Still, it was often enough, especially with Matmon, who was a skilled surgeon, at her side. Neh’sa felt very lucky that she’d been able to attract him to Yonnie Six in the first place. Her planet certainly wasn’t the most welcoming to males from other places. Or males at all for that matter.
But her head surgeon had seen the need and had been willing to come, for which Neh’sa was grateful. It was important to have a male in charge of the place because anti-female sentiment ran so high, especially in the slave classes.
Of course, Neh’sa didn’t blame the males who came to her clinic for their hatred of females. They were a repressed and subjugated sex and the majority of Mistresses on Yonnie Six had no idea of the proper treatment and care of the submissive male.
Neh’sa had been working for years to try and correct the ignorance and cruelty she saw all around her, but some days she felt like things were going backwards. Like today for instance – with Lady Wraith’neck and her huge Clopsian. What a travesty! What was she going to do about the charges the other Mistress planned to bring against her?
Before she had much time to brood on the matter, they came to the main surgical suite.
“He’s already sedated,” Matmon told her. “He got caught and dragged under the wheels of a carryall. Even if we can save him, his spinal column’s been crushed. He’ll need a permanent stimulator implanted if he’s ever going to walk again.”
“Let’s just worry about saving him first,” Neh’sa said. “And I’ll pay for the stimulator myself if you’ll put it in.”
“Of course I will my Lady.” Matmon made an abbreviated bow and then led the way into the operating suite. “Come – let us save him.”
The boy who lay on the operating table was a street urchin – he wore no collar or bracelets or marks of ownership of any kind. His little legs were twisted and mangled and there was blood so much blood… Neh’sa caught her breath at the sight of it. No matter how many awful injuries she saw, they were always worse when the victim was a child.
“I’m afraid this is going to take a while,” Matmon told her. “If you could please scrub in and stand on the left side of the table. I’ll be working on the right, if you can apply your touch while I do surgery?”
“Yes of course.” Neh’sa nodded quickly and went to the scrubbing station. She quickly scrubbed in and irradiated her hands, getting rid of all germs and bacteria, before putting on a tight fitting set of second-skin gloves and going to stand beside the tiny crumpled form on the operating table.
Matmon joined her quickly. Hooking an OPTi wire loop over one eye and choosing his instruments carefully, he looked up at Neh’sa.
“Ready?” he asked.
Neh’sa nodded wordlessly and closed her eyes doing her best to draw from the reserve of inner strength which she had already used much of today. This was going to be a long night—she just prayed to the Goddess they would be able to save this small life.
Chapter Nine
Thorn knew he should get up and go to bed but somehow he couldn’t make himself do it. A strange lethargy had taken hold of him and all he could do was sink further into the couch and stare at the dying embers of the thistle-fire which burned blue and green and purple as it crackled quietly on the hearth.
His earlier brain fog seemed to have lifted but it had been replaced with so many contradictory thoughts he almost wished it hadn’t deserted him. Again and again his mind went back to the scene in Neh’sa’s training room. The way she’d touched him…taken him…
Gods! Thorn squeezed his eyes closed briefly. He could still feel her in him, stroking him, opening him, making him come. Before this mission, he’d thought of penetration as just another form of torture to be endured. But now…well, maybe it might not be so bad.
Then he thought of the thick black phallus he’d seen Neh’sa wearing in the holo-image Commander Sylvan had showed him of her when they were planning the mission.
Did he really want that inside him?
I can take it if I have to, he told himself grimly.
Yes, but what if his new Mistress somehow got him to want to take it? There was no shame in enduring torture—he’d done it many times. But he’d never begged for it—never opened himself and asked to be taken, asked to be fucked…
Stop it! Thorn told himself sharply. Just fucking stop it! What’s wrong with you anyway? You’re acting like you’re really her body-slave—like you’re here for the long term and you know that’s not true! The ceremony at the Library of All Knowledge is coming up soon. The minute that happens—the minute you get inside and get a copy of the Hive information they have stored there—you’re gone. Greed’lik will be waiting to pick you up and Mistress Neh’sanna won’t have any idea where her precious new slave went. So stop acting like this is forever—it’s not and she’s not. You’ll be back to the Kindred Mothership with the intel before you know it.
The pep-talk should have made him feel better but somehow it didn’t. Nothing seemed to help or to draw his mind for long from what had happened in the training room.
She took me and I let her—I gave it up willingly. Hell, I enjoyed it—best orgasm of my life. What’s wrong with me? What must she think of me? Why do I care what she thinks, anyway?
But somehow he did. Though he had known her less than an entire solar day, Thorn found he cared desperately what his new Mistress thought of him. He felt connected to her as he had never felt connected to any other female in his life. Which was foolish, considering what a short time he’d known her. But still—he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were somehow entwined.
He couldn’t help wondering where Neh’sa was now—with that male who had appeared on the vid-screen? Who was he, anyway? Her lover? Would she take a male lover? She had appeared to speak to him as an equal. But no males were equal to females here on Yonnie Six. So who was he?
Endless questions looped inside his brain and the fire burned down to smoldering embers. Thorn began to feel cold—chilled to the bone—but he had no energy to get up and feed the fire or even find a blanket to put around himself.
Shivering, he closed his eyes and for a time drifted into a thin, uneasy sleep.
He dreamed and saw his new Mistress standing over a bloody table, her eyes closed as she concentrated hard on something. Thorn didn’t know what it was but somehow, in the dream, he knew this was a matter of life and death.
Her hands were emitting a soft, pinkish glow and he knew that if he touched them, he would feel the same healing warmth he’d felt flowing through his own body when she’d bathed and dressed the wounds he’d gotten from the razor-gravel.
The touch, whispered a voice in his head that didn’t sound like his own. She has the healing touch. But when she uses it, she gives of herself and it drains her…
Thorn could see the weariness in her eyes, the hollowness in her lovely cheeks as she poured herself into whatever lay on that bloody table. It was killing her to give so much and yet she kept giving—depleting herself—driving herself to the point of exhaustion and beyond…
Then the scene seemed to change and he saw her on the street—no, in an alley. She was nearly staggering with weariness, all alone in the dark, dangerous place. An easy mark—prey ripe for the plucking for any predator who just happened to come along. Gods, why was she out there undefended?
Because you didn’t go with her! whispered an accusing voice in his head. Because you sat on the couch and stared at the fire like an idiot instead of insisting on going with her, on protecting her!
He woke with a start, worried about Neh’sa. A glance at the expensive indigo crystal chronometer on the wall showed she’d been gone for hours. Was she all right? Why had he let her leave and go into the Goddess alone knew what kind of danger all by herself? He ought to be out there protecting her right now.
Though his body felt stiff and cold, and his limbs didn’t want to move, Thorn forced himself to get off the couch and go staggering towards the door. He would wake up the butler and demand
to know where Neh’sa could have gone. He would go out looking for her himself. He would—
The door opened and Neh’sa wobbled into the room. Her face was gray and her cheeks were hollow—she looked on the point of collapse.
“Mistress!” Thorn’s voice came out in a croak.
“Thorn?” She looked up dully, took a step towards him, wobbled, and started to fall.
With a low cry, he rushed forward to catch her in his arms.
She looked up at him, her eyes dull with weariness.
“Catching me…you’re always catching me.”
“Because you’re always falling,” he growled, but his voice came out hoarse and uneven.
Neh’sa frowned and put a hand on his bicep.
“Goddess, you’re ice cold! What’s wrong with you, Thorn?”
“I don’t know,” he said honestly, too tired to lie and pretend he was fine anymore. “All I know is that I’ve felt…strange since our, uh, time together in the training room.”
“Strange?” Her voice sharpened and some of the dullness left her eyes. “Define ‘strange.’ How exactly have you been feeling?”
Thorn shrugged his shoulders.
“Dazed, hazy—almost drugged. My thoughts are fuzzy but when I do think, all that comes to my mind is you. I was so fucking worried about you, Neh’sa—where did you go?”
She didn’t correct him for not calling her Mistress. Instead she frowned and put a hand to his forehead as though assessing him in some way.
“I should have noticed this before. Goddess, how could I not?”
“Noticed what?” Thorn asked but she only shook her head.
“Put me down. You’re barely strong enough to hold yourself upright—let alone me. I’m not exactly thin, you know.”
“You’re curvy and perfect,” Thorn growled. “And…” His voice dipped a little. “And I don’t want to put you down. Holding you makes me feel better.”
What he didn’t say was that having her touch him—put her hands on him—made him feel better still. Not because she was using that strange, healing magic—the healing touch whispered the voice of his dream—but because her touch to him was like water and sunlight to a plant. Because he craved it—craved just to be near her, to feel her skin against his, no matter how briefly.
Gods, what was wrong with him, thinking like this? This female wasn’t really his Mistress, no matter what she thought. He was a spy on a mission and he would betray her and leave her in a matter of days.
But somehow none of that mattered. Not when he wanted—no needed—to touch her so badly.
“Let me hold you, Mistress,” he said in a low voice, looking into her big, dark eyes. “Just let me hold you for a little while and I’ll feel better.”
She studied his face for a moment.
“Yes, I believe you will. Come on then, Thorn. Take me to the bedchamber and we’ll hold each other.”
* * * * *
The big Kindred carried her into the bedchamber, holding her as lightly as though she weighed no more than a doll. Inside Neh’sa’s head a little voice was shouting that this was wrong—that it was risky. She never let submissives sleep in the bed with her—it was a dangerous blurring of the line between Mistress and body-slave. It was bad training—it would encourage his Alpha tendencies even more—make him want to be more dominant—give him the wrong idea…
Every reason she shouldn’t do this flew through her head like shooting stars and Neh’sa ignored them all.
It’s my fault he’s in this state, she told herself, attempting to shut up the shouting voice of reason in her head. I didn’t give him enough aftercare. I cleaned him up and made him get dressed and gave him the nutrient replacement shake but I didn’t give him any tenderness—didn’t care for him or stroke him or reassure him. Goddess what’s wrong with me? I’ve been a terrible Mistress—a terrible Dominant tonight.
Though the long surgery at the clinic had depleted her inner reserves too much for her to have any of her healing touch left at the moment, she sensed that physical healing wasn’t what Thorn needed from her. No, what he needed was emotional—physical. He needed skin to skin contact—needed it so badly he was shivering and aching for it. She could feel his pain—though the touch power she’d inherited from her mother’s people could be depleted, her empathic senses never completely dulled.
“Help me undress,” she told Thorn. “Then come under the covers with me.”
“Yes, Mistress.” Eagerly, he pulled off her cloak and the clothes she had on under it, baring her skin at last. When Neh’sa was naked, he looked at her in the dim light of the dying fire spilling in from the other room and groaned hoarsely. “Gods, you’re so fucking beautiful.”
“Come to bed with me,” Neh’sa whispered, feeling her breath catch in her throat and her pulse pick up despite her weariness. When was the last time she’d said that to a male? How long had it been? Not for ten long, lonely years—not since Heloth had been alive.
With a hungry growl, Thorn did as she said, lifting the heavy Verru-satin counterpane and sliding them both between the silky, gossamer-fluff sheets. Then he wrapped his big, muscular arms around her and pulled her close, holding her like a drowning male might hold onto a spar in the ocean, trusting it to keep him afloat.
“Oh Thorn,” Neh’sa whispered, putting her arms around his neck and carding her fingers though his hair. He was so big she felt completely surrounded by his muscular body. She could feel his face pressed close to her throat, breathing her in, scenting her as though he was trying desperately to memorize her personal aroma and she stroked his hair and let him do it.
What was it about this male? It wasn’t that he reminded her of Heloth—he was much bigger for one thing and Heloth had been more soft spoken. But there was a feeling when he held her in his arms—a feeling of safety and trust so tender it almost stung her with its sweetness. Her whole body felt like it had been numb for years and was just now coming back to life, tingling like a hand or a foot that has fallen asleep and is prickling with pins and needles as it awakens.
Speaking of coming to life, she could feel the big Kindred’s massive erection pressed against her thighs. Though he still wore the black sleep trousers she’d given him, Neh’sa herself was naked—completely naked and pressed against her new sub—who was also dangerously Alpha. She was acting in a way she had never allowed herself to act before and yet she didn’t want to stop.
“Mistress,” Thorn murmured, his breath hot against her neck. His big body was warming up, now that they were touching, all cuddled together under the covers. Neh’sa could feel life returning to him and it was a good feeling. “Mistress, please,” he muttered hoarsely.
Neh’sa knew what he was asking.
“Here.” She tugged at his head, pressing his face down to her full, naked breasts. “Only this,” she told him breathlessly, her voice panting and uneven as he took one of her nipples into his hot mouth and began to suck eagerly. “Only this and nothing more.”
He looked up for a moment, letting her nipple slide from between his lips.
“Can I touch you? While I do?”
“Touch me…how exactly?” Neh’sa demanded, wishing her breathing would calm down. But somehow it wouldn’t and she just kept sounding more and more breathy.
In answer, his big, warm hands explored her body, caressing from her shoulders down the length of her back, lingering briefly in the dip of her waist before cupping the curve of her ass and squeezing possessively.
“Gods, Mistress I love your curves,” he groaned and then he was sucking her nipples again, tugging hard and nipping gently until sparks of pleasure flew through her body right to the spot between her thighs, which was getting wet, so wet…
Thorn seemed to sense her wetness or maybe he just wanted to touch her everywhere. Before Neh’sa knew it, one big, warm hand was sliding down her trembling belly to cup her pussy.
“Thorn,” she protested and though she meant to use her stern Mistress voice wh
at came out was more like a plea than a condemnation. “Thorn no—you mustn’t.”
“Mustn’t what, Mistress?” he growled softly in her ear. “Mustn’t cup your soft little pussy in my hand? Mustn’t spread your sweet pussy lips and pleasure you?”
“I told you—a body-slave never touches his Mistress’s body—especially not intimately—until she tells him to,” Neh’sa said, trying to sound firm.
“Tell me to, then.” His mismatched eyes blazed down into hers and Neh’sa saw that the lovely golden sparks in them were glowing in the dimness of the room. “Tell me to spread your sweet little pussy and just show you how I’d touch you and pleasure you if you’d only let me.”
“Just…show me?” Neh’sa whispered.
Slowly, he nodded. “Just show you once. I’m supposed to be learning how to pleasure my Mistress, right? Well let me show you how I’d do it.”
Her stomach fluttered and her pussy was so hot and wet it felt like she was pure liquid heat between her legs.
“Yes,” she heard herself whispering. “Yes, all right—but only for a moment. Show me.”
“Yes, Mistress,” he growled softly.
With a nudge from him she parted her thighs and then his long fingers were opening her sex. Neh’sa gave a low, breathless moan as she felt his fingertip—blunt and gentle—stroking over her wet folds and then circling her clit. Then he slid lower and she felt just the tip of his finger nudging into her entrance.
“Thorn!” For a moment her eyes grew wide and she almost drew back.
“What’s the matter Mistress?” he murmured. “Don’t you like penetration?” Why don’t you let me show you how good it can be—the way you showed me?”
“You shouldn’t,” she protested, trying to shut her legs, though not very hard. “I shouldn’t let you. I’m your Mistress and you’re my body-slave—my submissive. This is…this could derail your entire training.”
“Not training now,” he argued softly, stroking up and down, around and around her throbbing clit but always coming back to her entrance. “Not a Mistress and a slave. Just a male and a female holding each other—making each other feel good. Please, Mistress…” He ducked his head to kiss her gently on the lips. “Please let me make you feel good.”
Surrendered Page 11