Chapter 10 Collars and Contracts, Eve #2
“You... what?” The room is starting to shimmer, and my skin feels too hot.
“I want to taste your pussy, Madame Eve. I want to taste Earth,” Lyric says. “I was born on a satellite orbiting Reima Two. I've never seen Earth, but I’ve dreamed about the women there and what they might taste like.”
Something is terribly wrong.
I'm not this person. I'm not the woman who lets strange men—collared men, owned men—touch me, let alone in public. Yet I want Lyric to touch me, to taste me, and I don’t even care who watches. To fuck me.
“Something’s in the air. Or the drink,” I say, eyeing the amber-colored cocktail I didn’t even question when it was given to me. Didn’t I tell myself I wasn’t going to accept strange drinks from anyone?
“Of course it is,” the Commander replies. “We use pheromone enhancers during performances. It’s not a secret.”
“You drugged me?”
“You’re not drugged. You’re simply amplified.”
Lyric places his hands on my knees.
“You trained him to do this.”
“No,” the Commander says. “Someone else trained him. I just keep him. But in this moment? This is yours. You need to see yourself as different. As above human companions. If you can't look at him and take what he's offering, you won’t last five days at the Celestial Spire.”
Lyric's hands move up to my thighs, and I feel the warmth of his touch through the fabric of my skirt. “May I show you why the officers request me specifically?” he asks, licking his lips slowly, and I imagine that wet tongue between my legs.
I should say no. Every rational part of my mind screams that this is wrong. But my traitorous body wants this, and then there’s the Devil in the background telling me that Lyric wants to do this too. And the age-old comment comes unbidden to my mind, And I bet you think strippers like you.
“Look around you,” the Commander says as Lyric's hands slide higher. “This is the role humans have played in the galaxy for centuries. You must experience the thrill of being with a human companion to understand the allure.”
“I can imagine what the allure is, so I don’t need the physical lesson,” I say, lying through my teeth. I’m so horny, and the Commander and Lyric both know I am not going to say no.
“Madame Eve, please let me taste Earth between your legs,” Lyric says seductively.
The fact he’s never set foot on Earth is heartbreaking, and I turn to the Commander. “Does he have any choice?”
“Do you?” His voice is cold. “Your body has already accepted his invitation, and we both know your mind will follow. And tomorrow you’ll begin serving the elite of the galaxy at the Celestial Spire for credits, despite what you’ve seen. Despite what you know.”
“I signed a contract,” I retort. “Lyric never had a choice. His chains were locked at birth. Mine, I clasped myself.”
The Commander shakes his head slightly. “Your cages were both formed when you were born human. Don’t mistake either illusion for freedom.”
His truth should steady me. But Lyric leans closer then, and breaks my train of thought.
“Oh, sweet Madame Eve,” he breathes, sliding his fingers beneath my blazer to cup the soft swell of my breasts. “Don’t listen to him. Let me kiss you under your skirt. Let me give you pleasure so raw you’ll forget the universe exists altogether.”
His hand trails lower, tugging my skirt up, fingertips brushing the bare skin of my thigh.
I cross my legs tighter, but he only presses in, teasing the edge of my panties, tracing circles that make my hips betray me with a small roll toward him.
My shame burns hot, but my arousal burns even hotter as my body is answering to Lyric’s ministrations in this public place.
Who even am I right now?
The Commander watches. “You see? Even when you resist, your body makes the choice for you.”
Lyric’s hot mouth presses against my panties, his tongue stroking through the soaked fabric until it clings to me like a second skin.
“Open your legs wider for him,” the Commander orders.
And to my surprise, I obey. I want this. And I want the Commander and these men to watch me. The thought of it makes me even more aroused, and I feel so light-headed and strange, I wonder if this is a dream based on something I read in one of my books?
Lyric pushes the fabric covering my pussy aside, and the cold air strikes my bare sex. Then, his hot mouth covers my vulva, his tongue moving with devastating precision, like he was born to do it.
The thought sends shivers down my spine for two reasons, because I thought it unbidden, and because it might be true, as terrible as it is to think that, that someone’s greatest skill might be sex work.
I’m a terrible person, I think as I moan loudly at the skin-to-skin contact.
It’s been so long since a real man has touched me, and the men I knew never touched me as skillfully as Lyric. I should push him away.
“Good,” the Commander says. “Now, those large human breasts. Unbutton your shirt. Show me what you’ve been hiding. Those bouncing orbs.”
Humiliation and desire crash together. Desire wins and my fingers obey.
Slipping one button open, then another, until the shirt falls open.
I tug my simple white bra down, and my breasts spill free into the cold air.
My nipples are already stiff and aching for attention.
The men’s eyes on them only make them tauter.
“Play with them,” the Commander orders. “Pinch those pink nipples. Rub them the way you like it. Let everyone see how you touch yourself, Eve.”
Heat streaks through me. My hands cup and squeeze, fingers rolling my nipples until I arch, displaying myself shamelessly.
Lyric groans into my cunt as if my obedience feeds him; his tongue begins flicking harder and faster.
“Look at her,” the Commander tells the others. “Legs spread, tits in her own hands. She’s begging to be watched. Begging to be told how to come.”
The Commander isn’t wrong. The drugs didn’t create this hunger. They only gave me the excuse I needed to act this out. The truth is, I want this. I want all these men to see me writhing. Even the thought of it makes me closer to orgasm.
“Slap your tits,” the Commander says. “Make them bounce. Make them beg for a mouth.”
I strike my own breasts, the sting shooting straight to my pussy. I squeeze them together, lift them high, thrust them forward as Lyric devours me between my legs.
“Orgasm human,” the Commander orders. “Show them what a human receptionist straight from Earth sounds like when she comes.”
And I obey. The orgasm tears me open, and I scream for them, pornographically, my thighs clamping around Lyric’s head while my own hands punish my breasts, and the room watches as I break.
When it’s over, I collapse back, trembling, still clutching myself, nipples red and swollen from my own abuse while Lyric licks me reverently, savoring my taste as if I were holy.
The Commander is still watching, his hand stroking lazily at the front of his trousers.
“One performance,” he says, “and already you spread yourself wide, offered your tits, and on command screamed your release for strangers. You can tell yourself you signed a contract and chose this, but you can’t fight your human DNA. ”
He adjusts his uniform, leaving himself unsatisfied, judgment unfinished, as though saving the final release for another.
Humiliation crashes over me. I’ve climaxed in front of an audience. I’ve been used for their entertainment, and I loved it. Worse, I savored the eyes on me and the filth of being displayed.
I am the Devil’s whore.
The nuns would say this proved my damnation, citing both female weakness and sinful desire, and maybe they’d be right. But I must question myself; am I really going to take those man-made beliefs about sin into the galaxy with me, or leave them contained within the minds of men on Earth?
I want to leave them behind. But are they woven into my DNA?
Lyric lifts his head from my pussy, his lips glistening.
He strokes my thigh before easing my skirt down.
“Thank you,” he says with sincerity. “You responded gorgeously. Please don’t forget my name, and I’ll remember yours when the Commander comes into my mouth later tonight.
” He holds my gaze as he licks his fingers, slowly and obscenely, before returning to the stage with a satisfaction that looks like victory.
The Commander leans toward me, voice low and final. “Now you understand. The Empire doesn’t just cage humans. It makes them proud to serve. The horror isn’t that humans hate it; it’s that many love it.”
I am speechless because it’s a sobering thought. Will I also learn to love to serve at the Celestial Spire?