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She seems unaware that I have made her my mate in every sense of the word. This asteroid of hers will be cleared of Growlers because I know that it is better to give than to receive, and she will be in my debt if I have saved her familial home. Is it is a cynical offer? Perhaps. But it is a genuine one. I need a compliant, happy mate willing to bear my seed and give me an heir. Have I mentioned that part outside sex yet? No? Well. I’ll certainly mention it eventually. No point in overloading the poor human, she already has a lot to deal with, and it’s clear she’s barely functioning, given she managed to put herself on an illegal alien slave trafficking website without noticing.
I suppose I did the same, in order for her to have ‘bought’ me. In fact, it’s possible that neither one of us made a mistake at all, but rather the auctioneers made the ‘mistake’ by doubling the available pool of creatures for sale. That’s what you get when you deal with criminals.
“I’m hungry,” she announces, squirming around. “Have you anything to eat on this great, grand vessel?”
“Of course. We have every kind of raw meat you can imagine.”
“Hm. And a kitchen to cook it in?”
“Leonids don’t usually use kitchens. Our bodies are trained to extract nutrients from raw ingredients. We have a freezer and a warmer to return the meat to living temperature, but cooking isn’t…”
She’s off my lap in an instant, pacing back and forth with a concerned look on her face as it becomes apparent she is very worried about not having anything to eat. It’s a pleasant view, her naked body thick and athletic from a lifetime of hearty food and hard work.
“Where’s the kitchen? I mean. Warming… room? You were planning on buying me, right? You must have planned on feeding me something.”
“We eat every week or so…”
She shakes her head at me, as if that will not do. “Humans eat three times a day or we get hangry.”
“I am not familiar with that term.”
“A combination of hungry and angry. People become bad tempered when they have not had enough food.”
“Ah, then yes, I am well familiar with the concept. We call it the hunt hunger. It is the impetus to go out and kill.”
“Sure. Yes. Like that.”
“Well, we can’t have you feeling that way, can we, my little human. Come. Let me see what I have to feed you.”
She gives me a dubious look. “I have supplies on my ship,” she says. “Maybe I’ll just go there. It’s in your transport bay, right?”
“I am the owner,” I remind her. “I will feed you.”
“Well…” she says. “Technically…”
I stand up, my head three feet higher than hers. That alone should establish dominance, but so should having been fucked to screaming orgasm. All it does is make her take a step back so she doesn’t have to look up at me from such a sharp angle.
“Technically, I own you just as much.”
Maybe she’ll be submissive later. Maybe it takes a little time.
I put a large paw on her delicate shoulder and steer her from the bridge down through the great space of my ship’s den, to the cool store where dozens of cuts of prime meat are hanging. I notice her skin begins to form many dozens of small raised bumps. She shivers as she looks over her shoulder at me.
“I’m a vegetarian.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“It means I don’t eat meat.”
I stare at her blankly, because this information does not gel with my understanding of her species.
“My research indicated humans are omnivorous, capable of eating almost anything.”
“Capable, perhaps. Willing? No. I don’t eat anything that has a face, on the grounds it was probably using its body before it was slaughtered to become my lunch.”
“I thought you were a farmer.”
“I am. I farm crops and goats, for milk. Not meat.”
