Page 19 of Zahhn's Mate
The sharp commands he issued prompted me to obey. Well, most of the time. I was so scandalized when he wanted to shove the metallic phallus in my mouth, however, that I’d defied him and provoked his wrath. I flush as I recall the spanking he’d given me, a punishment that had left my bottom sore for days. I’d been helpless to escape the smacks as he held my legs high in the air and swatted my exposed buttocks. And the wetness between my thighs… well, my excitement only grew as he thrashed me, much to my astonishment and shame.
Arousal. For the first time in my life, I experienced arousal. Even before he’d administered a hypospray to counteract theeffects of the hormone suppressants, I’d found myself aching for his touch. Being in the authoritative alien male’s presence had rendered me wanton and breathless. I couldn’t help it. Even now as I think about him, I feel myself growing wet and achy between my thighs.
I cast a quick glance around the bar, fearful that someone will notice I’m entertaining forbidden thoughts. It shouldn’t matter in Leona’s Speakeasy, as this is a laid-back place where rebellious activity sometimes occurs, but I still fear someone will notice I’m flushed and aroused. I turn around briefly to face the wall of liquor, then snatch my water bottle and gulp down the last of my daily water ration, needing to cool my temperature. Feverish. Whenever I think about Zahhn, I become so feverish and unsettled, that I don’t know how to handle it.
If I were alone in my bedroom, perhaps I would attempt to caress myself, but I can’t very well do that in public. Maybe later tonight. Ever since my encounter with Zahhn, I’ve been tempted to try self-pleasure. Perhaps a climax will alleviate my aching discomfort and help banish my constant thoughts of Zahhn. I can only hope.
Voices near the entrance catch my attention, and I turn to see Angelo speaking with Jenny, a young patron who frequents the speakeasy and often provides entertainment in exchange for free drinks. She plays the keyboard and has an amazing singing voice, and my spirits brighten as I watch her smiling at Angelo. Given recent events, I hope she’s okay. She hasn’t visited the bar in about two weeks. Not since the handover of the first thirty women. Her older sister, Ellie, was among the women who were given to the Darrvasons. I imagine Jenny’s been grieving the loss of her sister and spending more time with her mother in recent days.
To make matters more complicated, Jenny happens to be Captain Warren’s niece, as well as a descendant of Founders. Butshe’s not a snitch, and even though most of my patrons are non-Founders, I welcome her all the same.
As she looks in my direction, I start drying a bin of freshly washed glasses, needing something to keep my hands busy. I force a bright smile as Jenny heads my way. The last thing I want to do is look at her with pity. I doubt she would appreciate it very much. People come to the speakeasy to have fun and forget whatever troubles are plaguing them, if only for one night.
“Look what the cat dragged in,” I say.
“Lovely to see you too.” She slides onto a stool at the bar. “Any requests for tonight?”
“Sing whatever your heart desires.” I flash another smile. “It’s good to see you again, kid.”
She nods and glances at the stage with a look of longing, then she slips off the stool. I continue drying glasses as she makes her way to the stage. Normal, I muse. This feels somewhat normal. It’s a regular night, and though the speakeasy isn’t crowded, there are enough patrons here to keep me busy. Plus, a performance from Jenny is always appreciated. She never fails to lighten the mood and bring the crowd together with one of her songs.
As she takes her place behind the keyboard, the murmur of conversation halts, and there’s a swell of excitement in the air. I exchange a smile with Angelo. Yes, nothing but a normal night, I remind myself again.
But I don’t feel normal. I still feel… transformed.
Enlightened.
My encounter with Zahhn has changed me irrevocably, and I fear I’ll never return to the person I once was. The person who was completely and blissfully ignorant about fornication and breeding and orgasms.
My gaze sweeps around the bar, and not for the first time I worry that someone might know the truth about what happenedto me. Gossip and rumors spread like wildfire on the worldship. If one of the guards who escorted me to the medical bay blabs, everyone on theJansonnawill discover my secret.
Thus far, I haven’t admitted to anyone why I missed two days of work in the mess hall and one evening managing the speakeasy. After being released from the brig, the very day after my embarrassing medical exam, I simply told everyone who cared to ask that I’d suffered from food poisoning.
I think of the six women I’d met in the brig. All of them were included in the group of thirty, and guilt ravages me that I only escaped that fate due to my age. I’m not much for praying, but I’ve sent a few beseeching requests to whatever higher power might be listening for their wellbeing. I hope they aren’t suffering terribly at the hands of their Darrvason masters.
Jenny starts playing the keyboard, a catchy tune I recognize as a favorite among the bar’s patrons, and her beautiful voice soon echoes off the walls. The song is an ancient rock ‘n’ roll piece from Earth, and the theme happens to be fighting back against government control.
Well, this is an illegal bar, so the song is nothing if not fitting. Most of the songs Jenny sings are about rebellion, and as I watch her perform, I can’t help but wonder if she’s involved with any rebel groups.
She clearly despises Captain Warren—I’ve heard her talk shit about him before—and the captain obviously holds no love for his late brother’s widow or her two daughters either. Is that why he selected Ellie, his own niece, to be among the group of thirty? Out of hatred or spite?
Well, if Jenny is part of a rebel group, she’s a goddamn genius. Because here she is, in an illegal bar, performing a song about fighting government power while the crowd cheers and sings along. One could argue she’s trying to incite a rebellion, just like it could be argued my father does when he holds secret“talks” with citizens who are concerned about the decisions made by Captain Warren and his command team. Talks that sometimes coincide with attacks on guards and even riots in the corridors.
I decide if Jenny is a rebel, I don’t want to know. The less I know, the better. I think of Commander Hampton and suppress a shiver. I consider myself lucky that the bastard didn’t try to interrogate me, though I can’t help but worry for my father. The Darrvasons are repairing the extensive damage to theJansonna, and they’re supposedly going to lead us to a habitable planet. My father might not be needed anymore, and someone like Commander Hampton could quietly order his execution.
Suddenly, there’s a collective gasp, and people start turning toward the entrance. Jenny’s eyes widen. Her voice trails off mid-song, and her fingers go still on the keyboard. My stomach flips as I glance to the door, praying we haven’t been set upon by security or morality officers.
I’m only partially relieved by the sight that greets me: A huge Darrvason male stands several feet inside the speakeasy, waving a keycard in Angelo’s face as they exchange terse words. And yes, there’s a split second where I think it’s Doctor Zahhn. But it’s not him. I don’t know this alien’s name, but I’ve seen him around the ship lately. I don’t think he’s an engineer, however, since he’s usually following Captain Warren and other members of the command team around.
Why is he here?
I notice he keeps looking at the stage. At Jenny, to be precise. They’re staring at one another in a way that tells me they aren’t strangers.
In the crowd, people are keeping their heads low and whispering amongst themselves, as though trying to obscure their faces from the alien male. No one can flee the bar easily. Not without running past the Darrvason male. I shake away thefeeling that we’re trapped and all I’ve worked for is about to come to an abrupt end.
Well, time to find out what the hell’s going on. This is my bar, after all, and it’s ultimately my responsibility to keep my patrons safe.
I draw in a deep breath, summon an aura of confidence, and sashay over to the entrance where Angelo is still arguing with the Darrvason male. As I approach the door, I notice several patrons leaving their tables to hide behind the bar. I pray I’m able to diffuse the situation quickly and keep everyone protected.
