Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ A tiny twist in time ❯ Limits ( Chapter 9 )

        Brolli purred happily, curled on his mat. His master was gone, off to tend to his duties again, but had left him with a large dish of meat and plenty of water. He’d also left him Jeice. Brolli shot a quick look at the other man to see if he’d woken and was ready to play more, but Jeice was still splayed half on and half off the couch, completely out.         Brolli selected a bit of the meat with his tail, and took his time nibbling it from the sensitive tip. Zarbon had promised him a treat later, if he behaved. The purr stuttered slightly, brows narrowing, as Brolli tried to determine if he hadn’t behaved at some point. Zarbon was much nicer to him than his father ever had been, so much so that Brolli had never felt the need to be remotely defiant, as he had with his father.         He reached up, touching the limiter on his forehead, and then played for a while with the ones on his arms. He liked the dangling charms that made them seem more like jewelry than technology to cage him. Brolli sat up, his frown back, the purr gone. Cage him? Was he caged? Glassy eyes met his when he looked at Jeice, so he asked. “Am I caged?”         “Caged?” Jeice scrubbed at his eyes before he realized he was upside down, and got himself righted. He yawned, trying to talk at the same time. “What do you mean?”         “Am I being caged?”         Jeice stared at him, then frowned. “We’re on a spaceship, kid, and you’re not in the brig.”         “What’s a brig?” Brolli asked after considering that.         “Jail.” Jeice sighed as Brolli just looked at him. “Look, kid, you’re Zarbon’s pet. You’re his slave. You gotta do what he says when he says, or he’ll punish you. He decides if you eat, sleep, fuck, fight, or whatever. He’s got all the control over your life: He can decide if you die. Got me?”         “I knew that,” Brolli replied with a derisive sniff. “I want to know if I’m caged.”         “Ask your master when he gets back, then,” Jeice grumped. “He’s the one who decides if you can go anywhere.”          &nbs p;     “Okay,” Brolli agreed cheerfully. “Do you want to play?”         Jeice groaned. “You’re an insatiable brat.”         Brolli nodded. “Master tells me that all the time. Do you want to play?”         “Neh, not now. Why don’t you tail fuck yourself?”         “Okay!” Brolli grinned. He enjoyed doing that, and decided to thank his Master again for helping him learn to touch himself with his tail again. He shifted the pillows around so that he reclined facing Jeice, legs pulled up and splayed the way he’d learned the other man liked to see him. One hand lazily stroked his cock, the other rubbing and plucking at his nipples.         He knew Jeice liked to watch him play with himself before he actually fucked himself, so he stared his tail sweeping slowly and tantalizingly over his chest and stomach, dipped it to curl around his balls, brought it back to glide up and down toned thighs. He would brush above and below his anus every so often, go back to circle it with puffed out fur, and then dart it away again to stroke and tease another part of himself.         Brolli was gasping, dripping, and Jeice stroking himself before he finally allowed himself any penetration. Jeice gasped, groaning as the tail came right back out to circle before plunging in deeply. Brolli arched his back, keening as he forced his tail as far as he could take it as he’d been practicing for his master. His fingers grasped himself a little too firmly, making him wail and ejaculate over his upturned face. Even so, he continued the slightly painful thrusts until Jeice, too, was covered in white streams. He pulled his tail free to regard the matted fur with disfavor, and held it high behind himself as he slinked over to lick Jeice clean.         “I’m taking a bath,” he announced once he’d gotten the last sticky drop. “I like to do that, but it gets my tail all yucky.”         Jeice eyed him, and then waved leniently towards the bathing room. “Go on then. I’ll take another nap.” He was snoring softly before Brolli made it to the bathroom door.         Brolli used bubbles, lots of bubbles. He loved that his master let him play in the bubbles as often and as long as he liked, and never hit him for “indulging in childish, immature behavior” as his father always had. Aside from the troubling question on whether or not he was caged, Brolli far preferred this new life, and had come to dread the thought of his father coming after him. Zarbon laughed at him, sure, but it was a kinder laughter. He answered questions without referring to Brolli as stupid, or foolish, or an imbecile.         Not that his green-haired beauty of a master didn’t get mad at him. He knew perfectly well he irritated the older man rather frequently, but it seemed that Zarbon had an infinite amount of patience when it came to training or teaching him so he wouldn’t be so irritating. He’d only made his master truly angry once, and his punishment had been on such a different scale than what he was used to that he’d decided that he would never ever anger the man again. He did not want to spend another week not being touched and only hearing his Master’s voice from the hall. Brolli shivered. He’d much rather have one of his father’s bone-breaking beatings than have Zarbon ignore him.         He heard the hall door swish open, and the exchange of conversation. His master entered the bath a few minutes later. “Little one, you have a question?”         Brolli stretched lazily, sitting up. Bubbles slid down a nicely toned chest to join the others in the bathwater. “Yes, Master. Am I caged?”         “Caged?” Zarbon looked as confused as Jeice had. “Do you wish to leave my quarters, pet? That can be arranged, although there are some restricted areas you will not be allowed to enter.”         Brolli frowned. He hadn’t even considered leaving Zarbon’s quarters, perfectly content with his life within them. “That’s not what I meant. These.” He tugged on bubble-coated bangles. “Are these cages?”         “Ah.” Zarbon settled into the chair at the dressing table. “Why do you think they are?”         “Father used limiter technology to keep my power contained so that he could control me, keep me caged. They were designed to hurt me if I went outside his limits.”         “I see.” An unhappy little frown appeared as Zarbon reached out to touch the circlet on his forehead. “These do limit your power, of course. You have never had control over your own power, and the level is,” – Zarbon paused, remembering the blond hair from months before – “enough to kill you without the control the limiters provide.”         “Ohhhh!” Brolli’s eyes widened. “But it feels like they… suck it out. Father’s pushed it in. I had such awful headaches all the time.”         “My limiters are designed to shunt some of your excess power to me.” Zarbon set one of his earrings swaying with a gentle tap. “In my line of work, a little extra power can mean the difference between my life or death.”         “Oh!” The boy smiled. “That’s good then. But, Master, shouldn’t I learn how to control my own power?”         “Yes,” Zarbon returned without hesitation. “It is dangerous for you not to learn, but I had to wait until you were ready for the lessons.”         Brolli crinkled his nose. “Don’t I have enough lessons?” he complained.         “Obviously not,” Zarbon retorted sharply, “if you’ve time to loll about in my bathtub and complain about them. You’ll begin lessons on control in the morning. For now,” Zarbon stripped and slipped into the tub, “you can wash my back for me. Ginyu spilt something sticky on me, and it itches!”         Brolli giggled at his master’s fretting, and set about removing the sticky stuff.