Page 43 of Dax: Gratefully Bonded

The question seemed to break him out of his daze. “No, sir,” he said, though he sounded far less confident than he had earlier. He lay back slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. It was tempting to just get on with this and hope for the best, to assume that he would enjoy it. But that would be going against a whole raft of ethical standards. As awkward and time-consuming as it might be to ensure he was actually consenting, I was acutely aware that refusing to do so was a very slippery slope. Dismissing one instance of discomfort would make it easier for me to dismiss it the next time it happened, telling myself there had been no lasting damage from the first time, and before I knew it, I could end up running roughshod all over his desires, on the excuse that teasing out his opinion was simply too difficult.

His body language right at the moment was a conflicted mess, weeping erection combined with open confusion. He wasn’t displaying clear discomfort, but at the same time, this was nothing like his eager anticipation, either.

“Were you taught how to go down on someone?” I asked him, trying to find an opening into this conversation.

“Yes, sir,” he said, his tone remaining wary.

“You do it very well,” I praised him.

That earned me a small smile, and the loosening of his shoulders. “Thank you, sir.”

I hesitated, trying to figure out what to say next, when Dax unexpectedly spoke again. “I was never taught… That is, dimariin general are not taught… how toreceiveoral sex. We were taught that our masters would not deign to perform such an act on us.”

Okay, now we were getting somewhere. Dax was concerned about this because he thought it was beneath me? Was that the only issue, though? “Well, I think that was rather negligent of your trainers, then,” I said, trying to keep my tone light. “There are some masters – particularly humans – who would very much enjoy doing this to their dimari.” Was that too much like pressuring him into it? I was trying to tease out his opinion, not insist he do what I wanted.

“Oh!” He seemed genuinely surprised by that.

I tried to figure out how to get him to indicate an opinion, one way or another. “My original intention here was to make sure you can perform the rest of your duties today without being distracted. So would this help that goal, or should I let you finish with your own hand?” It was a very sideways question, and I wasn’t sure it was going to achieve what I wanted it to. But right then, I couldn’t think of a better way to ask it.

Slowly, tentatively, Dax lay back down, parting his legs a fraction wider. “I’m sorry for interrupting you, sir,” he said, as he tilted his hips towards me. “I’m very happy for you to do…” He gave a slight thrust of his hips. “…whatever you think best.”

Well, wasn’t that interesting? I licked my lips and leaned down, watching his expression as I neared his groin. Caution turned slowly to anticipation, and then startled pleasure as I closed my mouth around his head. “Oh, stars,” he muttered, then clapped a hand over his mouth. “Sorry, sir,” he apologised quickly, before clamping his lips closed.

“Sorry? For what?”

A wave of violet flickered across his scales. “My trainers told me I was…” He hesitated, and the waves of violet got brighter.“They said I was too noisy. Masters do not wish to be interrupted while they’re…”

“I’m developing a rapid dislike of your trainers,” I said, before I could think better of it. “Or maybe they just don’t know anything about what humans like.” That part was certainly true. Dimari trainers had no reason whatsoever to care about the opinions of a species who condemned their bastardly slave trade. But it was imperative that Dax not find out about that. “If you want to express your enjoyment of this, that’s perfectly fine.” I phrased it carefully, to give Dax permission to do so, but steering well clear of an order to have him perform a particular role. I didn’t want to accidentally order him to be moaning in pleasure the whole time, as that would mask any of his attempts to express discomfort or reluctance.

“Yes, sir,” he said, sounding a little baffled, and I decided to skip any further explanation for the time being. His erection was waning, and engaging him in extended discussions about all the details of this was going to defeat the purpose of blowing him in the first place. Without another word, I bent down and took him into my mouth, intent on getting the job done without further interruption.

He hardened quickly in my mouth, and I moaned as I felt my lips stretch around him. He muttered an occasional encouragement, always stopping short of giving me an order. To a dimari, exclaiming ‘Oh, yes!’ was perfectly acceptable, while saying ‘Harder!’ was a violation of strict training.

Within minutes, Dax was panting and writhing on the bed, his legs flung wide and his knees drawn up. A strangled yelp leapt from his lips, and then I was tasting him over my tongue, swallowing rapidly as his hips jerked and his fists gripped the sheets.

I drew back, feeling supremely satisfied as I stared down at his sated body. He was sprawled halfway across the bed, hishead near the bottom, his legs still parted wantonly as his cock softened. I wanted to ask him if he’d enjoyed it, but knew the question would be useless. Instead, I waited a few moments for him to catch his breath, then gently tugged on his arm. “Come on, scootch around this way,” I said, encouraging him to rearrange himself so that his head was on one of the pillows. I snuggled in beside him, pulling the blankets up over us, then tucking him in against my shoulder. “I think we’ve earned a snooze before it’s time to get up,” I said, just to make my intentions clear.

“Yes, sir,” he replied, sounding dazed. “Thank you, sir.”

I smiled and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. My little dimari was turning out to be thoroughly adorable.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Dax

Iwas in love. There was no other way to describe it. My master was simplywonderful. It was mid-morning, and I was attempting to dust the shelves in the living room. But despite my best efforts, I was spending at least half my time unable to drag my eyes off my master, as he sat at the dining table and worked on finishing the puzzle. Seeing that we were nearing finishing this one, I’d ordered another one this morning, and it would likely arrive sometime this afternoon.

I’d done my very best to please him in bed this morning. I understood his fears about sex. Not being able to gain an erection was embarrassing – though given his injuries, it was certainly not his fault. So I’d used every trick and talent I’d been taught to bring him pleasure, aware that I might not be successful – not this time, at least.

But he’d hardened, and then he’d climaxed, and then he’d…

Oh, by the stars, the things he’d done to my body. Despite his explanation about human desires, I knew perfectly well that masters did not put their mouths on dimari like that. So the fact that he’d done it to me displayed a most profound degreeof approval. I had pleased my master. After the longest, most painful year of my life, I had finally figured out how to please him.

“You have a session with your psychologist at two o’clock this afternoon,” I reminded him – partly because I wanted to be helpful, and partly just to hear the sound of his voice again.

“Hm? Oh, yeah, thanks,” he said, glancing up at me. And then he took a second glance, a slow smile curling the edge of his mouth. “Are you dusting the shelves, or are you just watching me?” There was amusement in the words, rather than reprimand, but nonetheless, I turned sharply back towards the shelves, feeling my scales ripple in embarrassment.

“Dusting, sir,” I replied. “Sorry, sir.” He’d asked me this morning whether we should use his mouth or my hand, on the proviso that whichever one I chose, I would be expected to do my chores diligently. I’d chosen his mouth in order to ease my aching arousal, but I hadn’t anticipated how much the memory of it would distract me for the rest of the day. I needed to put more effort into concentrating and less into ogling my master.