My Master
Rating: X, Squick

Diana deRiggs

This story was born of a personal challenge from Lowbacca-of-Kashyyyk ... he supplied the first part of the first sentence and reminded me of the nickname a certain wife uses for her husband. You're a bad man, Lowbacca-of-Kashyyyk ... thank you for being a muse!

Her cunt was weeping with desire; the being under the table — man, woman, alien, pet ...? — was doing a superlative job of giving her the most exquisite twatlicking. A flicker of a joyful thought crossed her pleasure-addled mind, The person under the table must be a woman. No man could ever do such a wonderful job! She tried not to squirm so that she could experience the benefit of that mouth-to-vagina make-out session.

Her friends at work — both male and female — had talked about the great "head" to be had at table #0137 in the "Have It Your Way Café" but you have to get there at the right time when the "mouth" was there. This place is not so much a casual eatery as an anonymous sex brokerage. Gay men have long had their "glory holes" but this place with tables, booths, and banquettes meant it wasn't just a penis that could be serviced in that thrilling, anonymous manner. The owner of the mouth under the table did not see the "customer," just as the person being licked and sucked to ecstasy did not see the performing mouth — in every way, it was the perfect fuck.

But none of these thoughts were really terribly prominent in the woman's head. What was prominent was her impending orgasm. The rules of the house stated that a customer's hands had to stay on top of the large cloth that draped over the table and hid the person beneath. Without being able to put her hands on the head of the mouthfucker, she couldn't indicate for the person under the table not to stop! Go ... go ... go ... please, don't stop ...! she mumbled to herself.

She wrapped her thighs tightly around the person's head, trapping the tongue and lips tight up against her sex. She panted to an orgasm to keep herself from yelping, hoping not to attract too much attention in the noisy tapcaf. Not that it mattered if she did; there were plenty of others panting and moaning in the booths around her, too, though she could have cared less what they were doing at the moment.

After the explosion behind her eyes subsided, she pulled herself together and got up from the cushioned seat, getting out of the way of the sanitizing autocleaner. She stumbled against the booth entrance and looked up and down the aisle and saw others coming out of their respective semi-enclosed cubicles as their session times ended. Some looked calm, others looked disappointed; none looked as happy/tired as she felt!

She smirked knowing the information she'd received about this specific table had been true. The experience had been terrifically satisfying, and she hoped to visit again when that mouth — whoever it was — was under the table again.

The club offered a paging service to let her know when a particular person was under the table again, but it cost her a month's wages. Feeling the tingle of post-coital bliss, she decided to sign up.

It's a bargain and a guarantee ... better than any lame weekend date, that's for sure, she sighed.

* * * * *

"Mara?" Luke woke up out of a sound sleep, thinking he'd heard a noise, and assumed it was his wife coming home. However, he was in the habit of making sure it was her; a lifetime of being pursued by various enemies simply made it prudent.

"Yes, it's me," answered his wife's voice, "have you had a good night, my Master?"

Luke shivered at the way she whispered that last word. Mara was not a slave to anyone; at least not now. Before Luke had known her, she had been one. Though what she was to Emperor Palpatine could go by other names and definitions, her bond to him was an emotional and actual slavery. He was the only man she had referred to as "Master" in the conventional sense. But since the evil Sith lord's death released her from that bondage, she considered herself slave to no man.

Admittedly, she did call her husband "Master," but anyone who heard that utterance assumed it was done in sarcasm or anger. Luke was the acknowledged Jedi Master over all Jedi, whether they liked him or not, so the salutation was not completely inappropriate.

Between them, there was actually a deeper meaning. Mara had been the reluctant recipient of Luke's tutelage, his "project" for many years. But was never his apprentice, so there was truth to her claim that he was certainly not her Jedi master. So what did it mean?

Some people assume there was a sexual tinge to the nickname; in a sense, they were right. They gossiped that Luke must be a secret dominant in bed, to compensate for the control he was forced to exert over his emotions as head of the Jedi Order. Many could imagine him unleashing his passions, which gave him a studlier aura than he might have deserved. They whispered that Mara must be a firecracker of a submissive, and this was the only public declaration of the truth of their sexual relationship.

In fact, their sexual relationship was relatively normal, with each partner initiating foreplay and intercourse as their mood struck. They ranged through a broad spectrum of practices. But they did have one aberrant kink which was wrapped around Mara's use of the title, "Master," when talking to Luke.

"Master" would cause Luke to blush, no matter when and where his wife called him this, because it meant she was in charge, and he was anything but the master ...

In its simplest form, Mara used the term as a codeword to put Luke into a "submissive mindset."

Hearing this command, Luke posed his body into what his dominating wife referred to as "the position."

"Yes, Mara," he mumbled into the pillow as he raised his naked buttocks, trembling as his wife smacked his bottom playfully, yet painfully close to his exposed gonads. She abhorred the term "Mistress" and so he called her simply by her given name. It was a reminder that she had a real name in this situation, whereas he was simply a pet with nothing more than a disposable nickname!

"Did you enjoy the club, Master?" She firmly grabbed his right testicle and gave it a bit of a squeeze and swat, smiling as he fought not to twitch at the stinging sensation.

"Yes, Mara. I received many tips and the manager told me that every customer paid the premium to know when I'd be there again." His sore skin radiated heat, and he wriggled with pride and horniness.

His wife giggled. "You like that club way too much ... but you have to keep in practice, of course, Master. And primed!" She reached under his form between his legs, and rapidly pulled his rigid penis back toward her and then quickly released it, enjoying how it snapped back to slap his belly. She repeated this move several more times, enjoying the noise and the way Luke heaved and moaned at the sharp stimulation.

"Indeed, Mara," he gasped. "I left the credits and comcodes in the cookie jar, as always. For you to do as you wish, Mara." Repeating her name gave him some focus, but he was rapidly losing control. Luke squirmed as his wife squirted a cold, slippery lubricant against his buttcrack. He tried not to let his anus wink at her because she might be displeased at his lack of self-control. He groaned as he felt her hands on his hips, then felt the smooth tip of the big, tapered dildo push against his hole. He realized she had mounted the fake phallus through her strap-on pelvic harness and he moaned in anticipation.

"You like it, don't you, my Master?" Grabbing his hips hard, Mara pulled her hips in and out against Luke's form in a classic fucking motion. She enjoyed hearing her husband whine and moan, trying to maintain control over his feelings. The question indicated that he was expected to retain his composure until she felt he'd had enough.

Mara had no problem orgasming several times, riding the two smaller dildos mounted on the inside of her pelvic harness as she ground the artificial dick into her husband's catcher-hole. The get-up was a bit of a chore to put on, what with all the insertions and positionings required, one in her cunt, one in her rectum. But it allowed her to fuck her husband and herself simultaneously to great effect!

"Y ... yes, Mara!" As Mara whirled her hips in an exaggerated circular motion, Luke reflected how much he loved the intimacy of this sex-act, knowing how much passion and trust was behind it. He'd been the recipient of anal sex many times in his past, but the experience of being with this woman — who was in every way his equal — was mind-blowing!

It was too much — the oral sex he'd performed for happy customers at the café, not being able to jerk off, the money he'd been paid — it was too erotic and humiliating and a major turn on! He did all these things at his dear wife's command; she knew he was hers to do as she pleased and she enjoyed making him demonstrate his devotion. He was fortunately allowed to beg and he babbled loudly, half crying and half shrieking, "Mara ... may I have my release? Oh, please, let me ...! I've been a good master, I have Mara, oh yes, I've obeyed ..."

"Hmm ..." Mara pulled the dildo out of her husband's ass, slowing down his rising orgasm and took great satisfaction in his whimpering. She'd heard him panting and begging, felt him ready to explode — but she wasn't ready yet.

"You know, this thing isn't doing it for me tonight ... how about you beat off slowly while you demonstrate what you did for your customers, Master?" She positioned herself on a padded reclining seat — acquired especially for this purpose — and let him pull her harness off with only his mouth. She smirked, noting his erection had not subsided, though that discernible throbbing had slowed considerably as Luke concentrated on his task.

She giggled as his eager mouth sought her nether lips and she rotated her hips upward as she splayed her legs open wider. There were tears in his eyes, which Mara knew were of frustration and of gratitude. "Do me, Master! Make me your prize-bitch and show me why you deserve to be my good little cunt-lapper!" She raised her arms over her head and took a hold of the seatback so she could arch her hips upward and hold her dripping quim steady. "What are you waiting for?" She barked out the order to goad him into an enthusiastic pace.

She'd given him permission to touch himself and she felt him pulling on his cock with deliberate care, desperate to pace his orgasm. Making a quick decision, Mara grabbed her husband's blond locks and slapped his face hard to distract him. She pulled on him and forced him to reluctantly crawl and stumble up her body till they were face to face, his penis bumping up against her engorged clitoris.

She wriggled to tease him and waited for his eyes to glaze over with unspent lust before positioning his cockhead against the wet entry to her birthcanal and whispered with an urgent seriousness, "Master ... remember ... I want my Master's baby — so don't you dare go wasting any of that!"

Luke choked on his happiness and passion as he buried his rigidity into his loving wife ... he was her Master ... he was the only man living who could lay claim to Mara Jade. He was hers, all hers; he gave himself wholly to her. And by accepting him, she gave herself completely to him.

Who was the Master, then?

As his semen rushed into his wife's womb, he willed his millions of sperm to own her, wholly and truly; inside and out.

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