As I lie in wait, listening to the sound of my own breathing, I laugh a little to myself. I’m millions of miles from home, on a world full of exciting wonders, and I’m content to laze about in a tiny cage inside a small ship. Shouldn’t that upset me? I had thought it might, but I guess not.
I try shaking the bars of the cage, but of course nothing happens. I command my nanites to open the cage, but they refuse. Worth a try, I figure. For a second I hoped to discover Forta was playing a trick on me and it’s been open this whole time—he would eventually point out that I’ve been keeping myself locked up. But no—not at all. It’s locked, and I’m trapped. However, the truth is I don’t mind.
I really am a pet.
Sure, I’d probably enjoy being out with Forta on some hike, or visiting faraway planets and exploring the galaxy—but it’s also really nice to just relax and be in his possession, eager for him to return and take me as his plaything. Can I have both? Would Forta want that, or even allow it? I don’t know.
Melody, a voice says to me.
I start, turning to look for the source, and after a moment I realize it came from inside my head. It sounded like Forta.
I’m here, I reply, realizing we’re communicating via nanite.
I caught dinner. Want to help me cook it?
Oh, there’s a tempting offer.
Do I have to, Master?
I swear I can hear Forta laugh through the neural connection.
You’d rather stay in your cage?
My face burns. Yes, Master, I reply, my cheeks burning.
Okay, pet. I’ll be back soon.
At least when he comes back he’ll have food.
* * *
By the time Forta returns, I feel a lot better, but a few spots are still pretty sensitive—particularly when I sit down.
“Your nanites can ease the pain, pet,” he suggests over dinner—kebabs of starchy vegetables and meat from another Dokkedex critter. I’m glad I didn’t have to see this one before Forta started cooking it.
“I know,” I say after biting a juicy bit off my kebab. “It feels... nice.” I don’t know how to describe it. “It’s a good hurt.”
Forta nods, showing a little smile. “Reminds you of the fun.”
“Yeah.”
“Use the nanites before we get started again,” he orders. “I want you in good condition.”
For what feels like the millionth time this week, I tell myself I shouldn’t be so turned on—especially from being ordered around like I’m some kind of slave.
Yeah, that’s not a fair description at all, is it?
No, nuh uh. I’m not going there. I’m a pet, thank you very much. I’m sticking with that.
“What’s wrong?” Forta asks.
“I’m fine,” I reply quickly.
“You’re not eating. Something troubles you.”
I sigh. He’s not going to let this go, is he?
“Is there something wrong with me?” I ask. “Am I getting Stockholm Syndrome?”
Saying it, I expect Forta to laugh at me, but he doesn’t. “You’re a submissive, Melody. It’s your tendency. Nothing wrong about it.”
Could it be that simple? “But I never had... Before you I—”
“Before me,” he says, cutting me off, “what were your fantasies?”
My mind goes blank for a second—it’s almost hard to picture. “I liked to think about some... some teachers I had,” I explain, locking my fingers together to keep them still. Thinking about Mr. Parr and Mr. Bright brings back fond memories.
“In your fantasies, what would happen?”
Feeling a rush of heat, I sigh. “They’d catch me doing something bad: smoking a cigarette in the bathroom or cheating on a test—I never did either, though. But in the fantasy I did, and they’d make me go to detention—”
“Detention?”
“It’s when you’re bad and have to stay—”
“I know what it is,” says Forta. “Did your teachers spank you as punishment?”
Every damn time.
“Maybe,” I reply under my breath.
“You fantasized about getting disciplined for being disobedient.”
“You have a point, Master.” He has an odd way of making me feel better, but it does help. When I go through my mental list of favorite illicit scenarios, I’m always the good girl slipping up and doing something naughty. In each one, I get taught a lesson or pay a price of some kind.
Forta pulls me into his lap and rubs my shoulders. “Many humans—many beings across the galaxy—share these fantasies.”
“I know,” I say. “At least about humans, anyway.”
“It’s a very desirable trait, pet,” he adds, kissing my neck.
“Thank you, Master.” My insides ache, as my salacious dreams linger in my thoughts. If I could only get Forta to put on a tie and some khakis...
He strokes my hair a little, and though it feels nice, it doesn’t make me feel any less of a pet. “Forta, I know you’ve lived a long time. Have you had a lot of different pets?”
“Several,” he admits. “Across thousands of years. None that I developed a serious affection toward.”
“Why? Is that against the rules? Are Dominars not allowed to love their pets?” I ask, thinking of Lonti and Moin.
Forta shifts beneath me, the turns me around to face him. “No, of course they are. It’s against Dominar law to coerce a subject to submit if they’re unwilling, but willing subjects are fair game.”
Good. I’m glad to hear him say that, because I’ve heard other Dominars have taken human pets—some even quite famously. When I first heard about a few of the pairings, it came through the lens of my father, who cursed the very idea of it. They’re stealing our women now? he’d lament. What’ll it be next?
“I used to hate the idea of Dominars taking humans as lovers,” I admit, feeling small and stupid. “I thought that aliens taking over the world was one issue, but imagining you taking over in the bedroom... I hated how it made me feel.”
“Because you didn’t accept being submissive?”
I shake my head, feeling his hard chest beneath me. “Because you were alien invaders, taking over the planet! Only, I was wrong—that’s not what you did.”
“Yes, it is. We did take over.”
“No, not like that. You didn’t colonize the planet. You didn’t steal it from us, or kick us off it.”
Forta nods. “Not yet, anyway. If humanity fails to accept Dominar rule...”
I pry myself from his arms and get up. “Haven’t we?”
“Most have. Not all. Some never will.”
A chill creeps through my stomach, but I shake it off. “I’ve accepted you. I hadn’t until now, but after this trip... I can’t see things the same way anymore.” I laugh, thinking back to my life in Ontego. It seems like another era. “I went from never having seen a Dominar in person to traveling across the galaxy in the span of just a few days. It’s hard not to be changed.”
Forta smiles. “That’s a good thing. Change means growth.”
“True,” I say, allowing him to draw me back into his arms.
“You know how I thought of humans,” he says, shifting beneath me. “Because of my distaste, I neglected an important part of my job: outreach. Consuls are meant to visit their subjects. Meet them. Listen. That’s why I visited Ontego. But I should have started sooner. Much sooner.”
“You had an invasion to worry about,” I offer.
“No. Not my job. You are my job. Your father. Your town. I did my duty, but not with zeal or authenticity. That was a mistake.”
I turn over so I can look Forta in the eyes. “We both made mistakes.”
He nods. “When the Council gave me this job, I considered it a punishment for voting against the invasion. I could be right, but... they could have done it so I would learn and change, whether I wanted to or not.”
I shiver when he mentions the Council. He doesn’t say it with any animosity, but the idea o
f a group of aliens making decisions that affect whole planets—even galaxies... And then to make moves with unspoken motivations... “Is that normal for the Council?”
Forta actually shrugs. “They don’t waste opportunities to better the universe.”
What a wrench in their plans it would have been if Dad had...
“Forta,” I ask, taking both his hands in mine. “Do you ever worry you’ll be attacked by people... people like my father? Had it... had anyone ever?”
“No, pet,” he says, his face stony and hard. “A human has never hurt a Dominar. Few even dare. Some tried after the invasion—they failed.” He sighs, giving my hands a squeeze. “Melody, I have a confession.”
“What?” My leaps up into my throat. As far as I know, he’s never kept a real secret from me before. Why would he need to?
“The night we met, I knew there would be an assassination attempt. Our sensors detected the gun. I could have canceled the visit, but did not.”
“Why not?”
He sighs, turning from my gaze. “I hoped your father would change his mind. I hoped he would go home.”
I grin, despite myself. Of course Dad didn’t—he’s never been one to give up. “That was never going to happen.”
“Unfortunately, yes. Melody, I could have sent a security team to detain your father. He never would have taken his shot. He wouldn’t have faced serious charges and you... your life wouldn’t have been disrupted.”
He gives me a minute to process this. It’s a lot to take in. A single decision affects so much—I guess even the almighty Dominars can’t turn back time.
“Does this anger you?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say, not thinking. I quickly look to him and explain. “It’s complicated. I guess it would have been better if you stopped Dad, but it also would have been good if he changed his mind, as you’d hoped. I’d be happy to have him at home, not facing a long prison sentence, obviously, but he did go through with it. He did. I can’t really argue that he has to face some consequences. I still believe it would be wrong to exile him from Earth, though.”
“I understand, Melody,” Forta replies. “That’s fair.”
“Thank you.” I smile. “And not that this justifies anything either of you did, but I am glad we met... and made our deal. You’re not so bad, Consul Forta. You’re not the asshole I thought you’d be.”
He chuckles. “Thank you, pet. Seeing the positives in loss is a sign of maturity. Not bad, for a human.”
“Oh, thanks,” I scoff, just as he pulls me back into his lap. Squeezing me tight, he plants a series of kisses on my lips and cheeks.
“Hey,” I mumble. There’s something I need to say, though I don’t want him to stop showing his affection. This conversation lifted a weight off my chest; I get the sense he feels the same. “Hey,” I say again. “Can I ask you a favor?”
He stops so I can speak, but doesn’t let me go. “Of course.”
“The next time there’s a threat to you or another consul and you know about it, don’t wait like you did with my dad. Prevent it from happening when you have the chance.”
Forta answers without hesitation. “Done. It’s a fine idea.”
Relieved, I kiss his hand. “Thank you. That means a lot to me.”
“I’ll institute it in my jurisdiction immediately, and suggest Supreme Consul Tamrys make it a global policy.” He laughs, shaking his head. “A good idea. From a human. I never would have imagined.”
I pound my fist against his arm. “You should work on your imagination.”
A low growl rises from his throat. “I could imagine ways to make you beg.”
Biting my lip, I squirm in his grasp. “Prove it, Master.”
Chapter Fourteen
Trembling, I feel a clenching between my thighs. Anticipation raises my pulse, and my senses sharpen. Forta stands us up and commands me to stay. He comes back fully dressed: a pair of black shorts that show off his obscenely muscular legs and a tight blue V-neck shirt that hugs his massive chest. He’s got on a silver belt with several small boxes and compartments attached—full of devious toys, I’m guessing. At the moment he’s carrying a black cord of some kind. It’s not made of woven strands like rope—it’s a single, solid piece, about the width of my pinkie. From the thick coil in his hands, I’d say he has more than enough for whatever he needs.
He starts by bending my arms together behind my back, then using the rope to tie them that way; it’s a stringent position that makes me sweat within seconds. If he wants to make me beg, he’s off to a good start. I can resolve to not beg—to deny him the satisfaction—but what are the odds he’s not already counting on that?
Surrendering to instinct, I struggle against the rope; its surface is rougher than appearances would suggest, no doubt to make sure it doesn’t slip and slide the wrong way. Thanks to Forta’s precision, the harness grips my skin tight enough that no amount of bucking or wrenching will matter. The cord gives a fraction when I strain, but then returns to form, like an extremely effective elastic.
Next, Forta winds the rope around my waist to make a loop, then pulls it through from behind. He slides the rope between my ass cheeks like a thong, then up my front. Slipping through the loop once again, he pulls it tight, making me gasp at the intense pressure. Both intoxicating and painful, I look down at his handiwork and groan.
“Melody, remember what I said about your nanites?”
“Yes, Master. They can relieve my pain.”
“For tonight, that feature is disabled.”
“Yes, Master,” I repeat. I suppose that would be cheating.
“Good. Now walk,” he says, tugging the rope. I feel the motion against my clit and yelp. My feet have never responded so quickly. Shaking, I follow along as Forta exits the ship.
Oh, shit.
I hesitate for a moment, causing the rope to dig in a little more. Forta must feel it, because he stops and turns around.
“Prefer to stay inside?”
I don’t answer. I know what he wants to hear. This game’s only just started.
“No, Master. Whatever you like.”
He chuckles, and the ship’s hatch opens. “Onward, pet.”
I comply, suppressing a sigh. I’d feel better about going out if I wasn’t completely naked. At least Forta grants me a pair of sandals to protect my feet.
Outside, the sun has started to descend, painting the Dokkedex sky red and purple. I’d love to stop and enjoy its beauty—I’d love to stop, period—but I don’t dare. I have to look where I’m going too—rocks litter the ravine floor, just waiting to cause a fall, a sprained ankle, or a badly stubbed toe.
In my head, I’m already begging him to give me a minute, but for now I refuse to voice it aloud. With every step I feel the rope lodged between my labia, and I could easily orgasm from the friction alone if this keeps up. By the time we get to the end of the ravine, where the land slopes down almost into infinity, I’m panting heavily, my knees wobbling.
Insulting Forta’s imagination may have been a bad idea.
“How’s that feel, pet?” he asks, stopping at last.
“It’s... fine,” I mutter. “Really... good... in fact.”
Bending my knees, I try to create some slack in the rope, but it doesn’t help at all.
“Really good, huh?” he chuckles. “Let me do better.”
“Okay,” I say, keeping my more honest responses to myself.
He opens a small compartment on his belt and pulls out a small silver chain; at its end are two clips. “These are yckjer clamps. Can you guess their function?”
“No, Master,” I lie.
“Use your imagination.”
Sighing, I look down at my chest. “My nipples.”
“Correct.”
He attaches the first, letting it bite down on the erect nub. Pain shoots through my breast, especially when Forta jerks the chain. “How’s that, pet?”
“It hurts... but I’m all right.”
“Good,” he replies, attaching the second clamp. Knowing what to expect this time, I don’t cry out from the pain, but I still gasp. Forta lets go of the chain, allowing gravity to assist the clamps in their unrelenting torment. “Toys like this exist on Earth, but they’re rudimentary; they cause the nerves to go numb. Yckjer clamps send signals to your nanites to prevent that.”
“So they can keep hurting?” I ask.
Forta kisses my cheek, pulling the chain with one finger, just enough for me to feel it. “Exactly.”
Awesome.
He retrieves my fallen leash and pulls it taut, spurring me along. Looking out on the endless hill leading to Dokke City, it’s easy to imagine we could walk for years and never arrive. If I wasn’t suffering from Forta’s cruel game, it would be utterly romantic—just the two of us, watching the sunset, just the sound of our footsteps. When night fell, we could lie beneath the stars—oh, so many stars—and make love until our screams echo across the plain, joined by the howls of neesees and other creatures. Maybe another time.
Not that I hate what we’re doing now—despite the acute torture assailing my breasts and the potent throb in my pussy, I’m plenty aroused. Fluid coats my inner thighs, and my pulse pounds, wondering when he plans to grant me the relief I need.
Probably not until... I beg for it.
Shit.
That’s exactly what it’s going to take—and now that I know this, it’s all I can think about.
“Problem, pet?” Forta asks, hearing me moan.
“No, Master.”
He chuckles, giving the rope between my legs an extra tug. Then he stops, and allows me to pause as well. Grateful for the break, I draw back a step.
What is this? What’s he doing?
For a moment, he watches me, seeming to contemplate the situation. Then he takes the leash and ties it to a ring on my collar. As I watch, he opens a holster on his belt and removes a flogger; its foot-long lashes glow neon pink, a bright beacon in the growing darkness. He steps behind me and smacks my ass, causing me to lurch forward.
“Go.”
“Yes, Master,” I say, wanting desperately to beg off.
His Human Pet Page 9
