Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
Well, this is a fine mess I’ve gotten myself into.
Samulin could have kicked herself for being so stupid—if she’d had a free foot with which to do so. She’d put her foot where it didn’t belong, and now she was trapped. And she should have her head examined for listening to the sexy alien and committing her other foot as well.
Samulin closed her eyes to savour the pleasure focused on her nipples.
The suction was almost too much, but somehow the intense sucking was turning her core molten with need.
Add to that the delinquent sucker latched on to her clit, and this machine had her balanced on a knife’s edge of pleasure.
The suction hurt at first, but the moment she chose to embrace it instead, the pain morphed into a darker kind of desire.
Confined to the frame as she was, she could do nothing to hasten an orgasm. Her orgasm was pre-programmed by this machine, and she was helpless, unable to move at all. Frustration simmered just below the surface.
Feeling wild, she lifted her head to look for him and saw him on a small, upside-down crate, watching her intently. “Please,” she whispered. ‘Please, I need more.”
Bralix arched an eyebrow and tilted his head, obviously finding her begging puzzling.
“Bralix, please,” she begged. “I need to come. Please let me come. I need you inside me.”
He watched her sceptically for a few seconds.
At first Samulin thought he was unaffected, until he stood and she saw the hard bulge in his groin.
He crouched beside her head, looking up into her face and said something to her, his forehead wrinkled in concern.
She couldn’t understand the words, but she’d been with enough decent Doms to guess at what he meant.
“Yes, I’m sure. Please, Bralix. I need you inside me.”
He seemed startled by her answer, but recovered quickly and rose, undoing his pants as he moved around the machine.
When he stepped up behind her he ran his hands over her back with long, reassuring strokes, ending with both hands on her buttocks.
He gathered the flesh in his hands, squeezing them as if to test their firmness, then with his thumbs on her pussy lips, he spread them apart.
Why was the idea that he was having a good look at the valley between her cheeks, spreading her pussy lips wide open for his inspection, making her wetter?
The feeling of his cock slowly probing her folds had her holding her breath. For long moments he didn’t do more than probing the very entrance with the tip, teasing her with the ridge of his crown slipping in and out of her, and the promise of being filled.
Samulin strained toward him, trying her best to push back and take more of him, but jumped forward with a yelp when a stinging swat landed on her right ass cheek. “Bralix! What the hell?”
He growled at her, then reached forward to grab a hank of hair and tighten his fist. The pinpricks of pain on her scalp added to the arousal fizzing in her blood, but it was the foreign growl in her ear that raised her need to fever point.
“I’m sorry, Bralix,” she moaned. She recognized the rules of the game now. She wasn’t in control—Bralix was. She couldn’t steal pleasure—but Bralix could grant it. “Please, please Sir, I need to come. I’ll submit, just please, let me come.”
“Veine groone,” Bralix crooned, then pushed all the way into her in one slow, smooth thrust that left little doubt of who owned whom. He bottomed out, his groin pressing into her ass, and when he flexed his hips, somehow he found that extra inch that make her melt.
“Bralix,” Samulin whispered. Tension coiled in her belly, finally spiralling toward release, but somehow, although being filled by Bralix was pushing her closer and closer to release, giving her a measure of relief, something held her back from taking that final step.
Her body craved permission to climax.
She craved to be Bralix’s Veine groone, and somehow, she didn’t think that a Veine groone stole orgasms.
“Please, Bralix,” she whispered. “May I come?”
“Veine groone,” Bralix growled, switching to short, deep, punishing thrusts that marched her right up to her orgasm and then booted her over the edge.
Her orgasm, held just shy of climax for so long, was almost painful in its intensity, and she felt every painful throb of his cock as his cum pulsed into her.
The suction cups gripping her nipples and clit gave one last, long pull, no longer pulsing, before disengaging and slithering back to their starting position on the robotic device.
Finally, the shackles around her ankles sprang open, and before she could scramble off the machine herself, Bralix lifted her off the machine with an arm around her waist. He placed her on her feet beside the machine, then withdrew from her body.
Seconds later, fluid poured from her pussy, some dripping on the floor, but most running down her leg.
Samulin, light-headed, weak-kneed, and still breathing hard from her climax, held onto the frame for balance.
Beside her, Bralix was breathing harder than normal, and his complexion seemed flushed; even the green markings on his skin appeared to be a more vibrant shade of green.
A sheen of sweat glistened on the green markings framing his face, and even his cropped hair was damp.
He watched her warily, his hands twitching at his sides as if he wanted to reach for her, but didn’t dare.
Her first instinct was to reach for him too, but his rejection of her earlier still stung. She could see herself falling into need for him too easily. She couldn’t afford to need him too much; she didn’t have only herself to consider anymore.
If she needed Bralix too much, she’d lose all desire to escape, and what would he do to her once he discovered her secret?
So instead of reaching for him, she hugged herself instead. She felt awfully vulnerable, more naked than naked, and wished for her duvet, but the discarded bedding lay on the deck behind Bralix and she couldn’t bring herself to step closer to him to reach for it.
She backed up a step, and then another, not looking him in the eye, but not wanting to lose sight of him either.
She saw his jaw tense and his hands fist, but he didn’t come after her. When she reached the entrance to the maze of crates, she turned to enter, but Bralix’s deep voice behind her made her pause.
His accent mangled the syllables, but she recognized her name. “Samulin.”
She turned back to him, and saw that he had her duvet bundled in his arms. He offered it to her, but didn’t come after her.
Samulin approached warily. When she was within arm’s reach, she accepted the bundle from him and hugged it to her chest. “Thank you,” she said softly.
“Thank you,” he copied the English syllables slowly and carefully, and Samulin had to remind herself to stay strong in her resolve. That he tried to reach out to her by learning even a word in her language, was going to be her undoing.
She retreated again, and this time one last glance showed her that he wasn’t coming after her.
It’s what I want, isn’t it?
Bralix had stored a crate of his belongings down here in the cargo hold, but it’d been so long since he’d needed anything from it, and Phyrax had recently shifted several of the crates around to make room for his mate when he’d first taken her, that Bralix had no idea where his crates were.
Well, it’s not like I don’t have time to search for it, he thought wryly. At least going through the crates will give me something to do.
He remembered it was a black storage crate, so he could ignore the grey, unfinished shipping crates, but several of the black crates were at the bottom, whereas the grey shipping crates had sometimes been stacked on top.
Bralix finally found his crate, dragged it into the walkway and opened the lid.
Inside the crate, some of his spare clothes that he seldom still wore unless he was on the planet Vauphus were stacked neatly inside a smaller box, while some of the treasures from his adolescence were still packed in another.
He selected an old hand-held vid viewer and a reader device, but before he replaced the lid of the crate, he paused.
Grabbing a tunic-like garment, he shook it out, inspected it for obvious stains or damage, then draped it over his shoulder before shutting the crate again.
Minutes later he paused beside Samulin’s crate.
She’d moved the side panel of the empty shipping crate to partially cover the opening, yet let in enough light to not leave her in complete darkness.
He debated the wisdom of pushing when she so obviously wanted to be left alone.
If she were any of the other domesticated humans he’d reared in his life, he’d have pushed her boundaries until they suited him and she got used to his handling, but he sensed that her trust would not be won by something as simple as repetition and desensitisation.
And he was starting to realize that earning her trust would be something fine indeed.
He also wouldn’t earn her trust by leaving her to her own devices indefinitely; that taught her nothing but avoidance.
He crouched beside her crate and moved the side panel of the crate aside far enough so that he could see her inside. “Samulin,” he said gently.
She scrambled to sit up, her efforts accompanied by loud thumps of knees and elbows on the inside of the crate. She retreated until she was curled up with her back in the corner of the crate, her swollen and red-rimmed eyes staring daggers at him.
He sighed. Treat her like a mate, Phyrax had said. Bralix held the tunic up by the shoulders for her to see what it was, then laid it on the floor of the crate.
Samulin eyed the tunic warily, but didn’t move to take it.
Giving her one last glance, Bralix rose and returned to the bed in the centre of the cargo hold. He adjusted the top end of the bed to fold up like a back-rest instead, then made himself comfortable with the reader device.
The stories on this device were some of his childhood favourites. He’d long since replaced this device with a string of newer models, but anything was better than staring at endless stacked crates or being alone with his thoughts.
A soft scuff from the direction of the crates drew his attention.
He held his breath when he noticed Samulin approaching slowly, wearing the tunic and holding the bed covering bundled in her arms. The sleeves were too long and she’d rolled them up to her forearms, and the bottom hem of the tunic reached her knees.
Not wanting to scare her away, he didn’t move, just watched her approach. He saw doubt playing across her face, glancing at the corner where he’d previously made her sleep, then looking at him.
When it looked like she was about to turn away from him, he spoke softly. “Samulin.” She turned back to him, and Bralix held out a hand, palm up. “Such a good girl, Samulin. Come here.”
She breathed out, then surprized him by leaving the bed covering behind on the floor and climbing into his lap. She curled up into a tight ball, but she leaned against his chest and clutched a handful of fabric from his shirt as if scared he’d try to push her away.
Bralix wrapped his arms around her and held her, careful not to hold too tight.
He laid his cheek on top of her head and breathed in her scent.
The flowery smell she’d had when he’d first taken her from her dwelling had faded, leaving behind what he presumed must be her natural scent.
“You’re a good girl, Samulin.” He murmured, gently stroking her arm. “Such a good girl.”
His praise had the desired effect. She sighed and relaxed into his embrace, and for the first time since she’d run from him that morning, he felt himself relax. She’d come to him and sought out his comfort, and he felt like he’d been awarded something precious.