“Good girl,” he purred, reaching around to stroke her little button and prolong her spectacular finish.
He set off a fresh wave of squeezing and her knees collapsed beneath her, sending both their hips to the sleepdisk, still connected.
“Good little slave,” he murmured, biting her neck. “You took my cock three times in one day without complaining.”
Not that she’d complained much if at all after the initial deflowering. No, she was a willing breeder—a perfect slave. A loyal slave. She hadn’t given herself to Gunt, hadn’t wanted anyone but him.
He bit the shell of her ear. “I’m sorry I punished you, Lamira,” he murmured in her ear. “I wish I could take it back.”
She turned her face to the side and laid her cheek on the sleeping platform, her eyes soft, face relaxed, as if thoroughly satiated. “I’m going to have your baby.”
He stilled. “I beg your pardon?”
Her eyes snapped to focus and she shook her head as if shaking off her dreamy state. “I meant someday. Never mind.”
He stroked a lock of copper hair behind her ear. As usual, he didn’t understand his little human. They spoke the same language, but her words didn’t make sense to him. It didn’t matter. They had enough for now. He eased them both to their sides, his cock still inside her. He stroked slowly in and out of her, to savor the sensation.
Lamira emitted a contented sound and pulled his arm around her, bringing it to her breast. With a soft sigh, her eyelids slid closed again.
He wrapped his longer body around hers a curious sense of well-being flowing through him. Was it happiness? Did this little human make him happy?
If only they could learn to communicate. If only he could trust her.
~.~
Her dreams were full of Zander. Zander angry, gripping the horrible strap. Only this time she wasn’t scared. You’re mine, he said. Mine alone. I will not share you.
Yes, master. She dropped to her knees and reached for his cock.
Then Zander was buried inside her, murmuring in her ear. Zander fighting with Master Seke, his beautiful muscles rippling, his movement graceful like poetry.
She woke on an empty platform. She sat up. Zander’s clothes and gold arm cuff lay on the sleepdisk and the sound of water rushed from the washroom.
She reached for the cuff. On the agrifarm, the foremen had used handheld communication devices. Zander’s was state of the art, sleek and beautiful. As a human, she’d never been permitted to use any kind of device, but she’d looked over plenty of shoulders to see how they worked. In fact, she’d longed for one. She had a list a light-year long of the things she’d like to research. But they were mostly farming related. What would she search now, if she could?
Something about her new situation. Something to help her understand Zander better.
“Search Zandian Genocide.”
Nothing happened. Right. Because they were programmed only for voice recognition. She remembered, once, seeing someone borrow a device.
“Guest user.”
A light flickered on.
“Search Zandian Genocide.”
A hologram hovered, showing images of airships bombing the capital of Zandia, Zandians running and screaming from burning buildings. A dispassionate voice over gave the facts of the date, which had been nearly twelve revolutions around the sun ago.
She realized she had something more important to research. With a trace of excitement, she said, “Search Leora Taniaka.”
A hologram of her mother appeared, with the name of the agrifarm where they worked beneath it.
Well, at least nothing had changed.
“Search Lily Taniaka.”
Her mother had asked every underground rebel for word of her sister for as long as she could remember.