by K S Augustin
When he stormed through the door, the first thing he noticed was her golden nakedness.
I should get her some clothes.
Then anger at his own compassion. Maybe he could get her something to wear just so he could rip it off her superior, feminine body?
She turned at the sound of his entrance, her eyes wide. “Tangus ….”
She got no further. He cleared the distance between them in two steps, lifting her below her arms and pinning her against the wall.
“Not Tangus,” he growled. “Master. I’m your master now. Say it.”
She was bewildered by his reaction, he could see that, but he wasn’t in the mood to explain anything.
“Say it.”
“Master,” she whispered.
Just watching that word leave her full lips was enough to send his cock into overdrive. Looking around, he spied a narrower, higher ledge and carried her over to it, laying her so her legs dangled over the side. He moved between those legs and unfastened his trousers.
“I want to fuck you,” he told her deliberately. “Tell me you want me to do that.” His eyes were black with passion.
“Tan--fuck me ... master.”
He reached into his trousers with an unsteady hand and pulled out his turgid shaft, the tip already oozing a drop of clear liquid.
“Again.”
“Fuck me, master.”
He had a moment to notice the redness at the apex of her open thighs, a twinge of guilt ruthlessly repressed, before he plunged into her. Even with such little notice, she was wet and he slid inside her easily. He didn’t care about her own needs or desires, all he wanted to do was stamp his ownership on her so that even when she was finally serviced by other men, she would remember him. But the sudden thought of her with other men drove him even crazier. He gripped her hips frantically, ignoring her cries as he kept pounding, not easing until the waves of orgasm washed over him, making him shudder and moan.
When he was finished, he withdrew quickly, turning his back on her as he refastened his trousers.
“I’ll get some clothes for you,” he said, turning his head but still not meeting her gaze. “Then we’ll continue the lessons.”
But lunch came and went before that happened. Together with her meal was a small package that Asha unwrapped to reveal two suits, both made of light material, two tops and two pairs of pants.
Clothes again, she thought with delight. She thought she would never see clothing again, had wondered whether Tangus would keep her naked and bent to his will for ... well, for as long as he wanted.
Quickly she slipped into the indigo outfit. The top was short, semi-transparent and caught at her breasts, swaying with their every movement. And the pants hugged her buttocks and thighs before flaring out as it reached her feet. Perhaps it was a little more revealing than what she usually wore--where did that thought come from?--but it was still better than nothing.
Feeling a bit more in command, she walked to the chamber’s main door and pressed it, but it refused to open. She searched for a control panel with no luck. Then tried the same with the door adjoining Tangus’ quarters. No, she was locked in.
Which left her with time for little other than thinking.
She should have felt outraged by his order to call him master and shocked by the way he so fiercely took her, but something in her yearned to match him thrust for thrust. She wanted to dig her fingernails into his biceps, claw his back and bite his shoulder. Wanted to do such things now. Twice he had taken what he wanted without giving her release, and she was shaken by the strength of her unfilled desire.
Maybe he was right forcing her to call him master. The thought sent shudders through her. Never had she expected to be dominated so completely by another person, much less find herself meeting such domination with equal intensity.
Even if their situation was different, if they had met at a party for example, she was sure her first thought would have been how it felt to mate with him. There was a primeval masculinity to his form, to the way he moved his body, that mesmerized her.
And, as if in answer to her fantasies, he suddenly appeared at the door leading to his quarters.
“I see you found your clothes,” he commented.
“Yes,” an imp made her finish, “master.”
She noticed he started at the term and felt a stab of satisfaction. So she could get under his skin.
He walked into the room, stretching out a hand to her. Gracefully, she extended her arm, letting him pull her to him.
“I’ve checked and re-checked the systems,” he whispered into her hair, breathing deeply of her scent. He nuzzled her neck, nipping gently at the skin where it met her shoulders. “There’s nothing left to do for the next several days but relax.”
The tempestuous conqueror of this morning was gone, replaced by the Tangus she was more familiar with--stern but focused on their mutual pleasure.
“Can you suggest, slave, how we can relax?”
“I’m sure you have many more suggestions, master.”
“True.” He captured her mouth in a quick, hard kiss. “Perhaps….” He scanned the contents of the room, his eyes lighting when he spotted her old manacles, now neatly placed next to a wall. He walked over and picked up a pair, weighing them in his hands. At least they weren’t too heavy. And they would only be on her for an hour at the most.
“Put your hands behind your back.” She obeyed, and he secured her in a loose but inescapable hold. Once restrained, he took his time stroking her breasts through the material of her top, the thin layer of cloth accentuating the eroticism of his actions. Before too long, he saw her erect nipples pushing against the gauzy indigo. He skimmed her body with his hands as he knelt before her and heard her breath catch in her throat.
Slowly, he took a nipple into his mouth and suckled on it, the smooth wetness of his tongue joining the roughness of the textile, his hands tightening on her as she sighed and buckled against his lips. He moved to the second breast, leaving the first to rub against a patch of wet texture. She leaned into him, trying to push herself further into his mouth, moaning her encouragement, and he was happy to oblige, grabbing her full breasts in his hands, rubbing them with hard strokes before grabbing the edges of her neckline and ripping the material in two. Now Asha’s breasts were only partially covered, a nipple occasionally emerging from indigo folds as she breathed.
He ignored them now, licking her flat abdomen with its slight, sexy mound, then moving further down, pulling her pants to the floor and kissing around her triangle of copper curls. Her scent was musky and intoxicating, and he stiffened the tip of his tongue, forcing it between her legs, hearing her gasp above him as he reached the button of her clitoris. He flicked his tongue back and forth and, with a whimper, felt Asha shifting, moving her legs apart, allowing him access.
Taking one callused finger, he thrust it into her wetness, feeling her grasp against his digit. He withdrew and moved his hands around to her buttocks, licking at her clitoris again while he spread her cheeks and ran the tip of his moist finger around the tip of her anus, holding her firm as she bucked against him. With deliberation, he applied more pressure with his finger, sinking it into her while she cried out. He knew he could make her come then and release her lubrication over his mouth in seconds, but that wasn’t what he wanted.
Deftly, he turned her and pushed her down until her breasts and head brushed the floor, leaving her backside elevated and open to his erect shaft. Gathering her pants in one fist, he ripped them off her and threw them away from him.
“Do you know what I’d like now, slave? Can you guess?”
Wordlessly, she moved her knees apart.
Bending over her, he licked the spot his finger had just vacated, circling her pale anal rosette with the tip of his tongue, tasting its sourness. At the same time, he inserted one finger into her soaking wet vagina, then withdrew it and inserted two. She gasped. Withdrew and inserted three. She shouted muffled cries into the carpet.
“Do you like that?” he asked softly.
Her answer was half-cry, half-sobbed confession. “Yes master ... oh please, master. Please take me. Please take me.” To emphasize her words, she moved against him, impaling herself even further on his cock. “Please,” she sobbed faintly. “Please.”
With his free hand he encircled her hips, finding her clitoris engorged, slick and slippery. It took very few practiced flicks to bring her to screaming orgasm, contracting against both cock and thumb and sending him over the edge, as well. Where this woman was concerned, he seemed to have an inexhaustible supply of semen which he pumped into her, her cries an exultant clarion to his ears. In his wildest dreams, he couldn’t have imagined someone more responsive to his every touch.
How could he possibly give her up?
Gently, he withdrew himself and released her manacles, lifting her and carrying her to the room’s shower. With minimum words, he initiated a warm, solid stream of water, peeled off the tatters of her ruined top, and seated her on one crouched knee, soaping her arms, torso and gently between her legs before rinsing her off. She still shuddered against him, a reaction of his double penetration and one that convinced him more than anything else that she really was as innocent as Daurent had surmised.
Maybe he could track down others of her race, he mused? There couldn’t be too many golden-skinned races in the galaxy. He had a sudden vision of returning her to her people, receiving their adulation in return while she smiled graciously at his elbow ….
No!
He stood her upright and helped her into her indigo pants. He could barely keep the last traces of his own people together, much less spare the time adventuring off into unknown sectors because of one female, as intoxicating as she was.
He should remember her primary purpose, as a Fusion breeder for the rebirth of a hybrid Seti race. It would take decades, but he was determined that the tragedy that befell his people, the undeniable traces of their existence, would not disappear into the chaos of galactic history.
“You’ll want to rest before your evening meal,” he instructed. “Lie down, and I’ll get you a blanket.”
He returned moments later from his quarters, a quilted grey coverlet over his arm.
Asha accepted it gratefully, wrapping its length around her shoulders.
Tangus sat next to her, strangely reluctant to leave. And the words started leaving his mouth before he realized it.
“My species comes--came--from a planet in the Vodex system,” he said. “We didn’t have a specific name for it, we just called it the Seti home world. I always thought it one of the most beautiful planets in the galaxy, full of soaring mountain ranges and lakes so wide you couldn’t see the far shore. We weren’t a large population by galactic standards, just three billion with a wonderful world to share.”
“Wonderful, that is, until the Lasc Prein came along.” He angled a look at her. “Have you heard of the Lasc Prein?”
Asha frowned for a moment, indicating perhaps faint recognition, then shook her head.
“Lucky. The Lasc Prein dominate two sectors of the galaxy. They’re an old member of the Fusion: political, smart, and quick. In retrospect, it was stupidity that we would try to stand against them.”
He fell silent.
“What happened?”
Tangus’ mouth worked but it took seconds before he spoke. “They destroyed us of course. The entire planet. Three billion thinking, feeling people. The Seti home world is now a very pretty asteroid belt.”
She gasped.
“Only the Second Fleet survived.”
“This ship?”
“This ship, thirty others, a few thousand men. Only a few thousand.”
It had seemed so important to explain it to her, so she could understand that he was more than the common mercenary others took him for. Did she understand? Could she comprehend what it was like to be part of a species that had been wiped off the star charts so completely?
Did it even matter?
“Would you like a tour of the Strike?” he asked suddenly.
A smile curved her lips.
“I’d like that.”
“I’ll come for you after the evening meal.”
Chapter Four
As promised, Tangus came back after she had finished her meal. He also brought with him more clothes (where did he get them from? she wondered) and she obligingly changed into another pair of trousers and a more modest long-sleeved shift that reached her thighs. Her feet, however, remained bare, but Asha said nothing, not wanting to give him the slightest excuse to retract his surprising offer.
He seemed to have reached some stage of equilibrium, dispelling the demon that had repeatedly driven him inside her in frantic sexual need. Need, she was shamed to admit, she fully shared.
Now, the giant warrior paused for a moment by the door and looked embarrassed.
“Outside, call me Tangus,” he said without looking at her, then pressed his thumb against a hidden panel. The door hissed open.
Asha hid her smile and followed him, looking around her as she walked. Occasionally, a soldier walked past her, his eyes rigidly ahead, as if evincing even a trace of curiosity was more than his life was worth.
“It’s a….” How did you compliment a space-going vessel? “…nice ship,” she finally ventured after they had toured the engine-room and he gave her an overview of the propulsion systems.
“That’s why I stole it,” Tangus admitted with a feral grin.
“Stole?”
He shrugged and led her out of the section. “My flagship was badly damaged during the Lasc Prein’s offensive. We kept it patched and limping for another three years, but I couldn’t avoid the inevitable.”
That started her thinking. “So the chamber ....”
“Came with the craft,” he admitted, his terse tone indicating that further discussion on that subject was closed.
They climbed three levels, moving forward, until they reached a door at the end of a dead-end. Tangus tapped a code into the keypad, and they entered.
The bridge.
The ship’s past owner believed in function as well as pleasure, Asha thought. She recognized the young officer Tangus called Daurent, now rising from the command chair--for a start, he was the only one brave enough to grin at her, and she found herself returning the greeting. Around him, cramped banks of winking lights were manned by three others.
“The Strike’s previous owner loved technology,” Tangus commented as he watched her eyes scan the crowded consoles.
“The Strike’s previous owner also had the largest ego this side of the Straw-Hair Nebula,” Daurent retorted, approaching them and smoothly taking Asha’s right hand in his. He turned it over and planted a feather light kiss on her wrist.
“Sub-commander Daurent Fens, at your service.”
“Oh,” was all Asha could say.
“I thought you were working on the new propulsion optimizers,” Tangus cut in harshly.
“Tested and working.”
“Long-range sensors?”
“Clear.” Asha tried to withdraw her hand, but Daurent kept hold of it for a few seconds longer than necessary before relinquishing it with a flourish.
“Agri-hormones?” Did Asha hear a hint of desperation in Tangus’ voice?
“We’ve tested it on a sample. Awaiting results.”
Daurent kept his eyes on Asha’s, giving her a quick wink before finally looking at his superior.
“Everything’s clear, commander. We’re coasting at sub-light five five. Only four more jumps and we’re home.”
But Daur
ent’s assurances didn’t dampen Tangus’ irritation. In fact, they seemed to increase it. “What about the duty rosters?”
“Slen and I did them this morning.”
Tangus clenched his jaw. Anything that he wanted to say would make him look churlish. Worse still was the realization that he only wanted to say churlish things to Daurent. But his first priority was to defuse the situation before he sat down and contemplated matters.
“Madam,” he said, turning to her, “is there any more of the ship you wish to see?”
Asha looked quickly from one man to the other. “Nooo.”
“Then I’ll escort you back to your quarters.”
And he did precisely that, leading her into her chamber in silence, ushering her in, and closing the door behind her.
* * * *
Once more, Asha was left to her own thoughts, ones that were beginning to get more disturbing the more she examined them.
She had crashed on a planet, lost her memory, and been bought as a sex-slave. Outrage, anger, shock, disgust, these should have been the emotions dominating her, especially when her buyer had the arrogance to take away her virginity without a single word of apology or softness.
And perhaps her first carnal encounter with Tangus had been tinged with equal parts outrage and disbelief. But deep inside, hadn’t she also harbored less-than-savory thoughts herself about the man? Hadn’t a frisson of awareness danced up her spine, tensing her body and hardening her nipples, when their eyes met at Hell’s Market?
Out of all the species of bidders that day, wasn’t it true that she had hoped he would be the one to finally possess her? And when he had possessed her, over and over again, instead of satiation, hadn’t she instead yearned for more and more of his hard intimacy?
Asha groaned to herself.
Maybe she could have deluded herself that this was merely a physical reaction to his overpowering masculinity. That, in time, it would burn out, as all relationships did that were based on only sexual intimacy.
That was a tempting train of thought, unfortunately derailed by his kindness today. She had tried not to notice, but it was obvious he cared very much for his men. The demise of his planet also hurt him deeply. That, too, was obvious.
