by Ava Sinclair
And listening to all of this was Phaedra, who sat just behind her master as he spoke. Her position raised eyebrows, and she silently wondered if her presence would be seen as frivolous. But then she realized the strategy in her appearances when he began to point out that even in the wake of budget cuts, the upper class was bringing in pets for their own amusement.
“It’s a sad statement on what we’ve become that I would not be standing before you today were it not for my pet,” he said. “Do you not see? These slaves serve two purposes—amusement for the rich but a distraction for you. What did it take for you to listen to my message? Sound reason? No. None would listen until I had sufficiently proven my mastery over a creature whose back I could snap like a branch.” He paused, the audience soberly silenced by his truth as they looked at the small female seated behind him.
“My fellow Traoians, we deserve a society that benefits us all! Why should some have pets but not others? If the elite enjoy such a privilege, should not the working class? But that will not happen if we continue our excursions into distant parts of the galaxy, where we are already finding more difficult opponents, more savage opponents. On present course, we may soon find ourselves slaves to another race. And for what? For what? For expansion? For greed? For more of what we already have, or in quest of what we may discover we want? We seek to control distant worlds even as we lose control of our own. I say ‘no more!’ Let us strive for a peaceful, prosperous Trao, where all are equal!”
Not since the arena had the crowd reacted as they were reacting now. The roar was deafening, and the sound followed them out of the hall. Bron had a meeting with some of the military advisers next, and as they departed people reached out to touch the general as he passed.
But someone else reached for him, too. Phaedra had seen Senator Flavius Rue on several occasions, and recognized him as one of Bron’s biggest supporters. Since the assembly, Bron had divulged bits and pieces of his path from soldier to politician, and she knew Senator Rue had convinced her master not only to run, but to take a pet as a political commodity. But now the paunchy face of the older politician looked concerned.
“A word before you go, general?” he asked.
Bron looked down at the senator. “I suppose I have time. Come, Phaedra.”
She followed him through a side door. Inside, Flavius Rue’s pet, Lliana, reclined on a colorful pillow, the collar around her neck tethered by a slim chain to a hook in the wall. She’d not been at the speech, and sat up and stretched as the group walked in.
“Lliana has sweets and playthings. You can amuse each other while we talk.” the senator said to Phaedra, and she was struck by the condescension in his tone. She knew it was not meant as a slight; this was how most owners talked to their pets, and once again emphasized to Phaedra the stark differences between her master and others.
It was with reluctance that she obeyed, joining Lliana, who was enjoying a sweet, sticky fruit served on Trao X39 as she fixed her attention to a broadcast on a small InfoBoard by her cushion. Phaedra pretended to join her, but instead trained her ears toward the conversation taking place between the males.
“You risk much with your populist line,” Senator Rue was saying as he poured and offered Bron a drink, which the general waved away. “Promising to make all equal, to give them the same access to pets… it will win votes, but you’re making some people nervous.”
“How so?”
“Well,” Flavius laughed, and took a sip of his drink. “They’ll get angry when we don’t come through.”
Bron paused. “And why shouldn’t we?” he asked. “I’m not out there to simply win votes, Flavius. I fully intend to cut back on the military excursions, to empower more people. And while I do not favor slavery, we both know if the elite are to have pets, we cannot keep them exclusively to ourselves.”
“And why not?” Flavius was angry now. “Those of us who worked to get where we are should enjoy the benefits of our stations! We who backed you, Bron, did so to stop the halt of military expansion that empowers our opponents, not to strip us of the benefits of our rank.”
Bron turned, ran a large hand through his thick black hair and then turned back, angry.
“Will you listen to yourself, Flavius?” he asked, his voice dripping with indignation. “Your station? You were put here by Traoians, to serve at the pleasure of Traoians! And now you warn me against protecting a system that fosters the elite taking slaves while people go hungry?” He paused, shaking his head in disappointment. “I thought you advanced my candidacy for the people, but it seems to me that you are more interested in seeing influence with the military simply shifted from one group of senators to the other.”
Flavius was raising his hands now, trying to calm the general, but Bron would not be calmed, and took a step toward the portly senator as he continued. “Let me make something very clear to you, Flavius. I will continue to remind Traoians that we are their servants, not their masters, and that any male who works hard and prospers will have the same opportunities and benefits as the ruling class. We will not hoard the spoils of our success for ourselves. We will not set ourselves apart, and I will not lie about my goals to you or to the public. Do you understand?” He stepped back. “If you thought you were getting a puppet with military sway you could use for your benefit, you were sorely mistaken, senator.” He bowed low in what seemed to Phaedra to be a mocking gesture. “Good day, Flavius.”
Bron was quiet as he entered the pod.
“He was very angry.” Phaedra allowed herself to make the observation as they entered they were seated. “He tried not to show it, but I could tell.”
“I’m sure he was.” Bron’s voice was tight. “He thought me a pawn and is finding out otherwise.”
“Do you think he’ll turn on you?” Phaedra asked, concerned.
Bron smirked. “No. I have the support of the people now. If he speaks against me, he only hurts himself politically.” He gave a bitter laugh. “It seems that he has more in common with Primus than he ever realized.”
Phaedra considered this.
“Master,” she asked. “You said you originally didn’t want a slave. If you come to power, will you free us?”
She could not read his expression as he answered, “Would you want to be freed?”
Phaedra was sitting across from Bron. Now she moved from her seat and sank to her knees on the floor between his legs. She shook her head as she looked up and answered. “No. I never thought I’d feel this way, and I’d never want to see anyone enslaved who didn’t want to be. When I think of Dakara’s life, I am so sad for her. But life with you? My life of submission to your will? Never did I think I could be so happy or complete.”
He smiled down at her. “When I am senator, I will work for laws that allow Traoians to take their pets as mates.” He took her chin in his huge hand and looked into her eyes. “And I will take you as mine.”
Phaedra put her hand over his as she returned his gaze. “I will still remain your slave,” she said. “Mate or pet, you’ll always own me, my master general.”
He pulled her onto his lap, and she straddled him, her pussy already slick as he worked her down until she was snugly seated on his huge cock. As the pod moved along, he worked her up and down on his shaft, absorbing her little moans and cries with his mouth.
Bron lasted longer than other men, but for Phaedra, it still felt too soon when her tryst with Bron was over and her master released her to Matron Sharad for her weekly grooming. It was a regular routine, leaving her with the matron when he had meetings with military leaders to discuss current campaigns or shaky alliances.
Matron Sharad, as always, was happy to see Phaedra. After her initial coolness following the bad publicity Phaedra had received, the matron had done a complete shift once the general’s pet had attended the now-famous assembly that had turned the political tide for her master.
After a week of being used nightly by her insatiable master, Phaedra was ready to relinquish herself to th
e matron’s chambers with their warm fragrant baths, body rubs, and rich foods. Part of the treatments included something similar to a hot stone massage on Earth, only these stones hummed, sending waves of warm vibration down into Phaedra’s muscles. It was her favorite part of the experience, and as she lay on one of the tables, she thought again how fortunate she felt to have—at least—found her way to a good master who pampered her. Yes, he punished her when she disobeyed, but even that was, she decided, becoming a source of security. Augustus Bron was genuine in his motives and motivations, and she found comfort in her new, well-ordered life.
“Comfortable?” Matron Sharad had entered the room with a tray. On it were some of the sweet cakes that she knew Phaedra adored, along with a drink that looked like a milkshake.
“Yes,” Phaedra said lazily, sighing as she breathed in the chamber’s perfumed air. “It’s quiet in here today, though; that’s unusual.”
The matron smiled. “It seems that many of the pets were otherwise occupied. More time for you, though, little one. You have me all to yourself.” She began to move the stones. “Here. Sit up. I have a treat for you.”
Phaedra reached for a wrap as the matron brought the tray over.
“We’ve tried to replicate something I read is a delicacy on your Earth… choc-o-late?”
Phaedra smiled, delighted. “Delicacy? More like a staple, especially for Earth women. It’s the one thing about home that I do miss.” She picked up the shake and took a sip, then closed her eyes. It had been prepared to perfection, and she almost shuddered with delight at the creamy flavor.
“So you like it here, do you?” Matron Sharad picked up a towel and draped it over her arm.
“Yes,” Phaedra said, stopping to suddenly yawn. “I was scared at first, and lost. But the general… he is so good to me.”
“Yes. I expect you will miss him when you go.” The matron was staring at her now, and Phaedra, feeling suddenly fatigued, wondered if she’d misheard.
“Miss him?” she asked.
“Yes,” Matron Sharad said. “When you’re taken to the breeding colonies on Savusia.” The matron turned. “Dr. GilAman, I think she’s almost ready.”
At that moment, the wall nearest her seemed to move, and a shape emerged. In the back of her increasingly foggy mind, Phaedra remembered the day that the Savusian doctor had seemed to appear suddenly in the room. Now she realized that then—like now—he’d been there all along. He was able to camouflage, and the talent would have fascinated her if she weren’t terrified by what she already knew about the Savusians. She felt herself helplessly slump down onto the table, and struggled to keep conscious as the two faces looming above her.
“Why?” she managed to say.
“It’s quite simple, really,” the matron said. “Senator Flavius misjudged your noble general. We all did. Usually, the trappings of the elite class are enough to sway anyone into supporting the system as it is. Your general, however, was not to be corrupted, not even after living rough on the sands of other planets without female succor. Those in power are happy to serve the lower class, so long they are reaching down to them, not out. They must remain elevated, and as a status symbol, human pets are the embodiment of status. From a personal standpoint, if everyone had a pet, then the competition for my services will be ferocious.” She paused. “I can’t have that, little one, so I was happy to assist in your removal.”
Phaedra tried to sit up, but her limbs felt like heavy weights. She was still aware of her surroundings, but too fatigued to move now, or even to call out.
“I’ll raise alarm when you’re gone. Later, when I’m interviewed, I’ll tearfully tell how you struck me and escaped, saying before you did that you’d rather die than belong to General Bron, who forced you through terror to release on command. You’re far too fine a specimen to kill; we’ve found a female of similar build from a recent shipment and have already put her outside; she’s unrecognizable now. Her death was much as we’ve seen with other escaped humans; first they asphyxiate and then the toxins they’ve inhaled burn them from the inside out. But that’s to our advantage, since the charred corpse will pass for you. You’ll join the Savusian breeding colony, where you’ll make lovely babies to populate the planet that your master helped conquer, then befriend.” Phaedra’s eyes followed the matron’s gaze to Dr. GilAman.
“See, little one,” the alien doctor said. “Matron Sharad is not the only one who can pretend to be loyal.”
Phaedra made one more attempt to cry out at the coldly delivered statement, but the one word she sought to utter, “Master,” would not come, and a single tear escaped each eye before they closed in her oblivion.
Chapter Thirteen
She slept for most of the journey, but was brought back to consciousness by a puff of something under her nose. GilAman had helped her up as he coldly informed her they’d reached her destination, and advised her not to fight.
If Trao X39 had become something of a paradise, Savusia was a living hell for Phaedra. The only benefit that she could surmise was a breathable atmosphere, although the air was acrid as GilAman ushered through double doors into a huge structure.
The first thing she noticed was the women. Earth women, much like her, only not as pretty and certainly not as well groomed. They wore shapeless gray shifts as they were led or prodded from one point to another. Some were obviously pregnant.
A breeding barn, Phaedra thought once she was inside, for it was much like one, except it was made of some sort of metal and stone rather than wood. Cubicles lined the walls, each with two or three beds. They were arranged around what looked like a central arena, where cringing females from Earth and other planets were being stripped and assessed.
Gone were the gleaming surfaces, the glowing lights, and sophisticated instruments. It was clear to Phaedra that Savusia, while obviously adept at human abduction, lagged behind Trao X39 in both culture and technology. The females here were not handled like prized pets, but livestock. Phaedra found her eyes drawn to a full-figured human woman with ebony skin, wide hips and large, high breasts. She was fighting the Savusian who tried to examine her. Phaedra winced as the woman was hauled to what looked like a large X, bound to the four points, and lashed with what looked like a glowing wand. The woman’s screams filled the room as the end of the wand turned into a glowing lash that left pale welts on her bouncing buttocks. Her punisher only stopped when the woman went limp in her restraints. Phaedra looked away.
“It must seem shocking after what you’ve been through.” GilAman, who’d not spoken to Phaedra since secreting her off the planet in a ship used for interplanetary ambassadors, was addressing her in the same conversational tone he’d used when he’d examined her. They were in a small room which Phaedra only realized was some sort of elevator when it began to move.
“Bron trusted you,” she said flatly. “How could you do this to him?”
“Trust. It’s your master’s weakness.”
She shook her head. “If you hate him so much, why did you save him?”
A shadow of a smile crossed GilAman’s beautiful, angular face. “Because since he conquered my people and forced our alliance, I’ve realized the only way I would ever avenge Savusia was with the unwitting trust of one of its strongest leaders. And who is stronger than your general?”
“But he never wanted to conquer you. Or anyone!” Phaedra felt tears forming in her eyes as she continued. “An army only does what it is told!” She paused. “So what will you do now? Go back? Bask in his despair? That’s a cruel revenge…”
GilAman moved his hand over a panel in the wall and the elevator stopped. For a moment, he studied her before quietly continuing.
“You think stealing you is my revenge?” He shook his head. “Oh, foolish little creature. Your abduction was simply a distraction. My revenge is not against just your master, but against all of Trao X39. As all conversation turns to your attempted escape and untimely death, attention will be diverted. The bickering, the specula
tion, the sensationalism… No one will ever find the device until it’s too late.”
Phaedra felt a sudden queasiness at his words. “Device?”
GilAman stepped forward, his long fingers stroking her jawline. “Yes, sweet little human. Trao X39 will be destroyed. My expertise is not just in medicine. Long moons ago, I was head of munitions for my army. When I’ve been returning to Trao X39 with human cargo for the elite pet trade, I’ve also been returning with materials for a powerful explosive I’ve planted under the floor of my medical suite. It’s centrally located in the complex, and when it goes off after roughly five of your Earth days, it will assure the complete destruction of the leaders and at least three quarters of the population. We’ll arrive to clean up the rest.”
Phaedra shook her head. “No….”
“Now, now, little one… don’t cry. I’ve saved you, you see… What use will you be to a dead man on a dead planet? Your future is here.” He moved his slim, cool hand down to Phaedra’s waist. “As my mate.”
“No!” Phaedra said more forcefully this time, pulling away and moving to the other side of the small cubicle. “I’ll never, ever, ever be your mate, GilAman.”
“You have no choice,” he said coolly. “All these years of assuring the survival of my species using female humans to carry our young, and I have yet to assure my own prodigy. But the moment I saw you, saw your capacity, your ripeness… that’s when I knew it was time to implement my plan.”
He reached for her and with a cry, Phaedra attempted to evade him again, but this time GilAman caught her. She closed her eyes as his mouth moved to her ear.
“Other Earth females are impregnated in the lab, but I plan to couple with you personally. After all, I know what brings you Earth creatures pleasure. That thing you humans call a ‘cock’…?” He gripped her hand and forced it down until Phaedra was touching what felt like two thick ropes under his robe. “We have two,” he said. “They move and thrust on their own. I look forward to probing you in ways your limited general never dreamed of doing. You are ready for me, little human. I can tell. My seed will take root in you. Within three of your Earth days, you will be ready to conceive my child.”