The Commander's Slave (3 page)

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 directions 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 since
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.