Nyssa's Guardian Page 8

  When things had gotten too hard to deal with, especially after puberty, she’d started wishing she could be like Estriana, with her path laid out for her so clearly, every decision made, a super-strong companion by her side. What was a little thing like freedom to give up…or even pride?

  A part of her, in fact, craved that very loss, to be forced to surrender her pride to an all-consuming man. It made her horny, stars help her, and many times the thoughts led to masturbation. Lying there, wanting no one to hear her as she imagined a primale coming for her, declaring to the world that he was going to take her. And being forced to strip naked for him, in front of everyone, and then to get down on her knees and suck him, declaring that she was his mate…his slave.

  Theron was reawakening all of it, but it wasn’t like fantasy. It was all twisted, with so many more emotions. She hated him. She despised him for putting her in chains, for spanking and fucking her. Never mind her part in all this, she had been used, or felt that way now.

  But wasn’t that what she had wanted? Had she not played an active part in all of this?

  Oh, why had Fem Dekalia done this to her? Fems and primales didn’t mix. They were oil and water—shouldn’t be together at all, much less within a parsec of a bed.

  Nyssa buried her head into the pillow. No matter what, she swore to keep her resolve. She would give him no satisfaction. He would not see her face, would not see her emotions. Fuck—he could see her ass, though, and enjoy what he had done to her. Should she roll onto her back? No, that would expose her pussy. He’d been there, done that, too. He would also see the breasts he had managed to fuck and her mouth and well…all of her.

  That was the trouble. Every inch of her had been tainted. From her curled toes to the ends of her hair, every bit of her was alive and sexual…and his. She could still smell him, even after the cleansing beams. She could feel his touch, too, like invisible hands creeping across her skin.

  She tried to roll herself tighter. She tried to move further away from him to the edge of the bed. The ankle chain stopped her. If she could move down a bit, and then over, she would get a little more play on it…

  “Nyssa, lie still.”

  Fucking prick.

  “You’re not my cluster father,” she snapped.

  “Do I need to take my hand to your ass again?”

  Motherfucking, good-for-nothing prick.

  “No,” she sulked.

  “That was your last warning,” he informed her. “Do you understand?”

  Motherfucking, good-for-nothing…egomaniacal prick.

  “Yes.”

  “Go to sleep, then.”

  “Yes…”

  She’d almost said yes, Master. It would have been spat in sarcasm, but the word was making her feel other things, too. Why couldn’t she just flat-out be disgusted by him? Why was she waffling? Why was her body so uncooperative? With every breath, she was only getting slicker, more needy. It was like a volcano building at the apex of her thighs. What kind of fem reacted like this after being stripped of her dignity, put at a man’s total mercy…a primale’s mercy?

  Nyssa could hear him breathing. A fascinating sound. She wasn’t used to having others in her sleeping quarters overnight. Ever since Estrania had left, she had preferred to be by herself. Even her lovers knew to leave after the sex-making was done. Funny, she had never thought before about what it meant that she was so truly alone in the world. Now it occurred to her, without him here…might she feel lonely?

  Even…scared?

  Nyssa had not allowed herself to think about the threats up to this point. She had dismissed them so far, but no longer could she deny the truth. Fem Dekalia had not had a valuable soldier recalled from the front for nothing. She believed Nyssa was in danger. Nyssa had laughed it all off. It was someone’s bad idea of a joke. Idle blips on the grid. Probably some kids. Some of the younger mems were getting out of hand these days. Maybe it was about the Narthian War—the rumors of a draft. Who knew? Whatever it was, she was Nyssa…fabulously popular, untouchable.

  Her fans loved her.

  No one would hurt her.

  She sucked in her lower lip. A little voice inside her made her admit at least for a passing second that she was glad Theron was there to protect her. Just in case…for that one in a trillion chance.

  The admission made, she pushed it back down. Theron was her known enemy, a lot closer and more real than the mystery person or persons threatening to end her life for speaking out against discrimination.

  He had used her and now rejected her. He deserved every miserable thing she could think up to do to him. “Theron?” she called out with mock sweetness.

  “What?”

  She smirked at the grumble in his voice. Damn it, if he wasn’t cute for a motherfucking bastard. “I’m thirsty.”

  She heard him rise. He walked to the hygiene room and returned with a small glass of water. “You’ll have to help me,” she smiled, drawing attention to her bound state.

  Good…now he would have to touch her.

  Theron frowned and stiffened, as if trying to find a way out of making bodily contact. Apparently finding none, he lifted her up a bit, just enough to put the cup to her lips. She took little sips, looking at him with doe eyes the whole time. She wasn’t Nyssa anymore—she was Vonda.

  “Thank you,” she said, playing her performance to the hilt.

  “No problem,” he replied, though it was pretty clear it was posing him a very big one.

  Time to move in for the kill. Waiting until he had laid her back down, she plied him with a new request.

  “Could you fluff my pillow now?” She was playing a dangerous game, trying to get him to the breaking point before she burst at the seams and started begging him to take her again.

  His frown deepened. He had to lift her again, putting their bodies into contact. She made sure to arch her back, thrusting out her breasts as he leaned over her. With her hands chained and her lips soft and pliant, she hoped to appeal to his primale desires to take advantage of female helplessness.

  He did his best to concentrate on the hand fussing with the pillow and not the one holding her by the small of her back. His touch, the heat of him on her skin was making her want to scream out for him to take her, chained as she was, enslaved as any obedient.

  She must not let her hunger show, however. She needed to stay calm, cool and in control, making him suffer sexual frustration as payback for his callousness. His cruelty.

  “Oh, thank you,” she sighed, settling herself on the pillow with all the teasing aplomb of Vonda. “You are too kind.”

  His cock was vibrating, stiffening and swelling before her eyes. She had him for sure. Just one or two more little maneuvers and all that man-flesh would be screaming for release…on her terms.

  No drooling, girl. You’re playing it cool. You’re Vonda…bitch goddess extraordinaire, nymph, par excellence…

  “Just go to sleep,” he told her.

  “I think my chains need adjusting.”

  “No, Nyssa, they don’t.”

  “Is something wrong with your cock?” she asked innocently.

  Theron barely restrained a bark. “No. It’s fine.”

  “Oh,” she shrugged. “Well, I was just wondering…because we know it’s not me turning you on or anything.”

  Theron walked off without comment, fists clenched. She wasn’t going to let him off that easily, though.

  “Theron, it’s too hot in here,” she whined, waiting until he was sitting down.

  “This temperature is optimal for human comfort. You’re just making excuses not to sleep.”

  You catch on fast for a primale.

  “Well, you would know better, being that you’re a man and all,” she said, doing her best Vonda. “It’s just that I feel so hot. My legs…and my breasts. Oooh, and in my secret sex place, too.”

  “Nyssa…enough.” He spoke sharply—she would be getting a fresh spanking next.

  She decided on a differen
t tack.

  He sighed heavily in response to her manufactured tears, entirely indistinguishable from the real ones. “I didn’t mean to make you cry. If I adjust the temperature will you go to sleep?”

  “I will.” She suppressed her laughter.

  She gave him some time to fiddle with the controller and return to his small perch. “Theron?” she whispered.

  “Yes.” She could hear the strain as he tried to hold on to his patience. “What is it now?”

  “I just wanted you to know that in the morning, I intend to be submissive.”

  “Hmm,” he grumbled.

  “Oh, but I will, Sir…I promise.”

  “Sure. And maybe the dome will walk off and jump into the ocean tomorrow, too.”

  Nyssa giggled into the pillow. Closing her eyes, the hysteria eventually released, she felt strangely satisfied. She had tomorrow to concentrate on, and all the fun she would have exacting fresh revenge on Theron.

  Chapter Seven

  Theron watched the small, sleeping female. She was on her side at the moment, breathing peacefully, eyelids fluttering, her body in sensual repose. The artificial dawn under the city’s dome was less than half an hour away and then he would awaken her. Not a moment too soon, either. Guarding her lithe, chained body overnight had been sheer torture. Crueler than anything the Narthians could devise.

  If he didn’t know better, he would swear she was tormenting him on purpose, managing to twist in her sleep, contorting herself so as to inflame his blood to unbearable levels. Over and over he’d had to go to the hygiene room to pour water over his face, cold as he could stand. He’d even had to order ice off the objectifier so he could draw off some of the heat from his shaft.

  He had plunged his fiery cock into bucket after bucket of the stuff, the cold cubes sizzling and evaporating before his eyes. His balls had filled to the point of pain, the mixture of elements enough to cause unbearable agony to a normal male, and still he had been unable to reduce the throbbing erection. His special primale meditational techniques had been equally useless.

  Was his nervous system malfunctioning or could it be his emotions had been engaged? Was it possible he was feeling something for Nyssa that was driving his sex-making desires? Primales were known to sexually fixate on a woman, but only when they were sure they had found their mate. Nyssa certainly was engaging and fascinating, along with driving him wild, but surely he wasn’t falling for her?

  Theron did have to admit the strength of his reaction, though. He had never been inside another woman, but he imagined that no other could be like her. He could still smell and taste her. He could still feel her skin. And there was no escape, because he was obligated to keep on watching her all night, to keep her safe and to make sure she didn’t get tangled in the chains.

  There was no greater misery he could imagine. It had been hard enough holding himself back, keeping his cock from attaining its true dimensions inside her. Had he not done this, she would have been lost to his powers, and he lost to the allure of her flesh. It was the nature of things, part of the bond urges.

  Damn it. Was there nothing this woman could manage to do that was not fraught with sexual meaning? The way she murmured and pursed her lips in seeming innocence, her hip thrust out, her ankle turned. The way she breathed so softly, advertising the silkiness of her full breasts, inviting him to come and touch her, to play with her.

  He didn’t know which was worse, looking at her ass, pink and disciplined and womanly, or the front of her, the equally pink labia, like butterfly wings, waiting to welcome his cock home between her shapely legs.

  An interval or so ago, he had very nearly taken her. Her legs had been spread wide, her chest rising and falling, her nipples like hard buds. She’d been moaning in her sleep. Had she been dreaming of one of her mem lovers? The idea had infuriated him. Once again, the bonding urges had come to the surface.

  He could not afford such weakness, not now. For not only was he charged with protecting the beautiful holostar against an unknown enemy, he must do so in spite of her, regarding her, too, as hostile.

  Indeed, she was shaping up in her own way to be the most formidable opponent he had run across on or off the battlefield. She was beyond distracting in beauty and physical allure. Her emotions spun on a dime and she was sharp as a laser tack and twice as keen. If she were male, he might stand half a chance to guess her strategy, to see what was coming next, but this whole fem thing had him spun around completely. Every time he pegged her left, she would move right. Just as soon as she was pinned down in one spot, she would wiggle her pretty behind free and end up in another.

  The question remained. Had he won any real and permanent submission from of her? If push came to shove in a situation of mortal danger, would she obey now? Did he dare let her run around loose? What a puzzle she posed! Why couldn’t she have been born an obedient? Than it would be as simple as taking hold of her, speaking the words of claiming in her ear, a hot and sacred whisper meant only for the two of them.

  You are mine.

  Instinctively, biologically, she would open and blossom like a flower. And all that she had hidden within—her feminine nature which she had kept safe from any despoilers up to now—would become his. To guard and treasure and protect.

  Then and only then would he become fully the primale he was meant to be. Strong and proud and free. But it did not work that way with these fems. Loving them seemed an exercise in futility, sheer self-imposed torture.

  Curse his lack of discipline for giving in to her sexual overtures. He should never have let it happen. Not only was there the current mission to consider, but the added responsibility of helping to form the character of the next High Councilor. So far he’d taught her that primales have no impulse control where fems are concerned. Now he had to untangle the entire complicated mess. There was really only one way to do this effectively.

  He was quite sure it would infuriate his little charge, leaving her fit to be tied. And that was how he knew it was the right thing to do.

  Theron went to the view port, opening it to full capacity. The entire wall seemed to disappear. Outside, across the vast contained space of the City, he could see the palest pink and blue beams reflecting off the far edge of the shadowy dome. Another artificial dawn.

  Below, the various layers of streets were coming to life. Buildings were waking and rising for the morning, finding their place in the sun, like old-time balloons, rising lazily in the park.

  A few ins from now and they would be long gone, on the way to Nyssa’s live venue on Tarsus Seven, an artificial moon orbiting a world in a nearby system. She would be performing for half a million live entities there, human and robot, along with the usual adoring masses on the grid.

  She would make a target, if anyone were seeking her out.

  Going to the objectifier, more convinced than ever of what he must do to protect them both, he ordered up the necessary device. “Chastity belt,” he told the molecular arranging machine. “Maximum strength lock. Retain pattern for key…but do not manufacture.”

  Thus would he ensure the removal of all temptation where Nyssa’s beautiful pussy was concerned. First and foremost to himself. While he could break any lock, he counted on its presence as a constant reminder to his moral duty. That would solve one problem. The other concerned her ongoing pattern of defiance. There was no telling what sort of mood she might be in when she woke up. She might try to seduce him. Or slug him. She might also opt for a tongue-lashing. Least likely, in his estimation, was a doe-eyed, eager willingness to cooperate. In all likelihood, he would awaken the banshee in her.

  If that was the case, discipline would have to be swift and complete. Followed immediately by the chastity belt, or perhaps preceded by it, lest they find themselves once more locked in passion’s embrace.

  Focusing on various technical matters, such as the fuel-weight lift ratios for G-17 Star Jumpers and the recommended tactical approach to a Narthian Mother Colony, he managed to deflate his
cock yet again.

  Everything was set now…it was time to wake her up.

  * * * * *

  Nyssa awoke in bondage. In bondage…chains on her bare skin, deprived of her own hands, imprisoned in a bed, nipples swollen, aroused, ankles shackled. What had happened? What had she been doing and with whom?

  A man was whispering in her ear, telling her it was time to wake up. Theron. Memories rushed back in, embarrassment, and indignation. Flat-out anger. At herself for getting carried away like a foolish obedient wannabe—and at him for taking advantage.

  “Take these fucking things off me,” she demanded. “And if you ever so much as dangle a chain in my face again, I’ll see to it you are court-martialed.”

  Actually, she had no clue how she could do a thing against him, especially given how unhelpful Fem Dekalia was becoming in her cause. Still, she had no intention of just lying here, letting him think he could get away with this.

  “Nyssa,” he began, sounding quite infuriatingly calm and disciplined. “You need to know that today is a new day. Things are going to be different.”

  Different…as opposed to putting her to his pleasure, exploding his cock within her, leaving her burnt with his seed, her nostrils filled with her scent, her will shattered into a thousand disparate images of a taken woman. Begging for a crop across her bare, wet pussy, holding her own breasts up to be cropped, crawling and talking dirty, like a lowdown little obedient pet, hotly collared and primed.

  “Different,” she mimicked. “Really?” She pulled on her wrist bracelets defiantly, as if she could break metal. “I don’t see how—you still look like the same asshole to me.”

  Theron’s face bore no expression as he turned away. A part of her was disappointed not to get more of a reaction. Did she mean so little to him?

  “Quitting so soon?” she taunted, though she knew he wouldn’t. A man like Theron would never quit. That was the absurdity of this—she knew there was no way she could win. And yet she couldn’t bear to lose either.