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In Human Bondage
By : Bebe
Category: 1 through F > Andromeda
Views: 563 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Tribune owns all rights to Andromeda.
Chapter List
- 1-Part One
- 2-Part Two
- 1
- 2
Title: In Human Bondage, Pt. 2
Author: MouseBebe
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Tyr has taken Beka as his slave.
Spoilers: None.
Pairing: Beka/Tyr
Setting: No specific setting.
Disclaimer: Tribune owns all rights to Andromeda.
Archive: Do not archive without express permission.
Feedback: Constructive criticism welcome.
Author’s Note: See Part 1.

The light in Tyr’s quarters was precisely the usual level when he entered, as was the air temperature. Everything was in its place or where he had left it before leaving for his stint on Command deck. It was almost as he had expected it to be. The sole exception was Beka.
He was not surprised by her being in his rooms. He was surprised, however, by all other aspects of her appearance. She was kneeling on the deck plates, only a short distance inside his door, her head bent in deference. She was also not wearing anything resembling her usual attire, but something filmy, short, and red that exposed her shoulders and neck. As he stood silently, assessing her, she said, in an unusually throaty voice, “Welcome, master.”
When he still didn’t say anything, she lifted her head, just a little, and asked, “Is something wrong?” Again, she used that voice, not the way she usually spoke but a tone that implied intimacy.
After another beat, one in which he could hear her heart trip faster— nervousness?— he spoke. “What did you do?”
“What do you mean?” Her attempt at innocence was noteworthy, but not flawless.
“This is not your usual behavior. I suspect you’re making an attempt to appease me over something you’ve done. What did you do? Or what are you going to do?” He waited, resting his hands on his hips.
She opened her mouth, closed it again. Perhaps she’d assumed he’d take full advantage of her unusual submission without asking? Finally, she said, “You’ve expressed displeasure with my performance. I want to be what you expect.”
And if he believed that… He waited a little longer, seeing her bite her lip as if she was unsure if she’d overstepped. Tyr was in no way convinced that she merely wanted to be a better slave, given how she’d fought that position at every turn in the past. There had to be something else going on, especially with how her heartbeat and respiration had changed when she told him her “reason”. She also could not reasonably expect that he’d simply take this abrupt change as real rather than fabricated. So why? She was still watching his every motion or lack thereof, waiting in that position for his next words as if she actually were intent on fulfilling his every impulse to the best of her abilities.
Very well. If she wished to test him— or for him to test her— he would grant her wish. “Slave.” Her eyes flicked up to his briefly, something she hadn’t done yet, and dropped again. Again, her heart edged just a little faster. “I want to relax for the night. Undress me for bed.”
She hesitated, just barely, and then nodded, adding a beat later, “Yes, master.” She stood carefully and he was more than pleased at her choice of clothing for playing the obedient slave tonight. The lingerie was not entirely sheer, as he had thought initially, but had barely-opaque panels over her breasts; if the light had been a little brighter he suspected he could have seen the shape of her nipples through the fabric. She would have been unable to conceal almost any object to use for attack or subterfuge, if that were her plan. And, he was surprised to see, that was all she was wearing; the filmy layer drifted only to her upper thighs, and he could see the darker curls at the apex of them. He did not let his solemn expression flicker as she approached, though he felt warmer at the slow, ever-so-slightly provocative swing of her hips.
Again, she hesitated when she reached him, but quickly recovered, reaching to unclasp his vest. She made quick work of it and started to slide the shoulder seams down his upper arms without actually touching his skin. He moved his hands off his hips and down long enough for her to slip the vest over his boneblades. The entire time she did not meet his eyes and he wondered why; it worked with the submissive slave role she was aping at the moment, but it was extremely un-Beka-like. Unless she was afraid she’d give something away by looking directly at him, which was entirely possible. A few quick steps and she was neatly draping the vest over the back of a chair nearby. He wondered what she would do next, and was not surprised that she knelt and unfastened his boots almost immediately. The sight of her there was not without appeal. One boot, then the other, and she waited patiently until he stepped back out of them before picking them up and setting them by the same chair.
When she returned, he was taken aback by her starting to unlace one of his bracers. She knew, after all, just how intimately touching the base of the blades was viewed, and he had assumed that even being an obedient slave she would bypass them. Instead she carefully unwound the knot and loosened the webbing that tightened it around his forearm. She had to have seen his knuckles tensing on his hip at even that minor contact, but if she did she ignored it. Once it had enough room, she eased it carefully over the blades, and he had to force himself to ease his grip so she could pull it off over his hand. Again the tidy placement on the chair; again the wordless, cautiously contactless loosening of the leather ties on the other bracer. It was taunting to have her so precisely avoid the places that would have pleased him the most to be touched, and she must have known it. The teasing was sufficient to arouse a response from his body, the possibility of the exposed skin and bases, and by the time she placed the second bracer on the chair he was uncomfortable in the leather he wore.
Again, she knelt before him. With precise movements she unfastened the pants, carefully pulled them back from his growing erection. He could feel her breath on his skin, as close as she was to him, and it was hard to resist the urge to pull her forward and demand that she do more. Still, he waited, watching her as she paused, seeming to assess his arousal. She sighed, lightly, the caress of air on his heated flesh more enticing than anything so far.
His wait was not long. She did not touch him yet, but continued peeling back the unfastened clothing, starting to push it back over his hips; he moved his hands obligingly. Gently, bit by bit, she pulled the pants down his legs to his feet. Again he stepped out of them, one by one, and watched as she picked them up and stood, taking them to the chair with the rest of his clothes.
And his patience evaporated. Seeing her walk, the way her hips swayed and the flex of her muscles, the way the fabric draped over her rear and emphasized the curve and the shadow of the cleft… As she smoothed his pants and draped them over the back of the chair he closed the gap between them and gripped her pelvis, pressing against her warmth and hearing her breath come short. The rub of the mesh fabric against him only heightened his awareness of her smooth skin underneath. “Slave.”
“Yes, master?” Again the throaty tone, although this time it seemed more genuine. Her scent was more welcoming, less like she was just aping being an obedient slave, and he wondered if the slow undressing had appealed to her as well. He could just see her breasts from where he stood, small peaks under the fabric speaking to her own body’s reaction, willing or not.
He leaned down to her ear, feeling her shiver enticingly against him as he murmured there. “You’ve done well. But I want you to do something else for me.”
A hesitation, then almost a whisper. “Yes, master.” Her hands tightened on the back of the chair, her arm muscles more defined, and he wasn’t sure if it was in anticipation or unease. Her heart was beating quicker as well, loud to his ears this close. Before he answered he slid his hands up the fabric to her breasts, feeling it pull a little with the motion and tease him more where they were pressed together, and he cupped them through the lingerie. They felt full in his palms, the nipples standing out against his fingers, and when he rubbed them gently her breath caught.
The feel of her against him was more than appealing, warm and pliable as she was, and with the smell of her filling his mind he was aroused to the point of feeling the heaviness in his groin where his blood was gathered. When she shifted her weight she rubbed against him, the faint roughness of her clothing against that sensitivity, he groaned, the dull need becoming a throbbing demand. He couldn’t resist pushing against her to feel it again, wanting to be inside her immediately. He slid his hands back down to her hips, wanted to pull her back until he could push between her legs, take her there where they stood. The thought sent a wave of heat through him, the image of her braced against the chair as he drove into her visceral.
Not the chair, though, it would move too much, however much he disliked the idea of letting her go no matter how briefly. He growled, “The bed. On your knees, hands on the headboard. Now.” She didn’t argue, moving instantly and quickly when he let her go, and he followed close behind. Watching her climb on the bed was almost painful, the lingerie sliding up to expose her when all he wanted was to be inside her already, and she’d barely gotten into the position he’d demanded when he was on the bed behind her, his knees between her legs and pulling her onto his erection.
She gasped and he saw her knuckles whiten on the bed, but he didn’t stop. She was hot around him, her body clinging to him but not resisting as he buried himself inside her. He didn’t care any more about her motives for being an obedient slave, only that she continued to be for just a little longer. He didn’t want to stop for anything short of death as he drew almost entirely out of her before plunging as deep as he could go. It wasn’t enough, all the sensations of her body under and surrounding him not enough and yet still too much and threatening to overwhelm him. Another thrust, harder, and she made a noise, one he knew her well enough to recognize as not of surprise or pain, and it was that small sound that drove him on, repeating the motion over and over.
It quickly was too much, the heat and the friction, the sound of her harsh breathing as he took her, and the wave of sensation crashed over him suddenly. He drove into her one last time, holding her hips so tightly she couldn’t move and breathless himself as he shook with the force of his orgasm. It was a while before he relaxed his fingers, leaving red marks on her skin, and slowly pulled out of her. Even that, satiated as he was, felt like a loss. As he lay down on the bed beside her, she sat back on her heels and waited. It took him a moment to realize that she was probably waiting for something.
“Excellent, slave. You may relax, if you wish.”
That seemed to be it. “Thank you, master.” She stretched out beside him and he wondered, again, what she was doing this for. It was, at a minimum, highly unlikely that Beka would have abruptly become a willing and obedient slave when she’d fought against it so fiercely before. She still wasn’t quite meeting his eyes when he looked at her.
“I will ask again,” he said, waiting a beat before finishing, “what have you done or will you do?” He didn’t try to be menacing, already knowing it wouldn’t work. He didn’t anticipate any real answer this time, either, but wanted her to be aware that he did not take her reason at face value.
“Nothing, master.” And that was it. She did not volunteer any more information beyond that, and instead seemed to be going to sleep as he waited.
Tyr frowned. He did not like the mystery of her motivation at all, but she did seem to be genuinely falling asleep, her breathing and heart rate slowing as he considered. He would, he suspected, have to wait until something more manifested to even begin to unravel it, and that something more did not seem likely to manifest in the next few hours of an already late night. With that in mind, he would wait, and be wary of her until that was resolved.

There was something very wrong. That was apparent the moment Tyr, still asleep, tried to move his arm and he met resistance.
Immediately he woke, surprised only that he hadn’t done so before he was immobilized. He was in his quarters. There’d been no alarms, no unusual noises, but he couldn’t move either arm, and Beka was fastening something around his ankle.
“Beka!” and he tried jerking his feet away. Only one moved, the other already bound, and she caught it without much effort.
“So it’s Beka now, instead of ‘slave’?” She smirked at him as she produced another restraint. With more leverage, perhaps— but he was tied securely and she managed to strap something around that leg quickly despite his fight. Trying to pull or flex under the restraints at his wrists yielded nothing. She watched, looking pleased and almost smug. “I wouldn’t bother. I never did get the merit badge in knot-tying, but cuffs I’m good at.”
He growled and pulled again, trying a different angle, but all four of the restraints refused to give. With more time, he could work them loose, but not yet. “Slave, release me,” he ordered, irritated at whatever she was playing at.
“And now we’re back to ‘slave.’ I think it’s the other way around now, don’t you?” She moved to the side of the bed and tilted her head as she assessed him. “You’re not getting out of those anytime soon without showing me some respect, after all.”
He glared at her. “What precisely do you think you’re going to accomplish with this? Outside of punishment when I get out of these.” He pulled again, still fruitlessly.
“And threatening me with ‘punishment’ is going to make me let you go sooner?” She seemed entertained. “And I’m not trying to accomplish anything except giving you a taste of it yourself.”
Tyr glared at her, his attempts at freeing himself having proven fruitless. “I have never physically restrained you.”
“Not with actual ties, no, but in a fair fight I think you’d have the advantage. This is just getting you down to more or less my level.” Now it was a definite smirk. “Well, a little less.” She trailed her fingers down his exposed underarm, making a point of his vulnerability. “And I’ll let you go once I’ve gotten what I want. We’ll see if you still want to punish me then.”
“I assure you, it is not a question of if I will want to punish you.” And he could indeed think of many different ways to enact revenge, the least of which being returning the favor of being bound like this, strapped down by her hands and ankles, unable to fight any of his whims… The image was appealing in multiple ways. She was still wearing the filmy red lingerie from the night before, what he had thought was suspicious then and he knew now was. He could see her in that again, the situation reversed so she was helpless as he did what he wanted, the fabric shifting as she twisted to expose everything…
His attention was abruptly very much captured by reality, even with that idea in mind, as Beka shifted her fingertips to his side, still drawing attention to his own relative helplessness at this moment. As she continued to draw delicate lines down his side, he realized that it might have been less to emphasize his inability to fight back as it was for her own enjoyment. She seemed fascinated by the way his muscles jumped at the touch when she moved to his abdomen, then down further, just barely skirting his burgeoning erection, incited by the touch and his own thoughts of retribution for the bindings. He wasn’t the only one of them reacting, either, her scent shifting faintly but distinctly, stronger when she moved just slightly to reach his leg. He tensed when the back of her hand brushed his sac on the way back up, the touch tantalizing under the circumstances.
The tightening of his muscles she noticed, pulling her out of the reverie she had apparently fallen into, and she glanced over at him and smirked again. “Need something?” When he said nothing, her lips twitched in apparent amusement; now she stroked her fingers over the loose skin there and then up the shaft. He may not have been inclined to give her satisfaction of a reaction, but his body was not in agreement, hardening fully at the contact, especially when her loose grip lingered at the sensitive head. “I don’t know if I want to. After all, you haven’t done enough to deserve anything from me yet.” She pulled her hand away.
“Yet?” The word slipped from him, startling himself as much as it seemed to startle her. He hadn’t intended to say it at all, though he had wondered it.
“Yet,” she confirmed after a moment, the mischief growing in her expression concerning him. “I can think of a few things I can have you do before you get to enjoy any rewards. Including being let go.” The way she slid the hand she’d been touching him with down over her body made it obvious what other rewards she intended. He followed the motion nonetheless, the way the shifting of the sheer fabric highlighted and hid her curves in turn doing nothing to lessen his own conflicted interest.
“What, precisely, do I have to do?” he asked, working to keep his voice disinterested even as he knew she would see through it. The sooner she relaxed enough to let him go, or at least for him to be able to free himself…
“Hm.” She tilted her head again; it was unclear if she was actually thinking about it or just affecting the appearance. Either way, she ran her fingers along his chest again while she “thought,” scraping her nails across one nipple. It was not enough to be uncomfortable, but enough that he got a jolt of sensation. “I’ve got a few ideas.”
Before he decided whether to ask or not, Beka moved. Carefully, slowly, tauntingly she crawled onto the bed next to him. The smell of her skin and the sway of her breasts distracted him for a moment, the physicality of her this close almost enough to pull his attention from the situation. Then she straddled his abdomen and he started to reach for her, to pull her where he wanted her, and the sudden halt reminded him. “Now,” she said, ignoring the motion, “I think I get to decide what happens next.” She tugged at the already-low neckline of her lingerie to expose one breast, the nipple already tight from either chill or anticipation. Leaning forward over him, she put her hands on the headboard and ordered, “Use your mouth on me.”
He obeyed. There was no benefit to argument.
He took her nipple into his mouth immediately, sucking gently and hearing her sigh at the pressure. Flicking his tongue over the tip seemed to please her, as did scraping his teeth cautiously over the warm flesh, but simply sucking seemed to do the most, eliciting more sighs and little sounds at the motion. Her scent strengthened as he continued, so he was surprised when she pulled away. “Good,” she told him, her breathing already uneven. She unveiled her other breast and leaned over again. “Keep doing that until I tell you to stop.”
As an order, it was easy to obey. It was even too easy: the feel of her under his lips and tongue was appealing, as was the way she reacted to even the slightest change in pressure. As he continued she started to breathe more heavily, the sound called to every instinct he had. And ever so slowly she began to shift her weight, the join of her legs pressing against his abdomen where she straddled him so he could feel just how aroused she was by his apparent submission. It was distracting, pulling his attention away from any thoughts of freeing himself and instead toward how to please her so she would follow through on those vague rewards. The unbidden thought of her taking him into her body and riding him to completion lent urgency to his own need, and he caught her nipple on his tongue to press it demandingly, something that made her actually cry out. Not in pain, no, and he did it again but did not receive the same sound.
Instead she moved away again, something that frustrated him in his focus. After a moment of catching her breath, though, she spoke again. “Very good, slave.” Beka sat back more. “Very good. I almost wish I trusted you enough to untie you so I could have you do that somewhere else.”
He had an idea of what she would want, and it was confirmed a moment later. Slowly, making sure he was watching her hand, she slipped her fingers under the hem of the lingerie. They were wet when she brushed them over his lips. Almost unconsciously he opened his mouth; she let them linger, giving him a taste of what she meant. He must have made some tell of his own, a sound or motion, because she smirked again. “You wish you could, don’t you? Maybe later, if you’re really good. For now,” and she started to move, “I think you’ve been good enough to get a reward.”
Any thought of getting out of the restraints fled. He had thought she was aroused when she was simply skin-to-skin with him; he knew immediately he had had no idea. Slippery, and hot, and she moaned in a way that suggested she was on the verge of orgasm already when she filled herself with him. For lack of anything else he could do, he gripped the headboard he was tied to, wanting it to be her body under his grasping fingers. He couldn’t even get enough leverage to make more than a token attempt at thrusting up into her to try to get as deep as possible. The movement made her breath hitch, but otherwise she didn’t react; he wasn’t sure whether that was a desirable result or not, given that she could have left him unsatisfied as punishment or untied him as reward. As it was, he had to wait until she chose what to do next.
It was a mercifully short wait. She only stayed still for a moment before resting her hands on either of his shoulders, pinning him more firmly in place. Biting her lip, she started to move, gliding over his erection, and his world shrank to that friction. When she slid down, their bodies meeting at that farthest depth, she shuddered against him and he groaned himself when her muscles rippled around him in the palest imitation of her goal. He wanted nothing more than to thrust up into her and pull her down onto him, take what he wanted, with her body clutching at him more forcefully than that, but all he could do was hope she continued. It was torture.
She did continue, though, her own wants almost compatible with his, and she was moving quickly, grinding down onto him with each stroke so that the pressure and the pleasure together were on the verge of pain. It was overwhelming; Tyr’s whole body was taut with tension, so close to the edge that he was ready to fall, and then. She shuddered again and pushed down until he was buried in her to the limit, her nails digging into his shoulders, her muscles caressing him intimately and pulling his own climax from him. He may have made a noise, but he didn’t know and didn’t care as his whole body quivered underneath her.
It was a very long time before he opened his eyes. He didn’t know when he’d closed them. His breath was still ragged, though, as was hers in an uneven counterpoint. Her heart was still racing, but she was looking down at him and grinning. “Really good, slave.”
“And what do I earn?” he managed. Despite the casual words, he had to make an effort to relax his fingers, as they had stiffened against the metal of the bedframe.
“For now?” She looked mockingly thoughtful again. “I think I might untie you. Unless you want the other option for what you get if you’re really good.”
It took him a moment to catch up and recall what she had promised earlier. Not that he was reluctant for that reward, but… “Perhaps another time?”
“Oh, fine.” But she was still smiling and reached to his ankles first. No fool was Beka. It was disappointing, however, when his “reward” still entailed slipping from her warmth. He half-expected her to get off the bed before undoing his wrists, wary of the retribution he’d threatened, but apparently she was either extremely relaxed after her small victory or she was confident that he wouldn’t do her serious harm. He could not attest that the latter was completely misguided. Nonetheless, as soon as both his arms were free, he caught her before she could get very far and rolled to pin her underneath him.
“Now,” he said conversationally, “about your punishment, slave.”
She snorted. “Oh, please. What are you going to do, make me fold your laundry?”
“Perhaps slow torture.”
Her eyes widened at that and he laughed. She seemed less than amused by the jest. “Very funny, Tyr.”
“I thought it was.” He let go of her and sat back on his heels, letting her push herself back up. “I believe I’m in surprisingly good humor for someone who was just tied down, without warning, in his own bed.”
“Consider it payback for that… getup… you made me wear as a slave. You can’t tell me you didn’t enjoy dressing me up and parading me around.” He tilted his head, acknowledging the truth. It had been surprisingly arousing seeing her bending to his whims, albeit reluctantly, and he hadn’t enjoyed the previous night repeating that control any less. “Besides,” she continued, “you didn’t seem to really mind too much.” She raised an eyebrow pointedly.
“I would have preferred a more advanced notice than waking up not being able to move.”
“All right, next time I’ll let you know if I’m planning on surprising you with bondage.”
He shook his head at her flippancy. “I’ll save your punishment for another time. Now,” he stood next to the bed and held out a hand, “if you would care for a shower?”
“I don’t know, do I have to scrub your back? I only do the slave thing on request.” But she accepted the hand and let him pull her to him and into a kiss.

The End
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In Human Bondage	By : Bebe Category: 1 through F > Andromeda Views: 563 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Tribune owns all rights to Andromeda.

In Human Bondage