Alien Tribute

by Lee Savino

  With a thought, I could remove my coverings and alter the platform I created to be at the perfect height for my cock. She’s so wet, I would slide right inside, my prime seela flowing over the marks on her bottom, soothing and stroking. My lesser seela would suction onto her sensitive labia, delighting in the copious moisture, fastening onto the pinkish skin and splaying her for my invasion. Her inner walls would feel so good kissing along my cock. So soft.

  I pause to regain control over myself, panting with the need riding me. But... I can't. I loosen my armor around my shaft and seela, relieving some of the pressure. I have no plans to use her body for my own satisfaction. Not yet. I have seen the change wrought upon the High Commander. How he lost himself in Tribute Dawn after her arrival and how he seems to have forgotten our duty to our lost, our vengeance.

  The same will not happen to me.

  What is it about these Tributes that they rouse such strong feelings?

  Gripping her silky dark hair, I ease her head back and study her face. Her lips are pink and plump, slightly parted. I lean down to nuzzle my nose against her cheek, drinking in her scent, trying to determine what is so appealing about her. A sweet aroma, like the harvest flowers of my home planet. Her delicate jaw fits easily in my hand. Her cheek curves and she angles her head to place a small kiss in the center of my palm before she leans into my touch. I freeze at the freely given affection.

  After a minicycle, she blinks and lets her head roll to look up at me. “Did I do something wrong? Master?”

  A fist squeezes my insides. I barely find my voice. “No. You are … perfect.”

  6

  Pareena

  I love this part after a good scene, my body warm and head high on the endorphins singing through me. The moment after the last strike and before my top opens his pants and rewards me with his dick. My thoughts blur, turning the strong figure of my dominant into an all-powerful god, my submissive posture into one of abject worship. I feel small and safe, tucked into my defined role. At the same time, the chemicals in my bloodstream have me flying, spread over the galaxy in tiny, glittering particles.

  Bogdan looms over me, breathing hard. I don’t know much about Tsenturion anatomy—yet—but there’s a package in his pants I bet is for me.

  He smells so good. Maybe it’s just the nanites talking, but his scent fills my lungs like I need it, not oxygen, to breathe. If this is what it’s like to be fully primed and bonded, it’s awesome and scary at once. To need someone so much my skin is screaming for him. My mouth is watering and body aches with a craving to be touched. I’m a Bogdan addict and I need my fix.

  “You did well,” he tells me. “We will continue your discipline another time. It is not necessary for you to feel all the Enforcers now. In time, you will submit to all of them.”

  Facing the wall of implements, hearing my Tsenturion master promise to bring me to heel, My pussy throbs at the thought.

  “Right now, I will test your response to pleasure.”

  Yes, please.

  The platform rises under my bottom, tipping my front forward even more. I’m splayed embarrassingly, my well-marked hindquarters throbbing, face height for the tall warrior.

  What is he—?

  Two of his large fingers slide into my heated slit.

  “Ooooh,” my moan escapes. I wanted his cock but I’m in no position to complain, not tipped forward and strapped down like this.

  “So responsive,” he murmurs, sounding thoughtful. I strain back as much as I can towards his fingers. I just need a little more stimulation to tip over into orgasm…

  He pulls out his finger and smacks my ass with a wet sound. Before I protest, his fingers return to my pussy.

  “I wonder,” he pulls my left butt cheek aside, opening me to his gaze. I imagine him taking in every inch of me, from my plump pussy to the brown whorl of my anus, and blush so hard my face is as red as my bottom. He probes deeper and my legs quiver. “Is all this lubrication from the pain?”

  He swats my ass again, awakening the dulled sting of my punished hindquarters. My pussy juices in response.

  “Or is it because you are trained to respond to me?” Large hands grip my bottom, massaging away the sting until the pain is a pleasant hum far away, adding depth to my rising desire. I’m dripping now, inner thighs coated in wetness. I’ve never been so ready for cock in my life.

  “Both, Master,” I answer his musings even though I can barely talk. Enough with the philosophizing. Let’s get to the good part.

  But his fingers explore my ass, brushing the sensitive crinkle. I clench my bottom and he smacks me in unspoken command to relax. When I do, he rubs his thumb over my asshole while his other hand returns to my pussy. It’s embarrassing how much I like a finger in my ass. I’m not opposed to ass play but haven’t had a dom I trusted enough to progress to this point.

  “You are making more lubrication,” he remarks, sounding both clinical and intrigued. For some reason that just makes me even hornier. “You enjoy this.” It’s not a question and he continues to probe my tight hole. “Perhaps some experiments are in order.”

  Is he going to focus all his attention to my ass? I love the thought of being anal trained, but right now my clit is feeling pretty neglected.

  “Please, Master.” I’m not above begging.

  It’s the right thing to say, because his left-hand drops and he returns his full attention to stroking and stimulating my clit and labia. He twists a finger inside me, and another, and when he adds a third, I’m undone. I’m so full, so hot, so needy that I almost joyously fall into the pleasure.

  My climax slams into me, pleasure and pain and need colliding in my core, grains of gunpowder that had been waiting for a spark. I cry out, mouth open, convulsing on his thick digits which thrust deeper into my pussy. He keeps twisting them, stimulating me further, and my orgasm loops back around, curling through me, one climax turning into two, two turning into four, until I can’t even count them anymore.

  At some point he moves around to my front, bending to watch my expressions. All the blood has rushed to my face and I’m light-headed. He does something and the platform straightens out, so I’m lying on my front, arms at my side, cheek pressed to the smooth surface. My hair is stuck to my sweaty skin.

  Bogdan dips so he’s right in my face. The angles and planes of his face are too blunt to be pretty, but the effect is overwhelmingly masculine. I wonder what he’d do if I called him ‘hot.’ “What does my Tribute say after I’ve given her pleasure?”

  “Thank you, Master.” I sigh, and when he offers his wet fingers to my mouth, I clean them without protest.

  Bogdan

  My cock throbs insistently as my Tribute licks her essence off my fingers. I command the platform to release her and I catch her before she rolls. Her weight is negligible, but she makes a soft and sweet-smelling armful as I carry her to my bed. I pause to order my resting place to grow larger and form a supply of thick blankets. I always sleep on a spare pallet, bare of comfort. Even when I sleep I will be ready to go on alert and race to duty if our ship is attacked. But such an uncomfortable resting place will not do for my Tribute.

  She sighs when I place her on the newly formed plush surface. I brush her hair back from her face—the better to monitor her expressions—and rest a hand on her head. She stills under my touch. Her eyelids fall. Her chest rises and falls peacefully. Pleasure and pain wrung her out in their grip and now she eases into sleep, certain of my protection. I straighten proudly.

  And she is the perfect Tribute. I did not overstate my approval. Not only is she sweet and obedient but she responds to discipline beautifully. I wonder if the High Commander’s Tribute is the same. But Dawn always seems reluctant to conform to our laws. Not so with my Tribute. She is superior in every way. I would never shame the High Commander by telling him so, though.

  I touch her face, admiring the soft curve of her cheek. She turns her head in her sleep, mouth open as if ready to accept anything I would f
eed her.

  I force myself to step back. There will be time to explore all of her responses. For now, she must rest.

  Guilt stirs in my chest as I look at her, a female in my bed, the soft emotions she stirs in me, the desire I feel… now that she sleeps and I am more clearheaded, it feels like a betrayal.

  My com chirps, distracting me, and relief rushes through me. Immediately, I march to the screen in the corner of my quarters. First, I order the message alerts to mute themselves within the cabin. No need to disturb my sleeping Tribute, unless there is an emergency.

  A few taps of my screen show our ship is cruising beside an asteroid belt. Scans show no sign of life, but the Vgotha have hidden in such areas before. I check the time. Third watch. Most days, I would be on duty at this demicycle. The High Commander took me off duty for the next semicycle, allowing plenty of time for me to train my Tribute. But she is sleeping. A quick scan of her vitals tells me she is entering a state of deep rest that she will not exit for some time, if undisturbed. There is time for me to report to the bridge.

  The more I ponder it, the better my plan sounds. I will not have to see her, in the place where I always pictured another, and I will show my fellow warriors that it is possible to prioritize our duty over our Tributes.

  I tell myself that leaving my rooms does not feel like a retreat.

  “Commander Bogdan.” Kalexston’s suit flashes with surprise when I enter the bridge. I am not surprised to see him in charge over my usual watch in my absence, as he is technically in command beneath me when I am there. “What are you doing here?”

  “It is my watch, correct?” I ignore the assembled warriors and head to the com as if everything is normal and this demicycle is like any other. As if I did not, a few demicycles earlier, receive a Tribute.

  The warriors stare at me. In awe, no doubt of how I balance my duty with the responsibility of my Tribute.

  “What are the results of the scans of the asteroid belt?” I ask, eyes on the rock-studded space on screen.

  “We haven’t done anything more than a preliminary one,” Kalexston says, but his tone is strange, like he doesn't understand why I am asking. I turn to look at him impatiently.

  “Well? What are you waiting for?”

  Kalexston exchanges a glance with Miths and I can see the uncertainty in both of their stances. The operations officer clears his throat. “Commander, you are not on duty.”

  “I am present, so I am on duty."

  “I mean... you were relieved of duty so you might tend to your Tribute.”

  “As I am here, you will assume my Tribute is well tended. Kalexston,” I snap, and the warrior straightens to attention. “The scans. Now.”

  A few minicycles pass with the quiet hum of the energy scans. An asteroid belt on the edge of the galaxy is not something we’d submit to deep level scans, but the Vgotha are out there. We must be vigilant.

  A soft hiss behind me warns me the transport has arrived. The warriors on deck rise and salute whoever entered the bridge. I turn more slowly and offer my salute.

  “Bogdan,” the High Commander presses his fist against his chest in acknowledgement. He doesn’t look surprised to see me. That combined with his sudden presence means someone reported my insistence to take command. I resist the urge to look around, to see which warrior betrayed me. “You look well. How is your Tribute?”

  “She is sleeping.” The listening officers almost sigh, relaxing slightly as if they were worried about my Tribute. I suppress a glower. They should not worry about her. She is my concern. And she is fine.

  “Good.” The High Commander’s suit is a neutral silvery grey, his expression blank. But something lurks in the corner of his mouth—a smile? “I require a meeting. Private quarters.”

  “With all due respect, we can discuss my duty here, so I do not abandon my post.” I have the feeling that if I allow him to lead me from the bridge, I will not be returning this watch.

  The High Commander is really smiling now, his amusement clear. “But you are not on duty. The post is not yours. Kalexston—” He motions, and the science officer steps up, ready to take my place.

  “But my Tribute sleeps and I am willing to serve my watch.” I almost feel as though I am begging, although of course I do not let any of that enter my voice or show on my armor.

  “You were relieved of the responsibilities of command for the next semicycle. You have a new Tribute. You belong by her side.” The High Commander's smile has dipped now, and he appears more stern than amused.

  “She is resting. I have no reason to miss my watch. I do my duty.”

  “You have a Tribute. Your first duty is to her.”

  I can’t hide the flicker of annoyance that streaks through my suit. “With all due respect, my first duty is to my command.”

  “No, it is to your Tribute. The entire race rests on your bonding with her.”

  Color flickers through my suit. Kalexston and Miths stare as if they’d never seen my suit respond to my emotions before. Maybe they haven’t.

  I clench my fists. My Tribute will not make me weak.

  “Come.” The High Commander turns, obviously expecting me to follow him. “Let us speak privately in my welcoming chamber.”

  “Is that an order?”

  The High Commander’s suit darkens slightly. He is losing his patience with me. “Yes.”

  He marches off the bridge. After a glare at the watching warriors, all of them since I do not know which individual reported my presence, I follow him. Murmurs start up as soon as I step off the bridge and I restrain myself from returning and challenging them all to a fight for daring to whisper about me and my Tribute.

  To my surprise and displeasure, the Commander doesn’t lead me to his ready room, an office close to the bridge, but boards the transport as if to return to his private quarters. I bite back my protest and follow him.

  As soon as we step into his private chambers, the High Commander retracts his helmet and armor. I stand stiffly at attention, choosing to remain armored, although I retract my helmet. To remain fully armored would be tantamount to disrespect.

  “Make yourself comfortable. I’m going to check on Dawn.” He disappears from the welcoming chamber to the inner one reserved for sleeping. I turn away but can still hear the soft, feminine murmur of Tribute Dawn's voice and the High Commander's answering rumble.

  When the High Commander returns, he commands the door behind him to close.

  “Dawn will not be joining us. She’s also resting.” The High Commander’s voice and demeanor changes when he refers to his Tribute. I have never mentioned it but am inwardly determined to never allow my Tribute to affect me so.

  “I thought I told you to make yourself comfortable.” The Commander shoots a wry look my way.

  I straighten further. “I am comfortable.”

  “Relax, Bogdan, it wasn’t an order.” He crosses to the replicator and orders a beverage. “Would you like something?”

  “No, thank you.” I relax, as ordered, although I do keep my armor on.

  Although he is the High Commander, in a personal setting, Gavrill is also my friend. As warriors, we keep to our strict hierarchy when on duty, but in a more personal setting we are able to speak as equals. Although, truthfully, I am often given more leeway even on duty, because of our personal relationship.

  Gavrill takes a long drink, studying me.

  “Bogdan, when the Jabol told us that Tribute Pareena was a near perfect match to you, Medik and I discussed whether or not we should heed their recommendation. We knew you would be reluctant. But we also knew your responsibility and commitment to a Tribute would be second to none, if you could overcome your reticence. Most of our warriors want a Tribute but wanting is not enough. Tributes need a strong, caring protector, one who treats them as the gift they are.”

  I hold back a smile. That is more in line with my thoughts. “You do me honor, High Commander. Of course, I will fulfill my role and prove a worthy choice.”r />
  He gives me a look and I realize he wasn't finished. “Tributes also need a warrior who will try to understand them and treat them as the individual they are, not just as a vessel for bearing our seed. I wonder if we should’ve given the Tribute to another. Arkdhem perhaps.”

  What? No! I nearly jerk to my feet; my armor flashing streaks of red and yellow as I lose control over my emotions. The image of the Tribute tangled in blankets on my sleeping platform flashes through my head. From the top of her dark head to the tips of her toes: she is mine. He gave her to me. He cannot take her away from me now.

  When I open my mouth to protest, I notice Gavrill is smirking at me. “I see you are already possessive of Tribute Pareena. This is a good sign.” He swirls the liquid in his cup, looking pleased and smug.

  “I fail to understand why you are playing games, Commander,” I grit out the words, using his title almost as an insult to show my displeasure with the direction of his conversation.

  “No game. I needed to know if you will care for Tribute Pareena. She is precious.”

  “I understand. The Tributes are our only hope for the continuation of our race. She herself is a good choice. She is strong, brave, and well-behaved. I see her for what she is." I had already noted the differences between her and Dawn. There is no need to reveal to him that I feel I have the superior Tribute. He might take it as an insult. "Already she has submitted to my dominance. I will continue to train her.”

  The Commander’s tone is gentle. “And you will bond with her? You are not fighting it?”

  I come to my feet and turn away before I can stop myself, pacing to the wall, pretending to study it. Bonding. The connection with a mate so deep, two become one. We would share one another’s sensations, thoughts, even feelings.