The four of us have been a team for almost a decade and now we are down to two.
I come uneventfully, squirting semen onto the obsidian floor, and then decide not to continue. I force myself to stand and let the scrubbers wash my back. They gently massage their way up and down my spine, descend down to my thighs and scrub my cock as it continues to swell and harden.
I have to pull my shit together for Booty’s sake. She will pick up on my feelings and amplify them. I could send her into a depression and that’s the last thing either of us needs right now.
Man up, Serpint. You’re the fucking captain. There’s no room for emotions today.
Right.
I tap the END icon on the control panel and all the little scrubber bots disappear into a recycle bin so they can be broken down and printed into new scrubber bots. Or whatever the fuck they’ll get made into next.
The steam and water cuts off too, then hot air floods the shower room. I stand there, arms open, legs spread, still very hard—and I will be for a while because that’s the natural consequences of only coming once—and try to enjoy the next thirty seconds of relaxing calm.
But like all good things, it ends. The hot air cuts off and the shower door slides open, ALCOR’s not-so-subtle signal that I have to deal with reality.
I step out, warm, dry, and a little more relaxed than I was a few minutes ago. Then hate myself for that.
“Serpint,” ALCOR says. “May I offer some advice?”
“No,” I growl, stepping out of the bathroom. “And I really fucking mean that,” I add. Because he’s not an obedient personality. At all. “Get the fuck out of my quarters.”
“Very well.”
I don’t know if I just imagine that I can feel his absence when he disappears, but I think I can. Because the whole place becomes just a little more empty.
Good job, Serpint. Got just what you wanted.
I open the door to find the stupid bot waiting for me, chirping a greeting I don’t understand. Why couldn’t Crux assign me a bot that spoke a real language?
Ignoring it, I walk down the hallway, hand automatically reaching down for the hardness between my legs out of habit, thinking I’ll get myself a drink to enjoy as I get dressed and come face to face with…
The half-breed princess.
Bound to my punishment wall with magnetic bracelets. A giant pink bow wrapped around her waist and an electronic note hovering across her ample tits that reads: She’s all yours. Enjoy. In bright green letters.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
CHAPTER FOUR – LYRA
Fun fact about Akeelian males.
They have two extra-long, extra-hard, extra-thick cocks.
But the only time you know they have two cocks is right after they come. Because one requires the other to emerge. Which means fucking an Akeelian is never quick or easy.
“I was brought here,” I snarl at him, trying to pull off an attitude. But my eyes are stuck on his body. And even though I’ve already seen him shirtless, he was sweaty and dirty and now he’s clean, and smells like a fucking planet.
For sun’s sake. Why? Why did I mouth off up in the harem room? Surely, if I had just kept my trap shut I’d have ended up somewhere better than here. With him.
He slides his jaw to the side, gritting his teeth, clearly as irritated at my presence in his quarters as I am at being here. “Why were you brought here?”
“I dunno. Maybe the note floating in front of my tits explains the situation. I’m a fucking slave, remember? And I’m magnetically bound to this… this stupid wall. Obviously I didn’t put myself here.”
He and his little hovering bot walk towards me. Naked. Because of course he is. His two cocks swinging between his legs like… like a fucking alpha Akeelian who obviously just jerked off in his shower because that’s the only way both his stupid, super-long, super-hard, super-thick cocks would be visible.
Gross.
His hand swipes through the glowing green letters emblazoned in front of my breasts, dismissing it. Then he snatches the note from the ribbon and opens up what is not really a note, but more like a thick packet of printed papers.
Paper. Who the hell uses paper?
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he says, rubbing two fingers alongside his temple.
He didn’t bother to shave, I notice, then internally chastise myself for noticing. But also because now that he’s had a shower and washed the blood off, the stubble is mostly… attractive.
“What?” I ask. “What do they say?” I lean forward as far as I can, but a sharp sting shoots through my body, forcing me to recoil back. “Shock bracelets?” I say, so pissed off. “You’ve bound me in shock bracelets?”
It’s not just bracelets, either. They are on my ankles and my legs are spread—not quite wide open, but near enough. So a second shock slides up my legs too.