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He opened his mouth to dismiss her claims with a derisive snort then recalled the memo he’d received the previous day. Another string of assaults and murders, and although he’d had some success with capturing the worst perpetrators, Tagra remained difficult to govern. The factions had replaced their lost comrades with others and another faction had stepped into the League’s shoes. Women remained especially vulnerable and no amount of patrols could halt the rebellious nature of the colony’s population.
Where could he send those who made trouble? The ringleaders had been dispatched to another harsher penal colony on icy Barah. Due to the terrible conditions, most would probably not survive more than a few years. However, he couldn’t keep sending the worst offenders away to other penal colonies because most were already at capacity.
“Music? Would that really settle them? Books?” He shrugged, but didn’t dismiss her idea.
“One of my friends here, she’s able to recite by heart reams of poetry. Everyone sits rapt and listens. They’re wonderful stories of her culture and we talk about things. It creates harmony. Don’t you see?”
He didn’t especially. Warriors sought victory and power, not harmony. “I’ll think about it, Freya.”
She smiled and it pleased him when she smiled because through it shone her beauty. However, for now, he’d heard enough words. Fisting her wet hair in his hand, he tilted her head back and locked his mouth on hers before she could say anything else. He’d fuck her one last time before he had to leave. Today, she’d have to wear the plug for three hours. She accepted the plugging without complaint as if she expected the demands he placed on her during his lengthy absences.
He continued to plant hard kisses on her lips as he steered her toward the loveseat. Lifting her up, he cupped her ass in his palms and positioned her on the seat. She spread her legs and grasped the arm supports on either side.
He thrust once, driving his cock inside her pussy until his balls knocked against her. She cried out and her eyes glazed over. He waited, a customary pause while she adapted to his thickening shaft. He reached forward and gripped the upright poles by her shoulders until his knuckles turned white.
Freya whimpered. It wasn’t due to pain—he’d learned enough about her reactions to know that she wasn’t in pain. She was already desperate to come. He’d make her beg, as she knew he would, then he’d tease her with his hand on her exposed clitoris, suck her nipples, and call her his. Throughout, he would fuck her hard, so hard the seat might rock. If all went well, he’d come two or three times without resting, and she would achieve multiple noisy climaxes.
In an hour’s time, he’d be gone and she would have to manage without him for a few days during which time he would supervise the processing of another batch of new prisoners and the transfer of another lot to Barah.
He’d miss her, far more than he’d care to admit and far more than anyone should miss a jenjin. Perhaps Lalita had been right when she warned him that sentimentality was a poor trait. She’d hinted at her concerns when updating him on Freya’s behavior. Lalita had requested no punishments, but it seemed as if she thought Freya was manipulating Marco, rather than submitting fully.
“I can instigate higher protocols, if you wish, governor,” she’d suggested.
He’d heard her out, but couldn’t agree with her opinion. His time with Freya was too precious to waste on ritual displays of submission, especially the kind Lalita preferred. However, if Freya slipped up in a major way, he’d take heed of Lalita’s advice.
For now, Freya had his undivided attention and Lalita’s words of warning were best left in the back of his mind.
He swung his hips back, removed the entire length of his cock, then as she gasped, he entered her again. This time, he didn’t wait for her reaction before repeating the action.
* * *
The day after Marco left her floating in a state of bliss on the loveseat, Freya listened to Lucilla recount another poem over the dining table. It was a sadder tale about how her planet had failed to fight off the invaders.
“How long ago?” Freya asked.
“In the time of my grandfather,” Lucilla replied.
“Do you think the Vendu will ever stop hunting for new worlds to conquer?” she pondered.
“Someday. They need more love in their lives.”
“Yes, true.” She lowered her spoon and leaned across the table, so the other girls couldn’t hear her speak. “Why are you here, not the Volta, but here on Tagra? I can’t imagine you committing a crime or fighting.”
Lucilla picked at the food on her plate. “I don’t like to talk about it, because I’m not sure why. I wasn’t present when they sentenced me. I was put on a transporter and woke up on Tagra, then I was brought straight to the Volta.”
“You don’t know why?” Freya exclaimed. Her own experience of Vendu justice wasn’t great, but at least she knew what offense she’d been accused of committing. “You haven’t asked anyone?”
“Who, Freya. Who do I ask? I’ve been here two cycles of the sun and abandoned all hope of ever going home.” She wiped away a solitary tear with the corner of her napkin.
“I can’t believe there aren’t any records of your conviction here on Tagra. They must have your case files.” She drummed her fingers on the table. “Perhaps I could find out for you.”
“How?” Lucilla asked.
“Marco, the governor,” she quickly corrected, “He would have access to the prisoners’ files via his console. I know the key lock for his desk console.”
Lucilla shook her head. “No, Freya, it’s too risky. How would you get there?”
She’d been accused before of taking risks, but this time there would be no nasty villains threatening to rape her. Instead, she was the governor’s jenjin and that had to mean something to those in authority. “I’ll tell Lalita that the governor summoned me to pleasure him in his office.”
