Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
Bralix paced back and forth in the open area in die centre of the cargo bay, running his hands over his cropped hair in irritation.
If any other pet had lashed out at him, he’d have dealt with the behaviour with strong, decisive discipline. A firm hand—at the very least, a spanking.
Why did he feel so out of control with this one?
Maybe because he sensed that a spanking would damage her trust in him even more than it was now. He’d seen the tear that had run down her cheek in the shadows of that crate.
She’d gone from needing to cling to him, to wanting nothing to do with him. He hadn’t realized how much he craved her wanting to be near him. Well, she didn’t want him now, and he had no idea how to fix that.
Maybe he should stick to domesticated humans; feral humans obviously didn’t have the temperament for what he wanted.
Failure bitter in his mouth, he headed for the door and pressed a button on the access panel.
The door didn’t open, and Bralix slammed the side of his fist into the bulkhead beside the panel with a muttered curse.
He pressed another button and listened to it ringing for a few seconds before it stopped.
He sighed, then turned, his hands on his hips, and surveyed the cargo bay. He headed over to the milking machine, then opening a drawer below the control module, he retrieved a small maintenance kit.
The face of the door control panel came off easily, and Bralix carefully nudged the insulated wires this way and that, trying to figure out which wire did what. He touched one terminal with the end of the screwdriver, and it sparked.
Ay, this one bites, he thought, but he studied the panel again.
The comm on his wrist buzzed, and Bralix tapped it on in irritation.
“Bralix, what on Crion are you doing?” Phyrax sounded angry.
“Getting out of here,” Bralix said, the screwdriver sparking on another terminal. He jerked his hands away from the spark. “Phegch!”
“Bralix stop that, before you break the lock and get stuck in there permanently. Or worse—open the airlocks and kill us all!”
“There is an easy solution, brother,” Bralix ground out. “Let me out, and I’ll leave the panel alone.”
Phyrax muttered something unintelligible. “It hasn’t even been two days, brother. Don’t tell me you’re giving up already.”
Bralix’s pride pricked, he bristled. “You have no idea what it’s like. She’s stubborn, and volatile, and disobedient. She’s very obviously intelligent, and I know for a fact she’s learnt the commands, but she is being deliberately disobedient.”
After a pause, Phyrax answered. “Now that you’ve figured out that treating her like a pet doesn’t work, try treating her like a mate.”
“Phyrax—”
“Speak to you later, brother. Leave the control panel alone, or I’ll disable it entirely.”
The line went dead. Bralix slid down the wall to sit on the floor and sighed in defeat. It seemed he was stuck in the cargo bay for the foreseeable future, alone with a feral human female he wanted, but who wanted nothing to do with him.
He allowed his mind to drift. Eventually, movement drew his attention to the maze of crates. Samulin emerged cautiously, wrapped in the bed covering and one corner of it trailing behind her.
Her movements were hesitant, her eyes constantly scanning the cargo area for danger, and she froze when she saw him watching her.
Bralix didn’t move, deliberately keeping his limbs loose and relaxed, just watching her back.
When it became apparent he wasn’t going to chase her, she readjusted the covering around her and continued her exploration, casting small glances in his direction every few minutes to make sure he hadn’t moved.
Using the bed covering to try and shield herself from his view, she used the toilet and triggered the waste disposal mechanism, then wrapped herself in the covering again to continue her exploration.
When she approached the milking machine, the RFID chip in her collar brought the machine out of power-saving mode, the screen lighting up, the pump humming to life to build up pressure, and the hydraulic arm with the laser sight and suction cups moved into position.
She froze, her attention riveted on the machine.
She glanced over her shoulder, checking for Bralix’s reaction, but Bralix just watched her to see what she would do.
When the machine didn’t do anything else, she approached cautiously, running a hand over the frame that would keep the human that was being milked in position, the suction cups with their various hoses, and even squinting at the screen of the control module, trying to figure out how it worked, but of course she didn’t understand the Nef’eal alphabet.
She rounded the frame again, studying the shape of it. Of course, the purpose of the footplate was self-explanatory, and she carefully placed her foot on it.
The ankle shackle snapped shut around her ankle, and she screamed, trying to jerk away, but the shackle wouldn’t release her.
Only her hold on the frame prevented her from falling and seriously injuring her ankle.
“No!” She glared at him, her hair falling over her face and making her look more than a little deranged.
“Let me go!” She pulled back on the shackle, at first straight out, then trying to twist it, but obviously all she accomplished was hurting her ankle.
This was one of the older models that shackled the human’s ankles to prevent them getting off the machine before the milking process was done.
Only the human’s orgasm would cause the shackle to release.
Well, technically Bralix could reboot the computer, but he didn’t have the password to log back in again, and since Phyrax wasn’t coming into the cargo hold anytime soon…
Bralix sighed and got to his feet; he was going to have to release her before she hurt herself. He approached slowly and calmly, trying not to agitate her further.
She turned to watch his approach over her shoulder. “Don’t get any ideas, asshole,” she growled. She jerked at the ankle restraint again, this time rattling the framework and moving it a few inches across the floor.
What is this human fascination with the anal sphincter? He leaned with his elbow on the frame of the machine and decided to wait her out. Only once she’d stopped jerking at her bound ankle, and watched him warily instead, did Bralix point at her other foot, then at the empty footplate.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Samulin scoffed.
Bralix wished that she could understand him. It would simplify matters so much if he didn’t have to rely on gestures and simple commands to give her instructions.
Well if nothing else, this is working on my patience.
Instead, Bralix just waited her out, and when her brain seemed to switch from fury to reason, he pointed at her free foot again.
She waited a full minute before she decided to comply; she yelped softly in surprize when the other shackle snapped shut around her remaining ankle.
She sank two or three inches, and the machine reacted with a robotic whir underneath her.
Then Bralix adjusted her posture with a hand to her back between her shoulders, guiding her to bend over the bar that lay across her hips, and he showed her the hand-holds.
The hydraulic arm holding the laser array and the suction cups responded and the lasers pin-pointed the location of each nipple to attach the suction cups.
She grunted at the sharp sensation of the first suck.
Bralix rubbed her back in large circles, soothing her as much as he could.
“Oh, my God, is this a milking machine?” Samulin gasped, lifting her head to glare at him. “It is, isn’t it?”
Bralix nodded.
“But I don’t have any milk!”
Bralix shrugged, then busied himself reattaching the third hose and suction cup that Emery had disconnected the last time she’d used the machine.
“What are you doing?” She asked nervously.
Bralix didn’t answer, merely clicked the suction cup into its holder on the spare arm, and a few taps on the keyboard later the third suction cup had latched onto her clit.
“Bralix!” Samulin jerked—would have shot upright if the suction cups on her breasts hadn’t tethered her to the machine.
The frame wobbled precariously, and Bralix put a steadying hand to her upper back, until she eventually lowered herself back down over the frame.
When she eventually lowered herself back into position, he stepped away and sat on an upturned crate to watch her without hovering.
Watching her struggle—then give in—had his cock in a world of discomfort.
Watching her pleasure…
I’m so screwed.