by Celeste Raye
His lips twitched as he surveyed that area. Once upon a time, he had bathed in freshwater as a daily routine, but then he’d gotten used to a life aboard a ship and then in the mines. Freshwater had been either a luxury or something unknown. The cleansing units aboard ships used a combination of ionized water droplets hurled through a dispenser at high speeds and air as well as scrubbing brushes to clean whoever stepped within those chambers.
He much preferred the freshwater bathing method to that. The cleaning units, especially the ones upon ships and on pleasure planets, always held a stale, flat smell. They stunk of antiseptic and antifungals as well as water that had been used and re-filtered, not just hundreds, but probably thousands of times. His skin always felt raw and flayed after being in one of those things, which he supposed equated to feeling clean if one had no other choice but to clean themselves that way.
There was, along with the ocean, a massive amount of freshwater upon the small planet. The water did not come in rivers or in streams like he had seen on some planets. Instead, it was centered within long and clear circular pools that could go hundreds and sometimes thousands of feet below the Earth’s surface, plunging downward toward the core. Nobody knew exactly how deep they were.
Talon had used some sophisticated equipment to try to measure several of them that seemed to be the deepest and had come back baffled and shaking his head, saying only that he couldn’t measure the depth of those waterholes.
One of the humans who had worked in the Above had devised a rather ingenious system of tapping into one of the largest ones that sat right above the small city on a little crest of the hill. Small lines snaked over the land bringing the water from there to the garden section of the land as well as to the greenery house.
In addition, he had added lines underground, each one with a small branch in the tube that led water to the huts. Each line ended with a single small handle in the hut that the hose’s branching end fed into. Turning it would lose freshwater, but not much; the human who had created the system said that they needed a pump, and so far they had not yet been able to either manufacture or find one for sale.
Gravity did most of the work, but the result was a sluggish trickle of water instead of a full stream. Jeval had no problem with that. He stripped his clothes off gladly and stepped over to the small, sunken in depression of the floor that had a drain cut into it. The water used for bathing was not wasted. Instead, it ran back to a cistern where it was cleaned by a spinning filter and then used to wash clothing.
Several of the humans created wonderful smelling stuff they called soap. It smelled good, like the outdoors. It was fresh and clean and foamy when combined with the water, and he lifted a small chunk of it away from the leaf on which it sat then stepped up to the little water pipe. He flicked his wrist as he grasped the little lever and the water began to flow.
The water was chilly, but not chilly enough to take the edge off the burning desire that had gripped him during his meeting with Margie. How he could be so lust-stricken at the very sight of her was beyond him. No human had ever had that type of effect on him before. The water hit his head and then his extremities, running down toward the floor as he rubbed the soap across his wide and broad chest and then under his arms and down lower. His fingers found his swollen member, and he winced as his organ stiffened even further as he attempted to wash it.
He growled angrily at his traitorous flesh, but it stayed rigid and tense. “Dammit. The woman somehow always flusters me. This will be extremely problematic when she is with me on this mission. There must be someone else.”
The soap was silky, and it smoothed and soothed his skin. His palm, still bearing a thin skin of that soap, moved to the shaft of his cock. Pleasure rippled up along his body, spreading from the feel of his hand gripped tightly around his rigid and pulsing flesh.
His eyes closed. He could see Margie there. See her red lips pursed and wrapped around his member, see her dark hair swinging forward over her face, hiding it as she sucked hard and let her fingers go to his balls, scratching lightly at the delicate skin there.
His hips pushed forward, his ass cheeks jiggling a bit as his fist gripped his thick and long shaft more tautly and his toes curled into the floor as pleasure spiked and jolted along his body. His shaft thickened again, his organ filling with blood. Veins, heavy and blue, wrapped around that skin and the smooth and blood-swollen muscle below. Pulses of desire came in, making his teeth grit and his ass clench as he drove forward again, letting his hot and pulsing rod fill his fist while that image of Margie pleasuring him filled his mind, blotting out all else.
His sac climbed higher. The blood swept into his cock’s head, turning it a dusky-purple. Heat came off that member, making his hand work faster. The soap laid a slick and slippery trail, and his hand made a tight little tunnel, but it wasn’t enough.
He wanted her.
His seed spurted and splashed out of his body, falling like rain along the floor. He grunted, his muscles all jumping and jerking as the thick white seed came again, spilling onto his fingers and making his breath come in a hard and low gasp that turned into a throaty growl.
He shook his head to clear it.
The momentary pleasure passed quickly, and it did nothing at all to lessen his appetite for Margie.
He stood before the door to Margie’s chamber a few days later. The ship was fast and had cut through the skies toward the pleasure planet known as Moni-world far too fast for his liking.
Jeval would have liked to have put the mission, and it’s necessitating his being close to Margie, off for a few weeks. Time was something they did not have, unfortunately, so there he stood, trying to work up the nerve to knock on her door and tell her that the ship would be docking soon.
He knew that she had been angry earlier, furious over the necessity of donning the outfit that had been chosen for her to wear in order to give her more of a look of a slave. He had no doubt that she was still angry, in fact, and the last thing he wanted to do was face either her temper or the sight of her in that costume.
Before he could raise his hand to knock, the door slid open. His mouth dropped open. Margie stood there, a sullen glower on her face, which she had made up cleverly with cosmetics. Her lips were colored to the rubiest red he had ever seen. Thick black liner accented her long eyelids and lifted them slightly at the corners, giving her a more exotic look. She had done something to her eyelashes to make them look thicker and longer as well, and the overall effect was devastating. She had fixed up her silky hair to make it wave and curl around her face before pinning it up high on the back of her long and milky neck.
And that outfit!
It was all the typical things seen on most sex slaves. But by all of the gods of the old worlds… His organ gave such a heavy throb that he had to step back and turn slightly sideways. He wasn’t even sure if that would help. His prick was sticking out, pulsing like a weapon cocked and ready and the blood had hit there so hard he was pretty sure he was never going to be able to think at all.
To make matters worse, and yes, there was a worse it seemed when it came to his body betraying him, his heart hammered hard into his ribs and his breath stilled in his throat as he stared at her.
She wore a top that barely covered her breasts, but which held them up high in the air. He knew it was some sort of sly and cunning contraption made of wire and fabric, but at that moment, he was sure that top was made out of absolute lust and temptation.
Her bare midriff drew his eyes. Her flat stomach and cute little naval glimmered from the oil she had applied to her skin. The shape of her hips drew his eyes and made his fingers itch with the longing to grip her there, pull her to him so that he could tilt her pelvis into his and feel her lower body against that throbbing girth in his trousers.
She wore a billowy, diaphanous set of gurley girl pants. They were transparent enough for him to see every line and angle of her legs and just thick enough to disguise her crotch with a little assistance from the
small band of fabric that she wore within like underwear.
She said, “I still don’t see why you couldn’t have been the slave. This is utter—”
He spoke hastily, “There’s no time to argue. The ship’s docking. I know you understand how grave a mission this is, but I must demand, right now, that you behave with some subservience.”
Her jet-hued left eyebrow rose upward. Her lips pursed. A gleam hit her eyes, and he was not at all sure he liked the looks of it. He had seen her go after a being that pissed her off already, and he knew she could be as cunning and vicious as a little raptor-bird when she chose to be. He also knew she had a bad habit of kicking males in their most tender anatomy. “Oh really?”
His hands rested on his waist. His cock throbbed, and his pulse raced higher. He had to search for words, but he finally found them. “Yes. Listen to me. Here, slaves who misbehave are seen as things that need to be broken. I do not want to have to explain why I have not yet broken you and I damn sure don’t want to have to publicly break you; do you understand?”
The pout left her mouth. Her face took on a worried expression. He felt a pang of sympathy for her, but he quickly quelled it. The words he had said to her were true. One wrong move and they would both be caught up in a system that demanded that unbroken slaves be broken and that if the one who owned them could not break them, that the slave be given over to those who could.
She must’ve read all of that on his face because fear struck its way across her expression. She asked, “What the hell did you get me into?”
He said, “Don’t blame me. You were the last person I wanted to take along.”
She smiled suddenly. The sight of that smile, so wide and white and utterly lovely, took his breath away, making it hard for him to think. She said, “I feel the same about you.”
He regarded her. There was no love lost between them. She had disliked being forced into a position in the gambling and dance hall that he and his brothers owned. She felt that since they had wrecked the ship that she had been on through no fault of her own, and taken her hostage through no fault of her own, that the very least they could do is release her into the world unburdened by debt.
The world didn’t work that way.
Still, there was a part of him that wished that they didn’t dislike each other so intensely. Or rather, that she didn’t dislike him so intensely. The truth of the matter was that he was highly attracted to her, whether he wanted to be or not, and while he found her irritating, he also found her quite amusing. She was quick-witted and very intelligent; she could grasp the situation quickly and act appropriately. He had seen her do it before and he knew she could do it now.
All those things just made her even more attractive to him. He had to remind himself again that he was not meant to mate. That the gift that had been bestowed upon him was so powerful that passing it on would be a terrible thing. Most children born with that gift died, their little frail bodies unable to withstand that gift.
His mother had fully expected him to die, as had every elder of their race. They had hovered over his crib for weeks, just waiting for the gift to take him. That gift was the one that he never spoke of because it was so powerful and so violent that just mentioning it frightened both him and his siblings.
He had rarely had cause to use it. He had used it in the mines. When a particularly brutal overseer had decided to beat Renall to death after Renall had lied and claimed that he was the one who had stolen an extra portion of that miserable slop that passed for food, Jeval had had to use that gift or lose the brother he held so dear.
His siblings and the few other crew members that had been sold to the mines with them had been so horrified by what that gift had been able to do that they had made him take a blood vow to never use it again—unless the circumstances came down to his own life or death.
So far, he had always kept that vow.
Even in the heat of the greatest battle, he had remembered how horrible what had happened had been, and he had not used that gift, surviving by skill and wit and luck instead.
He also had not mated with any creature capable of reproduction. Mating with any race capable of reproduction, of procreation, would mean potentially passing on that black and cursed gift.
He could not watch a child he created die. He would not watch a child he had helped create die.
There had been another one with him, a twin. A child nobody spoke of. It was as if that child had never existed. A beautiful little girl they said, with eyes of pure silver and skin the same color, with the blue tracing the vein that bespoke royalty already growing in her temples. She had died, and he had lived. He was no prince. If he had been, he would never have withstood the dark gift.
The Elders said that had that child lived, she would have been their Oracle, one born to replace the aged and withered Oracle who had served her race for so long and so well.
But she had not been born.
He gulped a little, setting those feelings aside. He said, “Come on, we need to get to the Hall.”
She gave him a sardonic smile then ducked her head and said, in a meek and little voice, “Yes, Master, as you wish. But when this is over, someone owes me something, and it better be a big something too.”
Chapter Five
It happened so fast. Just so fast that she didn’t have time to even think about what was going on or how foolish it was. One moment she was standing there, staring into his eyes, cracking some silly joke, and the next his body was against hers, and their mouths were fused. His hand went to her hair, yanking it out of the clip she had put it into so carefully.
Her hair tumbled around her shoulders, and her inner thighs quivered as she felt that masculine hardness of his against her lower body, pressing against her flesh in a manly and insistent way, one that caused an answering ache and beat in her body.
Her tongue met his, and her gasp was low and desperate as his fingers clutched at her shoulders then brought her even closer to him and into fuller contact with his muscular body. Her breasts flattened against his chest, and the pressure was extreme, and hot too.
He walked her to the bed, and she fell across it, her body sprawling out on the covers. His fingers worked against her skin, sending throbs of pleasure beating through her lower belly. He found the clasp for the bralette she wore and then he loosened it, allowing her breasts to tumble free.
His body shone, and the muscles beneath his skin flexed and tensed as he bent over her. The sight of his broad chest and shoulders made her lips part in a little gasp. She began to work at his clothes as his fingers found the clever little snap at the front of her belt and loosed it, tugging the harem-like pants down and exposing her body.
His tunic went over his head and then she yanked at the trousers he wore. He kicked them off, revealing the package of bone and muscle there, as well as the lean angles of his hips. The hair at the junction of his thighs was thick and coarse, and his cock jutted up from his body at a stiff angle, and the sight of it was too tempting. She had to have him, had to touch him and taste him.
He joined her on the bed, and she reached out. Her fingers trailed along his member, stroking along the heavy veins there. He gasped, and his hips shot forward. Her fingers curled around his dick, fisting it.
He was hot, throbbing, and stiff. His prick twitched and pulsed below her fingers, and she stroked it gently, curling her fist tighter and then dipping her head a bit so she could lick the soft skin at the head. It thickened yet again, and that skin that she had just licked stretched tight and became shiny.
Margie’s fingers moved along the heavy shaft of his dick, exploring the satiny texture of the surface before she wriggled and turned so that she was on top of him, her crotch above his eager mouth. His hands caught her bottom, and his fingers pressed deep into her cheeks, parting them.
Margie went back to his throbbing staff. The whole enormous girth was purple and swollen, and she squeezed gently, and then bent her head to it, letting her tongue wander up
and around the shaft before licking across the head again to capture the salty drop of fluid slipping from the slit at the top of it.
His hands tugged at her hair and hips bucked into her face, but she kept going. Her fingers moved to his sac, and she cradled his balls in her hand, letting her thumb run across the soft, wrinkled surface of that flesh.
“That feels good,” Jeval panted out, and then his mouth went to the soft and dripping folds of her inner flesh, his breath blew against that wet heat there, and she shivered, her mouth working harder to take him down her throat and please him.
“No,” she said as she pulled her wet mouth away from his glistening prick, “I am not trying to do anything but make you happy.”
Her hips hung in the air above his head, her juices dripping onto his lips and his tongue came out to swipe away the creamy drops of fluid gathered near her clit. Her ass shook and trembled, and her mouth opened wider as she strove to take every inch of him down her throat. She wanted it all; she wanted him deep inside of her body; she wanted to feel him inside her swollen passageway; and she wanted it soon, but first, she wanted this incredible giving and receiving.
The pleasure was so intense, her body rocked and swayed above his. She was pinned on his cock, swallowing it eagerly as his mouth worked against her pussy, coaxing even more fluids to spill from her body.
His fingers moved inside her, thrusting and withdrawing as his tongue found her clit and massaged it in a way that seemed designed to drive her insane. Her mouth tightened, and she let her fingers slide across his testicles, cupping them and stroking them again.
Jeval slid a finger into her anus. That pleasure, coupled with the feel of his tongue on her clit and his other fingers inside her body jolted her toward orgasm. A tremendous shudder went through her. Her hips arched up and down as her mouth went back to work on his cock.
She came. Hard. Her whole body shook, and her hands clutched desperately at his thighs.
