“What’s what?” I ask, feigning ignorance. Because I just remembered… I was crying.
“Something pink.”
“It’s makeup, you simpleton.” I add in an exaggerated eye roll for good measure, praying to the sun gods he buys my lie.
He growls again.
“Stop doing that!”
But he just continues and for sun’s sake, I think the rumors are true. Because a deep-rooted throbbing begins in my lower belly and pulses out… “Ow. Oh, shit! That hurts!”
Never mind. Erotic excitement over. I double over a little, as far as I can with the bindings, and try to force my upper thighs together because the throbbing is really pain from my newly pierced pussy.
He sighs. “I have something for that.”
“For what?”
“The pain. I really didn’t tell him to do that.”
The bot protests again but I spin my head to look at him and say, “You shut up about the stupid standard procedures! He just said he didn’t, OK? You fucked up. Be a big bot and just own it, for sun’s sake!”
When I look back at Serpint he’s fishing through one of those skinny drawers that produced my newly acquired sexual jewelry and I catch him smirking.
“It’s not funny. I’ve been mutilated.”
“Oh, come on. It’s not that bad. And this’ll help.” He turns around and walks towards me holding up a little metallic tube. “If you don’t mind.”
“If I don’t mind what?”
“Well, you don’t seem to have the use of your hands right now, princess.” He exaggerates that word, like he’s not sure which part of my lie is a lie and he wants me to know that. “So I’ll have to apply it for you.”
And then he grins.
“Or,” I say, thoroughly disgusted at his innuendo, “you could just release me and let me apply it myself.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
“In my hands,” I say with fake sweetness. “Instead of yours.”
“Exactly.” He squirts a bead of purple goo out onto his fingertip and smiles. “So… do you want the pain relief or not?” I open my mouth to speak but he says, “Shhh. Before you answer, just know that I will be touching you later. So think hard about this before you make a decision. There’ll be consequences.”
“Pervert.”
“Oh, I won’t touch you with my hands, princess. Unless you beg me to.”
“Asshole.”
“Allow me to demonstrate.” And then he pinches the air with his thumb and forefinger and spreads them wide. A display appears, lit up with a control panel. “Which one should I try first? Hmmm?”
“What are you talking about?”
But he must make up his mind because he taps the display and my nipples begin to vibrate. And while I might admit this could be pleasurable had my nipples not just been pierced by a deranged nanny bot, it is not pleasurable now.
“Ow!”
“See,” he says, the vibration fading. “And believe me, that was the low setting. It only gets better from there.”
“Better?” I snap. “You’re insane. You’re an insane, barbaric, two-cocked jerk!”
“One drop of this on those tender spots, princess, and it heals like magic. By tonight all the discomfort will be forgotten. The pleasure from the nipple rings will blow. Your. Mind.” He bobs his eyebrows up and down at me as he grins. “So decide. Pain? Or pleasure?”
I hesitate. Because if he touches me I will probably glow again. And I don’t want to give him that privilege. I don’t want him to think I’m… into this. Because I’m not. I’m so not. Not to mention my inhibitor is already beginning to fail. If I don’t recharge it soon it will stop working completely. And then he’ll know I’m real. He’ll start asking questions. Or do a galactic facial recognition search using my real identifying features.
And once that little secret is out, there’s no hope of saving Nyleena and completing our mission. Well, not really completing it. We had no intention of completing it. But the other mission, the one where we get where we’re really going—there’ll be no hope for that.
But if he is going to keep me here, and do these things… wouldn’t it be better if it felt good instead of terrible?
God. I’m rationalizing! Why am I trying to rationalize this? I’m the insane one! I’ve lost my mind. I’ve been blinded by the erotic myths. And the two cocks. And the… the… “Stop staring at me with those stupid eyes of yours!”
“Last chance. I’ve got shit to do. And I don’t care either way.”
“What… what shit to do?”
“Yes or no?” he says. “My ship came in with damage and I need to go see her and make sure she’s OK.”
“Her?” I laugh. “Your ship is a woman?”
“All ships are women, don’t you know anything?”
I almost say, Well, our ships are not female. But I catch myself just in time. Because I think I’ve heard that before. That male ships are dangerous, or something. And no one gives a ship a male personality except us. Cygnians.