Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 149470 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 747(@200wpm)___ 598(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149470 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 747(@200wpm)___ 598(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
My new owner took off the long, black vest he’d been wearing. He tapped the wall twice and a hook appeared, where he could hang it. Then he did something to the crisp white cuffs of his shirt which caused them to spring open. He rolled them up to his elbows, revealing brawny forearms and looking for all the world like a businessman who was about to do manual labor. Then he knelt on the floor beside the tub and leaned over the side.
I scooted way to the far end of the tub, hoping to avoid him, but he only got a determined look on his face and reached for me with impossibly long, muscular arms.
“Come here, little one. How can I scrub you from way over there?” he demanded.
“I don’t want you scrubbing me!” I protested, even as he took me gently but firmly by the upper arms and drew me closer.
“Of course not—no pet I ever heard of likes to take a bath,” he remarked condescendingly. “Still, you must be kept neat and clean and it’s my job as your owner to wash you.”
He then proceeded to tap the side of the tub the same way he’d tapped the wall earlier. The side opened and a little gold faucet appeared.
“Cleaning solution—mild. And add some protective coating as well,” the gray giant said in a commanding voice. He held his hand under the faucet and a squirt of purple liquid came out and filled his palm. Looking satisfied, he rubbed his hands together and then nodded at me.
“All right—hold out your arms. We’ll start at the top and work downwards.”
I thought of jumping out of the tub and running, but what good would it do? I was in a spaceship and there was literally no place to go. If I hid under the bed, he would only pull me out again and likely as not confine me, wet and shivering, to my crate, before repeating this whole experience. I really didn’t have any choice but to let him wash me.
“Fine,” I said sulkily, holding out my right arm for him. “But I don’t like letting a strange man wash me! I don’t even know your name.”
“My name is Sir Barinthian Ver’Toklar the Fourteenth and my title is Overlord of the Northern Continent of Korrigon Four,” he said, surprising me as he began to rub his big hands briskly up and down my extended arm.
“Wow—that’s a mouthful.” I looked at him speculatively. “It’s kind of a lot to say. Maybe I’ll just call you ‘Barry.’ Or no—‘Bart.’ You definitely look more like a ‘Bart.’”
He frowned at me sternly.
“You will do no such thing. You may call me ‘Master’ or ‘Sir.’ Any other mode of address is unacceptable.”
“What? I’m not calling you ‘Master’ like we’re in some freaking BDSM relationship!” I protested.
“Then you may call me ‘Sir,’” he said firmly, starting on my left arm. “And you’re lucky I allow you to address me at all. Many Korrigans who have sentient pets fit them with a muzzler to prevent them from speaking at all.”
“What? But that’s horrible! It’s inhumane!” I protested.
“As a matter of fact, I happen to agree with you,” he said. He was finished with my arms and now he began rubbing his big, warm hands up and down my left leg.
“You…you do?” I had some trouble getting the words out. As strange as it sounds to admit it, I found that having his big hands on my bare skin was making my body react. I was feeling tingles where he touched me and tremors up and down my spine. A light, fluttering sensation was filling my stomach—what was happening to me?
“Yes, I do,” he said firmly, apparently oblivious to the strange sensations he was causing just by washing me. “If you’re going to take on a sentient pet, I believe it’s important to allow them to communicate if they wish to. Within reason, of course,” he added, giving me a stern look.
“Um, of course,” I mumbled. He was washing my right leg now and I was still trying to figure out what was going on with my body. I had never reacted this way before when a man touched me. It was like some part of me that had been asleep all my life was waking up.
My captor—or “Sir”—as I was supposed to call him, got some more of the purple liquid from the golden faucet. He had me turn for a minute so he could scrub my back and then he turned me back to face him and began to rub it over my torso. I shivered as his big hands moved briskly over my breasts. His touch wasn’t sexual—he was bathing me the way I might bathe any of Aunt Maizy’s Pomeranians—but it was still affecting me greatly. I could feel my nipples getting tight and achy as he washed them and suddenly my pussy felt hot and wet and swollen. What was wrong with me?