The notes on Justin indicated he hadn’t given the researchers at DNAmo too much trouble. He’d stoically taken the researchers’ experiments every day, experiments that had involved a lot of sex.
The first mention of any trouble was about a worker called K-48.
K-designated workers, colloquially referred to as “guinea pigs,” were women hired by DNAmo to participate in sex experiments with the Shareem. The experiments were designed to find out what Shareem would do and how much they could be controlled under certain sets of circumstances—basically discovering what a level one would do, how far a level two would go, how rough a level three might get before his programming stopped him.
Justin performed as a perfect level two, the notes said, but his behavior toward K-48 was troubling.
Justin and K-48 talk to each other during the experiments, but we can’t hear what they say. When asked what he is telling her, Justin refuses to answer, even when he is punished. We have no means of compelling K-48 to speak because of the privacy clause in her contract.
A later note said: K-48 and the subject Justin were confined alone together for a seven-day period. During that time, Justin used every method he’d been taught on her and never seemed to run out of stamina. He let K-48 rest when she needed to, but he has a most unusual ability to work continuously.
More entries about Justin’s progress, much of it in medical-speak, with no mention of K-48, followed. Finally Deanna found another reference.
Justin’s obsession with K-48 has reached an alarming level. He refused to participate in the day’s experiments and demanded to know where she was and what happened to her. When told we couldn’t convey that information, he turned violent and had to be confined.
The director agreed we could bring back K-48 to see what effect it had on him. K-48 appeared to be quite pleased to see Justin, and when left alone, they held on to each other for a long time. We became aware then that they were speaking rapidly, but we couldn’t hear what was said, and we removed her.
I and the director conclude that the Shareem has formed an attachment to K-48. Because Shareem are to be programmed to form no attachments to their clients whatsoever, recommend immediate transfer of K-48 to another section.
A final note on K-48 said, The Shareem Justin reacted violently when he was told that K-48 had been transferred and he’d not be allowed to see her again. He demanded assurances that she was all right and not harmed. Even after we gave him that, he was surly and uncooperative and had to be injected to calm him down.
End of references to K-48. Apparently, Justin had gone back to being a compliant Shareem—either that or the researchers hadn’t bothered bother to record any more of his reaction to the absence of K-48.
A few weeks later, Justin was sold to an off-world woman, packed up, and transported to Sirius, never to be seen on Bor Narga until a few months ago.
What about K-48? Deanna skimmed through the database until she found her.
Her records had been sealed for privacy, but again, Deanna’s clearance and the requisite time having passed opened them.
K-48’s image popped up on Deanna’s holoscreen. A pretty young woman, sturdy of build, typical of the lower-class women of Pas City.
Her records contained a statement from her that she’d signed up for the program because of the high payment offered. She’d been paired only with Justin for the experiments, because she’d requested that she not be put with more than one Shareem at a time.
No details about the experiments were listed in her records, but a note said she’d been transferred to the level-one section the morning after the suggestion that she be moved had been put into Justin’s file.
The day after K-48 was transferred, she terminated her contract and quit the program. Interesting.
K-48’s name was Lillian Passan, a working-class woman from a working-class family in Pas City. She’d worked at DNAmo for a total of six months.
Deanna moved the DNAmo records to the background and did a general search on Lillian Passan. She easily found Lillian’s birth records, her school records, her job history, and the record of her signing up for DNAmo. DNAmo had done background checks on their test subjects, so Lillian’s entire life was now open to Deanna.
Not much to it. After Lillian had quit DNAmo, she’d moved back in with her parents. There, the information ended. No more jobs, no moves, no trips off planet. Nothing. She’d stayed home with her parents, and that was it.
Deanna keyed in the address of Lillian’s family’s apartment. No Passans living there now. A Rose Passan and a Samuel Passan who’d leased the apartment fifteen years ago were listed as deceased—Lillian’s parents.
But no Lillian. Deanna did more searches on Lillian but found nothing.
She sat back, staring at the small holographic woman turning slowly on her console. If Deanna wanted an explanation of why Justin had returned to Bor Narga, this was it. His lifemate on Sirius had died, and he’d returned to find Lillian.
A little pain burned in Deanna’s heart. She thought of Justin’s lips on hers, he pushing her back onto the seat, his kiss one of desperate hunger. She thought of what he’d whispered to her in his apartment, You are beautiful, and I’m lonely.
He wanted her to go to him tonight.
But he’d returned to Bor Narga to find the woman with whom he’d formed an attachment at DNAmo.
Puzzling that Lillian had simply disappeared. No one on Bor Narga could do anything without a string of records following them.
And why had Justin been looking for her on the Vistara? His frequent trips there, despite all the warnings, made sense in the context of a continuous search for Lillian.
Deanna looked through records for the Vistara—for all of Bor Narga—and found no one named Lillian living on the Vistara or working for someone there.
Lillian could have changed her name, but there should be a record of that too. Such a thing could be done secretly, of course, in theory. Perhaps Lillian had known someone who could help her disappear.
But why? By all accounts, Lillian had been a hard worker, a decent student, and a law-abiding citizen who was fond of her parents. She’d never been arrested, warned, or even looked at by the patrollers.
Deanna fanned out her search to cover the few years between Lillian quitting DNAmo to shortly after her parents’ deaths. She broadened the search to include any new person popping up from nowhere during that time, or any incident involving an unknown woman of the right age.
Three deaths of unidentified persons had been recorded in that window of time, but two of those had been off-world human males and one an alien. It was unusual when even DNA couldn’t identify a body, but it was known to happen if off-world records were spotty.
There were a few births with “mother unknown” attached, which Deanna at first ignored, until a date caught her attention.
She’d seen a similar date somewhere on her search. After a moment’s thought, she keyed open Justin’s DNAmo records again.
There it was, the date of Lillian’s transfer. No, it was not the same date as the birth—same day, same year, but different month.
Deanna’s breath caught, her entire body squeezing until she thought she’d choke.
Lillian Passan had finished her seven-day confinement experiment with Justin almost nine months to the day that a girl had been born to an anonymous mother in a backstreet clinic.
It could mean nothing. Coincidence. Bor Narga had a large population, and many children had been born that day, even in backstreet clinics in Pas City.
But only one had been born to an unknown woman of the same age as Lillian. A daughter. The girl who’d been born that day would now be about twenty-four years old.
Deanna’s thoughts flashed back to Justin standing in the alley on the Vistara, gazing across the street with longing at the group of four young women in the coffeehouse. Each of the girls had been about that age.
No. No. It was impossible. Shareem couldn’t father children.
All the science in the DNAmo records said so. They were programmed not to, that programming backed up with sterility injections.
But the evidence was there for anyone who wanted to take time to look and think.
Justin had grown too fond of a test subject, Lillian had quit right after DNAmo removed her from Justin’s reach, and she’d gone home to live quietly with her parents. Justin had returned to Bor Narga after his lifemate passed. He went to the Vistara and continued going even when he knew such an action could get him terminated. He went there to stand and gaze across the street at a young woman in a coffeehouse.
His daughter.
Deanna sat back in her chair, closed her eyes, and pressed her hands to her face.
*** *** ***
Justin groaned. He was wet from his about fourth freezing shower but not cold—no one was ever cold on Bor Narga. He leaned, naked, against the wall in his living room, his hand around his needy cock.
He couldn’t stop thinking about Deanna. She with that veil framing her face, her body moving under his on the seat of the car, the amazing taste of her.
She’d said she’d think about coming back.
Crap, she wasn’t coming back. Justin was dreaming to think she was. His trip to the baths hadn’t helped, and the cold shower he’d just finished in his own bathroom hadn’t helped either.
The only thing that would help was Deanna.
Next best thing—fantasizing about her while he stroked himself.
Justin at least had the chance to use lube this time. His cock was slick under his fingers, the shaft hard and hot, the tip so sensitive a moan escaped him every time he touched it.
He leaned his head on the wall and imagined Deanna’s smaller, softer hand gripping him, or better still, her red-lipped mouth closing around him, her tongue tickling the underside.
Oh, yeah. That’s it, baby. Suck me. Harder. Harder. Pleeease!
A faint buzzing tapped at his senses, but he could barely hear it over the roaring in his head. It sounded again, and then his door shot upward, sending in dying afternoon light, and Deanna herself.
Chapter Eight
Deanna wasn’t wearing the veil, Justin saw before the door slammed shut behind her.
She stopped and stared at him, eyes widening as she took in his naked body, his cock sliding between his fist, his parted legs. Whatever she’d been about to say died on her lips.
Justin smiled a little as he squeezed his hand harder around his cock.
“Hey, sexy,” he said.
Deanna’s mouth closed, but her gaze fell to his cock and stayed there. Justin stroked it again, opening his fingers to show her how hard he was for her.
“Guess what I’m thinking about?” he asked.
She swallowed. “Sex.”
“You.” Justin skimmed his hand to the base of his cock again. “I was waiting for you, thinking about you and what I wanted to do to you. I was remembering your beautiful breast in my mouth. I shouldn’t have done that.”
“No, you shouldn’t have,” Deanna said. “I’m a patroller—”
“I meant I shouldn’t have thought about it. Look what it did to me.”
Justin squeezed himself again. Gods, she was gorgeous, with her bedroom eyes and her sultry body, even if her hair was scraped back again into that hard knot.
He couldn’t think anymore. He could only see her, scent her pheromones, feel her desire all the way across the room.
“Help me,” he said. “Please.”
Deanna wet her lips, making them redder, and sending his fantasies soaring. “I don’t know how.”
“Come here. I’ll show you.” Justin reached his free hand out for her, hoping he could stop himself from begging too hard. If he had to achieve the release by himself, he’d just get hard again. Shareem stamina was a bitch.
Deanna walked to him. Sweet lady. Justin took her hand when she reached him, and carefully wrapped it around his cock.
“Like this.” He kept his hand around hers and pulled them together down the shaft.
He almost came right away. But no, his strength held it back, the science beaten into him letting him keep it hard for his lady.
Deanna looked up at him as she glided her hand under his. Her eyes were so dark and beautiful he couldn’t stop the next groan. He wrapped his arm around her waist, pulled her against him, and let go so she could stroke him alone.
Deanna had a hard time catching her breath. Justin’s body against her side was strong, hard, and still wet from a shower. He leaned back against the wall, one fist clenched at his side, the other hand resting on Deanna’s waist. His cock in her hand felt . . . wonderful.
The oil or whatever he’d put on it made it slick, so Deanna easily slid her hand up its length. The heat was incredible. His tip was a little bit softer than the rest, flesh giving beneath her fingers.
Back and forth she took her hand, then once she became more confident, she started twisting and pulling. She wasn’t sure why she wanted to do that, she just did.
Justin’s hips began to rock, which pushed his cock through her closed hand. The more she twisted and pulled, the faster he thrust.
“That’s it,” he whispered. “Gods, Deanna, you are beautiful.”
She’d never thought so. But he was beautiful. His naked male flesh was browned from working in the sun on Sirius, and the body she rested against was so hard with muscle she didn’t feel a slackness anywhere.
His chest rose and fell with his swift breath, his lower abdomen shiny from where the lubrication he’d put around his cock had smeared on his skin. The strength of him was amazing, but his large, work-worn hand on her waist was gentleness itself.
The friction from stroking him made Deanna’s palm hot, but she didn’t want to stop. She brushed her thumb over his tip, liking the slightly rubbery feel of it contrasted with his iron-hard shaft. She liked caressing beneath the tip as well, because that made him make more noises of pleasure.
Justin’s strong fingers closed around her wrist. His head was back against the wall, eyes closed, lips parted in ecstasy.
“I’m coming,” he whispered, then it became a throaty rumble. “Gods am I ever coming.”
She felt the pulses begin, Justin’s body moving, and suddenly, his male seed jetted out all over her hand. Ropes of come snaked to the floor and his legs, Justin putting his clean hand over his face while he let out a heartfelt moan.
Then it was over. Justin’s face went grim as he furrowed Deanna’s hair with firm fingers, pulled her head back, and kissed her.
This kiss nowhere near matched the one of quiet hunger he’d given her in the car. His mouth was hard, his lips hot, tongue seeking, taking, punishing. Justin pushed her from the wall and a few steps across the room, until the backs of her knees connected with the sofa.
Justin smiled a wide smile as he pushed her down to the couch, at the same time unfastening her coverall. The coverall came down, and then the silk under-leggings she wore beneath it. Justin wriggled coverall and leggings around until they were off, and all Deanna wore was her sleeveless tunic.
Justin looped her knees over his arms, laid her back on the rather lumpy cushions, and knelt between her legs. He kissed the insides of her thighs with the same strong kisses before he lowered his head and fastened his mouth over her opening.
Deanna let out a strangled gasp. She’d never felt anything like this before. His mouth was scalding, the friction of his tongue grating, his teeth scraping her tightening clit.
She rocked her hips, as he had done, wanting to drive herself up and into his beautiful mouth.
“Justin!”
She couldn’t take it. Deanna squirmed and wriggled, but she couldn’t get away from his mouth, his tongue. And she didn’t want to.
Justin wasn’t going anywhere. He licked and tasted her, drinking her spice, loving how wet she was for him. Her come flowed into his mouth, his lady opening up to a man for the first time. Justin knew it was her first time, her reaction telling him that s
he’d never felt the amazing wildness of orgasm.
Her cries turned incoherent, and Justin smiled to himself as he suckled her swollen clit. The clit was pink and delectable, her pussy framed by soft but wiry dark hair. Some women shaved for their Shareem, but Justin liked the tickling feeling of Deanna’s hair as he drank.
He licked his way around either side of her opening and then fastened his mouth to the wet folds and drank some more.
Her echoing cries turned to whimpering moans, an inexperienced woman quickly finding her first explosion of passion.
Justin could have feasted on her all night, but he eased back, licked her clean, and raised his head.
“Aw damn,” he said, feeling himself grin as wide as his mouth could go. “Now I need another shower.”
*** *** ***
Showering with Deanna was good. Justin towed her inside in her silk undertunic, the rest of her clothes a pile on his sofa.
The wet tunic came off, and she stood with him, naked, while water poured over her tight little body. She was a patroller, so she was strong, but her honed muscles made her slim and pretty, and the breasts that tightened in the water were full and round.
So good to wash soap over her body, good to have her soap him in return. His shower wasn’t that big, but they managed, sliding against each other when they needed to move, laughing at the tight space. No complaint from Justin.
He wanted to finish this, wanted to take her in a deep, satisfying fucking. But not yet.
Justin wanted to learn her, to let her learn him. He wanted to teach her about pleasure, but he also wanted her to have fun.
He thought of ways to play—maybe tie her hands then squirt her with whipped cream and honey and lick her clean. He might blindfold her, maybe, and then spank her and show her how much fun it was.
Right now they were playing at soaping each other down. Again, no complaints.
The slick soap let Justin glide his hands up and down her wet body, find the warmth beneath her bosom. He lifted the weight of her breasts and splayed his hands over them, closing fingers around her nipples.
She let her hands rove him in return, sliding over his backside, which she found fascinating, and around to his cock again. He’d teach her how to spank him too.
Tales of the Shareem, Volume 2 Page 40
