The Commander's Slave (4 page)

“
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.

She shook her head.

It was improbable, but not unheard of.
Tangus had lots of contact with people who had suffered trauma
after a life-or-death event. He knew it did strange things to the
mind. Pressuring her was probably the worst thing he could do at
this stage.

“
So you crash-landed on
Helson V? Not a very good choice, I’d say.”

“
No,” she
agreed.

“
Well, if you don’t have a
name, I suppose I’ll have to give you one.”

“
Give me …?”

“
What else would I call
you? ‘You there’? ‘Woman’? ‘Personal slave’ has a nice ring to it,
but I don’t think it would be very useful outside these
quarters.”

Of course. Lest she forget exactly
what her circumstances were, she should bear in mind that this man
had paid money, a lot of money, for her.

“
How does Asha
sound?”

Asha? She rolled it around her mind a
few times. Asha. It wasn’t a bad name, soft, soothing. She supposed
it would do until her own memory returned. She nodded but said
nothing, and Tangus looked satisfied.

“
Good. Asha it
is.”

She returned to her meal, finishing it
before finally voicing the question that had been haunting her.
“What do you want with me?”

He, too, laid down his dining
utensils, taking his time to fill their glasses with a light wine
before answering.

“
Considering how we spent
the afternoon, I thought that would be obvious.”

“
You said ‘slave’ before.
Is that what I am to you?”

Again, it wasn’t the words but the
tone in her voice that set him on edge. As if she was somehow
superior to him, and she knew it.

“
When a man pays good money
for a piece of flesh and then commands it to pleasure him, more
people than not would say that’s a slave.”

She turned her face away but not
before he saw a flash of anger cross her features. He was surprised
to find himself amused.

“
Finish your wine,” he
instructed softly, a sudden vision overtaking his other
senses.

“
I don’t think
….”

“
I said, finish your
wine.”

Asha already knew that tone of voice.
With trembling fingers, she lifted the glass and emptied it,
sending the liquid’s light bubbles coursing down her
throat.

“
Shall we attempt a
dessert?” he suggested, tugging her to her feet and pushing her
back. She retreated, step by step, until she felt the wall at her
back. But he still kept advancing, skimming the sides of her body
with his hands, cupping her buttocks, pressing himself against
her.

“
You need to understand one
thing, Asha,” he whispered harshly. “I bought you, and now I own
you. Whatever I tell you to do, you do, willingly and obediently.
Do you understand?”

She felt his hardness grind against
her, and by the Gods, she wanted him again. “Yes,” she
breathed.

“
Until I’m through with
you. Until I’ve taught you every trick to pleasure me.
Understand?”

“
Yes.”

“
We continue your lesson,”
he ground out. “No hands.” And he pulled her back to the bumpy
platform. Only instead of pushing her down onto its firm surface,
he instructed her to kneel while he secured her hands above her.
Then, after stripping off his pants and kneeling on the platform
himself, he took her head between his hands and kissed
her.

There was nothing gentle about the
kiss. It was a sign of conquest, of domination, making sure she
completely understood exactly how helpless she was. His hot tongue
thrust into her, and his hands held her immobile while he explored
every inch of her mouth. When he withdrew, both of them were
breathing heavily.

His hands moved down to her breasts in
deliberate movements, and he watched her face as he stroked the
erect nipples with his palms, tracing a circular
pattern.

“
Does that feel good?” he
asked, his dark eyes glittering in the semi-darkness.

She couldn’t help herself as she
pushed against him. “Yes.”

“
Would you like more?” He
caught the nubs between his fingers, squeezing them.

“
Oh yes,” she shuddered. Of
her own volition, her legs parted, sending out their own message to
him.

He bent his head and took one nipple
in his mouth, grazing it lightly with his teeth. She cried out and
her body jerked a response. Then he did the same with the other
nipple. When he used one hand to stroke the inside of her thighs,
he wasn’t surprised to find them moist with her own lubrication.
Virgin she might have been just a few short hours ago, but she had
also quickly developed into a highly-powered sex-machine. And for
the moment at least, she was entirely his.

He unfurled himself onto the platform,
slipping between her open knees, his cock purple and rigid. Then,
slowly, savoring every moment, he brought her down on
him.

It was wonderful. The heat from her
pussy enveloped him in stages, sheathing him in tight, hot elastic
until he was buried inside her to the hilt. He couldn’t help the
groan that escaped him as he felt her pulse against his length.
Truly, he could spend the rest of his life in this position, with
this woman, and not regret a moment of it. Already he could feel
himself starting to spasm, a masculine counterpoint to her
movements.

With another groan, he lifted her
slightly away, then brought her down on him again, watching as her
breasts bounced with the movement, wishing he had four hands: two
to guide the erotic thrusting and another two to fondle those firm
golden globes. The mere thought of it was enough to send him over
an already precarious edge, his own hips lifting off the platform
while he plunged deep within her and cried out in pleasure. With
thrust after thrust, he gripped tightly at her waist while he
emptied himself, throwing his head back in primeval
pleasure.

When the spasms died away, he took a
shuddering breath and relaxed his muscles. During his orgasm, his
hands had moved down to her hips, gripping them tightly. He relaxed
them, too, moving them around so they could stroke the cheeks of
her buttocks, then he looked at her, swaying above him. Her breath
was still tortured from exertion, and a sheen of perspiration
covered her body. With her arms restrained above her, he had time
to appreciate the slim, muscular lines of her body with its tonal
gold shadows stroking her arms and breasts. Whoever Asha really
was, she obviously took great care maintaining her body.

With one hand, he stroked the
underside of her left breast. Magnificent. Even moments after his
release, he wanted her again.

He was tempted to keep her in this position, to go to sleep
while still inside her so the vision of her body stretched out
above him, the feel of her legs straddling him, was the last thing
he saw and felt before he slept and the first thing he woke up to.
He had figured out enough of the workings in the room to know that
the
Strike’s
past owner, unfortunately now
deceased, was more of a connoisseur than a brute in his sexual
dealings. The filaments could keep their victims in position for
days, allowing them limited movement after a time, but reapplying
the configured tension when their programmed master made the
appropriate movement and sound. At the most she would be mildly
discomfited, more annoyed than physically harmed.

Tempting ....

With a sigh, he lifted her and slid
off the platform, stretching to release her wrists from the
filament’s thick supple cuff.

“
You may want to clean up,”
he suggested, watching as she rubbed her wrists, although he noted
that there wasn’t a mark on that clear skin of hers. “Then get some
rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He paused to pick up his discarded
pants and the tray and left her without a backward
glance.

Chapter
Three

The vision of her was the first
thought that entered Tangus’ head when he woke the next morning.
Perhaps he had dreamed it all, an extended carnal fantasy created
by a mind denied sexual release for--by the
Creator--years!

He glanced at the door. No, that was
no dream. She was really in the next chamber. His very own sex
slave. His revenge on the self-righteous Fusion. Something pulled
at him and he rose and took a step toward the door. He had had a
good night’s sleep, the first in months. What better way to
celebrate than to engulf himself in her hot wet core again? He
could imagine her still emerging from sleep, soft and pliant, while
he ravaged her body ruthlessly, licking and nibbling at her with
his tongue, forcing his fingers into her, emptying himself into
that luscious mouth while she whimpered and struggled beneath him.
He would teach her to look at him with those large amber eyes while
he came, to cry out his name and beg him to take her in every way
possible, to fondle and pleasure him while the perspiration formed
on her body and trickled down between her breasts....

“
Enough!” Tangus slammed a
hand against the wall, using the sudden pain to help rein in his
thoughts.

There was a panel which displayed what
was happening in the chamber next door. Tangus was determined not
to use it. Stiffly, using every ounce of self-control he had, he
ignored the blank screen set into the wall and moved to the
bathroom cubicle.

“
Shower, needle, cold,” he
directed and withstood the icy needles with gritted
teeth.

This was no way for a commander to
behave. He had already disregarded his duties with alarming
alacrity the day before, and he was determined it wasn’t going to
happen again. He stopped the shower, dried, then stepped out and
began dressing with deliberate care.

The Fleet--
his
Fleet--deserved more than their
leader rutting like an animal in heat. And just because they were
on their way home didn’t mean they were completely safe.

He entered the bridge moments later,
his dark hair slicked back, his expression as forbidding as it ever
was. Of course Daurent was already there, but he rose quickly from
the command chair the moment he spotted his superior.

“
Progress,” Tangus
barked.

“
Status green,” Daurent
reported, but there was a hint of a smile on his youthful face.
“All supplies stored and, ah, purchases tested.”

In all truth, Tangus couldn’t begrudge
his second-in-command a small joke, but he wasn’t going to let it
get any further either.

“
What does our seed
inventory look like?”

Daurent’s lips drooped. “Ninety-three
percent germination failure. We’re working on it.”

“
Damn.”

Once, an eternity ago, Tangus was
merely a Seti commander, a much-decorated war veteran leading the
glorious Second Fleet. All he had to do was outthink his enemy and
keep his men alive. But that was an eternity ago. In this new
reality of scraping and running, keeping his men alive demanded
more than battle acumen. He had to feed and clothe them, provide
shelter and morale. He had to give them hope, and that was one
battle he knew he was losing. And there did not seem to be one
damned thing he could do about it.

He jabbed the intercom. “Cook, send a
light breakfast to the room next to my quarters, access panel
only.” He clicked off the switch. “Daurent, to my ready room.” The
two officers moved to the small cabin that doubled as the bridge
crew’s meeting room.

“
Is all our seed stock
useless then?” Tangus asked bluntly when the door hissed shut
behind them.

“
I wouldn’t call it a
complete failure,” Daurent countered. “A seven percent success rate
is still better than our average. If the analysis from xenobiology
is correct, there’s a chance we’ll harvest enough grain to feed
perhaps the entire population in eight month’s time.”

That should have heartened Tangus but
the ‘population’ Daurent referred to numbered in only the
thousands, a last pitiful remnant of a once-proud species. And the
statement was bounded by so many qualifiers, Tangus knew his deputy
was merely trying to boost his spirits.

He sighed and sat on the edge of the
conference table. “What about the detection technologies we bought?
Any good?”