Kink Love And Galactic Domination Ch 02

Note: this story contains graphic sexual and BDSM depictions, including bondage, a m/f/f threesome with some playful mutual cuckolding, and a ton of improvised sex toys, including anal beads and a giant strap-on. The sexual interactions are enjoyable for everyone involved, but there's also some forced male chastity with a threat of bodily harm from a non-participant.

Recap: In part 1, Trisque and Leora got married to seal an uneasy treaty between their rival sides of the galaxy. After exploring each other's kinks in search of the upper hand, they decided to team up against their own handlers to rule together for real. It might have worked, had Trisque not fallen into a trap laid by Leora's uncle Dagget, the former king of her side of space. Now Dagget has total, admin-level control over Trisque's dick, and he's going to press his advantage.

***

Trisque retreated to the edge of the bed, pulling his knees to his chest, as Leora finished her explanation.

"So, let me get this straight," he said, tugging on his hair to fight a sudden wave of lightheadedness. "This thing isn't really a sex toy."

He glanced downward, in the direction of the chastity device he'd so proudly and excitedly locked himself into a few minutes ago. He squeezed it tighter between his legs and his torso, to avoid actually having to look at it.

"I mean, that was obviously the jumping off point for the design," Leora raised her shoulders sheepishly, "and it does have all those functions, but no, I guess you can't really call it that. Our old covert development team built it, for leverage. Real-life, political leverage."

"And you just threw it in a wastebasket?"

"It seemed romantic, at the time!" said Leora. "You stuck your dick in something you found in the trash, without thinking to ask me if I had the key?"

"It seemed...." Trisque started to yell, then shook his head at his matching excuse. "Yeah. Romantic. At the time."

Leora scooted closer and put her hand on his back. His cock was vacillating erratically between terrified swelling and terrified shrinkage. The warmth of her touch threatened to push him toward the more uncomfortable reaction, but if he pushed her away, he'd be even more alone.

"So now," he forced his breath with difficulty into an even, usable pattern, "your uncle not only has the administrative overrides for my dick, he can... murder me, with the tap of a button."

"Murder" was as close to the truth as Trisque was willing to give voice to. If Leora's uncle Dagget decided to activate the hidden guillotine built into the device, there was a good chance Trisque would simply go into shock and bleed out on the spot.

The possibility that he might

survive

didn't make him feel any better, so he didn't see much point in speculating on it.

"There's

really

nothing you can do about it?" he asked Leora.

He could hear it in his voice, the crazed, grasping-at-straws accusation.

For a moment, Leora looked disappointed that his trust in her was still less than absolute, after the short time they'd known each other. But she didn't rebuke him for it.

"That's not exactly what I said," she told him.

She picked up her tablet and turned it so that he could see the interface her uncle had allowed her on the device's control app.

"I can't disarm or remove it from here," she showed him. "What I can do is change the settings to retract the chastity tube, so at least you'll have access to yourself... oh, for a max of forty-five minutes at a time," Leora read the menu more carefully. "But I think I can... yeah, there shouldn't be any limit on how often I can do that. Should I... do you want--"

"No, Leora, I don't want to masturbate right now!" Trisque answered. "I want to sit here until I'm sure I'm not going to puke, and then I want to find a way out of this thing. In fact, no, I want to skip ahead to that part, very much, now, please."

"Okay," Leora agreed, nodding. "Good."

"Good?" Trisque laughed madly at the word. "What's good?"

"Thinking is good," said Leora. "Looking for a rational solution. I know it's not easy with a proverbial gun to your... head." She winced and started over. "Look, if this were just an assassination attempt, it'd be over by now. We can be pretty sure at this point that my uncle doesn't want to lose you as a tool."

"Oh my god, can we not talk about

losing tools

right now?!"

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," Leora acknowledged. "What I'm saying is, I know this feels like an emergency--"

"

Feels like?

"

"But he's setting up for the long term here, which means we have time to think it through. So, let's think. What he's doing here is basically just blackmail. Or, like kidnapping for ransom."

"Only," Trisque swallowed, fighting his voice down into a more businesslike octave, "instead of kidnapping a whole person...."

"Yeah," said Leora. "Exactly. Bottom line, he's trying to control us with a threat. And what do you do when someone threatens you?"

"What do I...?" Trisque struggled to think. "I mock the shit out of them until they do their worst and get it over with. That's why my left knee clicks when I extend it." A shudder ran up his spine. "I'm not doing that this time."

"Right," Leora agreed. "So, the next option is...?"

"Cave in completely?" Trisque suggested, all out of clever strategies. "Fuck me. Fuck, fuck, fuck, what is he going to make me do?"

"Caving in completely is option

six

," said Leora. "Come on. Focus."

"Six?" Trisque searched in vain for where he'd lost the thread. "What are you talking about?"

Leora stared at him for a long moment, as if he were missing something obvious.

"Were you never trained in covert applications of power?" she asked.

"You mean like guilt trips?" Trisque guessed, "lovebombing, weaponized incomp--"

"No, I don't mean your failed crash course on how to be a bad husband," said Leora. "I mean, you studied under an active spymaster, and you didn't learn--"

"I was studying to be the face on the cameras," said Trisque. "Why would they want me to understand what the people in the shadows were doing? Why would your people want

you

to know? Doesn't that just make you harder for them to manipulate? No offense, but that doesn't seem like something they'd want."

"I started on the basics when I was eight." Leora shrugged helplessly. "Like everyone. Or, every Parusan, I guess. Without it, I'd be open for

anyone

to manipulate, and that's no good to any side. They really never taught you this? I mean, you're a

prince!

"

"I defer to your expertise," Trisque snapped. "So, what does

Covert Applications of Power for Third Graders

tell us to do?"

"Well, the first method is your favorite. Refuse to take it seriously. Act like the other person has nothing on you. Hope that it's true, or that the other person believes you and gives up, or that you can weather whatever it is they do have. As you said, not a good idea here."

Leora ticked this off on her fingers.

"Option two, try to take away the person's leverage safely. So, for example, in a kidnapping, you could try to find and rescue the person without paying the ransom. I don't think we're going to have much luck getting the device off of you without master access, though. It has analog booby-traps that go off if you mess with it, and I don't know how they all work."

"Could we maybe skip to whatever option

does

have a chance of working?" Trisque prompted her.

"Sure, yeah," said Leora. "I think our best bet is option five. Get counter-leverage. All we have to do is find something to hold over my uncle that he cares about, enough to not risk pissing us off."

"Oh," said Trisque, taking in extra deep breaths that failed to work the tightness out of his chest. "Is that all?"

"I'll feel out the people closest to him," Leora promised, patting him gently on the shoulder. "See if anyone has access to any dirt or weak spots I can bargain for. You, talk to your spymaster, see if he can give you any more useful coaching. If he knows any tricks I

didn't

learn, my uncle is less likely to be able to anticipate them."

Trisque nodded. "Yeah. Okay. I can do that. And in the meantime..."

"In the meantime, yeah, we cave," said Leora. "Only until we figure something else out."

#

Leora could say one thing for her uncle Dagget. He didn't keep her in suspense for long.

No sooner had Trisque finally fallen asleep beside her, still curled up in a useless, instinctive gesture of self-protection, than Leora's personal tablet lit up on the bedside table.

The precision of the timing made her suspect that the device might also be monitoring Trisque's physiological state for her uncle's reference.

See you in my suite, princess

.

Leora pulled on her dressing gown and stepped out into the vacant corridors of the palace ship. At this late hour, the artificial lighting was bright but somehow pale and insubstantial, intended only for safe navigation, not to imitate the full glow of a sun.

Still familiarizing herself with the layout of her new, mobile city-home, Leora had to read the names on the placards to find the right door in the Parusan wing to knock on.

Dagget opened the door by voice command and summoned her into his study without rising from his smart desk, or looking away from the document he was editing on its surface.

"Have some hot chocolate," he instructed, nodding to the thermos kettle sitting ready on the wet bar by the door.

Leora filled her usual mug from his collection, the floral one she had never seen anyone else use, and piled it high with marshmallows. She had done this the same way on every visit to her uncle, ever since she was a little girl still learning how not to burn her tongue.

The room looked exactly the same now as it had on the old, pre-treaty Parusan palace ship, where Dagget had been king. He must have demanded that the layout be recreated for him down to the recessed bookshelves and the mantelpiece that always held a screen with an interactive map of the galaxy displayed on it.

She sat down across from him and set her mug on an unused area of the desk, where it contrasted calculatedly against the plain, straight-sided mug of tea Dagget was halfway through himself.

Leora lifted her mug for a sip, and pretended not to notice.

As ever, it was really good hot chocolate.

Well?

she thought at him, as hard as she could.

What's so important that you couldn't put in a ransom note I could read from bed?

She tried to say it. She ordered her throat to push out that first impatient, exasperated word, but it refused. It would only open to take in another sip of the sweet drink, with the pink marshmallows Dagget kept on hand just for her.

It was so much easier to argue with him, plot against him, in the privacy of her head, when he wasn't actually in the room.

Finally, he gestured to close the document and looked up at her.

"This last week hasn't been easy for you, has it, dear?"

His voice was as warm as it ever got, which was not very, but it was enough to make him sound like the same man who had scooped her up and held her on the day her father died, and promised that she would always be taken care of.

Leora had never found any defense against the periodic reemergence of that man.

She shook her head, feeling her lips push out automatically into a pouting plea for comfort.

"I doubt they've been easy for any of us," Dagget said sympathetically, raising his tea mug and toasting her with it. "But now that you've got the prince handled for us, I think things will settle into a rhythm."

The implicit offer in his words made Leora's heart swell and her mouth water. He was still willing to be proud of her, to let her be on his side and pretend that she had never been anywhere else.

"Fascinating, isn't it?" Dagget went on. "How control over a few inches of boneless flesh can translate to control of an entire empire?"

Leora drank her hot chocolate, until her throat was finally loose enough to ask, softly and meekly, "Why am I here, uncle?"

Dagget chuckled softly over his tea. "

Uncle

. Isn't that sweet? You're here to answer that very question. Are we still family, Leora?"

"Of course we are!" Leora answered immediately. "Why would you ask that?"

"Because people tend to change when their positions do," said Dagget. "Now, when your mother's business failed and you were on the edge of homelessness, while I was ruling the greatest interstellar nation in Human history, we were family, because I

saw

you as family. It didn't matter that your late father was only a half sibling of a half sibling to me. I didn't care about the lack of blood ties. I cared about loyalty, and I cared about

you

. And when the time came to plan the treaty with the Litani, when it became clear that

I

was not the highest-value candidate for a peacemaking marriage, I'm the one who recommend you for the job. I'm the one who buried the birth records, made you out to be my family in the silly biological way some people are still obsessed with, and passed you off as the closest continuation of my line. I

made

you my family, and I

made

you an empress."

Guilt needled at Leora's stomach.

"But now." Dagget reached across the table to squeeze her hand, "now that

you're

the one on the throne, and

I'm

the needy not-quite-relative, I can't help but wonder if you'll treat me with the same familiarity I treated you."

"Of course I will," Leora answered without a pause.

With the slightest tug, Dagget invited her around the table and into a hug. She accepted, climbing onto his lap and nestling close, the way she'd once been accustomed to doing when the galaxy felt too demanding or unfair to face.

Something hard and mechanical interrupted the comfort of his chest, underneath his shirt, poking Leora in the cheek. She didn't need to ask to know that it was a monitor of some sort, probably ensuring that if he died, Trisque would suffer for it.

"I suppose we'll find out," Dagget sighed, stroking her hair. "Or perhaps not. I may have done

too

expert a job of making things simple for you. Did you come here tonight because of the loyalty you hold for me, or out of concern for your new husband's wellbeing? Impossible to say. Both roads lead to the same place, and if all goes to plan, they always will. Love me, or love him, or both, it's all right. Just do as I tell you, and everything will be as it should. You and me, guiding and protecting our people. Always. Not the most satisfying answer, maybe, but a rather relaxing one, don't you think?"

Leora swallowed. "What is it you want me to do?"

Dagget ran his thumb, still warm from the mug of tea, around her knuckles in gentle loops. "It's right up your alley," he said. "You'll get to put some of that naughty dungeon training to good use again, just like you did with Prince Trisque."

Leora was finding it difficult to look up at Dagget's eyes. They were fixed on her so intently that they felt like a physical weight. But when she rested her head on his shoulder to look behind him instead, she could still feel his thumb wandering spiral patterns around her hand.

Her insides swirled with a raging deadlock of feelings -- fear, guilt, anger, hope, and a grisly sort of excitement. His lap had once seemed like the safest place in the galaxy, but nowadays, sitting there and feeling his knees move under her felt like attending a dangerous sport, courting the possibility of watching someone die and never being quite the same afterwards.

"You and your new husband are going to a welcome dinner on Felsirhin," Dagget said at last pushing her to arm's length.

"We're... where?" Leora asked, still off balance.

"Here." With his hands firm on her shoulders, Dagget guided her to her feet and pointed to a spot on the map behind his desk, beyond the reaches of the new Parusan-Litani Empire. "The Felsirhini are a newly discovered civilization. Non-Human. One of our old survey missions from before the treaty just made contact with them."

"Oh. How's that for timing?" Leora's voice came out innocent, with none of the dryness of the tone inside her head. "Just when we've finished uniting all the Humans in the galaxy, an opportunity to get to know some more of our neighbors."

"It

is

fortunate," Dagget agreed. "Being an insider ceases to have meaning when there are no outsiders. If we hadn't found these people, it would only have been a matter of time before the citizens of the empire started to question whether they really needed an empire, or to be a part of it."

Leora nodded. "So, you want Trisque and me to make sure the empire makes a bad impression at the dinner."

Dagget smiled at her guess. "We can't very well make a common enemy without making an enemy first," he confirmed.

"Okay," said Leora.

She could imagine -- had imagined -- much worse assignments under the threat of the device. If she was careful, she could probably offend the Felsirhini to Dagget's satisfaction without actually hurting anyone, and then explain what had happened once she found a more permanent way to protect Trisque, before any real fighting could begin.

"Do they have any special customs we know of that I could mess up?" she asked. "Or should I just throw a drink at someone?"

"Oh, I have something much more effective, and much more interesting in mind," said Dagget.

With a few taps, he brought up an image on the desk, facing toward Leora's chair. She returned to it for a better look. The image was of a beautiful woman, clearly alien by her enormous, round green eyes, ginger fur, and four spindly fingers.

"Meet Priestess Vixala," said Dagget. "Based on lottery and tradition and a number of factors that don't concern us, she's next in line to be their High Priestess. A loose translation of the title, of course. Sort of a pope-queen. Felsirhini leaders are required to be free of all carnal and emotional ties. They believe it helps them serve all their people equally, or some such nonsense."

"Ah," said Leora. "So, you want us to..."

"Seduce her," said Dagget. "You, him, both of you, it doesn't matter, just get it done, and be ready to be stormed in on. Shouldn't be too difficult. Poor thing has been isolated for most of her life. Her panties are probably ready to drop on a dime."

Leora finished the rest of her hot chocolate uneasily, and nodded. "Will that be all?"

"Yes, that's fine for now, dear," said Dagget.

Leora stood up to go.

"Oh." He stopped her halfway to the door of the study. "Do try to have some

fun

while you're at it. We don't want you walking around looking so dour and breakable for the rest of our reign, do we?"

#

"Less than a week," Aidrom said with a horrible amusement, as if watching his worst fears come to life in front of him was all worth it, just for the vindication of proving Trisque's incompetence. "Less than a week married, and you've already done the one thing I told you not to do. You let her catch you by the balls, kid."

"She's not the one who did this," said Trisque.

"Like shit she isn't," said Aidrom. "Oh, I forgot, she showed you something on

her

screen, which

she

controls, saying that she

wasn't

in control. Well, if that's not proof of her innocence, I don't know what is!"

"Don't believe me, then," said Trisque. "It doesn't matter anyway. Whether she's in on it or not, Dagget's trying to make himself emperor behind the scenes, and we need to stop him."

Aidrom took a long drag on his pocket vape. "You know, I'll admit, even

I

didn't think your fuckup would be as quick, total, and fucking

literal

as this."