Talon had used some sophisticated equipment to try to measure several of them that seemed to be the deepest and had come back baffled and shaking his head, saying only that he couldn’t measure the depth of those waterholes.
One of the humans who had worked in the Above had devised a rather ingenious system of tapping into one of the largest ones that sat right above the small city on a little crest of the hill. Small lines snaked over the land bringing the water from there to the garden section of the land as well as to the greenery house.
In addition, he had added lines underground, each one with a small branch in the tube that led water to the huts. Each line ended with a single small handle in the hut that the hose’s branching end fed into. Turning it would lose freshwater, but not much; the human who had created the system said that they needed a pump, and so far they had not yet been able to either manufacture or find one for sale.
Gravity did most of the work, but the result was a sluggish trickle of water instead of a full stream. Jeval had no problem with that. He stripped his clothes off gladly and stepped over to the small, sunken in depression of the floor that had a drain cut into it. The water used for bathing was not wasted. Instead, it ran back to a cistern where it was cleaned by a spinning filter and then used to wash clothing.
Several of the humans created wonderful smelling stuff they called soap. It smelled good, like the outdoors. It was fresh and clean and foamy when combined with the water, and he lifted a small chunk of it away from the leaf on which it sat then stepped up to the little water pipe. He flicked his wrist as he grasped the little lever and the water began to flow.
The water was chilly, but not chilly enough to take the edge off the burning desire that had gripped him during his meeting with Margie. How he could be so lust-stricken at the very sight of her was beyond him. No human had ever had that type of effect on him before. The water hit his head and then his extremities, running down toward the floor as he rubbed the soap across his wide and broad chest and then under his arms and down lower. His fingers found his swollen member, and he winced as his organ stiffened even further as he attempted to wash it.
He growled angrily at his traitorous flesh, but it stayed rigid and tense. “Dammit. The woman somehow always flusters me. This will be extremely problematic when she is with me on this mission. There must be someone else.”
The soap was silky, and it smoothed and soothed his skin. His palm, still bearing a thin skin of that soap, moved to the shaft of his cock. Pleasure rippled up along his body, spreading from the feel of his hand gripped tightly around his rigid and pulsing flesh.
His eyes closed. He could see Margie there. See her red lips pursed and wrapped around his member, see her dark hair swinging forward over her face, hiding it as she sucked hard and let her fingers go to his balls, scratching lightly at the delicate skin there.
His hips pushed forward, his ass cheeks jiggling a bit as his fist gripped his thick and long shaft more tautly and his toes curled into the floor as pleasure spiked and jolted along his body. His shaft thickened again, his organ filling with blood. Veins, heavy and blue, wrapped around that skin and the smooth and blood-swollen muscle below. Pulses of desire came in, making his teeth grit and his ass clench as he drove forward again, letting his hot and pulsing rod fill his fist while that image of Margie pleasuring him filled his mind, blotting out all else.
His sac climbed higher. The blood swept into his cock’s head, turning it a dusky-purple. Heat came off that member, making his hand work faster. The soap laid a slick and slippery trail, and his hand made a tight little tunnel, but it wasn’t enough.
He wanted her.
His seed spurted and splashed out of his body, falling like rain along the floor. He grunted, his muscles all jumping and jerking as the thick white seed came again, spilling onto his fingers and making his breath come in a hard and low gasp that turned into a throaty growl.
He shook his head to clear it.
The momentary pleasure passed quickly, and it did nothing at all to lessen his appetite for Margie.
He stood before the door to Margie’s chamber a few days later. The ship was fast and had cut through the skies toward the pleasure planet known as Moni-world far too fast for his liking.
Jeval would have liked to have put the mission, and it’s necessitating his being close to Margie, off for a few weeks. Time was something they did not have, unfortunately, so there he stood, trying to work up the nerve to knock on her door and tell her that the ship would be docking soon.
He knew that she had been angry earlier, furious over the necessity of donning the outfit that had been chosen for her to wear in order to give her more of a look of a slave. He had no doubt that she was still angry, in fact, and the last thing he wanted to do was face either her temper or the sight of her in that costume.
Before he could raise his hand to knock, the door slid open. His mouth dropped open. Margie stood there, a sullen glower on her face, which she had made up cleverly with cosmetics. Her lips were colored to the rubiest red he had ever seen. Thick black liner accented her long eyelids and lifted them slightly at the corners, giving her a more exotic look. She had done something to her eyelashes to make them look thicker and longer as well, and the overall effect was devastating. She had fixed up her silky hair to make it wave and curl around her face before pinning it up high on the back of her long and milky neck.
And that outfit!
It was all the typical things seen on most sex slaves. But by all of the gods of the old worlds… His organ gave such a heavy throb that he had to step back and turn slightly sideways. He wasn’t even sure if that would help. His prick was sticking out, pulsing like a weapon cocked and ready and the blood had hit there so hard he was pretty sure he was never going to be able to think at all.
To make matters worse, and yes, there was a worse it seemed when it came to his body betraying him, his heart hammered hard into his ribs and his breath stilled in his throat as he stared at her.
She wore a top that barely covered her breasts, but which held them up high in the air. He knew it was some sort of sly and cunning contraption made of wire and fabric, but at that moment, he was sure that top was made out of absolute lust and temptation.
Her bare midriff drew his eyes. Her flat stomach and cute little naval glimmered from the oil she had applied to her skin. The shape of her hips drew his eyes and made his fingers itch with the longing to grip her there, pull her to him so that he could tilt her pelvis into his and feel her lower body against that throbbing girth in his trousers.
She wore a billowy, diaphanous set of gurley girl pants. They were transparent enough for him to see every line and angle of her legs and just thick enough to disguise her crotch with a little assistance from the small band of fabric that she wore within like underwear.
She said, “I still don’t see why you couldn’t have been the slave. This is utter—”
He spoke hastily, “There’s no time to argue. The ship’s docking. I know you understand how grave a mission this is, but I must demand, right now, that you behave with some subservience.”
Her jet-hued left eyebrow rose upward. Her lips pursed. A gleam hit her eyes, and he was not at all sure he liked the looks of it. He had seen her go after a being that pissed her off already, and he knew she could be as cunning and vicious as a little raptor-bird when she chose to be. He also knew she had a bad habit of kicking males in their most tender anatomy. “Oh really?”
His hands rested on his waist. His cock throbbed, and his pulse raced higher. He had to search for words, but he finally found them. “Yes. Listen to me. Here, slaves who misbehave are seen as things that need to be broken. I do not want to have to explain why I have not yet broken you and I damn sure don’t want to have to publicly break you; do you understand?”
The pout left her mouth. Her face took on a worried expression. He felt a pang of sympathy for her, but he quickly quelled it. The words he had said to her were true. One wrong move and they would both be caught up in a system that demanded that unbroken slaves be broken and that if the one who owned them could not break them, that the slave be given over to those who could.
