Chapter One

 

The restraints around Bayla’s wrists kept her from rubbing her nose.

In dim awareness, she tried to move her hand again to relieve the itch, but it caught, yanked against an unyielding strap.

With a sharp inhale, she jerked fully awake as the memory of the huge horned alien with an injector gun rushed back. He’d shown up at the fertility farm where she and sixty other human females had been enslaved and bought her following a brief inspection. Then, without a word to her, he'd pressed the device to her neck, and everything had gone black.

She blinked at the light and took in her situation. She was naked, strapped down to an examination table by leather cuffs. The alien, who was not an Ocretion, the species who’d taken over Earth and enslaved all humans, wore a white lab coat and stood near a window with his back to her. This being was taller than humans or Ocretions, and he had purple-hued skin and eyes. He spared a glance over his shoulder at her sudden movement then turned back to what he was doing.

His silent treatment irritated the hell out of her. Did he not speak Ocretion? No, he must. She’d heard him speaking to the fertility farm slave masters when he’d bought her.

She licked her dry lips. “What are you doing with me?” Her voice cracked from lack of use.

The alien turned and walked to her side, a needle in his hand.

She flinched when he approached, but, with the restraints, couldn’t move. “Did you hear me? Can you tell me what’s going on?”

He ignored her and pinched the skin at the crease of her elbow, inserting the needle then drawing a vial of blood.

She looked away, her stomach queasy. Although she’d been bred and raised for nothing more than this purpose—to have her body poked and prodded, inseminated and vacated over and over again, she still hadn’t grown used to it.

She attempted to distract her mind as he fit a second vial to the tube. The lab room was small but bright. The window was unusual—she wasn’t sure she’d ever seen one like it. It didn’t let in much light, but a skylight in the ceiling somehow magnified sunlight through a crystalline structure, casting beams throughout the room. In fact, there didn’t appear to be any artificial light in use at all.

Having spent most of her life in a metal box with no natural light, she found it a profound improvement. It would be almost cheerful if she weren’t naked and strapped to a table. With no clue what was going to happen to her.

“Where are we? How long was I out?” she tried again, but still the alien ignored her.

He walked away, and she allowed herself to look at her arm, now neatly bandaged.

“Hello? Can you hear me?”

He turned. Despite the alien features, she found him exceptionally handsome, but that was probably the fertility drugs talking. He was tall and broad-shouldered. His skin was purple-ish peach and smooth, his hairless jaw square. The horns on the top of his head gave him a rugged appearance.

“Is it customary where you came from for a slave to speak before she is spoken to?” He sounded more curious than angry.

A flush of something foreign rippled through her at his rebuke. She couldn’t be embarrassed, could she? Did she really care what this horned alien thought?

She kicked up her chin. “Normally, I am informed immediately what is expected of me,” she said primly, as if she lived to serve her masters.

“Ah. I see. Very well. I shall inform you. I am Daneth, master physician for the Prince of Zandia. You will call me Master. You will maintain silence unless I speak directly to you, especially if others are in our midst.”

She feigned remorse and lowered her eyes. “Yes, Master. What will Master use me for?”

“Our species lacks females of breeding age. I purchased you as a vessel to implant and grow a Zandian young.”

The familiar wave of nausea and dread filled her. Not another pregnancy. She couldn’t bear to have another baby taken from her arms. Of course, this one would be an alien, so maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much. She hoped conception would be a long and difficult process. She needed time to steel herself for another loss.

“In addition to your silence, I expect your complete obedience and respect. Any defiance will be immediately punished.”

It wasn’t anything new. Every slave master demanded the same, and yet, from him, it sounded halfway exciting. Perhaps that was only because she was naked and immobilized when he gave the pronouncement. What orders would she have to obey?

“Will I be sexually serving you?”

The doctor’s brows flew up, and he dropped the test tube he’d been shaking. It rolled under her bed.

Had she flustered him?

He bent to pick it up, and, when he stood, he’d composed his face. “That won’t be nec—” His eyes fell on her mouth and stayed there. She swore his horns stiffened and tilted in her direction. He cleared his throat. “No.” His voice sounded thick.

Her gaze dropped to his crotch, where the bulge of his cock seemed to grow for her.

When he noticed her focus, annoyance flashed over his face and his shoulders stiffened. He turned back to the counter, where he appeared to be running tests on her blood samples.

So. Her hot alien master found her attractive. To her surprise, that pleased her. Was it because he didn’t seem to welcome the attraction? For the first time, she had a bit of leverage on a master. He may not want to act on his attraction, but, as a breeder, she’d been trained to satisfy, and she had no doubt she’d get him to cave.

Based on the way her nipples stood up as she contemplated her seduction, she doubted pleasing him would be much of a hardship.

He muttered to himself in what sounded like a voice log of her test results. “Estrodial, 25 to 75 picograms per milliliter, progesterone...”

“Will I sleep in your bed?” She began her cock-tease.

He whirled, his skin turning a darker purple. When his gaze fell on her erect nipples, he blinked rapidly. He referenced the cuff he wore on his arm, which had some kind of readout. “That idea arouses you?”

What did that cuff tell him? She hated having her game turned back on her. She shrugged, affecting cool indifference. “Not particularly.”

He tilted his head, studying her. She didn’t love his attention, this time, though, because it was definitely more curious scientist than interested male. “I understand humans have a different sense of truth than my species, but this is your first and only warning. I will punish every lie.”

Something tightened in her belly and loosened between her legs. Heat uncoiled there, swirling and pulsing.

 

~.~

 

Beautiful as she was, Daneth hadn’t expected to be turned on by his new slave. She was his test subject, nothing more. He’d examined both the prince’s human mate and her mother without having any physical reaction to their nudity or inherent femininity, but this one...this one was different.

Just the sight of her sprawled out on his table, her dark brown hair fanned out around her head in glossy waves, sapphire blue eyes mesmerized, made his pulse quicken. She had a full, wide mouth, designed to suck a male’s cock. Her lush body was soft in all the right places. Ample breasts to feed a baby. Wide hips would carry the larger Zandian young easily.

Unlike Lamira and her mother, who had been half-starved on the agrifarm where they’d worked, Bayla had been kept inactive and given decent nutrition—everything necessary to make her an excellent breeder. He’d chosen her exactly for this reason. He’d run a search on the genes of every being in the galaxy, and she came up as the best suited for his project.

But those full ripe breasts taunted him now. He longed to weigh them in his hands, squeeze her nipples and test whether he could bring her to orgasm through breast stimulation alone. Though he hadn’t had practical experience in over twenty solar cycles, and even then, very little, he’d studied up on the arousal and sexual satisfaction of human females. He’d shown Zander how to pleasure his female.

It didn’t help that she actually seemed to desire his sexual interest. He could only attribute it to the fertility drugs she’d been on for the past six solar cycles, since she’d been placed on a human breeding farm.

Still, he needed to maintain a distance from her. She was his subject for the most important experiment of his life. He would not complicate things by seeking pleasure from her. While he was sure it wouldn’t happen to him, he’d seen the way his stoic ruler, Prince Zander, had been utterly changed when placed in contact with his human mate, Lamira. Normally calm and rational, Zander had become as emotional as his human female, easily angered and jealous. So had Seke, the Zandian Master at Arms, when he’d mated Lamira’s mother Leora. Even Lundric, their chief of security, had killed a human over his new mate, Cambry. It would be important for him to maintain his rational sensibility with Bayla.

But now, as his cuff reported her arousal levels growing by the second, he had to force back the foreign sensation of lust. Why did she lie about her arousal? It didn’t make sense to him. “Bayla, you need not fear me if you tell the truth. I am a fair master and you are safe here.”

She struggled with her restraints.

He touched her shoulder, steeling himself against the softness of her skin, the scent of her arousal. “Be at ease. I don’t wish you to hurt yourself. Your examination is not yet done.” He snapped on a set of protective gloves, the best money could buy. The fit was so tight and the protection so thin, he should be able to sense everything as if his hands were bare. He rubbed two fingers over her slit, seeking the entrance.

They tucked easily inside her.

“Natural lubrication present and plentiful,” he reported to the data recorder on his cuff.

Her breath quickened, and she squirmed beneath him.

He frowned and gave a quick shake of his head.

She went still.

Good. He didn’t want to have to punish her, though he’d already threatened it. But, already, she seemed better trained and more obedient than the prince’s mate had been. Of course, Bayla had been house trained to service males.

For some reason, that idea made him grit his teeth.

Odd. It wasn’t like him to experience emotions of any kind. Would he become as possessive and jealous as Prince Zander had? Perhaps something in the human genome activated some emotional center in the Zandians. It might make an interesting study in the future.

He palpated along the front wall of her cavity, using the hand outside her to press down on her belly. “No irregularities. Wall thickness normal.”

His cuff blinked her climbing arousal rate. She’d gone from 30 percent to 70. Her breath had quickened, making those exquisite breasts move up and down.

His cock swelled in his pants.

Perhaps he should test her sexual response rate. He would need to know if she couldn’t orgasm, as it could affect the implantation.

He withdrew his fingers and reinserted them.

Bayla’s eyes widened, and her pretty red lips parted in surprise.

His thumb found her clit, and he rubbed it as he scooped his digits in and out of her.

Her tiny cry turned his cock rock hard. Her breath rate sped up even more, her soft belly fluttering up and down while her thighs tightened in the restraints.

He pumped quick and fast, making short thrusts inside her, sliding his thumb over her clit every time.

Ninety percent aroused.

When she moaned, he switched up the rhythm, reaching deep inside her to find the nerve bundle on her inner wall that connected with the clitoris. She cried out, sounding almost agonized, but his cuff blinked 100 percent aroused.

Her walls contracted around his fingers, squeezing and pulsing so hard it almost pained him not to have his cock inside her instead.

“Healthy orgasmic function.” His voice sounded lower to his ears as he spoke the report.

He waited until her shudders subsided then eased out and disposed of the glove. Without thinking, he brushed a lock of hair from her eyes. The gesture seemed easy and natural, though he’d never had a female of his own. Bayla was not his mate, but he supposed a desire to care for her made sense, as she was his responsibility. He required her health and well-being for his project.

Bayla licked her lips. They were dry.

Veck. He should have noticed that earlier.

“You wanted to use your cock inside me, instead, didn’t you?”

Her words sent an unpleasant jolt of shame through him, as if he’d been caught masturbating by a teacher or some other such scenario. Anger followed close behind.

“You will remain silent unless you’re spoken to,” he snapped.

“Your cock is hard for me,” she murmured, wriggling against her bonds and somehow managing to look like the most exotic creature in the galaxy. Already, the scent of her arousal had filled the room, affecting him like a drug.

“Enough.” Control slipped from him, like she had somehow become his master, though she was the one naked and bound. If she pushed any more, he would snap. He would veck that inviting pussy into oblivion and back.

And that was absolutely wrong. Being out of control with his slave would cloud his judgment. The survival of his species depended on him having a clear head with Bayla.

“What are you afraid of, Master?”

He gritted his teeth and fetched a leather paddle from the box of implements he’d ordered in preparation of owning a slave. “Release ankle cuffs,” he commanded, and the rings that held her ankle cuffs to the bed sprang free. He picked up her feet and pulled them high into the air, exposing her backside and the swollen lips of her sex.

Smack. He brought the leather paddle down crisply across her buttocks. “I told you not to speak out of turn.” He slapped her again. The leather was pliable and thin enough to leave a surface sting without causing much damage. He considered it to be the lightest implement of punishment in his arsenal, apart from his hand.

Even so, she jerked with each slap, her lovely ass bobbing. He hadn't expected the sharp satisfaction he experienced disciplining her. He’d expected her training and punishment to be a nuisance he’d have to endure in order to have her body at his disposal for his experiment.

He brought the paddle down with quick, sharp strokes, over and over again. By fourteen, she caught her breath enough to plead.

“Please,” she gasped, still bending her knees to pull against his hold on her ankles. He could have attached them to a cord on the ceiling, but he’d been too irritated to take the time.

Which, again, wasn’t like him at all.

This human might be more than he bargained for.

“Master, please. Ouch! I’m sorry!”

Twenty strokes. Thirty. He stopped and examined her punished bottom. “Thirty strokes with the leather paddle produces pink coloring on buttocks,” he reported to his cuff.

Forty percent aroused, it blinked back at him.

Oh yes. He remembered that from Zander’s mate. Punishment produces arousal in a certain percentage of human females. An odd quirk in human sexuality.

He stared at the nectar glistening along her swollen sex. Vecking beautiful. “Subject aroused by punishment.”

Bayla’s head jerked up in surprise.

He arranged her knees open, the soles of her feet together. She held the position for him, head still lifted from the bed, watching him with an intensity that made his heart expand in his chest.

He positioned the leather paddle between her legs. It was narrow enough to fit against her sex. He tapped her pussy with it—more of a warning slap than anything fierce.

She mewled but held the position. An obedient slave.

“Bayla, you are not here to breed. I forbid you to breed with any male in the pod, including myself.” He slapped her pussy again, a little harder.

She squeaked again.

“I understand the hormones make you needy, and I promise, if you’re a good girl, I will always take care of those needs. Understand?”

He wished those incredible breasts weren’t still heaving with her breath.

She nodded. “Yes, Master.”

“I don’t want to have to spank you, but you will not, under any circumstances, offer yourself to me that way again.” He delivered another slap to her pussy. “Are we clear?”

She bit her lip and bobbed her head. “Yes, Master.” Her voice broke a little, and he looked at her sharply but saw no sign of tears. Her readouts showed elevated pulse and some stress, but nothing at a worrisome level.

He nodded curtly. “Good girl. Time for your rectal exam.” He didn’t really need to do a rectal exam, but there was no harm in being thorough. “

Can you hold still, or do I need to cuff your ankles again?”

It pleased him beyond comprehension when she said in a small voice, “I will hold still, Master.”

Stars, he wanted to bring her to orgasm again right then. But she didn’t deserve it. She’d been naughty and goaded him on purpose. Besides, he wasn’t sure he had regained control of his own lust yet.

 

~.~

 

Bayla’s ass stung, but her swollen clit pulsed insistently, despite, or perhaps because of the pussy spanking he’d given her. Shame prickled hot, too, although she couldn’t decide if it was because she genuinely regretted irritating Daneth or if the spanking itself had been so humiliating. She would’ve thought, after all the objectification she’d suffered as a breeder, nothing would bother her. But, apparently, not so. The spanking hadn’t been overly painful, but it had been degrading to the extreme, and something about it being administered by an annoyed, sexy alien doctor amplified the intensity.

Her entire body still trembled, and now she had to suffer through a rectal exam. Dearest Mother Earth.

Daneth snapped on another glove, and, thankfully, squeezed some kind of lubricant onto his index finger. He had the assured touch of a doctor, not a lover, as he screwed that—oh stars, ack!—thick finger inside her ass.

She’d been probed there before. Not in a state of arousal, though. As his thick digit filled her, her pussy turned molten again, moisture seeping.

He swished it around, checking for deity knew what, then pumped a few times.

Her breath caught in her throat and she made a strangled sound, somewhere between a moan and a cough.

Daneth checked his cuff again and glanced at her face curiously but withdrew his finger.

Both relief and disappointment flooded her. Her pussy clenched on air.

“Release cuffs.”

The loops holding her wrist cuffs in place sprang open. She pulled her arms down, relieved to have the pressure off them.

“Your examination is complete.” He placed a large hand on her upper arm to help her to sit. “Can you stand?”

She swung her legs over the side of the examination table and stood. Daneth steadied her with the hand at her elbow. “Yes, Master,” she reported once she was sure her legs weren’t asleep.

“Good. Come with me.”

He led her to a door at the rear of the laboratory or examination room—it seemed to double as both—and pressed his palm to a screen.

The door slid soundlessly open.

She gaped at the room beyond. It, too, was lit by a bright skylight, and defined opulence. The large chamber featured a floating oval bed in the center of the room. An intricately woven rug in shades of turquoise, beige, and white decorated the floor. Two walls were painted the same pale turquoise, two in cream. No, when she looked closer, she realized the wall was not painted turquoise but a turquoise-dyed plaster, which gave it the rich depth of varying shades of color.

The room spoke of extreme wealth. She had been farmed out to a wealthy Ocretion family to breed with the master there, and their rooms paled in comparison.

In the far corner was a washroom, and just inside the door floated a large cage.

That must be for her.

“Is this...your chamber?” she asked with awe.

“Yes. You will sleep in the cage. That way I can monitor you at all times. I installed a comfortable pad.”

She walked over and peered in the cage, depressing the cushy mattress and fingering the blanket. It was made of the finest material she’d ever touched, impossibly soft. Whoa. Her cage was luxurious.

“I can add more pillows to support your body when it grows.”

Oh. Right. Her lip curled at the thought of being pregnant, stomach clenched at the memory of those infants taken from her body, from her. She didn’t want to go through that again.

But she had to say, she’d take this opulent cage and the quirky but not unkind Zandian master over her past assignments any planet rotation. She needed to figure out how to avoid or stall the pregnancy part.

Daneth indicated a tiny table with one chair. “Sit. I’ve sent for food and drink. I can see you’re thirsty.”

He could see that? How? His solicitousness gave her a tingle of excitement. But he was her physician—he needed her to stay healthy. The male didn’t actually care about her feelings.

She settled on the indicated hover chair, her naked bottom still tingling from the spanking. “Do I get clothing?”

“Clothing is not necessary at the moment.”

She’d been kept naked before. Many times. But, usually, to make her attractive to the male who would breed her. Daneth didn’t want to breed her, he wanted to implant her.

“Wouldn’t it be easier—you know—for me not to be bred here, if I was covered?”

A muscle ticked in Daneth’s jaw, but, more interestingly, the bulge at his crotch grew when she mentioned breeding. Foolish though it was, she loved the sense of power it gave her, knowing she could get a rise—literally—out him.

“I will not breed you,” he said stiffly. “You will be given something to cover with before I take you out into the pod.”

She squeezed her own breasts with a feigned nonchalance, as if fondling herself happened naturally at any time. “What is the pod?”

Daneth’s horns stiffened and leaned forward, the irises of his eyes darkened to a beautiful violet. He glared at her breasts. “You are speaking out of turn again.”

“Am I, Master?” she answered innocently. “I thought you were speaking to me.”

He folded his arms across his massive chest. “I understand humans incorporate lies as a means of speaking,” he said with crisp recitation, as if remembering some report he’d studied on humans. “Sarcasm, you call it.”

“That wasn’t sarcasm, Master.” It was playing dumb. But she wasn’t going to explain that human way of speaking, either. She kneaded her breasts. Her fondling had the unintended effect of turning her on—not that she hadn’t already been aroused from the rectal exam. She squirmed in her chair.

Daneth looked at the readout on his cuff and scowled. “I will find you some clothes,” he growled, stalking to a shelf unit against the wall and opening it. He yanked out a tunic and brought it to her. “Put this on,” he snapped.

She slipped the tunic on and tied the belt around her waist. “No panties?” She made her question as innocent as she could manage, and tipped her pelvis forward, running a finger along her slit.

Daneth’s eyes narrowed. “You’re teasing me.”

Okay, so the doctor wasn’t as out of touch with humans as she thought.

She made her eyes wide and childlike. “No, Master.”

“And that’s a lie.” He pulled her out of her chair by the elbow and flipped her to face the table, clipping her wrists together behind her.

Though she’d been bold a moment before, fear washed through her. Punishments on the fertility farm had been dreadful—electric shocks or confinement in a small, dark space. What would the Zandian doctor do when truly provoked, as he appeared to be now?

He pushed her torso over the table until her belly lay flat, her cheek pressed against the smooth, polished surface. “You will not lie to your master.” He must have tucked the leather paddle into his lab coat to carry with him because it magically appeared, searing her ass with quick, decisive slaps.

Relief that he’d chosen the same implement as before poured through her. This paddling was nothing compared to what she’d endured in the past. Still, he spanked so rapidly, she couldn’t relax and breathe into the pain, either. Her pulse galloped and bottom clenched under the onslaught.

“You will not tempt or tease your master.”

“No, Master,” she gasped. Or should she have said, Yes, Master? She couldn’t think with the endless spanking, which seemed to only increase in intensity. “I’m sorry!” she tried.

To no avail. He kept on paddling. She hadn’t been counting, but he’d certainly gone well beyond what he’d delivered the last time, and the strokes were much harder.

“I’m sorry!” She twisted her cuffed wrists against the restraints, not because she expected to get free but because her body couldn’t help but seek some way out of the pain the doctor delivered. “Please!” She wasn’t above begging. “Please, I’m sorry!”

He kept going. It seemed nothing would make the doctor stop now. The pain became more manageable as her ass turned numb, but nothing diminished the overwhelming stress of being on the receiving end of her master’s displeasure in such a personal and intimate way. It was so different from Ocretion punishment where she’d been a number on the farm.

Her legs trembled, breath came in quick gasps, and all the shock and strain of managing her new environment welled up, choking her. A sob escaped her before she could swallow it down, and then, to her horror, she broke into a full crying jag, the stress of adapting to the new environment pouring out in big, ugly tears.

 

~.~

 

Daneth froze. He’d intended to spank his little slave to tears, and yet the moment he realized he’d achieved his goal, he wanted to take it back. Everything in him screamed to comfort her. To stop the tears, which stung his senses with their salty scent.

He slid the paddle beside her on the table and stroked her burning bottom. He didn’t have the will to report the data on the color of her as—hot red—or how many strokes it had taken to achieve tears—134.

He cleared his throat, trying to think what to say to the tender human, so easily broken with a simple leather paddle. It hurt his chest to hear her sobs. “It’s over now,” he murmured. He rubbed her bottom and down her legs. “Release wrist cuffs,” he commanded softly. The magnet holding the two wrists together released, and her hands dropped to the table.

He made circles on her back with his palm, marveling at how light her skin was. Almost white, which contrasted beautiful with her dark hair. So different from his skin color.

“Bayla—it’s over. You’re forgiven.” What made him say that? He doubted she cared about his forgiveness. But her sobs did slow.

He slipped an arm under her and lifted her to standing. She kept her back to him, the quiet in the room punctuated by her sniffles.

Must calm the female.

In that moment, it hit him harder than ever before how little he understood females. He hadn’t mastered relations with females of his own species. How in the stars did he expect to navigate them with an emotional human?

“Bayla,” he coaxed, turning her around.

She dropped her chin to her chest, hiding her face from him in a curtain of dark waves. Veck, she was beautiful.

Though his usual sense of interpersonal relations would dictate he simply leave her alone—give her some privacy until she’d recovered—he couldn’t bear the thought.

My female requires calming.

Odd that he considered her his. But she was. He’d paid for her. She was his slave, and he was her master.

“It’s over now, Bayla,” he repeated. He checked his cuff for her vitals. Her elevated pulse showed stress, and the arousal meter read 60 percent. He was surprised she could be aroused and crying at the same time. Another oddity of human females.

Her legs wobbled, and she swayed. He moved without thought, sweeping her up into a cradle carry before he realized he meant to.

She lifted her tucked chin and gazed up with surprise, her arms slowly moving to circle his neck.

Something in his physiology turned haywire then—his head swam, and the room seemed to swoop, even as his chest filled with something gooey and warm.

To his shock, Bayla tucked her face against his neck.

He inhaled sharply at the pleasure the gesture produced in him. Not lust this time, something different, something deeper. It stemmed from that need to comfort her—satisfaction that he’d seemingly succeeded in some small measure because she’d turned to him rather than away. Which seemed wrong, since he was the one who’d made her cry in the first place.

His scientist brain short-circuited. He’d spent a lifetime living in his head, guided only by logic. This foreign flood of emotions literally dampened his ability to think.

What power did human females possess that caused Zandian males to lose their minds? He needed to find some way to distance himself from this beautiful girl before he jeopardized his project.

But his emotions had full control of his body, now. His mouth murmured, “You need rest,” and his feet carried her across the room to her cage. “Open cage.” The door sprang open but he made no move to put her inside. It didn’t feel right.

Since when did he make decisions by feel?

He carried her to his sleepdisk instead, laying her on the soft mattress and sitting beside her. Her dark tresses fell in a wave, hiding her face from him. He stroked them back, telling himself it was only to see her, to evaluate her emotional state as her doctor, but his fingers never stopped stroking. He petted her, soothing away her sniffles and hiccups.

Sweet human.

A knock sounded at the door, and he saw from the screen inside that a servant stood outside with his human’s food. He flicked the coverlet over her naked, paddled bottom and called for him to come in.

“I’ll take it.” He accepted the tray right there on the bed, arranging it on his lap.

Bayla lifted her dark head and sat up, eyes fixed on the tray, and he kicked himself again for not having provided her with alimentation sooner.

He placed the tube from the liquid bag into her mouth.

Her nose crinkled adorably, but she sucked the tube. The moment the liquid reached her mouth, her long black lashes flew wide. She sucked in earnest, draining the bag in a matter of moments.

“Sixty milliliters of kai juice,” he reported to his cuff.

“Kai juice,” she echoed with awe.

“You liked it?”

She licked her full lips. “Oh yes. Is that for me?” she asked, pointing to the food.

“Yes.”

Before he finished speaking the word, she’d pulled the tray to her lap, snatched up a spoon, and tucked into the savory grain dish Chef Barr had prepared.

He observed with fascination as she stuffed the food in her mouth, rolling her eyes and moaning with pleasure. Watching a being eat had never been such an arousing experience. Her full, lush lips closed around the utensil; that little pink tongue flicked food from the corners of her mouth. Her obvious pleasure with every bite made his cock go as hard as it had been when he’d brought her to orgasm earlier.

She finished the entire tray of food in record time then dabbed her lips with a napkin and smiled shyly at him.

“You were hungry,” he observed.

She shook her head. “I’ve never tasted food so good in my life. I’m stuffed, but I couldn’t stop eating.” She rubbed her little paunch.

Adorable.

She tilted her head at him. “Do Zandians eat?”

“Only once a week. Every ten planet rotations on Ocretia. We gain most of our energy from sunlight.”

“Wow.” She licked her lips again. “You’re missing out.”

He laughed—actually laughed. When had he laughed before? He couldn’t remember a time. Another sign he needed distance from this enchanting creature. Except he couldn’t bring himself to take it.

They were sitting close—so close her side pressed against his, and her sweet human scent under the citrusy oil from her initial washing filled his nostrils.

She leaned her head toward him and tucked her face against his neck, like she had when he carried her. “I’m sorry I was naughty, Master.”

Oh stars.

His cock surged in his pants, the demand she show him how sorry she was leaping to his lips. He bit it back just in time, but she seemed to sense the change in him, or perhaps she saw the growing tent in his lap. She licked a line up his neck.

After the lesson he’d taught her, the action should have infuriated him. Hadn’t he just told her not to tease? But nothing in the galaxy would make him tell her to stop.

She reached his ear and nipped at his earlobe.

His horns thickened, mimicking his throbbing malehood.

“I know I’m not for breeding,” she said, her voice husky, “but I have been trained to pleasure a male.”

Vecking stars!

Lust seared through his entire body, nearly making him pant for breath.

Her small hand cupped his balls, then wrapped around the base of his cock through his clothing.

He yanked his tunic up as the beautiful seductress slipped past him, off the bed and onto her knees on the floor. Like a compass drawn to the magnetic pole of Zandia, he whirled to point his cock toward her generous mouth and shoved down his pants.

Her berry lips parted, tongue extended as she leaned forward and gave a single, lap. She sat back on her heels and lifted her beautiful blue eyes, the spark of laughter making them merry.

Teasing. She was doing it again, but this time he vecking loved her for it.

He had to bite back the command that sprang to his lips: On your hands and knees.

Yes. He wanted to claim her. Long and hard, without mercy. Veck her until her cunt squeezed tight and milked his cock of its rainbow-hued seed. Veck her until her throat became hoarse from screaming and she learned the hard lesson of teasing her master. And then he’d veck her again. And again.

He wanted to strap her to his table and perform endless hours of intimate examinations that made her squirm and drip with arousal. To take her over his lap and make her next spanking long and personal—his hand, her ass. Slow, and deliberate until she fully absorbed who owned her lush little body, who made the commands and who obeyed.

“Suck it,” he rasped, but the harsh command did not have the effect of cowing his torturous female. No, he saw the thrill of victory in the curve of her lips before she opened that intoxicating mouth wide and took in his full length.

His shudder was close to earthquake proportions, traveling from thigh to groin. He was like a youth, still learning the glory of stroking off to images of naked females. But they’d never looked half as good as this fetching human.

He surged forward and tore her tunic open and down her shoulders. “Take it off,” he barked.

Again, victory painted her shameless shucking of the clothing.

Another shudder rocked through him from seeing her naked again, even before her lips closed around the head of his cock.

“Suck it hard,” he growled.

She took her mouth off with a popping sound. “Yes, Master,” she purred and returned to her task, taking him deep. He didn’t fit—her mouth was far too small, but the clever female had learned some way of swallowing his cock, taking it past her uvula and into her throat.

He didn’t recognize the beast-like grunt that came from his mouth, nor did he know the male who gripped Bayla’s hair and forced her over his cock, faster, deeper.

“Veck, veck, veck yes,” he hissed. But he didn’t want to come yet. Not until he’d tasted the female like she sampled him.

He used her hair to pull her off his cock, biting back a groan when the cool air hit his wet skin. “Up, up, up.” He was too rough with her, lifting her by the hair. Some urgent need had taken over his body, overruling all reason, all care. He scooped an arm behind her knees and lifted her into the air, turned her and plopped her on the bed with her legs facing away from him, her head hanging off the edge. “Suck.” He fitted his cock into her mouth once more.

She obediently closed her lips around it, resuming her skillful sucking as he leaned forward and pulled her knees apart. When her thighs parted to reveal her glistening core, he groaned, “This pussy.”

How could he not honor it with all the vecking reverence it deserved?

He slapped her inner thighs open and delved his tongue between her labia, parting them to trace a circle around her inner lips.

She made a sound in her throat, which reverberated around his cock, and he plunged in and out of her mouth, vecking it too fast, making her choke and gag. Though he heard her sputtering, he couldn’t stop himself. He sucked and nipped her lips, tongued her clit until the hood retracted. He wished he had the vibrator handy to shove inside her while he sucked the stiff little nubbin, but he had to settle for his thumb. He slid it inside her and worked his middle finger between the cheeks of her ass while he suctioned his mouth over her clit.

She screamed around his cock, which only made him more violent with his thrusts and sucks. His middle finger landed on her anus, and he tapped, making it contract tight. Pistoning his thumb in and out of her hot channel, he continued with the frantic sucking, the anal stimulation until he could no longer contain his own excitement. With a roar, he thumb-vecked her fast and hard and pulled his cock out of her mouth. Gripping the erupting organ, he decorated her full breasts with his cum. Bayla bowed up from the bed, her pussy squeezing and releasing his thumb while her legs danced frantically across his coverlet, slipping on the silky fabric as she sought purchase to lift her pelvis higher.

“Beautiful, beautiful girl,” he croaked when she’d finished. He smeared his rainbow-colored cum all over her tits.

She lifted her head and pushed her breasts together in some kind of offering.

Though he’d never seen the position before, he somehow intuited her invitation and fit his cock between them, gliding back and forth in several glorious strokes of heaven.

Though already wrung out, another mini orgasm rippled through him, and he ejaculated more, coating her belly.

When he straightened, surveying the sight she made, he barely mustered any guilt for his actions. Sprawled out in naked glory, coated in his spunk, she appeared fully claimed. By him. He hadn’t bred her—hadn’t broken his most important rule. But she did belong to him. And as her physician, it was his responsibility to keep her fertile young body in peak sexual condition. Since she had hormones pumping through her, part of his job would be seeing to her satisfaction. There was no harm to it, other than his own loss of control. But it was coming back, now that he’d spent. He’d have to be careful it didn’t draw him away from the importance of his project.

And establishing both dominance and trust with his slave was important. Perhaps this was the form of bonding their Master at Arms Seke had employed when he’d given Lamira’s mother, Leora, obedience training.

“Come.” He picked her up. “You need cleaning again.”

 

~.~

 

Her limp body trembled as Daneth carried her to the washroom, but an inner strength surged through her very soul. The sound of his victory shout still echoed in her ears. To see him lose control for her, to have her mouth give him such satisfaction, her body tempt him, made her blood sing.

Never in the solar cycles she’d been a breeder had she cared for or connected with the male who’d used her body. What was it about Daneth that made it so incredibly different? It was like she’d been born for this purpose alone. Not the reason he purchased her—not to be a vessel for a Zandian baby, but for Daneth. She belonged with him. She belonged here. She just needed to avoid the pregnancy part so she wouldn’t get her heart broken again.

Daneth stepped into an enclosed cylinder and set her on her feet before stripping off his clothing.

She bit her lip, stifling a fresh moan at the sight of his body. Though he was older, his form was anything but worn out or decrepit. The male still appeared to be in his prime, his body a mass of lean muscle. He had no body hair, save for the very closely cut brown hair on his head.

When his gaze fell on her body the two horns on the top of his head shot forward, leaning toward her, the same way his huge cock lifted in salute. Did the male ever have trouble recharging? From the size of his erection, he appeared ready to go again already.

She shrieked when the enclosed area filled with water and Daneth laughed, slipping an arm around her waist to pull her close.

“That’s right. You were asleep the last time I brought you in here.”

She flushed. The idea of Daneth having her naked in the washtube while she was unconscious brought up a flutter of thrilling images.

He traced a finger down her breastbone. “No. I didn’t take advantage of you. I prefer my females to be awake when I use their bodies.”

“I prefer to be awake, as well,” she murmured and stood on her tiptoes as the water level reached her neck.

“It will cover your head briefly. Hold your breath.”

“How did I not drown last time?” she demanded before gulping a breath and suspending it in her lungs. The water flooded over her head then drained as quickly as it had risen. She blinked at the tall male wedged in the tiny space with her, water dripping from her lashes.

“I covered your mouth and nose.”

Somewhere in the back of her mind, it occurred to her that she should be offended or scared about the things done to her while she’d been unconscious. Yet, all she felt was warmth, knowing Daneth had taken care with her, as if some part of her knew he always would.

Soap sprayed her body from all directions. She squealed.

Daneth pushed her back against the shower wall and rubbed the soap over her breasts, kneading them until they grew heavy and full, her nipples pulling taut into stiff peaks.

“Did you do this last time?” she panted.

“No.”

She reached for his cock and closed her hand around the base. “Did you have this?”

“Yes.” The word came out rough and deep.

She tugged on his cock, the soap lubricating his skin and making her palm slip along his length. He buried his face in her wet hair, breathing roughly as his hand slid down her wet body to the apex of her thighs.

A spray of warm water came out of the jets, rinsing off the soap, but she hardly noticed because Daneth screwed a finger inside her.

She squeezed and yanked his cock with ferocious urgency, and he responded with his own intensity, plunging a second finger inside her and thrusting up. He found the secret place inside her inner wall that made her come apart. Her third orgasm of the planet rotation ripped through her. She choked on her scream, pumping her fist over his cock as if her life depended on it.

Daneth shouted, coming against her belly as he sank his teeth into her shoulder. Heat enveloped them, the warm drying breeze from the machine too stifling. Daneth hit a button and the door swished open. They both fell out with a gasp of cool air.

Her legs were made of rubber, but it didn’t matter because Daneth picked her up and carried her to her cage.

She curled up naked on the soft mattress, eyes already drifting closed as the doctor arranged an unimaginably soft blanket over her. In the back of her mind, a voice warned her not to get so comfortable. Good things didn’t happen to slaves, especially not ones who hoped to avoid doing the duty they’d been purchased for.

But she’d worry about that tomorrow.