myself. I’m too upset to think about how amazing living in space is as I make the way back to my tiny room.
Why did I talk back?
I get to my room and take off my thin, white dress. We still haven’t had time to buy me any real clothes, so I’ve been stuck wearing what Harry has on board. Unfortunately for me, that means a dress.
And only a dress.
I plop down on the bed to wait. The mattress is more comfortable than anything I’ve ever slept on before, but even the comfort afforded me here doesn’t take away the thought that I’ve disappointed Harry.
What is he going to do when he comes to me?
We’ve had sex a few times. He’s tied me up and fucked me. He’s bent me over a chair and thrust his cock into me until I cried out for mercy. He’s made me beg. He’s made me cry. He’s made me feel everything and nothing all at once.
And now he’s making me wait.
And I think the waiting is the hardest part of this.
Desire is creeping over me, threatening to take over, but still I wait in the silence, in the darkness of space, until my Master returns to me.
Somehow I know that as soon as he’s touching me, I’ll forget all about my disobedience.
I’ll forget about how embarrassed I was when he looked at me.
I’ll forget about how much it hurts to have him disappointed in me.
The temptation to touch myself rises. What if I just get started without him? What if I just rub my thighs together, just a little? That won’t count. It couldn’t. He can’t get mad over something so simple, something so small, right?
Rolling my eyes, I try to stop talking to myself and just focus on being. The entire ship is silent. In my room, I can hear nothing. Not the whir of the engines or the shifting of gears. I can’t hear storms or rain or voices or cars. I can’t hear anything. I hear nothing. I am immersed in silence, in darkness.
And it’s all for him.
Harry does not knock on my door when he arrives. He’s never knocked. It’s his ship. He doesn’t need to knock. He just waltzes in like he owns the place, which he does.
When he sees me sitting on the bed, naked, waiting for him, he frowns.
“What are you doing?” He barks.
I jump, surprised at his outburst.
“Waiting. Like you said. You said to wait.”
“Yes,” says Harry. “I said to wait for me. I didn’t tell you to relax until I come to you. I said, wait. ”
He grabs me and yanks me to the floor, then pushes me down so I’m kneeling in front of him.
“Hands behind your back,” he says, and I obey immediately. I grab my hands and push them behind me, which forces my tits out in front of me. I glance down at myself, surprised at how seductive this position makes me appear.
“You look gorgeous,” he says, his voice softer now. “Just the way I want you.”
I smile, pleased with myself. I’m not a great submissive partner. I’m not even a good one. I get that. And to be honest, the parameters of my relationship with Harry have never been defined. After all, I’m technically his captive, though he promises to return me to Earth next year. I don’t expect him to treat me like a girlfriend, or with romance, or to profess his undying love for me, but I like the way he makes me feel.
I feel good when I’m around him. Strong. Confident. Seductive.
Even now, as he stands over me, his muscular form watching my every breath, I can’t help but wonder what he has in store for me.
“When I tell you to wait for me,” Harry breathes, “this is how I expect you to wait.” He pushes a foot between my knees and nudges my thighs apart, so they’re spread. “Like this,” he says. “I want to see your wet pussy. I want to see you dripping for me. I want to see your tits perky and ready for my mouth. I want every inch of you, Aislin.”
I nod.
“What was that?”
“Yes, Master,” I murmur.
“That’s right, Aislin. I am your Master,” Harry tells me sternly. He walks to the dresser and pulls out the top drawer. I know it’s the
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