Dominance and Dissent

by Cynthia Sax

  And she would be his. Need drummed at him. His cock pressed against his body armor.

  “You want to breed here?” He’d studied humans. They normally preferred privacy for breeding.

  His human wasn’t normal. “Yeah, fuck me right here, in front of the crowd. I don’t fuckin’ care.”

  He frowned down at the back of her head. Her tone conveyed she did fuckin’ care.

  Yet her scent communicated she desired him. He breathed deeply. Her body belonged with his. Subconsciously, she realized they were genetically matched, manufactured for each other.

  “Fuck her. Fuck her.” The beings around them chanted those two words.

  Dissent had to be certain. “Female—”

  “What?” She turned her head and glowered at him, her eyes flashing.

  They were a brilliant green. He gaped at her, having never seen a being, human or otherwise, with that wondrous eye coloring. It was the same shade of green as some of the vegetation on the Homeland, according to the footage he’d watched of that cyborg-controlled planet.

  “What are you waiting for?” She scowled.

  Her face was barely visible under the dirt and blood. Her nose appeared to be broken. Her hair was stuck to her cheeks, its color undeterminable. A deep gash opened the skin on her chin.

  “Fuck me.” She used the human phrase. “Breed with me. Do whatever the fuck you want to do to me. Then leave me the fuck alone.”

  “I’m not leaving you the fuck alone. Ever.” He tore at his body armor, jostling her as he removed it. Warm air hit his human-like skin. Excitement and wanting lit his circuits.

  He wasn’t 100.0000 percent certain she wanted to breed with him. Humans, unlike cyborgs, could say things that weren’t true.

  But the urge to protect her, to repair her, was stronger than his doubt. It was more powerful than his desire. He would risk his female hating him afterward to ensure she had a future.

  Because her bleeding hadn’t stopped and her eyes, those unique, beautiful eyes of hers, were turning glassy. She wouldn’t survive in her current state for much longer.

  “You’re damaged.” And that tormented him. She was his and he hadn’t safeguarded her. “I’ll breed with you quickly. That will relay my nanocybotics. They will repair you.”

  The beings around them continued to chant, their voices growing louder.

  “Just fuckin’ do it.” His female’s voice was barely audible.

  He was losing her, the one being he was destined to be with, his sole purpose for living. Panic coursed through him. He drew his female upward until she straddled him.

  Her front was bloodied also. Pebbles pitted her skin, stuck to her generous breasts.

  He had to soothe her pain.

  But first, he had to inflict more agony upon her. “This will hurt, my female.” Regret edged his voice.

  She said nothing, appeared to be past the point of verbal responses.

  Dissent grasped her waist. He strove to be as careful with her as possible yet was unable to avoid all of her wounds.

  The grooves around his female’s lips deepened. She didn’t make a sound.

  He positioned her above his tip, looked at her battered face. Her eyelids were partially closed. Her breathing was ragged.

  Blood streamed over his hands. There was too much of it.

  He had to repair her. That need drove him. He lowered his female onto him, impaling her on his hard cock, filling her tight pussy with that part of him.

  Her breath hitched. Her eyes slightly widened.

  He was temporarily incapable of speech, of reassurance; he could only feel, savor, enjoy. His female was wet, and soft, and oh so very snug around him. The pleasure threatened to shut down his systems.

  Delicate folds touched his base. His cock twitched inside her.

  He met her gaze, saw the stress reflecting in her eyes. “I damaged you.” Shame wrapped around those three words. He’d caused his little female more pain.

  But there was no time to breed with her the way he yearned to—slowly, gently. He couldn’t cover her body with light touches, soft kisses, whisper words of caring against her skin.

  She was dying and he had to save her.

  “I will repair you.” He lifted her until only his tip remained inside her, then dropped her. She gasped. Pressure formed at the base of his simulated spine.

  He lifted his female, dropped her, lifted her, dropped her. His balls ached. His female quivered. Blood bathed his hands. The crowd repeated their refrain, telling him to “Fuck her.”

  Dissent raised her once more and met her gaze. “I would do anything for you, my female.”

  He released her. She fell. Her intimate folds smacked against his base. Her ass slapped his thighs. He let go, roaring his satisfaction. Cum shot from his cock head in a system-straining release.

  She screamed, clenching around his cock, and his pleasure escalated. He hadn’t projected that was possible. He came again and again and again, filling her pussy with his nanocybotics-infused essence, repairing, reviving, pleasing her.

  Nothing in his lifespan had prepared Dissent for the level of ecstasy he experienced while breeding with his female. He shuddered and shook. Energy surged through his circuits.

  His female’s screaming stopped. She sagged against him, her body limp and lifeless.

  Terror lifted his head. He touched her wrists. Her pulse was quick but strong. Her breasts pressed against his chest and then retreated. Her breathing was steady.

  The tension in his form eased. She was alive.

  He carefully eased out of his tiny female, transferred her from one arm to the other as he donned his body armor once more. The crowd, sensing the show was over, dissipated.

  His female didn’t revive.

  She was repairing. The bleeding had stopped. But she would require many more rounds of breeding to become fully functional.

  Breeding would be more comfortable on a sleeping support in the structure obtained for them. Dissent draped his little human over one of his shoulders and rushed at cyborg speed through the settlement.

  The trek was a blur. Monitoring his female’s state was his focus. He relied on his machine to guide him toward the domicile.

  Truth waited for him outside the structure. His nostrils flared as he spotted Dissent. “I told Doc the probability you needed his skills was 1.2569 percent. She’s your female.” The D Model followed him into the tiny domicile. “Breeding with her is the most efficient way to repair her.”

  “That is the best treatment a warrior’s female could receive.” Doc held his handheld up, pointing the device at Dissent’s female.

  Doc’s female, Healer Allinen, did the same. Both of them wore white jackets, communicating they were in their medic roles.

  “Your nanocybotics are multiplying inside her.” Doc confirmed the success of the emergency breeding. “Her specs are stabilizing. I recommend additional transfers of nanocybotics.” The male glanced at Healer Allinen. His eyes gleamed. “That will hasten your female’s repair.”

  Dissent planned to breed with her until she was fully functional. He set her facedown on a sleeping support. “Is she in pain?” His stomach twisted as he processed she might be suffering.

  “Healer Allinen will administer a pain inhibitor.” Doc nodded at the Khambalian female.

  She beamed at her male and hurriedly injected Dissent’s female with a pain inhibitor.

  Dissent was grateful she had performed that task. The possessive part of him didn’t want any male to touch his female.

  It was illogical. Doc was a skilled medic and had his own female. But logic wasn’t driving his processing at the moment.

  “We’ve left cleaning cloths, gauze, and more pain inhibitors on the horizontal support.” Doc gestured at the supplies. “Notify us if her damage doesn’t repair.”

  Doc and his female moved toward the exit. They acted as though their tasks were completed. And they weren’t, not to Dissent’s satisfaction.

 
“You haven’t physically verified my female’s specs.” He frowned.

  Doc was normally annoyingly thorough, performing multiple scans, poking and prodding beings during routine diagnostics. One reading wasn’t sufficient for the medic.

  It certainly wasn’t sufficient for Dissent. It was his female who was damaged.

  “Do you want me to physically verify your female’s specs?” Doc lifted his eyebrows. “That would involve touching her.”

  A growl escaped Dissent’s lips. No male would touch his female.

  Doc grinned. “I projected that response. I will examine her fully once your bond has strengthened.” He paused. “Your female will repair, J Model.” Sympathy reflected in his eyes. “I am 98.6936 percent certain about that.”

  The medic clasped Healer Allinen’s hand and walked through the doors.

  Dissent would improve upon that 98.6936 percent probability by transferring nanocybotics to his female with his tongue as well as his cock. He would lick her wounds clean. And he would suck the pebbles out of her skin. No damage would escape his attention.

  His lips flattened with determination.

  “I’m leaving also.” Truth must have misinterpreted his expression. His friend raised his hands in mock surrender. “Before I look at your female in the wrong way and you test my battle skills.” The D Model grinned. “The miljoonasuut remains in his cage. I placed him in the cleansing chamber so you wouldn’t shock the offspring with your cyborg-human breeding customs.”

  He had a female and a creature to care for, to protect. Dissent’s processors spun.

  “I gathered nourishment and containers of beverage and placed them there.” Truth pointed to the horizontal support closer to the door. “That should be sufficient for a planet rotation or two. Transmit if you require more.”

  “I require a ship.” Dissent gazed down at his female. He didn’t know what her plans were, but he had to transport the miljoonasuut to its home. That remained constant.

  “You know North.” Truth shook his head. “That warrior has a beam stuck up his simulated ass. He is focused on the mission and won’t contemplate any other task until it is complete.”

  Captain’s second-in-command wouldn’t shift from that stance. That part of his programming was set, had been that way since the planet rotation Dissent had met him.

  “Then we complete the mission.” He would do his part once his female’s state was stable.

  “I’ll complete the mission.” Truth sauntered out of the structure, a swagger in his step. “You are to repair your female, you lucky bag of bolts.”

  The door closed behind the warrior, leaving Dissent alone in the main chamber with his female. She whimpered. That hurting sound must have been caused by her emotional damage. The pain inhibitors should have lessened her physical agony.

  It pushed him to take action.

  “I’m coming, my female.” He stripped off his body armor as he moved toward her. “Don’t damage yourself.”

  He preferred that she was conscious for their breeding. That wasn’t possible and allowing her to suffer wasn’t an option. Not when he had the means to soothe her.

  The sleeping support dipped as he climbed onto it, positioning himself behind his female. He gripped her waist, lifting her ass.

  Her legs parted as though in welcome. Wetness glistened on her pink pussy lips. Her musk flavored the air. He drew her scent into him with each breath.

  “You are mine.” He gazed down at her, resolve firming inside him. “Mine to repair. Mine to care for. I will never leave you, never allow anyone to damage you ever again.”

  Dissent thrust, filling his female with his hard cock, solidifying his verbal vow with that physical connection.

  He was never letting her go.

  Chapter Four

  Greer was dreaming.

  She lay on her chest in a brightly illuminated chamber. The surface beneath her was sinfully soft, unlike the hard stone floor she was accustomed to sleeping on. The air smelled fresh. She faced a darkened porthole, had a glimpse of freedom.

  The rest cycle was her favorite shift of the planet rotation. Sleep was a brief escape from reality. Anything could happen in her dreams.

  Like the gentle fucking she was experiencing at the moment.

  It wasn’t unusual for a male to fuck her while she slept. Since ownership of her body had been transferred to Zloy, she often woke with a cock inside her.

  Her self-proclaimed master and his equally cruel cronies didn’t care if she was conscious when they fucked her. She was an object to be used and they took her whenever they had the need.

  But it wasn’t a real male’s cock inside her now. The dream being’s hands were light on her hips. There was no pain. She felt…pleasure.

  Which confirmed it was a fantasy. She never experienced bliss when males fucked her. They bit, slapped, bruised her, and, unable to escape, she was forced to tolerate it.

  Her dream male, in contrast, pressed soft kisses on her right shoulder. He moved over her, slowly, leisurely, carefully. His chest brushed against her back. His cock head pressed against her inner walls. He filled her again and again, coaxing her passion higher.

  Her passion. Fuck. She was no longer an unwilling participant, a being forced to endure a male’s attentions. Her body and her mind responded to the faceless male’s touch.

  She desired this encounter and she wanted him. That was a first for her. Her fingers curled on the sleeping support and her form rocked. She pushed back on him, taking him deeper, never having known fucking could be like this.

  Because it couldn’t be like this. She was dreaming. But she no longer cared. In this moment, with this male, the fucking was real for her and that was enough, more than enough.

  Her fantasy male grunted, thrusting harder. His hips slapped against her ass. There was heat and bliss and no pain. She trembled. A tightness wound around her chest.

  He shifted over her, varying his angle, and she bit her bottom lip, swallowing her moan of appreciation. The contact was exquisite, was too good, too right.

  Her need spun out of control. That scared her. If she cried out in her dream, she’d awaken and she didn’t want that. Not now. Not yet.

  Seeking to regain a hold on her wayward imagination, she clenched down on his shaft.

  “My female.” Her dream lover bellowed.

  He drove forward, stuffing her with unyielding cock. His base smacked against her pussy lips and he exploded, hard spurts of his cum blasting parts of her no other male had ever reached.

  Ecstasy bombarded her. It was pure and extreme and unexpected, and it tore a scream from her lips. She bucked, trying to end that delight, to unseat her dream male. Torment, she could handle. She wasn’t equipped to absorb such joy, such acute happiness.

  Yet he forced her to take it. He caged her with his arms, restricting her movements, as he conveyed more and more of his essence to her. All of her bubbled and fizzed. She shook underneath him—fighting it, fighting him.

  It was futile. He overwhelmed her with good feelings until she collapsed, her arms and legs folding under her.

  She fell. Her face, chest, hips hit the soft sleeping support.

  Her dream male lowered with her, not breaking their physical connection. His breath wafted against her right earlobe. His soothing heat layered over her.

  Her bliss faded. The bubbling sensation inside her didn’t.

  And her male didn’t disappear into nothingness as sometimes happened in dreams. He nuzzled against her neck.

  Her bare neck.

  In her fantasies, she didn’t wear a collar. She was free.

  She rolled onto her back, unseating him. That movement didn’t cause her pain. There were no energy whips or torturous Balazoids in this utopic imagining either.

  There was only her dream male. She gazed up at him.

  He was impossibly handsome…and appeared vaguely familiar. His short, predominantly brown hair was streaked with black strands. His countenance could have
been sculpted from stone. It was that perfect. His skin was golden. There was a letter followed by numbers inked under one of his brown eyes.

  He gazed at her with genuine concern, and her fears about him being real vanished. She was a slave. No one cared about her well-being, not like that.

  And no being she’d encountered could brace himself above her as effortlessly as he did. He was a large male, one of the largest she’d met. His shoulders were broad. His hips were narrow. He was all compact muscle, defined pecs, and bulging biceps.

  Holding that pose would put tremendous strain on his arms. Yet he showed no signs of exertion. His breathing was level. There were no beads of sweat on his skin.

  “Because you’re not fuckin’ real.” Her voice was loud in the otherwise quiet chamber.

  “That breeding was to repair your damage, my female.” The male frowned.

  Dominance and power radiated from him and her body responded to him, her pussy dripping.

  “When you’re fully functional, we’ll fuck, as you call it, for real.” His words held the strength of a vow. “I will please you.”

  That breeding was to repair her damage. She stared at him.

  I’ll breed with you quickly. That will relay my nanocybotics. They will repair you. That was what the stranger in the market had told her.

  Then he had fucked her in front of a cheering crowd. They had all watched as he took her. Yet he had attempted to minimize her pain, holding her as carefully as he was now.

  She had experienced pleasure during that fucking also, had lost consciousness due to the acuteness of it. As the darkness gripped her, she remembered thinking it was a good way to die.

  But she hadn’t died and now she had to live with what had happened. Trepidation filled her as her memories returned.

  The Balazoid had paid Zloy credits to hunt her. The cold-hearted male had chased her through the settlement, finally catching her in the market. He had whipped her until she could taste death, blood flavoring her mouth.

  The stranger, her dream male, had killed her tormentor. He had claimed her, fucked her, now called her his female.