Nyssa's Guardian

by Reese Gabriel

  Theron fought back his erection. This wasn’t possible. A primale did not get hard against his will and certainly not for the wrong kind of woman. Least of all one whose care was about to be placed under his protection.

  “Well, Primale, are you up for the challenge?”

  Poor choice of words, he grimaced internally. Very poor. “Yes, Ma’am. I will do my best.”

  “Excellent. I shall arrange for you to be settled in with her staff at once. You will occupy a single sleep chamber, naturally.”

  “Ma’am?” The hair on the back of his neck stood up at the prospect of being anywhere near a bed with such an erotically stimulating female. “Are you sure that’s entirely…appropriate?”

  “It’s a matter of security. You are to be by her side night and day, without interruption,” she insisted. “Nothing else will do. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have much to attend to.”

  Theron saluted.

  A moment later he found himself in the corridor, retracing Nyssa’s steps. Let this be a dream, he thought. Let me wake up and find myself in a slag hole, surrounded by hissing Narthian egg-bearers, armed with a single-shot sling ray prone to misfiring.

  Anywhere but with that impertinent fem who had already managed to do something no other female had ever managed, not even the most alluring obedient.

  Namely take full possession of his cock—the mere sight of her tantalizing form enough to leave him wild with primale desire.

  And he was supposed to discipline her.

  Now there was a joke if ever he’d heard one.

  Too bad primales weren’t engineered to laugh.

  Chapter Two

  Nyssa was one of the most popular performers on the grid. Her current role was Vonda in a nightly serial entitled Cutting Passion. Vonda was a bit of a bad girl whose favorite activity was stealing the affections of the various handsome young mems belonging to her fellow fem students at a medical learning center in the imaginary city of Alpha Prime.

  She didn’t mind the show so much. It certainly beat her last role in a historical documentary series called Ancient Horrors. Nyssa had played a pregnant woman—complete with a swollen belly. The very notion of having to carry a human life inside her for nearly a whole solar’s passing filled her with utter disgust. Never had she been so grateful to live in an enlightened world where all females were rendered safely sterile from birth. Babies belonged in tubes, not in stomachs.

  Tonight’s episode of Cutting Passion focused around Vonda seducing Mikal, the current sex-making mate of the lovely golden-haired Lynelia. As usual, naughty Vonda was skimpily dressed, her medical student’s costume revealing substantially more cleavage than that of the others. The hem of her white skirt was also a full inch shorter.

  In the key scene, Vonda arranged for her and Mikal to be “accidentally” stranded alone together in a transport bubble caught midair between the medical campus cylinders and the mile-high floating discs of Alpha Prime.

  Thanks to the technology of the hologrid, which was a combination of three-dimensional digitalization and direct sensorial input, Vonda’s experiences were as real as anything in the natural world. Nyssa’s own emotions and physical presence were themselves a part of the production, which in turn was beamed to grid-sharers across the world.

  Citizens could plug in and then they themselves could share in the character’s experiences. They could take on one or both roles, or simply hover unseen as observers. They could even absorb the program simultaneously from more than one point of view if they were particularly daring.

  Nyssa’s greatness, according to critics, lay in her ability to throw herself completely into her roles. She held nothing back—using her own deepest feelings and passions. Tonight, she would translate her experience with the primale, as well as her ongoing horniness.

  Jolando, the actor who played Mikal, was in for an explosive time, though he did not yet realize it.

  “All clear,” cried the director.

  The lights in the beaming dome came on, signaling broadcast readiness. Within the clear plastic structure, some ten feet in diameter, stood scantily clad Vonda/Nyssa and the handsome Mikal/Jolando in his clingy, white jumpsuit.

  He was not a bad-looking fellow. Curly hair dyed a light magenta, a noble Roman nose, long torso, strong thighs, a very nice ass and the outline of a long cock. A decent specimen overall, but obviously Theron would clean his clock, to borrow an ancient expression. But that was the price to be paid for male sensitivity, she supposed.

  “Action,” cried the diminutive director, hovering in his flying suit.

  At once the beam dome came to life. Lights flashed, the digitizers hummed to life and Nyssa was Vonda, in the transport bubble.

  “Oh, Mikal,” she cried, scooting across the single couch-like seat of the egg-shaped vehicle. “What’s happened? Why have we stopped?”

  “We appear to be stuck,” Mikal pronounced his rather obvious line.

  “I’m scared, Mikal.” Nyssa continued to recite her lines. Fear had made Vonda do strange things in past episodes. In this case, it induced her to unzip Mikal’s jumpsuit and place her palm on his smooth, bare chest.

  The feel of him made her nipples tighten and further moistened her crotch. It did not, however, overwhelm her. She was not losing herself, awash in her femininity, as she knew she would be with the arrogant primale.

  “Vonda, you shouldn’t do that. I have a sex-making pledge with Lynelia for this moon cycle.”

  “But I’m frozen with terror,” she pouted, managing to climb across the mem’s lap despite her supposed paralysis.

  “We should call for help,” he said, delivering his usual cardboard performance.

  In real life, it would be a primale rescue unit they would call.

  “Jolando,” she whispered, tonguing his ear. “I want you to fuck me when we’re done. I want you to grab my hair, push me down how you want me, and give it to me so hard—like a fucking animal.”

  Mikal/Jolando, who was usually more smitten with his mem co-stars than his fem ones, cleared his throat. “Let us use the gyrocommunicator.” He attempted to keep to the script. “To…to call for help.”

  “I’d rather you use that cock of yours.” She ground her pussy against his crotch. “Deep in my hot little hole. Show Vonda how a little cock-greedy bitch like her should be treated.”

  For the grid, she added, nice and loud, “Ooo, Mikal, you think of everything. You’re so smart. I wish you were my sex-making partner.”

  Nyssa started rocking—she felt hollow inside, craving to know more about Theron, to feel him, to know his touch. Would Jolando be able to fill her in the same way? Would he bring her to that kind of ecstasy? Would he make her whimper and scream and moan? Not in a million years.

  That prick, Theron—getting her all out of sorts like this…

  She cursed his image, the hold he was having over her imagination, and her sex, too. Talk about an exercise in futility; her desires for Theron were doomed.

  Primales ought to be illegal. Getting a nice innocent fem all worked up for nothing. Taking such total advantage of them. Why should a woman have to accept a lifetime of slavery just for some good sex?

  She was halfway tempted to make Jolando come in his pants right now, just to reassert her feeling of control. It had been three full intervals since her encounter with the primale, and she was only feeling more ill at ease, more incensed.

  The way he had looked at her and treated her, like she was some rare butterfly and he was holding the net. Like he had the right to catch her…to do what he liked. Ordinarily people were intimidated by her or otherwise enthralled. She had this aura that she counted on to make her larger-than-life.

  In Primale Theron’s presence, she felt oddly…contained. As if he was testing her parameters, judging precisely her limits. This shouldn’t have been sexy, but it was. Fems weren’t supposed to like the idea of being fenced in. Nor were they engineered to moisten for men who liked their females in cages, no matter how
golden.

  “Nyssa,” Jolando pleaded through clenched teeth. “Stop.”

  A subliminal beep initiated by the director reminded them that they were getting off script. Jolando had a line he was forgetting. Look at him—he couldn’t remember his own name at this point. Nyssa restrained a giggle. She felt a little guilty for getting him so hot and bothered, but she’d make it up to him.

  Easing off, she blew him a kiss, mouthing the word “later”.

  Jolando panted, recovering himself. “Vonda, you know you are the most desirable woman at the Learning Center. I often fantasize about you naked. But I must be loyal.”

  She unzipped his coveralls, more than happy to continue the hackneyed plot. She had proven her point—he was putty in her hands. All men were. This Theron would be no exception. Why had she been so unsure of herself? Primale though he was, she was a trained seductress. “I admire that about you, Mikal, I really do. And if we are going to die, I would like to offer you something first…”

  The grid did not show actual sex acts. These were up to the imaginations of individuals. What the actors and actresses did was set up scenes that could flow there ever so easily for the audience.

  “Vonda, what are you doing?”

  Mikal really was a dense and wooden character—she sighed, kneeling between his legs. Looking up at him with dreamy eyes she said, “I want to—”

  Nyssa froze. Outside the dome, standing there next to the technician’s consoles was a large man, legs apart, arms folded across his chest, watching like an old-time policeman on the beat.

  The primale! What was he doing here? Who in molten blazes had let him in the studio? Heads would roll. Damn it, how could she let him see her like this, so…female. Even if it was an act. She struggled to keep her composure. What was she supposed to be saying, down here on her knees? Oh, stars and comets, it came back to her. No…she couldn’t say this now, in front of him.

  What choice did she have, though? Nyssa was a professional.

  “I want to give you pleasure.” The words zapped off her tongue like electricity. The change in the room, in her, was palpable. The primale was doing this, just by standing there, stone-still, watching.

  “I want to taste you in my mouth…Mikal.”

  She looked straight at him, at the giant Guardian. She hadn’t wanted to and she had quickly averted her eyes, but the damage was done. The substitution was there. In her mind. Mikal…for Theron.

  And worse still, he had seen her looking.

  “I want your swollen cock. I want your cum.”

  “Oh,” he groaned. “I wish I could do that. I wish I could come in a woman’s mouth. Lynelia won’t do that.”

  “I would, Mikal.” Nyssa stole another glance at the Guardian. Unable to help herself. “I would do that for you. I would suck you to orgasm and I would swallow your cum, too.”

  Was that a frown on Theron’s face? She couldn’t tell. Not without studying him more closely.

  “Yes, Vonda,” he groaned, stroking her hair. “Please, yes.” The man was gone, his eyes rolling up in his head. One blow of moist air to his cock would send him blasting through the bubble.

  “You have to promise me something first, Mikal. You have to tell me you will give up Lynelia and have only me.”

  “Yes, Vonda,” he enthused. “Only you. You are every man’s dream.”

  She laid her head on his masculine thigh, imagining the corded muscles of the primale. The feel of his rock-solid body hard to the touch. And Theron’s cock—what might that be like? What kind of things would he do with it…to her?

  Hands trembling, feeling shy, she was overcome by a tentativeness she had not felt since her very first days of performing. The scene was seconds away from completion. The intent was clear now—they’d shown enough.

  She held her breath as the scanners and sensors continued to run. She wasn’t sure if she should hope for the scene to end, so she could get out of here, or hope that it went on forever, so she never had to talk to Theron again.

  “And…cut,” announced the hovering director, behind his small, multicolored sensory glasses and tall, yellow wig. “That’s a finito, people. See you all tomorrow…ten a.m. sharp.”

  “Nyssa,” croaked Jolando. “You were on fire. Did you mean that, about later? I’d love to get together with you. You, me…and Mem Bobolo. You know him, don’t you? From the Five In News on 3Net?

  “Yeah, sure,” she said, her mind totally shifted to the primale, who was standing outside the bubble, looking about as wavering as a ten-thousand-year-old marmakao tree on Ceti One. “That would be stellar.”

  “Mem Bobolo has implants,” Jolando whispered, seeking to entice her. “A second penis.”

  “Great.” Actually the idea left her cold, but if it gave her the opportunity to blow off the walking wall of granite, why not? “Just give me half an in to freshen up. Should I meet you at the Pleasure Palace?”

  “I’ll get us a room. Maybe scare up a few more augments?”

  “Perfect.” Nyssa waited for the bubble to slide open and then she marched straight up to Theron. “Who told you to come in here? Get out right now.”

  “I’m afraid that’s not possible, Nyssa. I have my orders.”

  “Orders,” she scoffed, feeling suddenly very naked in her little costume. “What kind of orders could possibly involve me? I’m not some new hill to be conquered or a kitten who’s run up a tree and in need of rescue.”

  “That’s true,” he concurred. “You’re not. Because a kitten would have more common sense.”

  She was taken aback. “Are you mocking me? I thought your kind didn’t do that?”

  “We don’t,” he said flatly. “I was pointing out a fact. Have you any idea how unsafe it is for someone in your position to be at the Palace? Not to mention engaging in group sex-making with strange augmented mems?”

  “I don’t know.” She crossed her arms over her loosely covered breasts. “Why don’t you tell me, Mom. Oh, wait, I forgot, you’re not one of my cluster parents—you’re a busybody, killjoy primale with delusions of grandeur.”

  “Name calling won’t change the situation, Nyssa.”

  “Sure makes me feel better—and how did you hear what Jolando and I were talking about in there, anyway? Were you using super-hearing or what?”

  “I read lips.”

  “Do you, smart guy? Why don’t you see if you can read this?” She formed her lips into a mild obscenity and turned away, set for a repeat performance of this afternoon’s departure from Dekalia’s office.

  This time, however, she was stopped short. By a hand clamped on her upper arm, strong as steel, tight, but not painful. “Not so fast, Nyssa. You’re not going anywhere tonight.”

  “How dare you,” she gasped. “No one touches me. I am a star.”

  Her heart thumped in her chest. He had her in his grip, just as his eyes had promised he could. The butterfly in the net…

  “We can call her, if you like,” Theron said calmly. “As soon as we get to our quarters for the night.”

  The one word, ours, set off alarm bells. “What in the Moons of Sirius are you talking about? I have my own place in the Decompression Towers. And a ten-room floater barged at Dome’s edge, as well.”

  “We are going to be using regular floatels. In case anyone is stalking your personal residences. You’re going on tour tomorrow, anyway, so you may as well get used to living out of a travel case. We’ll be spending a lot of time together, in some cramped quarters.”

  Oh, no. No, no, no. This is not going to happen. “Sure,” she smiled sweetly, thinking how she would sooner bunk with a Narthian. “Can I just have a minute to tell Jolando that I won’t be going out with him tonight?”

  Theron’s brow furrowed. “A minute,” he conceded. “That’s all. I have us on a very tight timetable.”

  “Oh, thank you,” she trilled, secretly marveling that such an attractive man could be such a pompous ass, as well as such a sucker to fall for her trick. �
�You’re too kind. I’ll be back…ever so quickly.”

  “Hey, you gorgeous little thing.” Jolando grinned. “Please, pretty please tell me you’re going to bring that burning volcano of a man with you.”

  “Hush, Jolando, and listen.” She made sure to face away from Theron, blocking Jolando’s face with the back of her head. “He’s a total psycho fire-killer and I need to dump him. And watch out, because he reads lips.”

  “How about a little doppelganger fun?” Jolando pointed down to the holo console. “All we need is a little diversion to cover the switch.”

  She caught his intent immediately. It was an ingenious plan. They could get him to look away and then turn on a holo image of her to make him think she was still there. By the time he looked back, he would see her again, standing just as she had been. She could run halfway to Orbit Station by then, let alone the Pleasure Palace. All they needed was the diversion.

  Nothing too big, mind you, just big enough to fool a literal-minded, primale oaf.

  * * * * *

  So she thought he was a psycho fire-killer, did she?

  There was a reason Theron hadn’t flat-out denied possessing augmented hearing abilities. As a matter of fact, he did have them. If he wished, he could hear a micropin drop a kilometer away. He could also see across a spectrum twice that available to the standard human eye. These were obviously not powers he used on a regular basis. They were for special occasions, like testing a certain stubborn, extraordinarily disobedient fem to see what she would do if given an apparent chance to escape.

  Their plan was childish at best. Did they really think that a man able to battle hordes of Narthian Sting Beetles in subzero pitch-black for hours at a time would be unable to prevent a pair of actors from slipping out of a brightly lit studio?

  A little doppelganger fun, indeed.

  He was curious to see what they would use as a diversion. They opted for a sound effect, a projected scream from a sensor in the far corner of the studio. The untrained eyes and ears turned. Theron’s, however, remained focused to the nth degree on the tiny female, zigzagging with the mem, through the small group of techs and actors, all the way to the portal door.