“I like knowing how things work,” she replied. “It’s kind of what got me into this…” She stopped herself before calling it amess. “How does it know what you want?”
He let out a heavy sigh, as if he regretted indulging her questions. “There will be time for questions later. We have an appointment to keep,” he said.
“We do?” she asked. “What is it?”
“Afina is waiting in the impregnarium. You must remove your coverings as there will be others present.”
She looked down at the two swathes of fabric, grateful for the momentary reprieve from her shame they’d provided. She pulled at the one around her chest. It didn’t budge. She looked to him for help. A shiver ran down her back as he extended a hand toward her chest and gently tugged at the fabric.
“Not like that,” he said. “Like this.” The fabric seemed to obey him. Unwrapping and revealing her breasts again. He set it on the stone platform and did the same with the one covering her waist.
Now she was naked again. Her status apparent for all who cared to see. Avessel, as he’d said. Or, as she’d thought earlier, breeding stock. She watched him walk back to the hole in the wall. Her eyes widened when he drew out what looked like a leash with a collar on the end.
“This is required by protocol,” he said. He walked back to where she was standing and clipped the collar around her neck. He wrapped the end of the leash around his hand and stared deep into her eyes. “Too tight?” he asked.
It should have been yet another humiliating moment. Instead, she got lost in his stare. She shook her head gently.
“Then follow me,” he said, nodding. He turned and began to walk. As the leash went taut, it tugged at her neck. The collar was heavy but sensual, its grip on her neck a reminder of her subservience to Rychor. The dreamlike images they had conjured in her mind surfaced, unbidden, stirring arousal beneath her skin and in her belly. She squeezed her eyes shut to try and rid herself of the growing arousal in her core.
This was so… humiliating. Her own body was the source of much of her shame. It was unprofessional, ludicrous… so many things. And yet, when she repeated to herself that she had no choice, no choice but to submit, the thought gave her almost a comfort. It was an excuse, she realized, to indulge in what was definitelybad, taboobehavior.
And thoughts. Trailing behind Rychor, she watched the muscles rolling beneath his skin and her own body tingled where he had touched her, almost as if he was touching her right at that moment.
His stride was relaxed, but his steps large, and so she had to run every few steps in order to keep in line behind him. When she slowed, the collar tugged at her neck, forcing her to bow her head and scramble. It was demeaning, and yet the submission injected arousal into her bloodstream.
You have no choice,she told herself. What difference did it make if she… enjoyed it a little?
They made a series of turns until they entered a busier corridor. It was filled with creatures much like him. Fellow Ryvokia—humanoids, very large, all evidently male, going about their business. Each one turned to stare at her as she followed him, their eyes roaming along her body, their curiosity apparent, though none of them reacted with astonishment.
She sensed an alertness and a certain kind of hunger in them, similar to the gaze of human males. She covered her breasts and very smooth, bare mound with her hands awkwardly, unable to find a way to cover herself entirely. Humiliation burned in her cheeks.
Rychor walked even more briskly in the crowded corridor, Sonya skipping along behind him with hurried steps. He navigating easily through the crowds; everyone seemed to part for him.
She wondered if that indicated he had some sort of superior status in their social hierarchy. The way the attendants had behaved, dutifully obeying all his orders, seemed to indicate that. She wished she had her notebook to record these observations. Memory was such a fickle tool, and she was desperate to remember every detail to catalog when she got back.
If she got back,she reminded herself. The dark cloud surrounding the “breeding” the aliens seemed intent upon performing returned.
After a few turns through the corridors, he walked through an opening and into a chamber about twice the size of the one they’d left.
Her eyes went wide as she followed him in.
She counted four rows of compartments, shaped out of the same material that had cocooned her while she’d slept. Enclosed in each compartment were what looked to be different life forms. Her jaw dropped. These were not Ryvokia. From what she could see, they were females of a dozen different species. Some bi-pedal others… very different. All of their eyes shone with intelligence. Their appendages were bound to the spongy rock. Arms, if they had them, stretched apart, and legs, if they had those, spread. The one commonality was that what were obviously their genitals, the entrance to their insides, were all on vulgar display.
“Rychor.”
She turned when she heard his name and gasped. A Ryvokiafemalewas striding towards them. She was almost as tall as Rychor with a thick shock of black hair, high cheekbones, and large breasts. Hips flared from a taut waist and there were powerful muscles in her arms and legs. She looked stunningly beautiful.
“Afina,” Rychor said, bowing at the waist.
Sonya observed the gesture with curiosity. She hadn’t seen him defer to anyone since she’d arrived. His behavior indicated this female held a higher status than he did. She would have given anything for a notepad and pencil, as ridiculous as it seemed.
“The latest harvest,” Rychor said, nodding toward Sonya.
The female, Afina, looked at her with a stern stare. Her eyes roamed down her body in much the same way the observers in the corridor had. “The same species as the last,” she noted.
“Indeed,” Rychor affirmed. “From the same clan.”
Sonya looked at her feet. The female radiated such a haughty, unearthly power that she made Sonya feel, for no apparent reason, cowed.
