The Commander's Slave Page 2

  “You’re a member of the Fusion,” he half-whispered. “You must be. Only life-forms who have mastered interplanetary travel are accepted into the Fusion, and although I don’t know where you’re from, I’m betting you’re a long, long way from home. The only way you could have gotten here was by spaceship. Am I correct?”

  She whimpered, trying to concentrate on his words while the fingers stroked her relentlessly. One set now parted her labia, rubbing against her clitoris while the other set continued pinching the hard peak of one breast. She had no memory of her past, but she knew, viscerally, that nobody had ever touched her like this. She jerked again, slamming her body into his hard length.

  “My young first officer would have me treat you like a civilized being. But I’m of a different opinion.” A finger dipped into her pussy, and she was ashamed to feel how wet and hot she felt. But then his finger retreated and she groaned, wanting it back.

  “All I want right now is justice. And you, my sweet, are going to help me get it.”

  He withdrew both hands from her, and she was surprised at how bereft it made her feel. Dazed, she focused on him as his figure swam into view. His pale skin was tanned, but his dark eyes still stood out in relief, pools of glittering glass, sharp and cold. Cynicism furrowed his brow and tightened lips that would otherwise be lush. Even held here against her will--or was it really against her will when all she could do was yearn for his touch again?--she wanted to reach out and stroke the roughness of his jaw and run her hand down the strength of his throat.

  He caught her gaze and held it while he undressed, slowly, leisurely, as if he was stripping for her, revealing himself in tantalizing slices so she could savor his perfect form. He hesitated only once, and she could tell he was feeling embarrassed. Looking down his body, she could see why. Crisscrossing his torso were long fingers of scar tissue, healed to angry red welts. They were all that marred his perfection and, in a perverse way, seemed to emphasize it, contrasting with the precisely-carved rippling muscles beneath.

  He saw her look down, and he stiffened.

  “Part of what I need justice for,” he explained, and it was as if he was describing a triviality, but she knew it was something much deeper than the words he spoke.

  When he was naked, he walked over to the open bathroom and ordered a shower. She found she could not look away. Just watching him, as he rinsed his hair and ran hands down his legs, made her hot again. The scars extended around to his back, but even that couldn’t take away from his muscular magnificence.

  Knowing she was watching him, he faced her, reached for his prick, and began slowly massaging it, his hand moving along its length like an artisan’s over oiled blonde-wood, and she knew what was coming next.

  Impatient, Tangus terminated the drying program and, still damp, strode over to her, looking down into her golden eyes.

  “You’re supposed to be a virgin,” he said quietly.

  He was so close that she could feel his bobbing prick against her abdomen. Gods help her, but she wanted him!

  “Which suits me just fine.” He moved around until he was behind her again. This time, without preamble, his hand skimmed her flesh and a finger entered her, making her cry out.

  “Yes,” he encouraged next to her ear, “feel free to cry out as much as you want. This room is very well insulated.”

  She felt herself jerk, her juices spilling out over his fingers.

  Roughly, he pushed her pelvis back towards him and, in one smooth movement, entered her.

  She screamed. From the pain of sudden insertion, from the pleasure of his flesh inside her, from the shocks of sensation as one hand grabbed and pulled at a responsive nipple, his callused fingers rubbing them until the shudders in her body made her tremble and convulse around him.

  But that still wasn’t enough. The hand at her pubis started moving, the fingers finding and flicking at her clitoris.

  “No,” she moaned, her head moving from side to side. But her body was betraying her, responding like a well-trained instrument to his practiced hands and cock. With each thrust, he seemed to penetrate her more deeply, his size stretching her until every inch of her body could feel him stroking, hard and furious, pent-up desire powering his hips.

  She had just enough time to hear him call out a strangled animal cry into the room before she too convulsed into orgasmic spasms. She heard herself cry out loudly, a mate to his own shout, before she fainted in his arms.

  Chapter Two

  The first thing she noticed when she opened her eyes was that her headache was gone. She couldn’t pinpoint exactly when, but maybe it had something to do with a fantasy she had had. It had been a strange dream. She remembered standing, all limbs restrained, but now she was lying down, a firm but comfortable surface cushioning her body; although both her head and hips were elevated, resting on two bumps in the bed’s surface.

  She looked around. The room she was in looked very much like the one from her fantasy, the one Daurent had brought her to. But that meant that she and a man she knew as Tangus ... She bit her lip. Had that really happened? Had she really behaved like a wanton animal, coupling with a strange man?

  But what a man, a voice whispered in her head.

  No, she didn’t want to hear that. She shifted and felt a dull ache radiate from her groin. Yes, it must have happened. It had not been a dream.

  But where was Tangus? Had he decided to let her go? She tried to get up, and it was then she found her hands were tied above her head. Again she was restrained, but this time in a different position, one that thrust her breasts out like golden invitations.

  “You’re awake, I see.”

  She heard his voice before she saw him. He was still unashamedly naked, his cock not rock-hard anymore but still partially engorged with blood. She could see a tracing of thick veins running up and down its length, and it made her lick her lips.

  Tangus saw her movement and smiled. “I see you’re a step ahead of me.” He sat down next to her, and his expression became serious. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to cause you such discomfort. It should have occurred to me that you would still be suffering from the effects of your handlers. Perhaps one more interlude and we can have something to eat.”

  “Why should you care how I feel?” Was that really her voice, sounding so weak and raw. She cleared her throat and tried again. “I thought all you wanted was justice. Or should that be some twisted kind of vengeance?”

  A spark glinted in his dark eyes. “So you aren’t brainless after all. What a stroke of good fortune.” But he didn’t elaborate. Instead he watched her lips, and she could feel the change in him, from amusement to something darker. His face sharpened, taking on a look of hunger. Impatiently he moved, slipping down to her legs, pushing them apart. Once again, she felt exposed to his relentless touch.

  She was expecting the coarseness of battle-ready fingers, an already familiar roughness invading her, probing her, preparing her again for him. What she did not expect was the gentle firmness of his tongue, a companion wetness to his own. He licked, like a wild animal would lick at a treat, the length of his tongue lapping her, tasting her, then a short quick stab into her pussy before he found her clitoris.

  She couldn’t stop the cries escaping her throat at this, increasing when he began mouthing at her, taking her nub into his mouth with his lips and sucking. A small tug, then a release. Then the licking and mouthing began again.

  This time, with the comfort of lying down, she could feel every wave of pleasure as it coursed through her body and coiled ever tighter, all sensation centering on her groin, on the apex of her legs where her sticky wetness fed his mouth. Abandoning herself, she felt it spread from his mouth to her legs and then to the rest of her body.

  “Yes! Aaaahh, aaaahhhh, please ... oh, please.”

  She was unaware she was bucking against him, the force of her spasms jerking her body against the platform, her voice echoing in the room, rough with passion. Her wild mane of hair flew in all d
irections as she shuddered.

  Then he was on her, straddling her, holding his cock with one hand as he knelt before her face.

  “Take me in your mouth,” he ordered.

  She did as she was told, and he groaned.

  “Now suck me.” His voice was husky, his eyes closed. “Lick me.”

  Her initial movements were tentative, her mouth full of him.

  “Harder,” he said harshly. “Suck me harder.”

  He began softly thrusting into her mouth, still keeping one hand around his shaft as she used more force, at the same time moving her tongue against him. “Yes, that’s good.” Eyes still closed, he rocked gently.

  She felt his length graze the roof of her mouth, meeting the softness at the back of her palate just as his thrusts became quicker and stronger until he exploded into her, collapsing onto his free hand as he continued to come into her mouth.

  She swallowed his thick cum, tasting its saltiness, but there was still too much for her. A white stream dribbled out of the side of her mouth and ran down her cheek.

  Tangus remained oblivious for seconds after, until he finally opened his eyes and stared down at her. “It’s been a long time,” he said, unrepentant. Reaching down in an oddly gentle gesture, he wiped the creamy trail from her mouth. “Time for food now, I think. Wait here.”

  Not that she had a choice, she thought to herself, pulling on the wrist restraints and watching as he left her.

  Safely back in the refuge of his quarters, Tangus paused to rest his head against the nearest bulwark. He hadn’t realized how tenuous a grip he had on his self-control until he had seen his latest purchase restrained and opening in front of him, like an exotic flower. Wordlessly, she cried her need to him and he had obliged. Twice.

  “Twice,” he muttered. He should have stopped after the first, after she had fainted. He knew the conditions well enough on Helson V, since Hell’s Market was an occasional--although not favored--stop. The planet was renowned for its lack of manners and its trade in the living. Until now, he had stayed away from the flesh-auctions and kept a low profile because he knew that in Hell’s Market he could find rare objects that his fleet desperately needed: contraband weaponry, sensitive tracking systems, all for sale with no questions asked. He had moved through the metaphorical trade-swamp of the desert planet like a puff of sand, staying just long enough to complete needed purchases, then drifting silently away.

  Until today, when the commander of the much-vaunted Second Fleet, the last vestige of a destroyed planet, turned up and openly bid on a golden-skinned virgin for an outrageous sum. Which meant, of course, that neither he nor his men could ever go back to Helson V again. The informers trawled the Market like marine harvesters, and he was sure that, even now, word was flashing to the Lasc Prein about their whereabouts.

  That alone should have been enough to send him pounding for the bridge. But it wasn’t.

  It must be my libido, he thought. By the Creator, she didn’t even need to look at him. All it took was the musky scent of her body rising to his nostrils as he unbound her and his mind was filled was lascivious fantasies.

  As a commander of the Second Fleet, as fractured as it was, he should have acted with honor. Should have set her down, perhaps in his quarters, and ordered food. Should have waited till she regained her strength. Instead, he had configured one of the many platforms in the chamber to contours matching her body--it took a few attempts, he was still learning the software of his acquired flagship-- and hating himself while he did it, restrained her again while he sat across the room. Watching. Brooding. Unwilling to leave the room in case she woke up. And hating himself for such weakness.

  With an oath, he pushed himself from the wall and punched the intercom button. “Daurent.”

  The answer was swift, as he knew it would be. Daurent would be a worthy successor to his admittedly reduced legacy.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “How’s progress?”

  “We’ve unloaded the supply pod, sir, and are underway.”

  “It occurs to me that one of our, ah, acquisitions could bring unwanted attention ….”

  Tangus heard the grin in his subordinate’s voice as he interrupted. “Already there, commander. I double-timed the offloading and initiated a delta-evasion pattern. We should be clear of any Lasc Prein tracers within two hours.”

  Handsome and smart. It hurt Tangus that he could offer his ablest lieutenant only a life of retreat and stealth, instead of the glory such an officer deserved.

  “Good work,” he commended gruffly. “How long before we’re home?”

  “A week, by current reckoning. We’ll take some of the more obscure hyper-jumps. It’ll take longer, but I think a less direct route will be safer in the end.”

  Tangus nodded at the words. “Fine. Stand down after we’ve cleared the first jump. Standard detection protocols. And, Daurent, send some food to my quarters. Enough for two. Tangus out.”

  Now that he had time to think about it, he was famished. And so must be his ... guest? Purchase?

  Slave?

  Something kicked in his groin. So soon? Maybe the woman had some kind of overpowered pheromone system. That would explain a lot. He would get that checked out at the earliest opportunity.

  He heard a chime a few minutes later, just as he pulled on a pair of loose hip-hugging trousers, and he opened his door to the Strike’s backup cook. The young man was barely into adulthood but already had the hard look that all in his crew eventually wore. He entered without a word and set down a large tray, covered with an ornate metal dome. Daurent must have left very specific instructions Tangus thought with an amused twitch of his lips.

  When the youth left, the commander took the tray back to the chamber. He walked to the platform and undid the wrist clasps, offering his … his slave a hand to rise. A hand she ignored. Very well, two could play that game.

  With a hand at a silky-smooth back, he led her to where he had left the tray and gestured for her to sit.

  She sat.

  * * * *

  It was strange standing again, walking. After the physical tumult she had been through in the past few hours, she had expected some blinding change. She had taken the seed of a man into herself yet the universe moved on at its own pace, oblivious to the carnal sensations that had been so fiercely aroused.

  When Tangus silently indicated a spot of floor next to a large covered tray, she nodded and lowered herself to the springy surface. It hadn’t escaped her notice that she was still unclothed while he had at least put on a minimal garment--a pair of trousers made of a soft material that molded to the curves of his buttocks so well that it was clear that was all he was wearing. She averted her gaze, pretending not to notice.

  After seating himself opposite, Tangus lifted the tray’s lid ... and an eyebrow. Cook had outdone himself in presentation and if he hadn’t known the battle-scarred man during several missions, he would have accused the veteran of sentiment.

  Carved slices of a red vegetable, still plump with pulp, nestled against expertly carved slices of Zincan fowl, the meat pale yellow from gentle poaching. Both ingredients rested on a nest of wild black-field rice and were surrounded by baby greens, glistening in a hot buttery dressing. The aroma of the food kicked Tangus’ appetite into overdrive. He handed a plate to the woman opposite.

  “Please, have something to eat.”

  She couldn’t believe how inviting everything looked, a dramatic change from the unappetizing slop that had been forced down her throat for the past several days. But could she take food from the person who had possessed her so completely? Could she not?

  After a moment’s hesitation, she took the serving implement and dished out a sizable portion of everything, hoping the food tasted as good as it looked.

  She was not disappointed. The juice from the vegetable wedges spurted into her mouth, releasing a sensation of sweet-tangy heat, cooled by the tender fowl meat. Emboldened, she began eating more rapidly. It felt like years si
nce she had last eaten like this, satiating her senses while also filling her belly.

  “Is this how you normally eat?” she asked between forkfuls, casting him a wary glance.

  “So she speaks,” he commented. And well, too. He recognized the forms of Cirlian Formal, the Fusion’s lingua franca, although there was a hint of an accent. Smoky, exotic. She hadn’t been brought up in the Fusion then, but could speak its language fluently. Curious.

  “No, not usually when we’re so far from,” he hesitated, “home.” It was hard to think of the gas giant’s moon as their home now, but that was something he would need to hammer into his head. He had lost his home planet, and the sooner he came to grips with that fact the better.

  “We try to transport most of our supplies back to our base camp, but I think Cook arranged this elaborate concoction because of ... you.”

  “Me?”

  “Daurent, my adjutant, is an excellent officer, but he can also be a compulsive gossip.” Despite his earlier hunger, Tangus only picked at his food. “I’m sure he had some say in our repast.”

  “I’ll have to thank him when I see him next.”

  Tangus was sure it wasn’t meant to be a provocative statement but was still surprised by a shaft of white-hot anger coursing through him. Surely that wasn’t jealousy? To keep his mind off that dangerous track, he changed the subject.

  “So what is your name? It’s far too late to play coy.”

  She put her fork down and looked him full in the face. “I don’t know.”

  Tangus shifted. “I hardly think ….”

  “I don’t know!” she interrupted, raising her voice. “All I remember is wandering around before being picked up by that group of natives.” She put a hand to her forehead, and her mane of hair fell forward, obscuring part of her face. “There was a wreckage. I remember seeing it burn, smelling it. But I don’t know where it was from.”

  He looked at her golden skin. “Do you know where you’re from?”

  By the Creator, he would consider himself the luckiest man in the galaxy if he could find a planet of women just like her.