Taming The Wild Man - an erotic romance

by Toni Sands

  A discreet chiming heralds an announcement. ‘Star Sister Zia waits to be admitted, my lady.’

  The Regulator applies her attention to the immediate task. The door slides soundlessly across to reveal Zia standing with hands at her sides, eyes downcast in the traditional star sister posture before a superior.

  Shara X thinks of the experience she’s shared with the girl and wonders how Zia would react if she knew. This won’t, of course, happen. Real secrets remain just that in this world. The Collective’s strict hierarchy and information relayed by government on a ‘need to know’ basis ensures everyone knows his or her place and doesn’t try peeling away the layers and confronting the system. She’s aware of tittle-tattle among the star sisters and it amuses her to watch when rumours flare fast as an antibacterial boost to the ventilation system.

  ‘Enter, Star Sister. You’re refreshed?’

  The young woman is stripped of her severe silver uniform, boots and helmet. These are being de-contaminated. She’s showered and spent time in a relaxing tub before being dried and massaged with aromatic oils. All these tasks are carried out by lower order Fours: females at a stage beyond child-bearing. Her simple gown, though loose, doesn’t hide her curves. Its shade of blue indicates her Star Sister Two status.

  ‘Sit down, Zia.’ The Regulator rotates her seat to face the only other chair.

  ‘Thank you, my lady.’

  ‘Before you undergo the scan to establish whether conception took place today, tell me your feelings, Zia.’

  ‘Positive feelings, my lady. I … I’ve always benefited from my learning trips above ground but I’m well aware of the dangers. I’m relieved to be back among my sisters and brothers.’ She blinks rapidly. ‘Today was a revelation. I enjoyed the spectacular scenery. And when he … when the wild man came to find me, I … I.’

  ‘Go on.’

  Zia gulps. ‘I was curious to discover how my body would react.’ She looks at Shara X who nods and waits. ‘He is…was…a fine specimen. I’m honoured that you chose me as his receptacle.’

  ‘And do you feel the coupling was successful?’

  Zia looks at the virtual view through the window frame across the room. She watches the waterfall sparkling in the perpetual sunshine and swallows, acutely reminded of the moments when Conall’s pleasure spilled into her mouth and trickled down her throat. What comment can she possibly make that won’t incriminate her?

  ‘I hope so, my lady.’

  Shara X raises her eyebrows. ‘You’re inexperienced. He is not. But if you have to repeat your visit, it’s preferable that you direct proceedings. Never lose a second chance to conceive. Don’t ever make that mistake. Next time – whether with this man or some other – you remain in charge. We, the Collective, are here to direct and control these people’s instincts. The man is simply a stud. You have lovers here in abundance. Never forget that, Zia. Now, go. Submit yourself for examination. And then come back to see me.’ She turns to her screen.

  Zia rises. Her emotions are still turbulent. How much does the Regulator know of what took place in the cave? As if in a dream, she moves towards the doorway but glimpses Conall’s image on the monitor and stops, unable to tear her eyes from the two flaxen-haired toddlers and the woman unmistakeably their mother. To her ultimate dismay, Zia experiences something she knows is totally alien to the ethos of the Collective. Jealousy grips her as she leaves the chamber.

  The Regulator is suspicious of the intensity of Zia’s feelings. There’s no thought exchange device linking them here in their underground world. Had Shara X been party to the confusion tormenting Zia since her visit to Conall, perhaps she would have reached a different decision from the one she’s about to make. Images of the young couple, their hands and their mouths seeking and finding one another’s secret places tantalise the older woman. She knows she has stirred up some sexual chemistry, the likes of which she’s formerly only wondered about.

  Zia walks along corridors awash with natural light and air fresh as gorse-scented moorland. The Collective has cherry-picked from centuries-old traditions and morals and blended them with what it considers sophisticated 24th century technology. The sub-world enjoys gentle temperatures and its inmates are well-nourished, existing on a controlled diet according to status. Zia and other star sisters the same age have received supplements since reaching puberty.

  She’s a strong swimmer, visiting the pool daily and challenging her endurance by varying the water conditions until the Hydro Controller gently chides her. Character building isn’t encouraged in star sisters classed as Twos and Threes. Her age, should she exist back in the 21st century, would be eighteen. She’s been enjoying the bliss cubicles for several time segments as she knows them. Her creamy skin reflects lack of exposure to natural light but the vital ingredients that have made humankind worship the sun are included in her food intake. Her smooth oval face and generous mouth, her luxuriant dark hair and slender limbs are enough to make her a sought-after pleasuring partner. Her ripe yet pert breasts feature in the fantasies of many of her fellow star people. Subtle medication ensures that no unauthorised conception occurs.

  Zia steps onto the conveyor leading to the medical quarters. Normally she prefers to walk naturally but today she’s expended many calories. And she feels a little light-headed, something she attributes to the unaccustomed alcohol and the time spent in the sun. She wonders if anyone will know that she removed her helmet when on the beach.

  The door mechanism reads Zia’s iris pattern and the metal panel swishes open to allow access. The clinic receptionist looks up and nods, her expression calm. She seems neither pleased nor displeased to see her visitor. The Collective has experimented with robot personnel in the past but still uses humankind. The aim is to create a mix of duties and pleasure for every star sister and brother. Everybody’s monitored. Nobody knows the meaning of tension or extreme exhaustion. The clones are best at conforming. Natural beings like Zia are sometimes a challenge – but not for long. Too much evidence of character results in careful medication.

  Doctor Caldar is on duty today. The physician is directly cloned from his father, whose expertise was such that the Collective decided to recreate him. The doctor’s face appears on a screen above the receptionist’s head. He looks straight at Zia and nods. For a moment she’s hit by a strong desire to be pregnant – next thing she yearns not to be. If she isn’t carrying Conall’s child, she might be sent back to him before her current fertility level falters. The thought sends joy surging through her until she realises her wishes are irrelevant. There’s no guarantee the wild man will hold her in his arms and press her against his taut body ever again. Even if the hoped for fusion hasn’t taken place.

  Surrounded by pale walls and banks of monitors, Zia, keeping very still, reclines on a couch. Advanced technology ensures this scan requires no touch by human or robotic hand. Soothing music fills her ears as the image seeker hovers above her. She takes for granted the speed at which conception is determined, accustomed to hearing the older star sisters sometimes laugh together as they talk about the inconvenience of wondering whether or not you’re pregnant. What must it be like? The general feeling seems to be that it must be dreadful, especially when those living above ground are plagued by heat waves, arctic blasts and torrential rain. The Collective members never stop revelling in their good fortune.

  Zia stands still and takes three deep breaths before approaching the Regulator’s quarters. Despite knowing how wrong it is – how dangerous it is – all she can think of is the possibility of visiting Conall again. His strong features and the tawny hair rippling through her fingers during their most passionate moments are strong in her memory. With all her being she longs to shelter in his arms again: feel his powerful body move inside hers. Zia, having experienced the joy of total sexual union, fears she can never again welcome the affectionate petting and stroking of the bliss cubicles.

  She recovers her composure just in time. The disc pinned to her robe signals that
Shara X is waiting. Zia strides along the airy passageways, landscaped with hologram views, encountering on her way two or three of her sisters and brothers. All greet each other with visible but muted delight.

  Sedok, a tall, fair-haired male, detains her alongside a waterfall vista. ‘Zia – I so enjoyed our last time together. I’m impatient to repeat the experience.’ He lowers his voice. ‘May I reserve time for us after supper tonight?’

  Her thoughts flutter like tiny birds startled by a big cat. ‘I’m so sorry, Sedok. I have a meeting with Shara X and daren’t be late. It’s possible she’ll give me a task that could prevent our meeting later. Forgive me.’

  Zia knows he’s struggling not to show disappointment. If this were picked up by one of the high-definition electric eyes, it would mean the end of sessions between the two of them. Sedok, like Zia, isn’t a clone. His emotions too, are liable to be triggered, in spite of the inhibitors put in place by the medics.

  Sedok nods. ‘Perhaps some other time?’

  Tender-hearted Zia wishes she could warn him of the admiration in his eyes. She keeps her tone level … friendly. ‘If possible, we shall enjoy one another’s company again, Brother.’

  Sedok presses his palms together, bows his blond head and walks on.

  Zia rushes off and skids to a stop outside the sliding door dividing the Regulator’s quarters from the corridor. How to control her emotions? If Shara X suspects how much restlessness fizzes through her system, she’ll whisk her off to undergo spiritual cleansing. In other words she’ll have a mind as vacant as a clone’s. Zia closes her eyes, glimpses again, that strong, handsome face, passion blazing in his eyes as he takes her to screaming-point on the floor of his cave. She hopes she managed to contain her true feelings when she left Conall on the beach, but now she fears revealing the truth to this woman who exerts such power over her.

  ‘Enter.’ The command echoes in Zia’s ears as the door opens. Shara X is still working at her console. ‘Remain standing, Star Sister. I wish you to close your eyes. And listen.’

  Zia obeys, only to hear a gentle sighing filter inside the chamber. Zia’s listening to a sound byte from her last encounter in the bliss cubicle with Sedok. As she hears herself she recalls the moment when he slips his hand inside her gown and strokes the silky skin of her upper thighs. At that point, she remembers fondling Sedok’s ear lobes and tracing the outline of his mouth so they achieve mutual pleasure.

  ‘Open your eyes, Zia. Was that an agreeable experience?’

  ‘Very agreeable.’

  ‘Listen to something else. Close your eyes again, please.’

  Zia stands there, vulnerable in her simple gown, not allowed to relax into a chair. The beat of waves breaking on the shore fills the room. Now she hears herself again. But it’s a very different voice this time. It’s a voice raw with desire – and so eager for more that she’s begging. Then Conall’s husky tones murmur in her ears. Zia feels her heart rate increase. She recognises the dampness between her thighs. Her climax, with Conall deep inside her, is moments away. Clenching her fists either side of her body, she’s saved by the Regulator’s voice.

  ‘Open your eyes. And sit down.’

  Zia stumbles into her seat. She notices a gleam in the Regulator’s eyes.

  ‘Fascinating,’ says Shara X. ‘The enjoyment you experienced today is strong within you. Is this a good thing?’

  Zia needs to think quickly. ‘It’s not for me to say, my lady. The union with the wild man is so recent, compared with my time with Sedok. My body is unused to such sensations. Might this be the reason?’

  She keeps her tone light, her expression innocent. She smiles at Shara X, almost flirtatious. And the ruse succeeds. Shara X’s fine-boned face softens. She moves towards Zia and bends over the lovely young woman. Her lips touch Zia’s forehead. Then the older woman lifts the girl’s chin and kisses her on her mouth. Zia concentrates totally on the moment. With a supreme effort, she shuts her mind to everything else, closes her eyes and sighs as if in pleasure, desperate to hide her dismay.

  There’s a gleam of triumph in the older woman’s eyes as she touches her hand to Zia’s smooth cheek. ‘That’s better. These primitive people are animals compared to ourselves. But as well as for practical purposes, I need to use you for another encounter with a wild one – simulate the experience to create pleasure for the higher-status members of the Collective. With my knowledge of virtual programs and with your willing participation, I know I can channel this rough passion.’ She purses her lips.

  Zia’s mouth is dry. This must mean she’s not pregnant. But if she’s to travel above ground again, what if the next liaison is with some strange wild man? How will she cope with the disappointment? She’s obviously aroused Shara X’s suspicions. It was one thing being the Regulator’s pet before she was sent to Conall – quite another now. Zia forgets the fact that Conall was a total stranger before their recent encounter. She has only one thing in view. She waits, hands folded in her lap.

  Shara X moves to a wall dispenser and selects an option. She hands a glass of nectar to Zia then takes one for herself and sits down again, her expression thoughtful. ‘I have to bear in mind my targets. I could mate you with Sedok. His medication can be changed. But as you know, historically, it’s proven that star sisters and brothers with offspring close to them, can revert to the old ways: threaten the integrity of the Collective. And for sure, I have to put the good of the Collective above all else.’

  Zia’s hand shakes as she reaches for her drink. The Regulator knows that Zia’s own back story proves the truth of what she’s saying. Why this apparent indecision? What is she up to?

  Shara X puts down her glass. ‘Doctor Caldar reports no cell changes within you. This makes me hesitate to send you back to this particular wild man. He’s a rebel. But I’m torn by the desire to monitor you again, Zia. Just one more time. I wonder …’

  Zia can hardly control herself. Just how much did the Regulator experience when monitoring the visit to Conall? Zia’s used to being controlled. She knows that her own mother rejected life as a star sister. But she’s never been told where she went after making the decision to live permanently above ground. Zia has been conditioned to believe that nuclear families aren’t what the Collective is about. Now, with every fibre of her being, she finds herself resenting this analysis, finds herself wishing she could just go to Conall and be herself. Knows for the first time how her birth mother must have felt – the revulsion against the practices of the impersonal Regulators. Zia knows now just why her mother had to go away. And she looks down at her hands, knowing her eyes would be bound to tell tales.

  Such shocking thoughts have to be stifled. Zia picks up her glass, drains it and looks down at her hands again.

  Chapter Three

  TODAY, ABOVE GROUND, Conall is visiting his parents. They live in a stone-built farmstead, not many kilometres distant from his summer place. He’s helped his father deliver a foal that morning. The spindly-legged, breathtakingly fragile animal gains strength as it suckles its mother.

  ‘Fine mare. Her foal will thrive. I’m glad you were here to help me, Conall.’

  ‘I needed to collect food and water.’

  ‘More to it than that. I see it in your eyes. Your whole stance is different today. Something’s happened.’

  Conall gazes back at his father. Molan’s direct words don’t surprise him. There’s a strong intuitive streak in father and son.

  ‘Shall I tell you what I think?’ Molan’s eyes are kindly.

  ‘How can I stop you?’ But Conall chuckles as he reaches for a pail and the two move towards the well.

  ‘You’re unsettled,’ says Molan. ‘Seeking something. They’re using you again, aren’t they?’

  The Collective is always referred to as they.

  Conall nods. ‘They sent me a star sister yesterday – a true being, not a clone. She’s very different from any other girl I’ve met. And I can’t rid myself of her image. Sleep was impossible l
ast night.’

  His father soaps his suntanned arms again, rinses then stretches his hands out in the sunshine. ‘But you know you have to put this girl out of your mind? Just as she’s already forgotten you.’

  Conall reacts as if punched in the chest. His eyes blaze. ‘It’s so unfair. Why must we continue to let them manipulate us like this?’

  ‘Because that’s the way it is.’ Molan’s words are resigned. ‘Remember, over many generations my family has refused to join them. A bargain was struck. Humankind split. One race decided to spin itself into a smug, pleasure-centred, self-congratulatory blancmange. One wanted to live like humankind hundreds of years ago. That’s why we breathe real air. We eat real food. When we make love we feel passion. Our wives become pregnant and swell with child until ready to give birth. We suffer and toil. We’re at the mercy of the elements. But we live life as we humans were always meant to do’

  Conall sees his mother appear in the doorway of the house, glance at them then hesitate before going back inside.

  His father grips Conall’s elbow. ‘My son, do I need to remind you of all this? You want to become one of them? Is that what this is all about? I’ve never taken you for a fool, Conall. Don’t you realise you’ll end up as a pleasure mate to the high status ones? Medicated just enough to function as a five-star stud! You think you’ll enjoy wearing a pretty robe?’

  Conall flinches but his father’s not finished yet.

  Bitterness laces Molan’s voice. ‘And your sweet little star sister won’t be allowed anywhere near you. Especially if she’s carrying your child. That’s how they operate.’

  ‘Do you think I don’t know all that? I feel exactly as you do.’ Conall gazes helplessly at the distant horizon. ‘I long for my own wife. I want to settle down and have children. Pass on the skills you’ve taught me - keep the line going. Know real contentment. I don’t want to live like a caveman while the weather’s good then face the long hours of winter reading alone by lamplight - growing old alone.