eyes wide, gagged slightly, and swallowed  on automatic reflex what seemed to be gallons of the hot acid.

“Lick it clean,” he ordered, pulling his cock out and holding it before her mouth. “Suck it, make sure it's empty.” With a trembling chin, she sucked at the spongy head, getting the last few drops of piss from his urethra before cleaning him off with her tongue.

Master Jordan looked over to Clare and inclined his head. Her gift was accepted. Clare felt a momentary pang of pity for the girl and hoped that Jordan would remember that the girl was a customer who did sign a contract stipulating one day of service.

 

***

 

troy approached as Clare greeted several new people to Bavel. She noted that troy had changed into a maid's outfit.

“Dahl-mai is here, Ma'am,” troy informed her. “She said to ask you if you'd care to join her for dinner this evening.”

Clare felt the weight lifting from her shoulders. “She is? Where is she now?”

“Cathartic flogging, Ma'am.”

Probably with Nathan, she thought. “When she's ready, inform her that I am at her service.”

troy inclined his head.

“This is cute, is it new?” she asked, gesturing to the black and white outfit that was barely long enough to cover his crotch.

“Ma'am,” troy curtsied.

Clare walked around him. He had black stockings on, attached to garters, his feet stuffed into high-heels. She lifted the hem of the skirt. Crotchless pink panties. Pink bow around his cock. Clare smiled slightly; had she been overlooking him lately?

“Very pretty,” she said. troy's skin reddened with pleasure.

“Thank you, Ma'am.”

“Fetch me a switch.”

troy curtsied and hurried off, an excited hop in his steps. He was back within seconds, falling to his knees and offering up the switch with outstretched hands, his head bowed. His owner took the switch and held it out to a nearby slave who took it with her mouth, holding it between her teeth.

“On that table,” Clare said, using the stick to point to a large, round coffee table that was quickly cleared as the surrounding occupants noticed her interest. troy was on his knees in the middle of the table in an instant.

“Shoulders down,” she said. he lowered his torso until his shoulders lay on the table-top. He spread his knees to her usual preference, his ass high in the air.

“Good boy, very nice,” she said, lifting his skirt and baring his ass. Clare patted the cheeks.

“Pretty ass, isn't it?” she casually asked on-lookers. Several people cheered with a few whistles.

Clare took a leather glove from her belt and slapped it against the back of his balls. troy spread his legs slightly wider as a quiver ran through him. “Are you a slut, boy?” she asked him.

“Yes, Ma'am, I'm a slut!” his voice muffled against the table.

“Whose ass is this?” she demanded, striking him again.

“Your ass, Ma'am!”

“What may I use this ass for?” Slap!

“As Ma'am wishes, Ma'am!”

Clare walked around to his head, lifting it by the hair. She slowly licked his cheek. “You are beautiful with your ass displayed, boy,” she whispered to him. “I'm going to make you even more beautiful.”

“Madam,” he acknowledged softly.

She walked around to his raised ass again. Using the leather glove, she slapped at his balls which were beginning to swell as was his cock. The sound of leather on flesh continued for several long minutes, moving from his balls to the back of his thighs and ass cheeks until his skin was nicely red. Clare put glove back into her belt and took the switch from the girl's mouth.

The sound of a cat growl was heard at the first strike. As the first welt appeared across troy's thighs, more growls were heard interspersed with purrs and yowls as more welts appeared. The swish of the switch send puffs of breeze through the air each time Clare swung. Pausing, carefully aiming, the stick landed directly against his hole. troy took a deep breath before screeching.

Clare reached up and took him by the hair, giving a yank. He fell sideways and quickly turned onto his back. Clare struck his cock which was straining against the little pink bow. troy was loud in his snarls, purrs, and growls, wiggling and pushing his hips up to meet the switch. Drops of blood appeared as she continued to strike.

“You may cum, boy,” she said, giving his balls a savage twist. troy yelled as he rained white milk upon himself and his new uniform. She gave the switch to the slave girl and sent her off to take it back to Clare's office. Clare knelt at troy's head and kissed his cheek. “Good, boy,” she whispered, crooning to him as they both took deep breaths. “You are beautiful, such a good boy. Madam loves you.”

She crawled up onto the table, stretching out beside him. He turned and buried his face in her breasts as he sobbed. Clare held him tight.