Nyssa's Guardian

by Reese Gabriel

  Theron looked through it before it opened, his mind already registering the escape possibilities. Before they knew it themselves, he had determined their course of action.

  Sure enough, they leaped onto a passing transport bubble, an eight-seater, headed for the Waterfall of Light at the western edge of the Dome. He waited a few moments, long enough to make sure they would no longer be able to see him outside the rear view port.

  Opening the electro-door, he stepped out onto the platform, a kind of shelf sticking out of the side of the cylindrical building in which the studio was housed. The building was a thousand stories high, a floater, hanging vertically, midway between the top and bottom of the great crystal dome of Tech One, the capitol city. Dozens of such structures were dangling, their shiny surfaces reflecting the gemlike hues of the carved star-diamond dome.

  Transport bubbles floated to and fro, along with huge, puffy, cloudlike objects, the temporary travelers’ports known as floatels, with private rooms. Far below, at the upper surface levels, pedestrians of all shapes and sizes descended and ascended on shimmering, filament-like electro-glides. Revolving discs topped heavy metal columns, each crawling with ten thousand people, at cafes, in diners, shopping in curiosity stores. Below this, the belly of the whale, the bottom of the huge bowl of the city in which sat a maze of jagged technostructures of every color and covered in flashing lights.

  All together the Dome housed fifty million citizens. And his job was to keep track of just one. A single fem, too stubborn to protect herself, and far too beautiful and independent for her own good.

  He couldn’t help but smile. Surely she felt completely confident of her escape. What man could track her down in a place like this? None—unless he was a primale.

  Theron tagged the next available floater. He hitched a ride as far as Red Disc, and then picked up a private lift. Nyssa was still in the bubble, arcing for the Pleasure District when he caught up to her. Staying just out of range, he decided to track her a while, to see what she’d do. He told himself it was for intelligence purposes, to learn her movements and friends, and also to get a lead on any unfriendlies on her tail.

  There was another purpose, though, too. Theron needed time. To cool his stel-drive. That little performance of hers had done a number on him. Never mind that she was only acting. Her body, clad strictly for male viewing pleasure, was real enough, as were her delicate hands on the mem’s zipper, her full cheek laid down beside his swollen crotch.

  Theron had wanted to yank the man from his place on the seat, to deny him the submission of the fem who did not belong to him. It infuriated him to see her on her knees like that for him…he wasn’t worthy. The man was playing a part and cared nothing for her.

  This was made clear enough in his response to her hot self-offering. Sure, she could lie down with him and share in carnal pleasures so long as he could invite others as well. People she didn’t even know. Augments, with strange hands and eyes, to touch her and look at her. The very idea was insufferable.

  Then again…she was a stranger to him, too. This wasn’t rational, any of it. If he didn’t know better, he would swear he was feeling the bond urges.

  Damn it, he was feeling the bond urges. The unleashing of that deep, unspeakable drive that led a primale to ball his fist in the hair of one—and only one—woman, to draw her close, kissing her to the point of collapse, until blood trickled from the corner of her vanquished mouth, only one word left for him to utter.

  Mine…

  But only an obedient could respond to this level of power and devotion. By rights, he should not be attracted to a fem at all. He had been made to wait too long to mate, that’s what the problem was. The rest of his age group had long since been given beautiful obedients of their own, females to treasure and possess and spoil, gentle creatures who understood primale ways and were not frightened by them.

  Theron, however, was a member of the Guardians—a class within a class. Soldiers in this class were allowed no loyalty at all except to their units. Only when his term of service was complete and he had moved along to other primale work, like fire and emergency services, would he be allowed to seek a mate.

  Twice already, he had been renewed in the Guardians on account of his skills. Much longer, and he might end up a monk—a lifetime officer like the General. His loins starved for a woman, as his soul ached. Much of what made a primale whole was his sense of duty and devotion to his female life companion. They were as much fierce protectors as they were dominators.

  And right now his duty was to protect Nyssa, future High Councilor of the nation, and current brat. His own emotions, his own needs, must be as nothing. The pain he might feel at what he could never have, with her or any other, was simply part of the sacrifice he must make.

  It was in his blood. It was his reason for being.

  If nothing else, he would keep his honor. Even as he protected the life of the most beautiful, desirable…and untouchable woman he had ever laid eyes on.

  A recipe for sexual frustration, to be sure. And the job was about to get a whole lot more frustrating. Because as soon as he caught up with the lovely little sprite, he was going to have to impose discipline on her.

  Beginning with a little session over his knee.

  Chapter Three

  Nyssa was buying tonight. For the entire clientele of the Triple Splash Gas Emporium, which at the moment was closed to the public and consisted solely of her inner retinue. There were perhaps a dozen of them still left, hardcore tri-ox inhalers, greedily sniffing out the floating, colored tubes with various intoxicating gases, all legal. The bartender was a robot, a Smile-a-lot model 5000 with a bowtie over his springy, coil neck.

  The place was intimate and round, decorated in late twentieth-century art, including those most beloved of icons, the silver circular decorations known as hubcaps. Oval windows in colored layzite glass revealed the gigantic hollowed-out space of the city, between dome and mechanoid-ground level.

  “Tell us again,” asked her hair-dresser Goomy, his floor-length wig of purple more than a little askew. “How you deceived the nasty primale.”

  “Yes,” came the chorus of cheeky revelers, “tell us of the bold exploits of the fem supreme.”

  “No, I’m too tired,” Nyssa complained, her head cloudy with a mixture of tri-oxygens and antique margaritas.

  “Speak, damn you,” Jolando grabbed her dramatically, mimicking Theron. “Or I shall be forced to manhandle you.”

  Nyssa squealed happily as he pushed her facedown over a padded table, lifting her skirt. She was still wearing the silly little holo costume, which lacked any underwear. He found her pussy wet to the touch, a fact that he shared with those assembled.

  “This is all for me, I’ll have you know.”

  Nyssa gripped the edge of the table and began to writhe. The current state of her pussy was not for Jolando, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. All night, she had been feeling this dread excitement, looking over her shoulder, knowing he was after her. The unabashed hunter…and she his prey.

  Over the course of the hours her hopes and fears had faded. No confrontation, no chance to feel that spark again, to tell him where to get off, to show him her half-naked body one more time, so he could see what he would never have.

  The fool had simply lost her. He would go back to his headquarters, get relieved or whatever and then Dekalia would leave her be. She would go back to normal. Enjoying mems and the occasional fem with a pleasing, long tongue.

  Then again…he might still be out there, his fury building, determined to enforce his will. To capture her.

  She imagined the feel of him all over again, the hand clamping on her upper arm. One hand holding her, the other stripping her naked. His eyes letting her know that she was about to be his. Completely, no compromise, no quarter. His mind centered on nothing but her…and his sexual will.

  “Jolando,” she gasped, “domes and spinning planets…put it in me. Put your cock in me…”

 
“Beg for it, baby.”

  “Please…oh, please…”

  “Shall I?” The fucker teased her clit. “Or should I try something else…”

  He poked a finger in her asshole. “Yes,” she groaned, her senses awakened, her needs turning deep and dirty. “Stick it in my ass. Make me take it…for you.”

  Her head was swimming and her cunt throbbed, craving attention for her body—male lust, primal, and overriding. The sort she could never afford, the sort…

  “That will be enough of that.”

  Jolando’s fingers disappeared from her tender openings. Her spine snapped like an electric whip. He’d found her…

  “We don’t want any trouble, friend,” Jolando assured him, his voice tremoring.

  “There won’t be any.” Theron smoothed down Nyssa’s skirt and helped her to her feet. “We’ll be leaving quietly.”

  “Wait a minute,” complained Goomy. “You can’t just come strolling in here and—”

  “It’s all right,” Nyssa interrupted. “I can fight my own battles.”

  “I’m not your enemy,” said Theron as soon as they were outside on the emporium’s transport platform. It was dark now, the Dome having been dimmed for night. Artificial stars dotted the firmament, in every color of the rainbow.

  “Sure could have fooled me.”

  “Come on, we’re going to our floatel room.”

  She gave him a look. “In your dreams, Guardian. I’m just getting started here.”

  “Really? And what’s next? Group sex-making? Or is robot sex more your speed?”

  “Screw you, dickhead.”

  “Feel better now?” he inquired, steering her to a vacant for-hire bubble.

  “No,” she informed him as he sat her down on the passenger side.

  “That’s too bad.” He climbed into the driver’s side. “Because the night is going to get worse before it gets better.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Theron launched the bubble into traffic. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

  “Ooh,” she spat sarcastically, “I’m so scared.”

  He brought them to the Sapphire Shell, a pricey establishment currently moored at Dome Top. Appropriately enough, it was shaped like a shell.

  “Wear this.” He tossed her a gilded cloak. “We don’t want you being recognized.”

  “Yes, mustn’t hurt your fragile primale ego,” she snapped. “Keep the woman nice and small and invisible, I say.”

  Theron offered no response as he ushered her past the robot doormen. He checked them in at the front hover desk, and then escorted her to the nearest elevator tube. Marvelously dressed couples and triples, fems and mems, passed them by, dripping in the latest gems. One rarely saw primales in public, unless in uniform. Rarer still were the obedients—they were kept under lock and key by their primale masters.

  “I could escape again any time I wanted,” she informed him as he placed his palm on the door to their suite. “Just so you know.”

  The portal slid open with a pneumatic hiss.

  “Not bad.” She observed the huge, fluffy bed, the size of an eight-seat bubble. “I think I’ll be comfortable enough. Think you will manage all right with the floor?”

  Theron punched a button on the wall console to close off the far wall, which at present opened to the City. He punched another to dim the lights. Next he moved to the décor selector, running though the standard offerings.

  She watched the furniture moving about and morphing, accommodating itself to the various options. He settled on a sparse look. An antique metal frame bed and a single, heavily cushioned chair placed in the center of the room.

  “I don’t like that style,” she complained.

  “It’s not about what you like, Nyssa. This is for punishment.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “You’re going to be punished for attempting to run away from me. Specifically, you will be spanked and put into restrictive bondage.”

  Nyssa’s pussy flooded afresh, though she shook her head in fierce denial. A spanking… His hand on her ass. What if he wanted her bare-assed? She was wet and horny enough as it was. She would be humiliated. The man would think he was turning her on like she was some kind of obedient.

  “You’re crazy.” She took a step backward. “I have rights. I demand you take me to Fem Dekalia.”

  “I told you that you could contact her.” He pulled a transponder from his pocket. “You may do so now.”

  She snatched it from his hand. “Find me Fem Dekalia,” she said into the little box.

  The lights on the face of the transponder flashed for several seconds, one after another, tracing a pattern as the micro-intelligence sought to locate the person in question.

  “Yes, Nyssa?” came the woman’s voice a few seconds later.

  “Fem Dekalia,” Nyssa flashed a look to Theron, letting him know that he was about to get his, “it’s about that Guardian…the primale you sent? I think you should know that at this moment he is attempting to assault me.”

  “To assault you?” She sounded skeptical.

  “Well, not exactly an assault-assault,” she backtracked. “More like a semi-assault.”

  “A semi-assault?” Fem Dekalia sounded justifiably puzzled. “What is it he is doing specifically?”

  Nyssa swallowed. “He’s threatening to…to…”

  “To what, dear?”

  “To spank me,” she said, her cheeks flush.

  “Well, do you deserve it?”

  Nyssa’s mouth hung open. She couldn’t believe the High Councilor would say such a thing. “Of course I don’t deserve it. No woman does. It’s abuse, Fem Dekalia.”

  Dekalia sighed into the receiver. “Put Primale Theron on the line, please.”

  “It will be my distinct pleasure.” She handed it back, giving him a “you’re in for it now” look.

  “Yes, Fem Dekalia. Uh-huh. Yes, all right.”

  Nyssa barely contained a smirk. The poor boy wasn’t getting a word in edgewise. He was getting what-for, all right.

  “Yes, Fem Dekalia,” he said at last. Then to Nyssa, “She wants to talk to you again.”

  Nyssa snatched back the transponder. “So I get to leave, right? You’ll send someone for me?”

  “No, Nyssa. You will remain where you are.”

  “So he’s leaving then?”

  “No, he stays, too.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. I instructed Primale Theron that he is to apply his judgment as he sees fit. You will submit to him in all matters or face the consequences of his choosing.”

  “Fem Dekalia, you can’t do that!”

  “I already have, dear. Good night.” The transponder went dead. Nyssa was white as a sheet.

  Theron was standing there, calmly waiting. She swallowed hard. For some infernal reason he had decided to unzip and remove the top of his two-piece exo-suit. The man’s torso was deadly hypnotic, a thing of captivating beauty. Well-earned, perfect tawny muscles with a couple of downright sexy scars across his left pectoral leading down to an abdomen that would put a steel wall to shame.

  And those hands. By all the galaxies, those capable, well-formed hands. Did he really intend to use one of them on her poor little behind? Lightning-fast, she weighed her options for avoidance of the sentence he was about to impose.

  His apparent ease at the moment was a ruse and she knew it. He was more like a jaguar than a man. Sleek-muscled, laser-eyed, poised to go for his quarry.

  Which at the moment was her. Without thinking, she threw the transponder at him and charged for the bathroom. He intercepted her out of thin air. The next thing she knew she was being tossed over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

  “Put me down!” she screamed.

  Theron sat in the cushioned armchair, laying her across his lap with her head hanging down to the floor. “If you can’t keep quiet, I will be forced to gag you.”

  She squirmed, kicking. “This is so
illegal! I will so see you sent to a detention colony.”

  “The High Councilor just gave her blessing, Nyssa. I don’t think you have much hope for appeal.”

  “If you were a gentleman, you wouldn’t do this,” she pronounced in a more civil voice, none too anxious to end up with some rag tied in her mouth.

  “And if you were a lady, I wouldn’t have to.” His hand was on the small of her back, keeping her in place. She had already figured out that struggling only served to maul her breasts against his leg, not to mention grind her pussy against his crotch.

  “Just because I’m not one of your primale slave girls…”

  “Obedients are not slaves,” he insisted. “They enjoy a fulfilling and beautiful way of life.”

  “Bullshit. Then how come you don’t ever let them speak for themselves?”

  “I’m a soldier, I’m not privy to decisions of the Council. Ask your Fem Dekalia.”

  “Why bother? She’d only take your side.”

  Theron slid his hand along the back of her shapely leg and up her firm thigh. She drew a steadying breath, digging her fingers into the rug as his fingertips moved under the hem of her little skirt. Stars and planets, his hand felt so strong and masterful. And his cock was so hard against her. That wasn’t supposed to be part of the discipline, was it? Could it be he wanted her even half as much as she wanted him?

  “You can’t touch me under my clothes,” she protested.

  “It is necessary, Nyssa. Skin to skin. This isn’t going to be gentle. What you did tonight could have put your life in jeopardy. Do you understand?”

  “You found me, so what difference does it make? I’ll even bet you were following all along.”

  “It might have made all the difference in the world, if I hadn’t.” He lifted her skirt, allowing the cool air to waft over her cheeks. “I sincerely hope this is a lesson that will stand out in your mind.”

  She tried not to respond as he let his hand rest on her buttocks. She didn’t want to writhe, bucking ever so slightly for him… She didn’t want to release a tiny, jagged moan from her half-open mouth either, but she did both.