by Alana Khan
Jennifer joins me on a bench in the garden. I gaze up at the night sky, which looks a lot like the view from Earth. I never could tell one constellation from another. A sweet smell drifts over from the nearby bush filled with deep violet flowers.
“Was I correct in assuming Voxx was instructing you in the finer points of cherril?”
“He didn’t get to any finer points. I just heard the broad brushstrokes. That was disturbing enough.”
“Ooh.” She points to our left in time for me to see a shooting star. “I love it here,” she says.
She’s quiet for a while. I’m waiting for the full-court press.
“It’s unfortunate that you lost your memory. By day nine I imagine you were beginning to appreciate some aspects of your relationship with my son.”
Is she talking about mind-blowing sex? How could she know?
“I don’t remember, but I doubt it.”
“You and I spoke early in your visit.”
“’Visit’ is an interesting euphemism, Jennifer.”
“Yes, you’re right. I gave you advice then and I’m going to give you the same advice now. You have five days left. You can get to Choosing Day kicking and screaming the whole way, or you can let the process happen and… watch. Discover how it feels to submit to a male who cares for you.
“And he does care, Victoria. It was obvious before he met you and it’s crystal clear now that I watched you two at dinner.”
“Tell me this. Since it sounds like I’ll be kneeling at Voxx’s feet like a service animal for the next hour or two, exactly what do you want me to watch? I can’t imagine what would be appealing about being a slave.”
She smiles. No, she’s beaming. Her happy smile makes her look fifteen years younger. “For me, the act of giving feels wonderful. Pleasing my mate is intimate and deep and rewarding. I could choose to read or watch vids in another room, but I indulge my mate. I enjoy making him happy. And if I raised Voxx right, which I hope I have, when his female makes him happy, he will try a thousand times harder to make her happy.
“My advice—just do this tonight. When you’re kneeling at his side reach deep inside you and find a part that enjoys serving. You have that part, Victoria. It’s why he chose you.”
She rises and motions for me to join her. I’m going to take her advice. First, I have nothing better to do, and second, I have no other choices.
The males are already seated around a card table in a cozy wood-paneled room that screams it’s Verris’s sanctum sanctorum. It’s lined with woodsy paintings of foreign foliage and animals I’ve never seen before. Kind of like English paintings of foxes and hounds, only of the outer space variety.
The males are sipping glasses of a pale blue liquid I assume is liquor. Jennifer drops gracefully to her knees at Verris’s left hip. His hand immediately sinks into her brown hair as he absently caresses her while counting out chips. She takes a deep breath and her lips tip up in a satisfied smile.
Okay, Tori, you have no choice anyway. Let’s do it and see what happens. I lower myself to my knees not nearly as gracefully as Jennifer, then try to find a comfortable way to tolerate this position for more than two minutes.
Voxx leans over and whispers, “I’ll be right back.” He returns less than a minute later with a thick folded towel, reaches out his hand to help me stand, then helps me down, my knees on four layers of cloth.
“Better?”
“Thank you, Sir.”
Now that my body isn’t yowling in pain, I can settle into the ‘watching’ part of the exercise. As soon as he sat down, Voxx’s hand went to my head, a mirror image of his father. The males are laughing and arguing and teasing, but I’m not paying attention to any of it, I’m focused on Voxx’s fingers feathering through my hair. It’s reassuring, affectionate.
“Want a sip?” he asks, holding out a rock glass with an inch of robin’s egg blue liquor.
My questioning gaze rises to his.
“Try it, I think you’ll like it.”
It’s sweet, like a liqueur. “It’s yummy, Sir.”
He smiles at me.
I have no idea how long the game lasts, I’m zoned out. Once I got physically comfortable, I found it relaxing to have no demands, no need for talk, no competition to win the game, just sit and be petted. I wouldn’t like a steady diet of this, but I’m okay with it.
I tune into the conversation when it circles back to Lann. He seems like a nice male. He treated both Jennifer and me with the utmost respect.
“My heart breaks for you Lann,” Voxx says. “Out of any male on the planet, I thought you would be a great mate.”
When Lann doesn’t respond I glance over to see him choking up. I set my head on Voxx’s thigh, not wanting to intrude on Lann’s vulnerable moment. Voxx immediately slides his fingers under the fabric of my dress from neckline to mid-back. His movement wakes me from my calm voyeur state to arousal. All of a sudden, I’m wondering what will happen after we return to his house.
Moments later we’re saying our goodbyes, and then we’re hovering back to his house.
He sets us down on a side street and turns to me.
“I was proud of you tonight, Victoria. I know you just dropped into this situation this morning and in the span of only a few hours you’ve learned you were taken from Earth, are recovering from severe physical trauma, and had to deal with me.”
Well at least on some level he understands what I’m going through.
“I appreciate your behavior, how nice you were to my parents and Lann, and how you handled the game of cherril. I’ll reward you when we get home.”
“Yes, Sir.” I’m too tired to even wonder what the reward will be.
I wake up in Voxx’s arms as he’s carrying me into his house. “Did I fall asleep?” Stupid question.
“Don’t worry, we’re home.”
He takes the stairs two at a time and brings me to his bedroom. “I think all those sips of Vorovian brandy got to you, zara. Are you inebriated or just tired?”
“Inebriated? I had like eight tiny sips.”
“Yes, you had eight sips of one of the strongest spirits on the planet. Does your belly feel warm?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“And you’re sleepy even though you had a nap this afternoon?”
“Well, yes, but just to remind you, I was in a coma earlier today. I have a right to be tired. I’m not a lush.”
“Get washed up and into bed. I know you’re not a lush. Otherwise, there would have been more pictures of you drinking on your social media.”
I clean up, crawl into bed, and realize I am a bit drunk. I hadn’t meant for that to happen. Voxx joins me and I remember he promised me a reward. I feel like a kid who just got a shot at the doctor’s and is expecting a treat.
“What’s my reward, Sir?”
“I should give it to you tomorrow.”
“But I earned it tonight, Sir,” I whine.
“I was going to offer you the choice of making you feel good in bed or letting you sleep. But that was a bad idea. You’re still recovering and you just knelt for hours. I shouldn’t have put you through that in the first place. Cherril was a bad idea. I should just let you sleep.”
After checking the readout on my wrist, he says, “All your vital signs are good. Do you need more painkiller?”
“I think the Vorovian brandy did the trick, Sir.”
He slides in behind me and cuddles, his arm around my waist. It’s an easy position from which to ask questions—he can’t look at me.
“Did I… tell you I loved you, Sir?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Some pieces of your highlights reel showed… real affection on my part. It’s hard for me to believe. I’m just trying to figure out how I went from where I am now, which I assume is where I started eight days ago, to the point of...”
“Of what?”
“Of begging to suck your cock, among other things.”
“It’s that hard to believe
I’m loveable?”
Oh, somebody’s feelings are hurt.
“No, it’s hard to believe I’d find you loveable. Sir.”
“Time for your reward,” his voice is hard, curt. “Feel good? Or sleep?”
Not only am I hating Voxx right now, I’m hating the Tori who spent the last eight days on a Zinn spaceship. Because whatever happened to her, whatever she allowed, or however she discovered how to tolerate the intolerable… she’s transmitted that weakness to me.
I want pleasure in bed. And I want it from Voxx.
“I want to sleep, Sir. I’m tired and a bit drunk.” There. I spit that out so fast I can’t walk it back.
“Certainly. You’ve got to be exhausted. I’ll brush your hair to put you to sleep. You like when I do that.”
He gets up and returns with a brush, nudges me onto my belly and straddles my back. Whoa, shades of this afternoon when he invaded virgin territory. It was territory I never wanted to be breached, then he proceeded to thrill me beyond measure.
But what he’s doing now seems tame enough. He turns on “Clair de Lune” and I melt deeper into the mattress. These days, all someone has to do is read your Facebook page and they know how to seduce you. I love this song.
“I listened to this song when I saw it on your profile. I think it’s the most beautiful music ever composed. You have excellent taste.”
“Mmmm.” I could stay in suspended animation like this for the rest of my life. Someone brushing my hair, “Clair de Lune” on endless repeat, my muscles relaxed because I’m slightly tipsy. He sets the brush on the bedside table, leans over me and kisses my neck. Now he’s nibbling. Now he’s laving me with his tongue.
I’m so tired. Do I have to keep fighting this? I could just do what Jennifer suggested and enjoy the next five days. What do I have to prove?
He leans up and massages my back, taking extra care on that spot under my right shoulder blade, the one that carries all my stress. He probably learned that from the other Victoria.
“So good, Sir.”
His fingers skim along my sides, taking extra time along the swell of my breasts.
Voxx
She’s had such a hard time since I’ve known her. First, there was me, of course. I’m not an easy male, nor was this an easy situation. Then the terrible strain on her body, and now the loss of her memory—having to get used to this distressing situation not once, but twice.
Right before she lost consciousness I’d promised myself to never punish her again. I did not enjoy spanking her and will never do that again. Since she lost her memory, I’ve threatened punishment numerous times. I’m not proud of that.
We only have five days left. I didn’t want to spend them making up for lost time. I took a calculated risk and pushed her hard today. I’m not proud of my methods, but they seem to be working. I want to have a chance with her.
I want to ease her. I want to own her—body and soul—that goes without saying, but right now I want to give her pleasure with nothing expected in return.
“Let me pleasure you, zara. Tell me what you want. My mouth? My cock? Just sleep? Let me do what you want.”
She pauses for a long time. “I think you know what I like better than I do, Sir. Surprise me.”
A happy laugh escapes me. I’ve never made that sound before. She amazes me.
I sit against the headboard, cross my legs, and set her on my lap, her legs open, straddling me.
“Look in my eyes.”
She glances down for a moment, then catches my gaze, her bottom lip caught in her teeth.
“What do you see, Victoria?”
“Voxx from Zinn, Sir.”
“More.”
“Handsome male, purple skin, silver eyes, Sir.”
“Shall I tell you what I see when I look at you, Victoria? I see a female becoming a woman. You’re coming into your own power. For some females, coming into your power means giving it away.”
I pull her close, my cock riding between her folds. “You’re wet for me, Victoria.”
“Mmm,” her breath hitches.
I lift her and place myself at her entrance, then simply support her and let her take over. It takes a moment for it to dawn on her that she’s in control.
Her hands clamp onto my shoulders, her gaze catches mine, then her lashes flutter down as she welcomes the head of my cock into her warmth. She moans, then pulses up and down on me, I’m still barely inside her.
It takes all my self-control not to thrust into her or press her down onto me. I want to watch her, notice what she likes. She licks her lips, then clamps her teeth onto her bottom lip. She slides a scant half-inch farther as the corners of her lips tip up slightly.
“You feel good inside me.” Another half-inch.
“Big.” Another half-inch.
“Stretched.” And another.
I’m watching emotions pass across her very expressive face.
“So.” Another.
“So.” Another.
“Good.” She slides all the way down. I’m in the tight, warm clutch of her most intimate space. She rocks herself from side to side as if to ensure she’s taken all of me.
She’s motionless. If I were in charge, I would be pounding into her, but she’s not moving a muscle. Except her lips are quivering in excitement, as are her internal muscles.
I take a deep breath and discard the desire to piston into her. Taking this at her pace is proving to be interesting. Her knees bent, she digs her feet into the mattress and lifts up my length, then slides down. The pace is slow, but her expression is pure bliss, as if she’s feeling every inch of me massaging inside her.
A few more slow slides up and down, then she leans forward over my chest and repeats her actions. She presses her clit against me and her eyes flash open. Now she wants a faster ride. She picks up the pace, dragging her little nub against me on every upthrust. Her moans rise in decibels as her tempo increases.
Her nails bite into my shoulders as she keens in release. I’ve never felt massaged by her internal muscles so deeply. Her hard, pulsing spasms spark my orgasm, then milk every drop from me.
Sitting up, I thrust into her more deeply, not wanting to break our connection. I invade her mouth with my tongue.
I pull my head back and order, “Look at me, zara.”
Her blue gaze dives into mine as I drive into her from below, wanting to squeeze another release out of her by pressing my pelvic bone against her. Her glance doesn’t leave me even as another shuddering orgasm overtakes her and she shrieks in pleasure.
“Voxx, Sir.” She collapses onto me and plants kisses on my lips. She’s covered in a thin sheen of sweat. She’s still recovering, I shouldn’t have made her do all the work, but she seems to have no complaints.
We roll onto our sides, still connected.
By the satisfied smile on her lips, I wonder if perhaps I still have time to convince her to stay with me. I watch as the happy glow evaporates from her face, her brow furrows and the corners of her lips turn down.
“Ummm,” she glances right and left, “where are we?”
“Did I just transport you to another time and place, zara?”
“Seriously, Voxx,” her voice is rising, she’s scared, “Where are we?”
“My bedroom.”
“What the fuck? Sorry, Sir.” She scrambles off me and almost tumbles off the bed, but lands on her feet. Looking around, she touches a pale, blue wall. “Is this something you did with the 3-D…” She looks outside the window. “What happened?” Her voice is shrill.
“You’re on Zinn, Victoria. We arrived early this morning.” I go to her, turn her in my arms and cup her cheeks. “We went to the hospital, you received a transfusion that seems to have cured you, but awoke with no memory of me or the Drayant.”
“I lost a day?”
“Two. It took the better part of a day to get to Zinn.”
“So… who was with you all day?”
“It was you. The same angry, fem
ale you were on Day One. The Victoria who didn’t appreciate being kidnapped and who wanted to take every opportunity to tell me how much you hated me.”
Her nostrils flare. “It doesn’t smell like an angry female in here. It smells like sex.” Her eyes close and then fly open. “We just fucked.” She reaches between her legs and holds up the glistening evidence as if to prove it.
“Yes, we did. Actually you just fucked me. Quite well I might add.”
