Taking Tilly (4 page)

It took an effort to nod, but that,
she quickly discovered, wasn’t good enough.

Anger hardened his features. “Correct
response—to anyting I ask—‘yes, master’.”

Tilly struggled with the war between
her intellect and her temper. “Yes, Master.”

Something flickered in his eyes. “Fast
learn. Smart. Brave. Hope smart and brave not get slave killed in
ugly way.”

Coldness washed over Tilly, fear
tightening suffocatingly around her chest.

He held her gaze for a long moment and
then touched the frame of the torture device again. This time it
seemed to disintegrate into nearly microscopic flakes that crawled
up her arms and legs and over her belly. Tilly stared down at the
things moving over her in absolute horror, unable to strike at them
and brush them away even though the manacles themselves had
disappeared because she couldn’t move—at all.

The things reassembled, became a
form-fitting suit that covered her from her ankles to her
throat.

Well, mostly covered her.

They’d missed an important area around
her genitals.

“
Trainer. Nano-suit make
sure you not provoke anyone do you catastrophic harm.”

Tilly stared at him uncomprehendingly,
but instead of explaining further, he turned as one of the other
giant aliens entered the room and spoke to the man in their
language.

Then he left.

Tilly stared at the newcomer, feeling
her belly knot.

He stared back at her intently, as if
trying to decide what he wanted to do, but whether she guessed that
correctly or not, there was definitely more to the stare than she’d
anticipated.

The suit she was wearing
…
reacted
—as if
under his mental command.

The area around her breasts tightened
as if her breasts were being squeezed by giant, invisible hands.
After a moment, so quickly she thought, at first, that she’d
imagined it, the tension eased, but then it began again, a milking
sort of motion that was echoed much lower—around her
clit.

The fluttering sensation in her belly
became a strange combination of anticipation and fear that she was
about to experience far more pain than before.

He walked around her, studying her
from every angle.

A tickle joined the milking motion of
the suit, centered directly on her nipples and her clit.

In a few minutes she realized the
repetitions were getting closer together and the tickling was more
of a sizzle.

“
Now you obey every
command immediate—no hesitate, no argue—no run.

“
Nano-suit control you
body—I control nanos. Dis suit control every nerve—all sensitive
places. Can give greater pleasure than you hab ever known—or more
pain. Can make you come—or prevent it—dis way
I
command your pleasure or pain—and
your release. You only come if I allow.

“
You feel pleasure I
commanded?”

She did. She definitely did, but she
was uncomfortable about admitting it—so she lied. “No.”

His expression hardened. “No? Just
no?”

Tilly swallowed a little sickly. She
had a bad feeling that mistake was going to cost her. But how the
hell was she supposed to know that all of them were expecting to be
called master? She’d thought the commander was her
master.

Serious mistake. “No,
Master.”

He considered her for several moments.
“Get on de bunk.”

Tilly’s eyes widened. She hesitated.
She couldn’t help it even though she’d been warned about
questioning orders. Her belly knotting even tighter with nerves,
she lay down on the bunk.

He studied her and she felt the suit
begin to pull at her legs. They were drawn upward and spread so
wide the tendons began to complain. Then she felt the fleshy outer
lips of her sex pulled back, as if by invisible fingers.

He sat on the bunk, stroking one thick
finger along her cleft. “Me I like human female genitals. Much
appeal to me—like bright pink color, soft little petals. Like
taste, as well. Enjoy sucking on it and put tongue inside to
collect the cream almost as much as driving cock dis tight little
ting.

“
You feel de pleasure I
command now?”

Tilly absolutely did not want to admit
she was stimulated by the suit, but it had aroused her to a level
that was becoming increasingly uncomfortable and she was worried he
would make it worse. She swallowed with an effort. “Yes …
Master.”

His eyes narrowed. He tilted his head
to study her. “Me tink I like to taste dis little flower—but the
commander left his seed. You clean for me taste.”

The pull on her legs abruptly relaxed
and she got up. She wasn’t sure whether that was a command from her
own mind, however, or the suit. She felt like a puppet, though, as
she headed toward the bathroom.

He followed her.

She knew he was commanding her every
move when she was drawn down into a wide legged crouch that spread
her entire cleft wide.

Something hot—almost painfully
so—began to pound against her genitals—like a hard stream of water.
She couldn’t believe it was even though it felt wet because she’d
bathed already and the shower definitely hadn’t produced water.
Then the hard jet moved to the mouth of her sex and she felt it
driving inside of her—deeply. Thankfully, it was brief. The air
drying followed—and that was almost worse.

When it stopped, she stood up and
returned to the bunk without volition, lay down and resumed the
position of before—much like before. This time the soles of her
feet were brought together to allow her knees to be pushed outward
further—further than she’d thought she could spread her legs
without unhinging the joints.

The lips of her sex were pulled back
once more.

Her ‘master’ settled between her legs
and began to explore her keenly sensitive genital area with his
mouth and tongue—and teeth.

And all the while the suit continued
the milking motion on her breasts and then began to pull on her
sensitive nipples, stretching and kneading them in a way that sent
alternative sharp jolts of pain and pleasure through her. And while
that intensified, the master licked and sucked and nipped at the
sensitive lips of her sex and her clit until her belly began to
feel as if it was on fire. Tension coiled inside her, tighter and
tighter until she felt fevered, mindless with the ceaseless
bombardment of pleasure.

A moan erupted from her throat when
she felt something thick and hard driven into her, her mind going
wild with speculation—his finger? His tongue?

She didn’t know but it was stroking
her g-spot in a way that set her on fire, that made her feel as if
she would come any moment. She panted for breath, unable to suck in
enough air. She would have writhed with the sensations if she
could’ve moved. All she could do, however, was endure, pant and
moan and groan.

She didn’t come.

She couldn’t.

He stopped, sitting upright so that he
could stare at her face.

“
I leave now. You tink
about rebel and how I do tings to rebel.”

That comment evoked indignation and
fear, but she couldn’t think of anything she might say that would
appease him. If she’d been able to, she would’ve tried.

She wanted to beg him not to leave
when he hadn’t given her the release she desperately needed, but
she couldn’t bring herself to actually do it.

She was almost relieved when he
left—which just went to show that she hadn’t really assimilated
what he’d said to her—any of it.

Her genital area cooled as the
moisture from his probing interest dried.

Nothing else did. She remained
feverish with the heat.

Because she could still feel the
stimulation. It was as if something invisible was suckling her
sensitive nipples and her clit. It went on and on until she wanted
to claw herself to make it stop.

But she couldn’t move. It was as if
she’d been glued to the bunk.

She tried to close her mind to the
pleasure that intensified until it began to feel like
pain.

And just when she thought she couldn’t
stand it anymore and she was going to start screaming, the suit
formed a mask over her face, sealing her into her torture. She
could breathe, but she couldn’t see or hear and she couldn’t open
her mouth to scream.

She couldn’t do anything but moan and
endure and pray for release—or death.

Chapter Five

Tilly was ready to weep with relief
when the torment finally stopped. How long it lasted, she had no
idea. She only knew that it lasted right up until the moment the
suit retracted the mask and she was able to see and hear once
more.

Everything on her body was throbbing
so hard she wasn’t sure, at first, that the torture had stopped.
She could still feel phantom squeezes and pulls as she slowly sat
up and rubbed her aching thighs.

She saw that food had been
delivered.

That, she supposed, was why she’d been
released from her torment.

They didn’t want to starve her to
death. They wanted to keep her alive to torment her!

She was tempted to ignore the food,
but there was no ignoring it. She was starving—proof if she needed
it that her ‘punishment’ had lasted well over an hour—possibly as
much as two or three.

She felt nauseated when she’d taken
the tray and settled on the bunk with it, but she ate slowly and
the nausea vanished. When she’d eaten and drank all she could, she
returned the tray to the drawer and headed into the bathroom to
relieve herself. She studied the shower, but she had no idea if she
could take the suit off since she had no idea how it had been put
on her. He’d just touched the damned thing and it had curled around
her.

She decided she didn’t care if she
couldn’t get it off. She wanted a shower.

And if it short-circuited the damned
thing—oh well!

To her disappointment, she discovered
the shower didn’t seem to have any effect on the damned suit! It
did make her feel refreshed, however, and more relaxed. It banished
the last echoes of the stimulation that had tormented her and
although she was left with a residual shakiness and tension inside
and a vast sense of disappointment because she hadn’t climaxed, she
still felt better.

She lost control of her body when she
stepped out of the bathroom again.

She crossed the room and climbed onto
the bunk and resumed the position of before.

Dismay filled her, but no amount of
resistance had any effect. The suit controlled her as if she was
nothing but a puppet.

The torment resumed, starting lightly,
building until she was on fire with need once more, so tormented by
the pleasurable sensations flooding her that it became more pain
than pleasure. She was so delirious with the chemicals bombarding
her mind that she had no awareness of when she ceased to be alone
until she felt something huge pressing against the mouth of her
sex.

She would’ve jumped if she could’ve
moved.

She would’ve struggled to see what it
was if she could’ve lifted her head, opened her eyes.

She could do none of that,
however.

She could feel the strain of her flesh
increase as the huge thing pressed relentlessly against her.
Despite the moisture generated by the constant stimulation, the
object was so large the skin began to burn as it was stretched
beyond its limits.

She might have screamed if she’d been
able to.

She couldn’t do more than groan,
however, as it was forced inside of her. It drove deep when it had
mastered the flesh resisting its insertion, slamming deep enough to
send pain flying through her. Slowly, it was withdrawn and then it
drove deep again, and then faster it moved out and then in until it
was pounding into her.

And despite the pain, Tilly felt her
body rising toward climax, burning for it until she could hardly
catch her breath.

And yet she never reached the pinnacle
she was striving for. Despite the fact that the pounding went on
and on until she was nearly mindless, it brought her only to the
precipice and held her there until he reached his own crisis and
spilled his seed into her.

She wept when he withdrew and she felt
certain that he’d left. She wept because her body was aching and
throbbing for relief.

She’d been disappointed—quite often
actually—because she’d had sex and almost got off and then didn’t
make it.

She was usually only mildly
disappointed, however, and the discomfort went away fairly
quickly.

The difference now was like comparing
a wave on the beach to a tsunami.

She couldn’t just dismiss it because
her body never completely returned to normal. The stimulation
stopped completely, she discovered, every hour or so and then built
her back up to fever pitch.