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His cum fell on my lips and my cheek, and I fluttered my eyelashes as it fell close to my eyes.
Tor slapped my lips again, and drew a finger down the rivulets of his cum, feeding them to me. I sucked at his fingertips obediently, willing him with my eyes to forgive me for whatever I had done to earn his wrath.
"See you later," he told me, in a low voice, when he was finished.
CHAPTER3
Alena
I was sent to the one they call Scar after my ritual punishment. I hadn't been able to figure out their system of sharing me, but they called these one-on-one sessions "recreational." Sometimes the man I was assigned to for the day would bring others in on his recreation, and sometimes most of our time would be spent some way other than having sex.
But more often than not, I was used as a plaything, over and over again, by men whose sexual appetites were astonishing.
Black helped me into my robe, like he always did, his fingers brushing the back of my neck or stroking my arm affectionately as he did so. "If you want," he whispered into my ear as he enclosed me in the silken robe, "I can talk to Cap about this," he said.
I dared to look at Tor, who was standing by the door, ready to exit, and glowering at me. I shook my head, my lips pursed together. I didn't want to get on Tor's bad side. I didn't even know how that had happened this time, so I couldn't risk doing something that would almost surely incur his wrath.
Besides. Cap had already made his decision about Tor: to give me to him, like a piece of meat, for an extra rotation.
"Remember that he cannothurt you," Black said, his lips against the back of my head as he kissed me, and gently pushed me forward by the shoulders.
I knew this rule, of course. My definition of "hurt" was slightly different than theirs, but it was largely true: I could be caused extreme discomfort, sodomized, kept awake by endless "recreation," ordered to humiliate myself, spanked, and brought to tears by games of domination and submission, but I could not beharmed. No broken skin, no bruises. No blood.
And no cum in my pussy, except for Rhys. This rule was the one most strictly adhered to, even though it seemed nonsensical: with my permission, Doc administered contraceptive hormones to me, and everyone knew this.
Black usually escorted me everywhere. I wished it was Rhys, sometimes, but I felt safe and protected when Black was with me, when he came to retrieve me from the other men.
Black came with complications, like they all did: he often made me cross the line, or break a rule, and I had been disciplined more than once because of him.
But Black seemed to really care about me, to really want totakecare of me.
Even as I had these thoughts, I wanted to slap myself. I knew I shouldn't have thoughts like that - thoughts about the tenderness of Black, the strange allure of Scar and his many scars, a desire to be filled in every hole at once by three of them, the others waiting in the wings. I knew I shouldn't want to be used like this, fucked again and again, all day, most of the night.
Especially, I thought - and a sliver of cold fear sliced into me - because there was definitely somethingupon this ship, and it wasn't good. We didn’t seem to be headed where Rhys said we were headed, and if I ever brought this up, even tangentially, they all acted very strange.
I vowed almost every day to make an attempt to figure it out, but I failed almost every day because I spent almost all of it being used for their pleasure.
Scar's door was open, and so Black gestured at me to enter, his face serious. It was unlike him to have a serious expression, so I smiled back wanly.
"It's okay," I told him, quietly. "Tor's bark is worse than his bite."
Black didn't answer, just reached out and touched my lips. It was an odd gesture, one he had never made before, and then he seemed to need to shake it away. He inhaled deeply, and sighed. "I'll be back for you at 1900 hours."
This sort of thing was precisely the kind of thing that worried me: these strange incontinuities. A twenty-four hour clock, as opposed to an eighteen hour clock - the kind they would have had if they were really from Titan-45, like Black had said.
Wouldn't they?
But I never had much time to contemplate any of this, and maybe that was part of their plan. Whatever that plan was. Scar was already approaching the door, ready to close it behind me once I was inside his room, and his for the day.
*
Scar usually liked to watch films reclined on his bed, leaning against a pile of pillows, sitting up, while I got on my knees to the left of him and leaned over to his cock, with my ass in the air, and sucked him off. He would lazily finger my pussy and ass, not really trying to make me come, and slowly pull the ass plug in and out of me, his eyes on the film.
It drove me wild, and it was a lot of work, but it was a safe activity that wouldn't get me in trouble with Rhys.
Scar wasn't always interested in this kind of activity, though. Sometimes he had other things in mind.
Today he turned after closing the door and looked me up and down. "What'd you do to Tor?" he asked, raising his eyes to meet mine. His left hand reached out to tug on the loose belt at my waist, the only thing keeping the robe wrapped around me.
