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Vegeta Doth Protest Too Much	By : sefiru Category: Dragon Ball Z > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 12529 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ and I make no money ... only lemonade.

Chapter List
- 19
- 20
Vegeta Doth Protest Too Much

By Sefiru

Pairing: G/V

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: D/s, Yaoi

Disclaimer: I don’t own Dragonball Z and I make no money, only lemonade.

Zofo: I meant Brolli (he’s got lots of power, but not the kind of attitude you’d want in a god). Don’t worry, it’s the story that’s on hiatus, not my writing.

animeslave18: I know I’d like Kakarott to “smite” me (it’s smote by the way). Hiatus means a break – but don’t worry, there’s more slave!Vegeta goodness to be had!

This story is about to top 6500 hits over 20 chapters. Thanks for reading, everyone!

This weekend was my cousin’s birthday, so I spent more time stuffing my face than writing. ^^;

In this chapter: smut. You were expecting anything else?

***

Chapter 20: Wrapping Up

***

      It’s easy to imagine that the previous day’s events were all just a dream. I come awake on my futon as always, the angle of the light streaming in the windows tells me I’ve slept late. The scent of sausages and toast wafts across me. I rise, fold my bedding, exit into the living room; Kakarott is sitting on the sofa, a steaming mug in one hand. He looks no different than usual – until I look into his eyes, eyes as deep and endless as the universe itself. I go to him, and his touch sears across my nerves. He directs me to lie on the sofa beside him, my head on his knee, and strokes my flank with his free hand. I purr under it. From his hands, directly or indirectly, has come every good thing I have in my life. Not least of which is his touch itself.

      “So what are you going to do today, O Divine One?” I ask, only a bit sarcastic.

      “Well, the toilet needs cleaning.”

      “Hn. What a comedown.”

      He chuckles. “First brunch, then chores. Then you are going to have your music lesson, and I’m going to explain my new career to Gohan. Just make sure you’re here at sunset … and ready.”

      And I’m going to have to endure a tease like that all day. At the moment, the god-ki in his touch is making me too buzzed to care. Suddenly, though, his hand flies up to scratch vigorously at his head.

      “Gods still get itches, huh?”

      “I think someone’s praying to me.” He scratches again.

      “Already? That’s quick. Oh, I’ll bet it’s Persil.”

      Kakarott’s eyes go distant for a moment. “Yeah, it is. This is so weird. It tickles.”

      The tip of my tail flips back and forth. “You’ll have to get used to that.”

***

      As the sun touches the horizon, I step into the playroom. “Ready” means clean, naked, and kneeling before the bench – which may be his altar in truth, now – until Kakarott appears. The room has changed again since I was last in it; the square beam which I’ve seen leaning against the wall has now been fixed firmly to the ceiling and floor, at an angle to the walls so that one of its flat sides faces the rest of the room. Gleaming cleats, rings and chains decorate its top. The other change is a small stand, of the sort used to display necklaces, on top of the chest of drawers in the opposite corner. It holds a white leather collar with fittings gleaming silver, a long narrow tag hanging from it. I need to discipline myself not to turn and look at it from my place on the floor.

     I wait, and soon become impatient. My tail tip twitches, minutely. I will it to stay still. Heartbeats count time in my ears, an eternity between each one. Then, in the interval between one beat and the next, ki flares into being behind me and a hand seizes my jaw. I am helpless before my combat reflexes can so much as react; Kakarott hauls me up and pins me against his bare chest. Most of my blood stays at waist level. Hard and wet, I whimper as his fingers squeeze my throat. “Are you ready to serve me, Vegeta?” he growls.

      “Yes, Master!”

      “Kneel with your back against the column. Feet on either side.” I scramble to obey. He shackles my wrists together above my head and chains them to the top of the post, a short chain so that I’m stretched out against it. My ankles, too, are shackled together behind, and my tail wrapped around it to keep it out of the way. A moan rises from me as the shackles close, and I do nothing to suppress it. Every sound, every movement is an offering to him; I stretch and writhe in the chains, silently begging for his touch. I am not yet to the point of begging aloud, but it will come.

      He steps away from me to the chest in the corner. I hiss out a breath when he runs his fingers over the collar, but instead of picking it up he opens one of the drawers. He pauses a moment, tail swishing from side to side, and then takes out an object. A phallus, molded in plastic, not quite as big as his own. He brings it over and holds it in front of my face. Without instruction I stretch out my tongue to it. It tastes of plastic but I barely notice. Kakarott turns the phallus this way and that while I coat it with my saliva; my lips and tongue grow warm. He is generous to give me this for my pleasure while gaining none of his own – at least not directly. I know he enjoys seeing me like this, with my eyes half closed and all my attention on the length in front of me. He presses the tip of the phallus against my teeth. I open to let it in; he slides it in slowly, draws it out, then pushes it in until I’m forced to swallow its length. I shudder at being filled, but this false phallus is not quite enough to bring me off.

      He draws it out, leaving me feeling hollow. I open my eyes, look up at him. Please, master … He grins at me. “Soon, Vegeta.” His skin gleams with moisture, his scent is heavy with arousal. His eyes promise conquest and dominion. I can’t break away from his gaze as he crouches down to my level. He presses the phallus between my legs, up – and in – I make a long, shuddering gasp as I’m filled from the other direction. He pauses to breathe his breath into my lungs, then stands up and takes a step back. No. No more. I shriek and writhe against my bonds. Don’t make me wait any more...

     His hand on my hair, tilting my head back, opening my mouth. The tip of his length on my tongue, fluid already gathering. Then pushing in, demanding entrance. Yes. Completion. He doesn’t bother with gentleness this time; he knows I can take what he gives me. Hard and fast he rams into my mouth. I swallow him deep every stroke. My back slams into the wooden pillar, the shackles dig into my wrists, chains rattle. Heat builds under my tail, inner muscles clenching around the toy. Energy building. He surges into Super Saiyan and his ki pulses through me, taking me over the edge. My throat closes tight around him, trying to scream. He pours his seed into me, hot and slick. For the next minutes I am aware of nothing but his power, his pleasure, him.

      When next I’m aware of my surroundings, he has unbound me and is holding me on his lap, a blanket wrapped around us, on the living room sofa. His skin shimmers with divine ki like a living furnace. I purr and let myself drift back into sleep, knowing that I can leave my safety in the hands of my master and god.

***

^__^

And so this story goes on vacation. I have a bunch of ideas for this setting still, so it will be returning, most likely as a separate story posting (I’ve already got a title: “God, Incognito”). In the meantime, I’ve got another DBZ story featuring Vegeta as a slave (an actual slave this time) to Bardock and sons, which will be even kinkier than this one. A preview:

***

Bardock rubbed his chin and looked over them again. His eye fell on one who showed none of the typical reactions; instead, the slave was utterly composed. His pose on the pedestal was relaxed, even regal. Like all the slaves he was naked except for a chastity cage around his equipment, and his body was all corded, wiry muscle. As Bardock’s gaze lingered on him, he suddenly looked up; his eyes were sharp, challenging. Are you Saiyan enough to take me?

       Bardock nodded at the broker. “I’ll take that one.”

***

I haven’t decided on the final title yet. Watch for it in two weeks’ time.
- 19
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Vegeta Doth Protest Too Much