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Etterian battleship Phoenix
The common
“Milady Macera, how may I assist?” Medic Rior greeted her with a small smile.
Macy liked him. He was helpful, gentle, and kind. He didn’t scowl like most of the Etterian males she’d met. Xan wore a pinched expression as if he was horny all the time, but Oyaz was at least approachable. Smiling came easier to him too.
“Rior, please just call me Macy. Oyaz said I needed to get an O.D.I. implant?” She hadn’t considered what the insertion would entail. Days in medical? When she’d had the paychip embedded in her wrist, she hadn’t been able to use her hand for a week. “Is this possible?”
His smile widened as he gestured to the bed. “Please...Macy. Come sit for me. It is a painless procedure. I slip a device under the skin of your wrist. For the O.D.I. or Optical Data Implant, your internal energy powers it, and it is sensitive to your brain functions. This means that you can send it mental signals, and it will respond.”
She gaped. I’ve heard of advanced robotics for people with disabilities but not to this extent. There was talk of security robots and bionic implants for those needing extra strength or a new limb, but she’d never seen either. And the cost of owning a sex cyborg was beyond her. It would take a lifetime to save the tokens.
“What is your handedness?” he asked, and she raised her right hand. He reached for her left, turning it palm upwards. “Would you mind?” Curiosity arched a raven-winged eyebrow.
It was so beautiful against his bronze skin, her finger itched to trace it. She blinked, slow to remember he’d asked her a question. “Mind?”
“Yes, I did not think to ask when I last served you or the miladies.”
“You’re not asking me now either, Rior,” she teased. If he could blush, she suspected he would have. He dipped his chin, but doing so didn’t hide his sensual smirk.
“May I feel your skin? Your softness is most appealing.”
She offered her exposed wrist to him without hesitation. “If I can feel yours as a comparison.”
He nodded before running his fingers from her wrist to her inner elbow and back. “It is so smooth,” he whispered then offered her his arm for her to stroke. His was like velvet and firmer as if he worked out. With those bulging muscles, she had no doubt he did just that.
“Even your fingertips are soft.” He’d captured her hand to rub her fingers.
An Etterian cleared his throat as he inched closer. “May we?” A few men hovered behind him, their gazes fixed on Rior’s hand touching hers.
“If you wish to.” She offered them her wrists.
They crowded her, eager to touch, caress, and each male mumbled their appreciation as they stroked her skin. The constant touching stiffened her spine before making her shudder. A scream built inside her, but she forced herself to swallow it and take slow, deep breaths. Sensory overload, she’d hazard a guess. She slumped when they stepped back, dropping their long fingers from her arms.
“Are all human females this soft?” one male asked, the hope in his eyes too painful to behold. Hope for what? Yes, human females are as squishy as their males.
“I suppose we are,” she said and offered her left hand to Rior for the procedure. Her audience retreated, but Rior pressed her wrist and she twitched, now realizing she was about to let an alien slice her wrist. What if he went too deep? What did they know about humans? “Please, stay, keep me company.” She glanced away then back at them to offer a smile. “I’m a little nervous doing this and could use the distraction. If you have questions, I’ll try to answer them.”
They crowded to the side of her, giving Rior the space he needed. “Your coloring varies. Ours is not so, not even on Lysara and Maloid,” another male said. Black military armor adorned his sculpted body, not that the other males wore anything else.
“Lysara? Maloid?” she asked. “Are those places or people?”
“Lysara is the planet, Lysarans the people with similar physiology to us but with the ability to move through their giant trees. Their planet has overgrown forests interspersed with villages,” Rior said, swiping his thumb over her wrist to tighten her skin for the procedure.
“Maloid has yellow-skinned people with tentacles for hair. They are a peaceful species,” another male said.
She gaped. “Do they have spots that run from their hairline into their tentacles?”
“Yes and solid black eyes.” Rior patted her hand then sifted through the metallic tools he’d splayed on a tray.
“And Lysarans? Are they among the prisoners too?”
“I believe so.” A male ran his dark blue gaze over her. “Did you truly take over the Yithian ship?”
She gritted her teeth, torn between claiming she helped and revealing the truth. “I didn’t do much. I’m not trained like Quin.”
“Your honesty is valued,” the male said. “Ladies Quin and Cyndi do not share your features. Is that an anomaly?”
Macy chuckled. “On Earth, each human is unique, even our skin tones vary from pale to deep brown. Eyes and hair color too. There are so many combinations, and we change our hair color if we wish to.” She babbled on, trying not to acknowledge the tiny sensations on her wrist held firmly in Rior’s large hand.
“Human?”
“It’s what we call ourselves, humans instead of Earthians, woman for singular, women for multiple. Not females.” She forced a smile, covering her wince as something sharp touched her wrist. It wasn’t painful, just alarming, like a pen nib.
“Is this your true hair color?” the same male asked.
“Yes, all me.” She ran her right hand through her hair, her best feature in her opinion. “Coloring hair cost tokens. It’s best to stay natural.”
“Do your...women have occupations?” Rior drew her gaze.
“Yes, we’re considered equal to men and, therefore, can do any task we choose to.”
“That is illogical. Females are not equal,” one of the males said.
She blinked at him. What did I expect? Theirs is a patriarchal society. “It’s true we don’t have your strength, but do you believe my intelligence to be lower than yours?” At her question, he frowned, his gaze thoughtful. “Your viewpoint is one of strength and protection. Ours is of nurturing, care...love. Combined, isn’t that a complete union? If women were also of strength and protection, then the joys that make our lives worth living would be lost.”
“Beautifully said.” Illan slipped between the parting males to stand before her. “I didn’t realize you were holding court?” he teased.
“Hey, Illan,” she smiled. “These males are as curious about humans as I am about Etterians.”
“If you are answering questions, then perhaps you should explain how humans procreate?”
She gasped, ducking her head to hide her burning cheeks.
“I mention it because they do not understand what a true gift a human female is to Etteria.”
“Do I have to describe the sexual act?” She prayed she could channel her inner schoolteacher and not catch on fire from mortification.
“Please,” a male said.
She studied their faces and saw nothing but interest, no lasciviousness, not that she’d expected any. None of them showed any sign that they saw her as a woman, someone to woo. Woo? She snorted before drawing in a deep breath.
“All right.” She rushed through the foreplay, touching on names and descriptions with the barest of details. They battered their eyelids often.
She closed her eyes so she could minimize her nervousness as she described the sexual act. When she peeked, more males had joined, and they listened with eagerness. Holy shit. She squeezed her eyes shut and took another deep breath. “The same is done to men, licking and sucking, maybe even fondling their...” Flicking a glare at Illan, she wished she could jump off the bed and return to the safety of her quarters. She skimmed over bringing a woman to orgasm, how many ways and how many times. “Same for you?” Her gaze flew open to see their responses.
“No, our females only find fulfillment once per day.”
Only once? She opened her mouth to ask for more detail—
“Etterian males are extremely sexual. Would a human woman be able to withstand unions?” The male gestured to Macy. “You appear to be too fragile.”
She grinned. Her, fragile? Had they met Quin? “Oh, yes, we are sturdier than we seem.”
A male gave her a curt nod. “Your explanation is as per the instructional vids Prince Enyl shared.”
Prince Enyl? Wait, what vids? “The what now?” She prayed he meant biological differences and nothing too pornographic.
“What is required of us to mate with a human has formed part of our training,” Rior stated as if he hadn’t just blown her mind.
“What exactly is in these instructional vids?” She scanned the men.
One man tapped his ear. “The women moan throughout the act. Is this normal?”
“It is most annoying,” another man gritted out.
Macy cupped her mouth to muffle a squeal. These men were watching porn as commanded by their prince. “Um, please tell me only you have access to these vids.”
“As part of our training, all must learn,” the man stated.
“All?” she squeaked. An entire nation? Heat exploded across her face, and she squirmed on her ass. Oh, dear Lord, no. Who was she to go against a royal decree, but damn, as wonderful as it was that they were eager to please in the bedroom, porn set up unreasonable expectations.
“When you get an opportunity to sleep with a woman, let her guide you. We like different things. One woman might like to be kissed below the ear, another...much lower.” She winced. What else could she say? Don’t do what the porn actors did? “And wear protection.” She sounded like a mom. “Without it, the man’s sperm can fertilize her egg. This will attach to the inner lining of her womb, and a baby will be created.”
“Protection?” they repeated in unison.
“Yes, to prevent pregnancy.” She arched a brow at their confused expressions. “Prevent the creation of children.” She pronounced each word as if she spoke to idiots. They weren’t, but the horror contorting their faces worried her. Did I say something wrong?
“Why would you want to do that? Children are the Maker’s gifts,” a male roared.
She stiffened then curled into herself, unable to flee, not with her wrist in Rior’s hand and the men blocking her exit.
“Tell them how often women are fertile,” Illan said.
Now he helped? She glared at him. This was all his fault.
She sucked in a breath, trying to calm her pounding heart. “We are fertile for about a week a month.”
The Etterian men rumbled their surprise, their eyes wide as they glanced at each other.
“Now do you see the gift that she is?” Illan asked her audience. “So not only can a human female be a Dar Eth, but she can also bare a child every nine months.”
Dar Eth? Normally she’d ask, but she wanted done with this conversation. “This is why we use birth control. Our population would overflow the planet’s capacity to feed us.” They grumbled their understanding. “Having children is a serious matter and should be decided on together.”
“It is complete,” Rior said and gave her a gentle smile.
She pulled her wrist closer to examine it. The skin didn’t have a scar, and she hadn’t felt any pain.
“Thank you for your honest responses.” An Etterian man bowed his head before moving away.
“My pleasure. Please, if you have any more questions, I’d be happy to answer them.” They dispersed with not a smile among them. “That was awkward,” she whispered to Illan.
“I apologize for placing you in such an embarrassing situation. They needed to know,” he said.
“I’m not embarrassed,” she said to which he chuckled, catching her in the lie. “What are you doing here? Are Iddan and Cyndi using your quarters?” she teased.
He winced. “His feelings for her are strong. I cannot deny him this, and since I cannot sever the bond between us, I must endure.”
“Now what?” She turned to Rior, his eyebrows rising in surprise. “How do I activate it?”
“I’ll show you how to work your O.D.I. then perhaps you reveal why you decided to have one implanted?” Illan said.
“Thank you, Rior.” Jumping off the bed, she grabbed his hand for a quick squeeze. She bounded over to Illan to loop her arm around his. “Oyaz said I should get one. He’s going to teach me how to defend myself and said the O.D.I. won’t disturb Cyndi and Quin in the mornings.”
“Why do you need to learn defense?” Illan’s eyes widened.
She stared into their white depths. They were striking against the midnight blue of his skin. “I need a distraction. Besides, Oyaz said he’d focus on fitness first.” She grimaced, anticipating a little pain in her future. Okay, a lot of pain. She was so unfit that changing her linen had exhausted her. Thankfully, that chore was millions of space-miles away. “I think I’m going to be in pain for a long while to come.”
“I assume it is every day?” he asked, to which she bobbed her head, her curls flying around her as she pirouetted. “May I participate?”
“Sure.” She shrugged. “I don’t think Oyaz would mind.”
Illan took a few minutes to explain how the O.D.I. worked. It didn’t have access to the entertainment folder, but he explained how to transfer from there to her O.D.I. The space available on that tiny device boggled her mind, and he assured her it could handle quite a few birdsongs.
She tugged on his arm, urging him toward the rehydrator. “Come, I want some ice cream.”
“Ice cream?” He repeated her words, but it was clear he had no idea what she was talking about.
She skipped the remaining distance to the rehydrator and punched in her request. A white bowl of decadent death-by-chocolate Belgian ice cream appeared with a dessert spoon. Scooping the bowl off the surface, she punched in a request for an extra spoon.
Handing Illan his spoon, she sat at the table. On the first mouthful, she moaned in delight. She scooped another spoonful into her mouth, not caring if she ate it too fast. It was too good, the kind she couldn’t afford. This tasted like real dairy and authentic chocolate, not the artificial stuff that flooded the market.
“It cannot be that good,” he teased.
“It is,” she said and opened her eyes to smile at him. “Try it, and see for yourself.”
He scooped an amount into his mouth and stiffened. “It is cold,” he mumbled around the protruding spoon then sighed. “And delicious.” He went for another scoop. “Even your food is passionate.”
“It’s not as nice as chocolate, though. Every woman would kill you for a piece.” She giggled, imagining women attacking these men not for their good looks but for the chocolate stuffed in their many pockets.
“You have food better than this?” Illan gaped.
“Oh, yes. It depends on what you feel like. Ice-cold beer on a sweltering day. Hot coffee on a chilly day. Chocolate cake when you are feeling naughty, and chocolate on every other day, for whatever reason. Popcorn and soda when watching a vid, and a delicious chicken sandwich when picnicking. Pizza when you’re drunk and burgers and fries with friends.”
“Truly, milady?” an Etterian male asked from the bench next to her. “And this is?” He gestured to her bowl.
“Chocolate ice cream.” She laughed as he scrambled to the rehydrator. Within minutes, each man held a bowl and spoon, including Illan who’d braved the masses to get his own. “Just remember, too much of this can make you...” She glanced at Illan for help. “It’s fattening. How do I explain that?”
“It has a large amount of fuel,” he announced to the common.
“Yes, and it doesn’t have all the nutrients your body needs,” she hurried to add.
“I am told you are corrupting my males,” Oyaz said to the right of her.
She squealed before breaking into another laugh that reverberated off the walls. Wincing, she tamped it down. Too loud, inconsiderate, unprofessional—yes, she’d been called all those things and more.
“Taste this.” Illan shoved his bowl across to Oyaz who did as instructed, taking a small amount as if it was poison. He groaned before scooping a larger amount into his mouth.
“This is almost better than the popcorn and soda,” he said, his dark blue eyes crinkling in pleasure. “We watched an entertainment vid this day, Illan. It was most enlightening.” He dropped onto the bench next to Illan. “And Macy introduced me to Earth’s music.”
“Music?” Illan asked with a white arched eyebrow.
Oyaz clamped his spoon between his lips so he could activate his O.D.I. A popular heavy rock song, the same one she’d played for him, filled the common and loud at that. She almost rolled her eyes. Of course he’d loved that one. He rocked his head as he scooped in another mouthful of ice cream. She shimmied to the beat as well, her hair cascading around her. Illan listened, not revealing whether he liked it or not. She didn’t care, not when she could listen to it on repeat. At the end of the song, the men talked at once.
“Under Earthians, Entertainment, Music,” Oyaz said, scraping the last of the ice cream out of the bowl.
She snatched it away from him before he licked it clean. “See, I didn’t corrupt them, you did,” she said and, with a smile at Illan, dumped his empty bowl into the waste receptacle.
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