by Aubrey Cara
Keeping her gaze averted from the grunting couple, she hurries over to a panel, opens it, and takes out a round container. She practically runs back to me as the pace of wet slapping sounds filling the room grow quicker, and the soft cries of the veran grow louder.
Amused my pet has been raised as a fucktoy but shies away from seeing the act, I follow Xanthia out the door. Dag’s roar of completion echoes down the hall as we make our way to medical bay.
Xanthia presses her hand to a panel before I get there. It glides open, and her shoulders tense as she quickly turns to face me once again. Stepping up behind her, I see why.
“Are we interrupting?” I ask as Fyhn and Ryat disengage from their female, who doesn’t appear nearly as embarrassed at being caught as my female seems to be at doing the catching.
Ryat grins, stepping into his pants. “Yes, but we were just thinking about taking this party back to our ship.”
“Received your intel,” Fyhn says, placidly. “If it’s not a Monrok vessel headed this way, we’d better find out what is. Oh, and the females have collaring chips. You might want to remove hers while you’re in here.” He nods in Xanthia’s direction to make who “her” is clear. “There’s a scanner under the platform.”
Their female slips off the exam table and down to her knees on the floor, her eyes cast down, as if awaiting instruction. Both the Monrok pause as they right their clothes. Fyhn curses, but Ryat chuckles.
“Come on, pet,” Ryat says, scooping her off the floor and into his arms. “Time to get off this boat.”
The pet says, “Yes, master,” at the same time Fyhn complains at Ryat, “You shouldn’t encourage this type of behavior. Bek’a, you don’t have to kneel in our presence,” he says to their pet.
“Yes, sire,” she says. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t make her feel bad for kneeling,” Ryat argues as he carries their pet out the door. “I like her kneeling.”
“She has to be retrained,” Fyhn says, gathering up sacks of nutrient shots as he follows them. “She’s our mate, not our pet.”
“Can’t she be both?” I hear Ryat say before the door swooshes shut.
Xanthia stands off to the side, her gaze lowered, her hands holding the salve folded in front of her. She fidgets, then stills as if catching herself misbehaving. I can tell she also awaits instruction.
“Do you know if there are sanitation wipes in here?” I ask. The exam table needs to be sterilized before I can put my pet up there. I don’t want her lying in another Monrok’s stench. The entire room reeks of sex, making my cock ache with need to cover their scent with mine.
Her eyes come up and then go back down. “No, master. This is a gearan run facility.”
And the gearan are all dead. “Right.” I start rummaging before splitting my vision to see inside the panels and locate what I need. I pull out a cloth and begin wiping down the exam platform.
Xanthia darts forward and stays my hand. “I can do that, master.”
I let her take over the task, enjoying the way her breasts sway and her ass wiggles as she wipes down the platform. When I’m satisfied the surface has been thoroughly sanitized, I pluck the cloth from her hand and cast it aside. Then I untie the silky knot of cloth at her neck and enjoy the way the covering caresses her skin as it crumples to a heap at her feet.
Her nipples are pebbled, and I fight the urge to cup her breasts and spread her thighs this instant.
Remove collaring chip. Administer salve. Then I can sink my cock inside her one last time before taking her back to our ship.
“Up you go.” Lifting my pet, I settle her face down over the exam table, readjusting it so that I can secure her with her ass displayed. I scent a hint of her nervousness as I take the salve from her hand and secure her wrists. “I’ll be taking out your collaring chip, and I don’t want you to accidentally move,” I tell her. But, to be honest, my cock twitches at the sight of her bound and immobile.
Taking out the scanner, I run it over her to locate her collaring chip. Monrok have all sorts of devices built into our bodies, but no medical scanner. At least not for others. Our cybernetics produce internal diagnostics. From my index finger, I shoot a small paper-thin laser beam out to make a small incision on the back of her neck. She doesn’t try to block the pain, nor does she hold back her whimper of discomfort.
“Almost done,” I tell her as I carefully remove the chip from her spine. The cybernetic tech wiggles its little tentacles that seek the nerve ending they’ve been disengaged from. I drop it to the ground and crush it under the heel of my boot.
Tears that I’m sure are from the pain leak from her eyes, but I’m proud of how well she did. Barely moved a muscle. I seal the tiny incision shut and squeeze her ass, in a way I hope she takes comfort from. Picking up the salve, I frown at how angry and red the cut I made still is. “How long does it take you to heal?”
“I’m not sure, master,” she answers, her voice hoarse. “I’ve only been injured once before. It took over a week in medical bay.”
I shake my head and let out a low whistle. That’s a long time for a being to heal. Sometimes I forget how fragile other beings like humans are. Picking up the salve, I move behind her, spreading her knees wide and locking them in place. Not because I think she’ll move, but because I like seeing her restrained.
Spreading her ass cheeks, I smooth some salve around her puffy red hole. I scoop out more, coating two of my fingers as I push them inside to rub against the walls of her passage. She whimpers at first, her muscles straining against her bindings before she settles.
“That’s a good, pet.” I caress her ass as I push the soothing balm deep inside the tight little hole my cock aches to be in. “Does that feel better?”
“Yes, master. Thank you.” Her voice is clear of any tears, and her channel caresses my digits as I pump into her.
I run my free hand over her slick cunt. I trail my fingers down to her bundle of nerves and circle there until she’s mewling and writhing. My cock is already dripping in need when I take it out of the confines of my pants. I smear more of the salve over my length and line up to her tiny little pucker, that has already turned a healthy shade of pink.
Her breath catches as I push into her, my cock head popping through the ring of her anus into the hot clench of her back passage. She strains against her bindings, whimpering. I know she struggles to take my girth, but I don’t scent pain as I shuttle in and out of her snug hole. I feel the moment her body goes pliant, allowing me easier, quick strokes. “That’s a good pet.”
She’s so hot and tight, her body so perfect under mine, my cock is already trying to knot. I pull out until just the head of me is inside her to keep from knotting, and stroke my length until my essence surges out of me in jerks, filling her pretty little fuck hole. When I’m finished, I pop out of her, mesmerized by how my essence leaks out and down over the mouth of her cunt. I can’t help but push a little bit into her there, just to mark a bit more of my territory.
Her clitoris is sticking out at the top of her sex, and I feel bad for leaving my little female in need. I put my fingers to her there and vibrate my hand, making her scream and arch in her restraints. Her cunt hole rhythmically works, and I wish my lifebringer was there, her walls milking my knot.
Pleasure comes off her in blinding waves, and her arousal leaks out, coating my fingers. I let her crest once more before slowing my movements to a gentle caress. Then I pick up the salve and put more in the hole that I just worked back to a swollen puffy state.
“Why don’t you have any piercings like some of the other pets?” I ask, eyeing her bare sex.
She hums in reply, and I chuckle while undoing her bindings and helping her sit up. She’s languorous and weaving, and I have to steady her. I ask my question again, and lean her up against my chest where she cuddles into me like a little zepka.
“I haven’t been with the king long enough. You have to be in service to him for at least five years before he lets you wear hi
s jewels.”
My brows pull down in confusion. “I thought you were raised here?”
“I was.” Her voice is sleepy. “This is the only life I’ve ever known.”
I sense no deception on her part but still do not understand. “All my sensors tell me you’re a flesh and blood human. The only alterations you have are aesthetic. How are you a fully developed female, yet have only known this life for a few solars? Where were you before?”
She tilts her head, and blinks up at me. “The king’s stables. That’s where the king keeps all his livestock.”
“There are more females?” My mind reels over the implications.
Her smile dims a little at my question. “Yes, of course…but out of all the females in stasis, the king picked me himself. Just like you chose me, master.” My little pet preens a bit likely trying to remind me of her worth, as if she hadn’t just blasted me in the chest. My cybernetics have to even my pulse that has spiked with this news.
“Were there many females?”
“Oh, yes. A whole big room, bigger than this ship,” she boasts.
“That is impressive.” I smooth the hair away from her face and stroke her cheek, petting her like I would a tiny zepka, fighting my desire to snatch her up and demand answers. Most of my questions she likely doesn’t have the answers to, so I start with the most important one. “Where are the king’s stables located?”
She shrugs her shoulders. “I don’t know.”
“Do you remember anything? Did you go outside? Was it dark? Warm? Lots of vegetation?” I intentionally describe Mehcad. It wouldn’t be past the realms of possibility that the king has a contingent of females hidden on the moon planet where we Monrok are created. It would make sense.
Her brow wrinkles. “I don’t remember much, but it was dark and very cold. The gearan had wrapped me in thick coverings to take me to the transport.” Her eyebrows go up like she just remembered something. “And there’s something wrong with the air there. They made me wear a face mask that cut into my cheeks. It was very uncomfortable.”
I think of what planet or moonstation that could possibly be, while I pick up Xanthia’s covering from off the floor and wrap it around her, tying it behind her neck.
She stays my hand before I pull away, looking up at me in concern. “Are you displeased with me, master?”
“Of course not, pet. Quite the contrary. I am very pleased.” Humans are such sensitive creatures. I must remember to praise her after she has performed well. “There are many of my Monrok brethren who will be pleased with you.” Fitting my hands around her slim waist, I pick her up, set her on her feet, and tweak her nose.
Her eyes go wide. “Must I service all their cocks, master?”
“No.” I pause, realizing her misunderstanding. A rage momentarily hazes my vision at the thought of another Monrok touching her. “The only cock allowed near you is mine.”
“But you said—”
I slash a hand to quiet her. “They will be pleased to learn the king has a stable full of human females out in our galaxy.” Whether or not they can be found, and who runs the facilities that house them is yet to be determined.
“Well, most of them are female…and human,” Xanthia says, making me pause again. I shake my head to dispel all the questions I have for her. Later. I can ask her and the other pets later. We’ve lingered too long as it is.
I take her hand and drag her out into the passage the second the door glides open. “Put your cocks away. It’s time to go,” I shout and bang on doors as I pass, unsure where everyone is located.
I snatch up my space-resistant jacket and fit it on my pet just as my crew comes down the hall in different levels of dress. Their naked pets all gather round Xanthia, running their hands over her covering and giggling. The jacket looks absurd on her falling nearly to her knees.
“Make sure to put the jackets and helmets on the pets before we cross over,” I tell the other Monrok. It’s more important that they’re more protected than us, should anything go wrong crossing over the airlocks.”
There are murmurs amongst the females about leaving. Some are excited, and others express dismay. The veran stands back by Dag, subdued. I have a moment of trepidation about taking them back to our vessel. The pets are spoiled, pampered creatures. There’s no doubt in my mind we would all be much more comfortable traveling in this vessel, but the only defense this ship has is a shield, and it’s not equipped for maneuvers.
I scan the area and frown. Where are Ren and his pet?
Xanthia
“May I have coverings like Xanthia’s, Master?” Trina asks her light-haired keeper. He scowls at my master before looking down at her his features softening the barest bit. “Maybe. I prefer you naked.”
Everyone has gathered to “cross over.” I’m beginning to get a squirmy feeling in my belly, and my heart is racing with nerves. The veran told me I was going to get a new Monrok master and travel to unknown places, but, now that it’s time to leave, I want to run to my chambers and hide away. I know I belong with master, and it’s my duty to go wherever he wants me to go, but I guess I never really imagined leaving the ship.
“Are we coming back? After we see your ship?” I ask my master and pull on the collar of the jacket he has put on me. It’s heavy and overly warm.
“No. You’re done with this place,” he says with finality before he snaps a disk over my ear that shuffles out to cover my entire head. I squeal when it conforms to my skull, suction thingies attaching to my temples.
A voice says in my head, Human female, Zapexian language cognitive recognition.
“Hello?” I reply, looking around me in confusion as a hand on my back pushes me forward.
“Hello!” “Hello.” I get as reply in my ear, in voices I recognize. I turn my head, and Yana and Trina wave at me, the taller girls looking strange in their helmets. I touch my own head, wondering how I look. They both make funny sounds that come in as disembodied noises, giggling, and I join in. We can communicate through our helmets.
We enter the airlock, Trina and Yana holding hands in front of me, still making noises and giggling. They start singing “Going to the Monrok ship, Monrok ship, Monrok ship,” over and over, alternating who sings “Monrok” and who sings “ship,” as they bop in place. I sometimes envy their closeness. They’ve always had each other. They’re fortunate; it doesn’t appear like their masters plan on separating them.
Entering the dark space connecting the other vessel drains some of my levity. The floor is cold on my bare feet, and I look around me for my master. Once I find him, I take his hand. He stares down at me, his face an impassive mask, and I hope I have not displeased him. The king did not like clingy pets.
I should release his hand. My master seemed far too interested in learning more about the other females at the king’s stables. I do not want to be replaced and handed off to another master. I like this one. He doesn’t hurt me any more than the king did, and he’s fine to look at. He licks my cunt and has given me more pleasure in the short time I’ve known him than the king did in my entire lifetime.
I loosen my grip on his hand, but he tightens his on mine. I try to yank away in a panic. He gives me a censorious look just as the hatch doors open.
There is a dark-haired Monrok I recognize at Bek’a’s new master already standing in the doorway from the other side, wearing a grim expression. “Hurry,” he says. “There’s a ship fast approaching. It’s Ko’sars. Fyhn fucking took a scout craft out to create a diversion.” He doesn’t sound pleased by this.
“Is he suicidal?” my master growls, making me shiver.
The dark-haired Monrok’s fists are clenched so tight, I swear I hear his knuckles crack. “That’s what I asked him, just before he took off,” he says between gritted teeth.
“I guess we’ll just have to create a bigger diversion,” says Vera’s master.
“What are you thinking, Dag?” my master asks.
“I’m going to hang back,” Vera�
�s master, Dag, says. “I have a plan. You just make sure to disengage and get well away from here. Until death releases you.”
“Until death,” the other Monrok masters reply, and a shiver goes down my spine.
Vera moves to follow him back into the ship, but he stops her with a hand to her chest. “Go on with the others. I will see you soon enough.”
My master pushes me forward, but I crane my neck to see Vera. She hesitates. “Don’t stay on this ship, master. Come with us.”
He searches her gaze, as if trying to decipher a riddle, and shakes his head. I’m in shock. I yank on my master’s hand to get him to stop. The veran are all knowing. If Vera is concerned, it means she knows something bad is going to happen to her master if he stays behind.
“Go,” her master says, giving her a swift swat on the ass and a shove in our direction.
I jolt forward at a stinging swat on my own ass before I’m thrown over my master’s wide shoulder.
Once on his ship, I don’t have time to look around before he’s removing my helmet. He doesn’t even have the heavy jacket off me before he tosses me over his bent leg and spanks my ass in hard stinging strokes. All the other masters are still in the same chamber removing their pets’ helmets and jackets.
He only gives me around ten strikes, but tears track down my face from receiving a painful reprimand in front of everyone. He stands me up, his grip on my upper arm pinching. “Insubordination will not be tolerated. Is that understood?” he says to the room at large.
All the pets nod, their eyes wide, but the Monrok seem unfazed as my master drags me through the chamber and out into a long passage.
I don’t ask where we’re going but lower my gaze and hurry along beside him on my tiptoes to lessen the pressure on my arm. Worry for Vera and her master follows my every step. If there is anything I have learned in my short existence, it’s if Vera is upset or worried, we should all be. Even the king listened to the veran.