by Lee Savino
I barely keep from shaking my head. The closest thing to a friend Gavrill has in the known universe, and Gavrill doesn’t even know his real name. If that doesn’t warn a girl off from getting emotionally attached to him, I don’t know what would. Unfortunately, I’m not sure it will be that easy.
I don’t want to like him, but I do.
Not just because he seems intent on pleasuring me into the stratosphere either. Yes, he’s spanked me, put me on a leash, and treated me like a pet… but he’s also obviously a good leader, he can be exceedingly gentle, he looks at me with something like reverence, and he’s incredibly straightforward. I’m not sure Tsenturions even know how to lie. From everything I’ve seen, they’re all completely sincere in everything they say and do.
There is definitely something appealing about all of that.
No guesswork, no games.
Which means it’s very clear right now that Gavrill is enjoying tormenting me for his own amusement.
“Mealtime approaches. Soon it will be time to make ready.” His hands fit over my hips and the trainer recedes, baring my pussy. My ass, on the other hand, is still full and I can feel the thin strip of it leading down between my cheeks from the belt part. Instantly my body seizes, my pussy creaming even more than it had for the belt in anticipation of him taking me again.
“Are you primed for me?” Gavrill murmurs. One hand strokes my labia while the other covers my right breast. Since he’s been touching me everywhere but those places for what felt like hours, the sensations feel doubly intense and I arch against his fingers. They slip inside my pussy, testing my wetness and probing just inside my lips.
“Yes…”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes… Master.” My breath comes in little pants. Sensual need ripples through me, pulsing at my nipples and between my legs.
“I don’t know.” If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was teasing me right now. But he’s too stoic for that… isn’t he? “Perhaps I should leave you primed and waiting until tonight."
I whimper as he pinches my nipple, the hot sting of pleasure zinging straight down to my pussy and making me clench around his fingers as they slide deeper inside of me. The idea of him leaving me on edge like this makes me feel manic. I know I’ve gone through worse, while Frllil was priming me for him, but right now that doesn’t matter… I want my orgasm and I want it now.
“If you let me come now, I won’t be distracted during the meal,” I point out. As aroused as I am, it’s amazing that I can form a logical argument.
“Or you’ll be focused entirely on me, waiting for the command that allows you to cum.”
I flush at the idea of being brought to orgasm in front of an audience, unsure of whether I’m more horrified or just more aroused. I don’t really want to find out. “You don’t want me to… perform for them, do you?”
His reaction shocks me. At first, I think I must be imagining that I can actually feel what he’s feeling, but the darkening of his suit and the way his jaw clenches makes me wonder if I’m right… if I can actually feel the violent possessiveness gripping him. I gasp as my skin prickles almost painfully, as if reacting to the strange surge of outside emotion.
“You will never perform for them.” His dark eyes spear me, his hand tightening on my breast, fingers thrusting deeply into me. I gasp, arching, my wrists tugging against the restraints at the pleasurable and painful sensations tingling along my nerves and it’s only getting stronger as he speaks. “Do not speak of it again. Do not even think it."
“Master,” I gasp as the buzzing energy along my skin grows. I feel like I've been Tasered or struck by lightning. If every hair on my head isn’t standing up, I’d be very surprised. It hurts. “I meant nothing wrong. Please—”
The electric current dies away. Gavrill pauses, steadying me as I choke on air. The possessiveness gripping me, making my skin too tight, relaxes and I slump, gasping for breath. The hand on my breast has relaxed and his fingers slide out of me, no longer trying to punish me with rough thrusts.
“Forgive me,” he says, and I jerk in surprise. An apology was the last thing I’d expect from my stern master. Judging by the dismayed look on his face, his behavior has shocked him, too. “I did not mean to upset you. It has been a long time since I possessed anything so rare and treasured. I do not wish to share.”
Jealous. I’d asked if he wanted me to perform sexually for his friends, and his response was a jealousy so intense, it nearly choked me. Although he didn’t seem to realize what had been happening to me. Had I felt his emotions? Or had what I thought were his emotions actually just been him manipulating the training belt? Could it do that to me?
He runs his hands over me, stroking what now feels like raw skin.
I whimper again, and he hushes me, his voice and hands soothing.
“You are my little Tribute. You belong to me and me alone.” His armor recedes as he shifts above me, spreading my legs with his palms. The electric current left me both sensitive and wanting more. Being bound before him only makes me wish I could touch him, and yet it arouses me that I literally can’t. His cock brushes over my clit, moving toward my entrance, and I moan. “Shhh. I am your master. I will take care of you and give you pleasure, and you will want for nothing.”
I cry out as he thrusts inside of me, my hips rising off the bed, silently begging for more.
Gavrill
I am out of control again, but I do not care.
The idea of my Tribute showing this side of herself to others… of them hearing her soft moans, seeing the way she throws her head back in ecstasy, has inflamed me with passion, possession, and anger. For the first time, I understand the Tsenturion impulse to mark our mates, so that all may see who she belongs to. I almost wish it were possible to do so with a human, even though everyone already knows she is mine.
It is an illogical desire.
But that does not matter to me in this moment.
Growling, I fuck her harder, feeling her hot wetness clasp me tightly as she writhes beneath me. Having her hands bound is just as enjoyable as I’d imagined it would be. While I am not averse to being touched by her, having her so helpless is exhilarating.
I can feel the head of my cock flaring inside of her, stroking her walls, and my seela writhe. The lips of her pussy have little marks all over them from how often I’ve climaxed inside of her, my body attempting to fully bond with hers. Sliding my arms under her legs, I spread her wide, so that I may watch my cock sliding in and out of the plump lips of her pussy. All the little marks I have left on her there fill me with a sense of supreme satisfaction, as well as a desire to leave more on the rest of her.
Leaning forward, I practically bend her in half, pounding into her as I bite down on her shoulder. Not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to make her gasp. I suck, pulling at her flesh, the same way my seela pull at the lips of her pussy when I climax. I can taste her skin on my tongue as I suck. The manuals said that doing so would leave a mark.
It is not the mark of a Tsenturion, but it will be my mark on her.
“Please… oh please… Master…” Her body tries to move against mine, despite the restraints on her wrists, and I can feel her muscles beginning to flutter around my cock as her climax approaches.
I release the mouthful of her shoulder, seeing the dark red blotch that I’ve left on her skin with a sense of keen relish.
“Come for me,” I say, demanding more than giving her permission. “Come on my cock, Dawn.”
Her name slips out, unintentionally. It sounds odd and feels odd on my tongue, but also seems very right. In the manuals, during the penultimate moment, the master would often use his female’s name. Especially when ordering her to come for him.
The high cry she utters as her body clamps down around me is everything I want to hear. She is coming apart beneath me as I move harder, faster, my body urging me to fill her, claim her, own her.
Mine… she is mine… all mine.
&n
bsp; My seela latch on to her pussy, my cock swelling against her clenching walls as the head goes rigid. I let loose my own deep groan of intense ecstasy as I begin to throb, my seed spilling into her, filling her. She pulses around me, pulling at my cock, like her body is hungry for whatever I can give her. I hunch over her, panting as each spasm of her body causes me to jerk against her, my prime seela pulling at her clit, and catching us in a circle of passion which feeds off of each other’s reactions.
By the time I am spent, my Tribute is drowsy again with pleasure, whimpering slightly as I gently dislodge myself from her body. Her pussy lips are freshly plumped, the marks from my seela standing out against the paleness of her thighs, but not as much as the deep red mark my mouth has left on her shoulder. I look at it, both pleased and yet… unsatisfied. Something about it is not enough, though I know more is not possible.
As I am contemplating how to satisfy myself—perhaps by making it larger?—my com beeps and I realize we are late for our meal. Bogdan is hailing me, obviously annoyed at the delay.
Immediately I instruct the training belt to cover her again, obscuring the delightful sight of her pussy. I wish it had enough tech to cover her body fully, but such a need had not been anticipated.
At least more opaque dresses had been delivered to the room earlier, while she was still slumbering.
“Come, my Tribute,” I say, getting up and going to fetch one of them. The red one, I decide, to match the mark on her shoulder even though it will be hidden beneath the fabric of the garment. “We must hurry, we are late for our meal.”
Medik will not mind, but Bogdan is liable to be more surly for it.
I am also unsettled. Tardiness is not something I tolerate in myself or in anyone else. What disturbs me the most is my annoyance at being interrupted from being able to cuddle my Tribute. It is not the reaction I would have expected myself to have.
But this is just a meal, not a duty, I remind myself. I would be more upset at becoming so distracted and less annoyed about the interruption if I were tardy to the bridge again.
Then again, before meeting my Tribute, I would have thought that about being tardy to anything.
An unsettled feeling trickles through me as I watch my Tribute pull on the red dress. I am changing, and I am not sure what to think of it.
Dawn
Gavrill is silent as he swiftly leads me to the room where we’ll be eating. It’s not the cafeteria, it’s a smaller room near the cafeteria. A meeting room? An officer’s mess? I’m not sure.
Both of the other Tsenturions are there waiting when we enter, both standing rather than sitting. Actually, it kind of looks like they were arguing, both of them stepping away from each other as we come in.
After what Gavrill told me about Medik, I’m not sure how to greet him. While I want to be angry that he is responsible for the Tsenturions requesting the Jabol find them mates, it’s not like it was something that was personally done against me. Plus, Gavrill describing him as his ‘oldest and closest’ friend instinctively makes me want to make a good impression on him.So when Gavrill leads me to be introduced to him first, I flush and bend my knees in a small curtsey as Gavrill proudly claims me as his Tribute… and then immediately feel stupid as all three of the males look at me with confusion at my genuflection. But the old alien’s eyes are kind.
“Tribute,” he greets me in a deep, slightly reedy voice. “I have waited a long time to greet you. On behalf of myself and the remnant of the Tsenturion race: welcome.” Placing a hand on his chest, he bows his head to me. It’s not quite the same as the salute the warriors give to Gavrill, but it still feels ceremonial. Tongue-tied, I jerk my head up and down and half curtsey again before I realize what I’m doing.
I look helplessly up at Gavrill, who didn’t prepare me for anything like this. Neither did Frllil for that matter. Nope, Frllil was all “keep quiet, be submissive, please the Commander” and Gavrill was all “sex, sex, sex.” No one told me what good manners for communicating with a Tsenturion who actually wanted to talk to me would be. Gavrill just looks back at me, expressionless. I have no idea what he’s thinking.
Behind him, Bogdan snorts in derision. Yeah, no guesses as to what he’s thinking. The dark-suited warrior salutes to Gavrill and completely ignores me, marching past to his seat at the large table. At least he didn’t say anything rude aloud. He’s still a jerk though. I bite my tongue to keep from sticking it out at him.
As I look back at Medik, the Tsenturion gives me a slight smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes. He’s like the Tsenturion version of a grandfather, and the small moment between us makes me feel better.
“Please, sit, Medik.” Gavrill rests his large hands on my shoulders, steering me towards the table; the firm weight of his touch settles me. “You do us honor to join us at our table.”
“A celebration is in order, is it not?” The doctor straightens as much as his stooped shoulders will allow. His movements are a tad stiff and slow, compared to the warriors’ stride. He must be much older.
The table is shaped like a triangle. Bogdan stands on one side, the doctor takes another. That leaves one side for both me and Gavrill. My face heats as I realize I might be delegated to a cushion on the floor. So much for proving I’m a sentient being. I grind my teeth, determined not to say anything. While Gavrill got pretty possessive about having me do anything sexual in front of his friends, I don’t know whether or not that will extend to being spanked as well.
He’d already demonstrated that he’s perfectly willing to punish me while there’s an audience.
I stumble a little as Gavrill maneuvers me into position. There’s no cushion, but there’s only one seat. The High Commander sits and pats his knee. Cheeks pulsing hot with embarrassment, I twitch to the side and perch gingerly on his lap. At least I don’t have to sit on the floor.
Spots on the table glow and platters of food appear. A whole smorgasbord of completely weird looking dishes, only a few of which look familiar from what the warriors in the cafeteria had shown me. I want to reach for the delicious korrun fruit but Gavrill pulls a different dish towards us—several multi-colored mounds with the consistency of ice cream, if ice cream came glowing in jewel tones. The doctor peers at me from around what looks like a stack of green sea crab legs with red thorns.
“I consulted the Jabol for food of your people,” Medik says. “The nanos changed your system to accept nutrition from our foods, but food is more than nutrition, wouldn’t you agree?
I nod and gulp. If I’d really thought about it, I should’ve prepared myself for a feast of strange dishes. I’d already learned in the cafeteria that Frllil hadn’t exactly shown me all the things the Tsenturions eat.
The plate in front of Bogdan holds what looks like a hunk of charred meat. A long claw-like razor extends from the warrior’s suit and he uses it to hack into his meal. Purple goo oozes out from the blackened carcass. That is definitely not something I’ve seen before. I close my eyes for a moment and tell my panicking stomach to calm down. I don’t have to eat that.
9
Gavrill
I can feel my Tribute’s tension as she examines the food in front of us. The memory of seeing her in the dining hall with my warriors rises in my mind and I immediately want to be the one to introduce her to new things as well. I pick up one of the severill balls, sure that I had not seen one of them when she was trying new foods earlier.
As I move to hold it for her to eat, she begins to reach for it with her hands and I making a chiding noise. I will provide her with what she needs. Catching my eye, she quickly lowers her hands to her lap and obediently opens her lips, pleasing me. Even the act of feeding her arouses me, despite my recent release. Everything she does arouses me.
The expression on her face as she tastes the sweet and sour flavor makes it appear as though she is unsure whether or not she likes it. Certainly, she’d enjoyed the korrun fruit much more, but I want to show her things she didn’t taste for the others.
Bogdan mutters something about ‘wasting time catering to the weak,’ but Medik ignores him. I shoot Bogdan a dark look, which he avoids, although he re-focuses his attention on his own meal, obviously aware that he has sparked my displeasure. It is also unlike him to be so derogatory towards those weaker than us. Tsenturion warriors are built to be protectors and there is nothing dishonorable in not being a warrior. Perhaps my tardiness for the meal has stoked his ire even more than I thought.
“It will ease her transition if she can surround herself with familiar things. And we will make use of the settings again and again, with each new Tribute.” The doctor takes one of the thorny vines and starts to peel it. “That is, if you deem the program a success, and decide to continue it.”
“Yes,” I say immediately, tightening my grip on my own Tribute. I may have just acquired her the previous cycle, but our compatibility has already been demonstrated. Whether or not we will be capable of procreating has not yet been proven, but I trust the Jabol’s assessment, and I will not deny my warriors the comforts and relief of Tributes of their own just to wait for it to actually happen.
“Wait!” My own Tribute sits up straight in my lap, interrupting. I frown—not because I am displeased, but because I feel her distress and I don’t understand it. “You don’t mean you want to bring more women here?” She sounds appalled and I do not know how to answer. Surely our aim was obvious.
“The survival of our race depends on it,” Medik says quietly.
“No.” She turns on my lap, her distress growing with every word. I should punish her for being so outspoken—though I had told her she did not need to be quiet, she is verging on disrespect—but the strong swell of her emotion is affecting me and I do not know how to react. “You can’t do this. The women you’ll take--they’ll have lives, maybe even families…”
