Uncharted Territory (closed for peterpan)

[Azalea]

It was not easy for me to understand, at first, what dane was saying......he was not displeased with me, he did not count my failure to resist his pleasuring as a failure at all. After he released my hands so that I could use them to embrace him, he held me and kissed me for a long time, murmuring words of encouragement. His kisses were tender, his hands soft and gentle on my body, and I at last accepted that I had done well in his eyes, had served him as he had hoped I would.

Then we both had work to do.....much work, and not much daylight left. My master had instructed me to find clothing, as the flimsy gown I had been wearing was quite torn and wholly inadequate to cover me. He also spoke of my making myself "presentable" for him later that evening. I thought of the few garments I had tucked into the little bag he had permitted me to take from Kanos. Not much there to wear to please my Master, I thought ruefully......and I found that I suddenly was filled with a striong desire to please him. The thought made me blush.

I took the robe we had lain upon and shook it out......bits of grass and dirt fell from it, and it was damp and stained with my Master's seed. It was all I had, though. I tore the collar off to use as a sort of belt, and wrapped it around my waist, tying it closed. I left my torso bare, deciding that there was no one save Dane to see my body and he certainly had a right to gaze upon me whenever he wished. The long loose sleeves would have made labor in the hot sun diffciult, and my arms were thus free to move.

Dane busied himself with fabricating some kind of shelter for us to spend the night in. I went in search of something edible, and did not have far to go. the little waterway winding through this sheltered spot had encouraged the growth of lush plants all along its course, and I soon had found bushes covered with small red globes. Cutting one open, I sniffed, and found it smelled exactly like a familiar red fruit grown in abundance on Kanos. There was no other way to test it than to ingest it, and I took a tiny nibble. It tasted sweet and juicy, much like the Kanosian fruit, and I picked a mess of them.

Alittle further on, I found clusters of wild onions......at least they looked, smelled, and tasted like onions........and I pulled a bunch of these up. And so I continued, soon gathering a goodly amount of items I prayed would turn out to be good to eat, and not harmful in any way.......

****************************
Whjen I returned to show my Master what I had been able to find, he seemed pleased and agreed that everything looked promising, some of it even tasty,

"You have done well, Lorra. Now, let me show you what I discovered stowed in my gear." He walked me over to a small pile of goods from the transport ship, and pulled out a bottle of fine Kanosian wine. "Tonight, when we are ready to lie together again, I wish to drink some of this with you, to celebrate our ........agreement as Master and slave." He blushed, and my heart raced at the thought of lying with him again.....and began to think of what I might do to please him.....

 

[peterpan]

This island would not support us long. I would have to forage further for food in the weeks to come. But there were several fractured land masses in easy reach and they may likely prove sufficient, making this island an ideal haven: in reach of food but out of reach of that which might consider us food.

I would not seek food in the ocean. I had been warned about bringing ‘hooks’ there and placed great value on the ocean mind’s friendship.

That left my prime goal to find shelter. The thought of sleeping on the ground also did not appeal, unconscious to whatever predator or parasite might find us there. Several rocky ledges could be found but all the geology was tilted. Also two, or more often three walls would have to be constructed.

The trees hereabouts grew differently from the norm of Vaikor or Kanos. Rather than a trunk sprouting a single branch now and then, these trees did not so much branch as flower into a crown of branches. Then one or two may prove fittest and those would broaden, perhaps to ‘flower’ once more. The small, brightly colored buds I had taken to be blossoms were also potential branches. The two where the same.

Climbing to examine one of these crowns of branches, I found it to be a surprisingly level bowl with a hollow at it’s centre where water would funnel. A little embarrassed still at my failure to recognise the threat of the ants, I paid careful, paranoid in fact, attention to the wood and the drainage hollow, to be sure this inviting platform was not some form of Venus fly-trap ready to spring closed upon us, or emit some stupefying gas or scalding acid, but the wood was just wood, the hollow nothing more, and best evidence of all: there was no form of lure.

So, I set about a tree house. The site I chose was in fact not far from the brook and shelter where Lorra had become mine. There was a huge old tree with several such crowns. They could become rooms in future, if we stayed here long, but for now one would more than suffice. The lowest crown was three meters from the ground and had a base more than two meters in diameter. One branch formed the continuation of the trunk and was huge. The eleven others were scarcely wider than my wrist and ascended for many metres without branching, straight as bamboo. These I tied with unbreakable cord from the survival kit, some three or four meters above the crown to form a birdcage of branches, taller than it was wide. Foundations that could have taken days were thus produced in less than an hour and the remainder of my time could be spent finding broad flax leaves to weave into the walls, and dry moss to soften the floor. The ‘nest’ could be reached by a simple but sturdy ladder, created from two long bamboo-like poles bound at the top but separated at the base by the first, metre-wide, rung. The ladder was light enough to be lifted from the ground and hooked outside the narrow entrance. In all, it was not yet beautiful but we could sleep safely tonight.

In the sandy clearing at the tree’s foot I piled the dryer of the dead wood I had cut, alongside other logs I had gathered to make a fire when night came. This is where I inspected the food Lorra had gathered, laid out on flax leaves.

+++

There was not much that could be done to cook the food, but to wrap it in wet leaves and bury it in the embers, or roast it on primitive skewers. We experimented, and some of the experiment were abysmal but that was part of the adventure. I was not concerned with subtle poisons. Viakorian science had proofed vaikorian stomachs against the variety of a hundred worlds, and shared the means of this fortitude freely with our slave worlds. In fact insisted upon it. Anything which did not blister the tongue was unlikely to bring harm.

For platters, cups and cutlery there were shells, shells and shells in that order. They did well enough for holding steaming vegetables, and carving it and spooning it.

I poured some wine into a palm sized shell Lorra held reverently. We both sipped from it, but it proved an awkward drinking vessel. As much of it flowed down our necks and down our naked chests as down our throats. I drunk much of it from the bottle and poured much of it into Lorra’s open mouth. When she choked, and laughed, I licked what she spilled from her bare skin. The bottle was soon empty and neither of us had consumed enough to more than whet our appetites.

“And now, my scribe,” I instructed my slave as we lay by the fire, our stomachs full and hearts light, “Show me what a scribe’s cool mien hides. Show me what a scribe’s fertile imagination bears. Please me.”

 

[Azalea]

Danes's cleverness at using the natural bowl-shaped groth of the trees impressed me, and I counted myself fortunate to be marooned with a warrior who seemed as resourceful and intelligent as he was brave. We enjoyed our simple meal, plain though it was, and when it was done, we shared the wine......which provided not only drink but amusement, as it spilled copiously from the shells we attempted to use as cups. Dane seemed to greatly enjoy licking up the spills from my body, and I must admit I found it enjoyable to have him do so. This was my first glimpse of my new master in a more carefree, almost happy mood, and I found him quite winsome.

Then he spoke words which brought my nervousness back.
“Show me what a scribe’s cool mien hides. Show me what a scribe’s fertile imagination bears. Please me.”

I inwardly regretted my lack of education in the ways of a courtesan. All I knew of men and women pleasing one another had been learned on the ground not far from where we sat, only hours before. My heart raced within me, for I was both terrified and aroused......I wanted badly to lie with my Master again but was fearful about how to behave with him. Would he wish me to be bold, or to wait upon him?

I was clad in a skirt that I had stashed into my travel bag, but had left my upper body bare. I had discovered that Dane found my breasts pretty to look at, and I also wanted to save my upper garment for working in the heat of the sun. For the night, I felt he would be pleased with me clad this way.

Please me."
"Yes, my Master," I answered, and I knew I was blushing deeply as I rose to get closer to him.

He was lying on his side, supported by his arm, and I knelt in front of him and tentatively touched my hand to his hair, stroking it, and then letting my hand touch his shoulder. He made no move but watched me intently. His eyes, shining with more than just reflections of the fire, encouraged me to continue.

Holding his shoulder, I bent to kiss him. I was surprised by how soft and moist his lips were, and when they parted to let his tongue though to tease at mine, I opened my own lips. I felt an ache growing in my body as our kiss deepened, and I brought my other hand to hold his head and stroke his back.

He shifted his position to sit up, and wrapped his arm around me, drawing me close to him, and we continued our kissing. As our tongues probed one another;s mouth, I felt myself opening to him.....I have no other words to describe it. My breasts pressed against his bare chest, and I shuddered with memory of how his mouth had suckled on my nipples that afternoon. Inspired suddenly, I drew back from our kiss and offered my breasts to his mouth.

Dane smiled at me and cupped them, his hands so gentle, his touch inflaming my passions. My breathing changed, and I realized I was panting, as he brought his mouth to a nipple and began suckling me, his fingers rubbing and pinching the other nipple. I closed my eyes and moaned audibly, and began stroking his body more boldly. My hands soon found incontrovertible evidence of his desire......his penis was quite erect, and I gasped softly as I took him into my hand. At this, Dane broke off suckling my breast and whispered, "Let me lie back, Lorra."

He rclined and indicated that I should continue stroking his penis, and I did so, giving my attention to his body in a way that I had not done earlier.

I marveled at how he was made, taking time to examine and tenderly stroke not only his penis but his testicles, his thighs, his belly. I found myself breathing hard and thought about what I knew of what men liked. Then I brought my mouth to his organ and, praying I was doing the right thing, kissed him.

He moaned deeply and put his hand on my head, gently pressing me to him, which I accepted as sign that he was pleased and wanted me to continue. I moistened my lips and kissed him all along his length, and then let my tongue play, licking all around him, enjoying the silky texture of his intimate skin. He pressed a little harder on my head, and I knew what he wanted me to do. I opened my lips and took his penis into my mouth, letting my lips slide down.

Dane writhed a little and arched his hips up, driving himself in deeper, and I began moving up and down on him, sucking, licking, hoping he found it pleasurable. My hands were not idle.....I stroked his thighs, loving the feel of his strong, sinewy muscles, remembering how easily he had overcome me earlier.
The thought of his strength overpowering me brought a throbbing ache to me, and I founding myself sighing and moaning as I pleasured his penis.

Suddenly, Dane removed his hand from my head and whispered, his voice low and husky, "Lorrs, please stop....I want to come inside of you."
I stopped immediately, and asked, "Was I doing something wrong, master? Did I hurt you?"

"He laughed softly. "You did not hurt me, my sweet little slave. I would soon have released my seed into your mouth, and I wanted to prolong this moment."

He took me into his arms and began kissing my body. hotly, intensely, and I shivered in his arms.

 

[peterpan]

After I spoke my words, simply instructing her to please me, I gave no further clue.

I watched the scribe girl’s anticipation and trepidation with secret pleasure. A trained courtesan knew ten thousand beginnings and three hundred endings. She knew when to act pleased and when to act pleasured. She knew how to select a unique path from a beginning to an ending, perfectly attuned to her patron’s mood, without the least bias of her own heart revealed.

Lorra, gifted scribe, knew almost nothing. Only what her body told her, and what she had learnt at my hands only hours earlier. I admit I delighted in her discomfort, but only because I knew what she knew not: She pleased me by being; by kneeling there in front of me: living and breathing and safe and mine. That was enough and everything else a surprise that did not end.

Tentatively, she bent to kiss me; her breath surprisingly warm. Hair brushed my face and a soft breast grazed my shoulder. I did not take hold of her at first though I wished to crush her to me. I did no more than probe her mouth gently with my tongue. I wished to see what she would do next.

A delicate arm encircled me. Her fingers traced the muscles of my back, combed through my hair that was no longer tied. Holding myself in check, I matched her only: sitting to take her in my arms as our mouths consumed the other.

Lorra shuddered unexpectedly. Jarringly, she broke away. Was she suddenly afraid, remembering something of her earlier treatment at my hands? Reluctantly I let her slip from me.

Lorra rose to her knees, raising her chest, coy, yet shy, as she offered her breasts to my lips. My slave knew I had taken joy in them in the past, a little uncertain their magic was not a fleeting thing, a little unsure her offering was appropriate… Behind her unsure smile was a transparent anticipation. She wished to please me, but nothing pleased me more than this. Lorra remembered my lips on her. Not all her experiences at my hands had been merely endured.

More gently this time, I encompassed the perfect curve of her breasts, large hands raised in mankind’s earliest gesture of worship. I had made an angel my slave and she was eager I have all of her. I took a firming nipple into my mouth, teasing every bit of sensation from it, as a hand tweaked pleasure from the other. Her angel’s hands explored me.

Finding my engorged thallus, Lorra’s intake of breath amused me. I lay back, and indicated she should continue her attentions and satisfy her curiosity.

Lorra stroked me, explored me. Without coercion she kissed me. I moaned and Lorra hesitated. I pulled her head down so she would continue. She teased me with her lips and tongue till I could not resist taking more.

Her mouth was hot around me; the brush of my slave’s teeth a thrilling reminder of the trust I could finally place in her. Her tongue explored me still and if I let it go much further I would loose all control and spend myself deep in her throat. I did not want that. Lorra had more to give and I would have all of it.

Withdrawing with a few gentle words of assurance, I pulled her face to mine, taking her into my arms, gripped her body to me. Her thigh slipped over me and I pulled it high, to my chest. I did not enter her yet.

My hands slipped up her thighs, under Lorra’s skirt to caress her buttocks. Strong hands gripped Lorra’s hips and raised her pelvis up so she knelt on elbows and knees above me. Grasping fingers explored her torso, running the line of her spine to her neck, to grasp her hair and pull her head back so her back arched and her chest dipped almost to mine. Fingers traced her ribs as I rose to kiss the hollow of her throat. My hands encouraged her forwards so I could kiss her lower, spending just a little while on her jostling breasts before moving her further up my chest, to bite at her taut stomach.

The skirt was pushed higher; the elastic hooking first over Lorra’s breasts and then her shoulders. “Remove this,” I instructed, and Lorra rose to pull the cloth over her head. My hands traced up her thighs and waist to her sides and breasts. My breath was hot on her belly.

My own arousal had calmed just enough that I would not explode into her now.

“Now. I am ready,” I told Lorra.