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“You were a good girl for me, Dreamy,” he purrs, petting my pussy a few times before pulling his fingers back and pushing the tips against the opening of my sex. He slides them in slowly, stretching me again. True to his word, he is going to keep me busy being fucked.
“I want you to suck my cock,” he says, helping me lay back. He kneels beside me on the bed and frees his rod again, giving me access to his gleaming rod. His fingers slide in and out of my cum-soaked pussy slowly as I tentatively lick him and discover that he tastes like me and his own seed all mixed up together.
“Such a good girl.” He praises me, and I feel myself glow. I open my mouth wider and allow him to gently thrust his cock into my mouth. When I look up, I see his dark gaze settled on me. He does seem pleased. I have been good for him, and that is why he is fingering my pussy, giving me a little more pleasure, the pad of his thumb rubbing against the hard little nub of my wet clit. I find myself sucking him more eagerly, wanting more praise and more pleasure too. Shah is making things simple for me. He is showing me what he wants and what I can get if I obey him.
With the desperately obedient lapping of my tongue, his cock is soon clean, and I am shaking with another orgasm, forced with the rampant thrusting of his rough fingers.
It’s not until the orgasm completely fades that I come to terms with what he’s just done to me.
“Why are you keeping me,” I moan when he has me back in the privacy of his opulent chambers. “I’m nothing but an embarrassment.”
Shah looks at me with laughing eyes. “You don’t embarrass me. I can’t be embarrassed by someone who isn’t me.”
“You enjoy humiliating me.”
“Of course, I do,” Shah says. “But I’m not trying to hurt you. I’m proving a point, to everybody out there, and to you. I want you to know your place with me, Dreamy. I want you to know what your purpose is.”
My purpose is to be Shah’s fuck toy and the object of hatred for every other unattached female on his ship.
I think I should try to escape. I don’t know where I’m going to escape to, though. If I go back to my worker Colony, worst case I’ll be killed, and best case I’ll be put through reprogramming - and that’s a fate worse than being kidnapped by Shah.
“Aw, Dreamy,” he says, his voice dripping fake sympathy. “Are you getting more than you bargained for? Is the good girl regretting going bad?”
“Yes!” I exclaim. “I regretted it the moment I woke up here. Maybe even before then. I might have regretted it even before I did it.”
Shah laughs at me. He doesn’t believe a word I am saying. Strangely enough, I don’t know if I do either.
“Don’t worry. You’ll get used to it,” he says. “You weren’t made to be a drone, Dreamy. You’ve always wanted something more.”
“Why do you talk to me like you know me?”
“Because I know people. You went to Omega looking for freedom, and now you have it.”
Hardly. I find myself in a new kind of servitude, a much more intense one. One that finds me reduced to the function of my sexuality, used by Shah to sate his twisted desires.
“What freedom?” I ask the question, and then immediately lose the nerve to have asked it, retrospectively. “I mean, yes, thank you, Shah. So much freedom. I guess I don’t know what it feels like.”
“You have freedom on my ship and with me. You have the run of the vessel, and I guess, the underside of any tables you like the looks of.”
He’s mocking me. I hid because I was afraid and because I was overwhelmed by the way people were looking at me. And I did actually drop a fry. So it made sense until I was caught, and then it didn’t make any sense at all.
“Don’t worry,” he says, patting my head as if I’m a good puppy. “You’ll get used to it here. You please me. That’s all that matters.”
Maybe that is all that matters. When I was a worker drone, all that mattered was following the schedule. Now all that matters is pleasing Shah. It’s sort of the same thing, if you think about it. And it is all I can think about.
5
Ihave been on Shah’s vessel for three days. I have made a fool of myself, I have been made a spectacle of. I have caused more trouble than I am worth, and I have been made worth something by being the object Shah and the Colony fight over. It has been a confusing time, but the relentless, all-consuming intimacy has made it feel almost natural.
I am lying on Shah’s chest, dripping his seed. We are talking softly the way people do when they have coupled. I want to know more about him. I want him to know more about me, or I would, if there was anything to know about me. I am nothing more than what I seem to be. I am a product of the Colony. So I ask questions of him, hoping to understand him more, and maybe my captivity more too.
Shah is holding me as I lie on top of him, one hand on my ass, clutching me possessively and keeping me in place. It is quiet, and it is calm, and in that quiet calm, my mind’s natural curiosity begins to reassert itself. I never asked questions in the Colony, because I always knew the answers, because nothing ever changed, and everything was already decided.
“I read once in an old story that all ships have names. What’s this one called?”
“It’s called Margaret’s Revenge, or the Revenge for short.”
“Who was Margaret?”
