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Authors: Lyn Gala

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There weren’t any choices now and Tom strained against the
chain. It held him, and now Tom could struggle as much as he wanted without
danger of getting loose. She locked the other cuff around his left wrist and
fastened it to the wall and Tom was trapped.

“What you have in mind?” Tom asked now that it was too late
for him to object to anything.

“Playing with my toy,” Da’shay said. She sat up and put all
her weight on Tom’s ass, which pressed his cock down onto the mattress. Tom bit
his pillow as he tried not to curse her out. He’d found cursing at women didn’t
go over well, not even when he meant it as a compliment.

She squirmed forward so she was sitting on his lower back
and started rocking back and forth. She made a low humming noise and musk was
starting to fill the air. Tom looked over his shoulder and Da’shay was
fingering her own clit, rocking into her hand with her head thrown back in
pleasure. Tom yanked at the chains that kept him from reaching for her.

“I can help with that,” he offered. “Wouldn’t mind at all,
mouth or cock.”

She kept rocking, but her gaze slowly came down to settle on
him. As she looked down, she slowed her rocking until she was only fingering
herself gently. Tom never knew it’d be so fucking hot to have a woman tie him
down and masturbate on him. Arching her back, she reached for something down at
the foot of the bed. When she sat up, Tom could see the knife. It was his own,
the large hunting knife that had been his father’s. He’d stolen it from his
stepfather the night he’d caught a ride to the docks with a neighbor. It was
the only thing he still had from those days since the necklace his ma had
gotten him had vanished years ago.

He held his breath as she pressed the flat of the blade to
his shoulder. “I know so many things. Only you see that and follow. People
frustrate me,” she said.

“They’ve been frustrating me for going on forty years.”

She smiled at him and tilted her head to the side as she ran
the knife down his arm, scraping his skin lightly, just enough to make the
blood rush to the surface. The heat gathered under his skin until she leaned
down and blew on it. Tom shivered and watched as every arm hair rose straight
up.

“I could do all sorts of things if you turned me around,”
Tom offered with another pull at the cuffs.

With a wicked smile, Da’shay sat up and shifted her grip on
the knife so that she had the point aimed down. Tom could feel a little hard
thread of fear as he realized she had a knife at his back and he couldn’t do
anything but wait to see what she had in her mind.

She brought the knife down so fast that Tom tensed up and
sucked in a sharp breath, but then he realized she’d stabbed her own nightgown
only a couple of inches above the hem. “Why’d you do that?” Tom asked. She put
the knife on his back, right against his spine, and Tom could feel the point
prickling his skin just above the spot where Da’shay was straddling him.

Da’shay ripped her nightgown, the fabric tearing so that she
had a long circle of cloth and a ragged new bottom on her gown. Wrapping her
fist around the strip, she pulled and the fabric gave so that she had one long
strip about three inches wide. She twisted it to make a thin rope.

“What’s that for?” Tom could feel an unease settle into his
stomach.

“Tom doesn’t like his mouth. Gets him in trouble, so I have
to take care of my toy.” Da’shay slipped the fabric under his head, looped it
and then slipped it under again. Tom sighed, but he really wasn’t in much of a
position to complain as she put the fabric at his lips and started pulling the
ends tight. Not even bothering to fight, Tom opened his mouth and let the
fabric pull at the corners of his mouth before Da’shay tied it off. He could
still talk, but he’d sound like an idiot. Settling his head on his pillow, he
just looked up at her.

Da’shay smiled and picked up the knife and scraped it up his
other arm. Tremors made the chains rattle as Tom’s body shivered. His arm
slowly turned from white to red, like a sunburn appearing, and the heat
gathered. Leaning down, Da’shay blew over it. “Such a pretty toy. Feels such
things. Am going to keep my toy leashed to my side forever,” she promised.
“I’ve been so alone. See myself through prisms stained with colors that aren’t
me. So alone.” Putting the knife to the side, she started rocking against Tom’s
waist, her fingers going back to her clit. “Will take care of my Tom so neither
of us is alone again.”

Tom grunted and chewed on the gag as he struggled with a
desire to do something—anything. But she’d made it more than clear he was only
to lay there and take whatever she did.

Her humming turned to little cries and Tom watched as her
rocking got more frantic. His back was wet with her juices and he bit down on
his gag so hard that he could feel saliva slipping out the edge of his mouth.
His cock felt as if it might split open, it hurt so much, but Tom tried to keep
still as she worked herself into a frenzy. She came with a low cry, but she
rocked even harder. Leaning forward, she dug her fingers into his shoulders and
rubbed herself against his hot skin.

Tom cried out through the gag. He had never needed to come
so badly in his life. His eyes were starting to water, but he forced himself to
stay still as her rocking slowed and then finally stopped. She leaned over him,
panting, her hands braced on his shoulders.

Closing his eyes, Tom realized that she might not let him
come at all. He bit into the cloth gag and battled all these feelings in him.
He wanted to come, it only seemed right that she let him come after she’d had
her fun.

“My toy. Mine to play with,” Da’shay whispered, her voice
still rough as she gasped for air. Tom pressed his eyes closed even harder and
fisted the chains. God help him, he wanted her to take what she wanted, even if
she wanted him hard and unsatisfied.

“My pretty toy. Strong. Not blinded by what others see.” She
stroked his arm, and Tom wished he could just pull away from her. If he wasn’t
going to get to come, he really needed to let his body calm down because
holding on the edge of orgasm hurt. But she pressed herself to his back, her
body hot from her own orgasms. Tom groaned in pain.

“Strong toy. All mine. Will play with him so much,” she
threatened. Maybe she meant it as a promise, Tom couldn’t think well enough to
know anymore; all his blood was in his cock. “White light washes away the
colors that stain the world.” She brushed her fingers through his sweaty hair,
pushing it away from his face.

He didn’t realize he was still pulling at the chains until
she loosened the magnet end from the wall. His arms jerked free for a half
second, and then she caught the two dangling chains. Tom looked at her,
confused, but the gag did seem to suggest that she wasn’t open to questions.
Considering that he tended to piss women off when he tried to talk, that might
actually be a mercy.

She pulled at him, lifting the end of the chains up to the
ceiling over the bed. The chains were long enough that when Da’shay locked them
to the ceiling, Tom was on his knees with his body stretched up. His shoulders
took a lot of his weight. That didn’t bother him as much as his cock, though.
It stood up against his stomach, leaning from its own weight and turning a very
disturbing shade of purple. Now that Tom wasn’t on his stomach, the need to
come wasn’t as sharp, but it still drove about every other thought out of his
head.

Da’shay moved to sit near the top of the bunk where she
could get a good look at him. She openly leered at his body and Tom could feel
his cock ache with need. Pursing her lips, she swung her legs around and braced
her feet on his thighs, which made her nightgown ride up. Tom could see the
dark triangle of hair and the dark blue stripe that led over her stomach. He
could see the pink lips on either side of her moist cleft. He could see, but he
couldn’t touch, which was just about killing him.

Arching her back, she let her fingers slip between her legs
as she played with her clit before slipping fingers deep into her pussy. It was
a gentle motion now, but then she’d already come. “So many diamonds sending
light and color everywhere, but when Ramsay took you to the wall, all the
colors merged into white light clear enough to sweep all other colors aside,”
she said, running her toes up and down his thighs. “Pure white.” Her toes
nudged his balls and Tom cried out in pain and need. He could feel a line of
saliva slip out the corner of his mouth, but he could only kneel as Da’shay
nudged his balls again before she used her foot to gently lift his heavy cock
so that it stood upright.

“Love to see my toy, feel the white as he follows,” she
said, and her tone made that sound like a confession.

Twisting around, she knelt in front of him and caught his
head in her hands. Tom looked at her. “I’ll always take care of my toy, but I
can’t always explain why. Will my toy always follow?”

Her nightgown was brushing against his hot cock and Tom
thrust forward into it, but her hands and the chains kept him from having much
success. She just stared at him and Tom realized she wasn’t going to move until
he gave an answer. It’d be easy to say yes out of some hope that she’d let him
come, but Tom knew that wasn’t smart. They were on the ship, so someone would
let him out of Da’shay’s chains eventually and he could come all he wanted in
his own bathroom. But if he said yes, he didn’t doubt that she’d never let go.

Tom nodded.

Da’shay smiled at him, pressing her body to his and wrapping
her long fingers around his cock. Tom thrust forward, his cock sliding into her
warmth, her hand slicked by her own juices. Her mouth came open, but before she
could say anything, Tom was coming in waves that left his entire body shivering
and weak. He let the chains carry his weight as he tipped his head back. His
cock still ached from the delayed orgasm, but even the ache felt right. Da’shay
gave a small laugh and traced his slave mark as Tom dangled from the chains,
his shoulder muscles stretching and aching with the strain.

“Can taste your truth, blue in the white,” Da’shay told him,
running fingers down his stomach. “So many colors, spinning, but you saw me and
then you shined a white light into all the corners. Sure and more sure,
following behind the captain, but then your white was dulled. Will never let
with white dull,” she promised solemnly. Tom frowned and the gag caught the
corners of his mouth as it occurred to him that she was talking about things
he’d felt, as if they were colors she could pick up in a coloring stick. “Your
white is mine.”

She reached up to unknot the gag and Tom thought he might
have a chance to ask about whether he was right—whether she was seeing his feelings.
However, as soon as she slipped the fabric free, she put a finger over his lips
to silence him. Tom wanted to argue, but he’d told her that he’d obey her and
he didn’t figure he wanted to start testing the boundaries of that when he was
naked and chained to the ceiling. She smoothed the fabric out, running her
fingers over the dark spots where Tom’s spit had stained the cloth.

“Tom needs rest,” Da’shay said as she brought it back up to
his face. This time she used the wide fabric to cover his whole mouth. As a
gag, it was pretty much worthless because Tom still would be able to talk, but
he hesitated to start a conversation when she was making it so clear that she
didn’t want to talk. She tied the strip and then brought her wrist controller
up to the cuffs. Tom expected her to let him free, but instead she just
detached them from the ceiling and tugged on him to get him to lie down.

Still not sure what she wanted, Tom settled down on his own
bunk, watching mutely as she locked the cuffs back to the wall and then slipped
between his arms and laid with her head on his chest. She traced her fingers
over the slave mark and Tom realized that he was marked for real now. It wasn’t
the tattoo as much as the quiet that slipped into his thoughts, but either way,
he knew he wasn’t ever going to be free of her. And he wasn’t even a little
upset. Her fingers came up and traced the shape of his lips under the fabric
and Tom sighed through his nose. The others were going to throw all kinds of
fits, but the benefit of never fitting in with people was that Tom had lots of
practice at pissing people off.

“Quiet. Doesn’t matter,” Da’shay said. Her hand slipped down
and cupped his cock and balls and Tom jerked at his chains in surprise, but he
really couldn’t do much else. Besides, he was God-almighty tired. Tom closed
his eyes and left tomorrow for tomorrow.

Chapter Twenty-Three

 

Da’shay was still in a mood the next morning, leading Tom to
the shower and chaining him to the wall so she could wash him, her hands sliding
all over him as she used way more water than regs allowed.

“You going to do something about that?” Tom asked as she ran
her fingers over his hard cock.

“Nope,” she said cheerfully.

Tom groaned, but considering that he’d come last night, he
couldn’t complain right now. Besides, he did have other things to consider. He
leaned his head back as Da’shay worked shampoo into his hair. “What color does
Becca’s diamond usually make?” Tom asked. Da’shay’s hands paused.

“Yellows and oranges, all tangled in her numbers,” Da’shay
answered quietly. Only then did she start working the shampoo.

“And now?”

Da’shay let her slick hands slide over his back and Tom
groaned. Lifting all the junk yesterday had made him more than a little sore.
Da’shay worked the heel of her hand into his muscle. “Yellows and oranges
shadowed by teal, making everything gray.”

Tom thought about that, but it wasn’t as if he honestly
understood Becca, so he wasn’t sure that proved anything. “What color came off
my diamond back before I gave you that gift?” Tom asked.

Da’shay pressed harder and Tom groaned in pleasure as his
knotted muscles eased. “Reds. Vivid red, but then red would lose all color and
turn milk-gray and I would try to touch the light, and red like lightning
through the sky.”

“And now?”

She seemed to think about that as she worked the muscles on
his back. Soap started sliding toward his eyes and Tom awkwardly twisted to
wipe it off with his shoulder since she’d chained him, but that only made more
soap fall down his face. The water turned back on and Tom kept his eyes closed
as Da’shay rinsed the shampoo from him.

“Now lots of white. Bits of teal and red like shadows in the
sun.” Da’shay turned the water off again and Tom sighed as he realized that
he’d been right last night. She was reading him. People wrote vids and books
about humans who could read thoughts, but they were fictions—stories meant to
amuse or horrify, not a warm reality running hands over his chained body.

“You said something about your light,” he said, struggling
to remember what she’d been saying. At the time, he’d been a bit distracted.

“I fought. Fought hard, sailed into the darkness and brought
death to enemies, but others didn’t see, couldn’t see me as anything but…” She
stopped, her mouth pulled into a frown. “Yellows and grays hiding my color. Got
lost. More people, more colors, and always more alone.”

Tom swallowed as he imagined the world she was describing.
Looking down at the slave mark, he thought about how Ramsay had looked at him
as a slave instead of a soldier. It wasn’t comfortable knowing that other
people didn’t respect you, but in Da’shay’s case, other people’s feelings
pressed in against her and changed her. If it came down to that, he’d rather be
dead than lose himself. She leaned into him.

“You washed away the stain and I remembered how to kill,”
she whispered.

He didn’t want to think too much about her killing. She’d
killed on that slaver ship, but it was true enough that most of the time she’d
been on the
Kratos
, she’d been about as dangerous as a houseplant.
However, the idea of her being a killer was actually less disturbing than the
idea she’d been trapped in her own head, because other people’s thoughts had
stolen the part of her that knew how to fight at all. He wondered if Ramsay’s
refusal to see women as cold-blooded killers had anything to do with her
getting so lost in her own head. “What about Ramsay’s color?” Tom asked as the
question suddenly came to him.

“Teal and red, always blending in the center into grays and
grays and grays.” Da’shay finished rinsing Tom’s body and Tom yelped as she
turned the water cold and hit him right on the lower stomach and genitals.
“Shit, woman. That’s not right. I don’t mind you playing devil with my parts,
but God almighty that ain’t nice.” He pulled at the chains without budging
them. Sometimes you could get cheap magnets on cuffs to slide around on a flat
surface, but she’d used Tom’s own security-grade cuffs. They weren’t going
anywhere until Da’shay reversed the magnet polarity.

“My toy needed help,” Da’shay said in a teasing voice.
“Can’t feel the hand holding the leash unless the collar pulls tight on the toy
sometimes.”

Tom snorted. “You go calling me that in front of Ramsay and
he’s going to throw you off the ship in some stupid attempt to save me from
your evil clutches.”

She stopped and turned the water off as she seemed to
consider that. “A toy is clung to long after any intrinsic worth is lost. Becca
has a marine seal made of fabric and microshredded plastic filler that is worn
and she still holds it worth more than extrinsically valuable hardware or
credits. She calls it Sammy.”

Tom frowned. He wasn’t all that surprised that Becca was the
sort to save a stuffed toy, but he just wasn’t sure what Da’shay was saying
about him. As a human, he wasn’t as strong as a
genta
, but he’d never
felt worn out and lacking any intrinsic worth. Well, he didn’t feel worn out,
anyway.

Da’shay sucked in a breath and pressed herself to him, their
naked bodies slippery. “Teal and indigo bleeding red.” From her tone of voice,
none of those were particularly good colors.

“Then tell me why you’re calling me a toy,” Tom said. He
couldn’t very well help taking offense if she was calling him worn out.

“Will like you even when you’re worn out.” She cocked her
head to the side.

“But you aren’t thinking I’m worn out now?” Tom asked.

“Tom is strong and beautiful and sweats under the sun until
even Becca is moist in preparation for sex,” Da’shay answered, her voice
serious as she ran her fingers over Tom’s cheek.

“She…” Tom swallowed at the thought Becca was getting wet in
the pants for him. If she liked him, she sure had a funny way of showing it.
“Are you sure she likes women?” Tom asked.

Da’shay shrugged. “She likes women, but she still looks at
Tom with appreciation. But when the day comes that you are old or damaged, I
will still cherish and cling to you. You’re my toy.” Da’shay emphasized the
“my” and Tom got the feeling she was not the sort to share.

“Do you plan on getting other toys?” Tom asked. Becca said
genta
liked to collect followers and he really wasn’t sure how he felt about sharing
her.

“Do you want other toys?” Da’shay asked him seriously.
“Ramsay would make a pretty toy for you to lay under.”

Tom almost choked to death. “You had better be fucking
joking. No, no, you will not ever mention that to Ramsay.” The second the words
were out, Tom realized that he was talking to a woman who felt totally
comfortable gagging him and chaining him to a wall. Whether he wanted it or not
was secondary to whether she wanted it.

Her smile was slow and lazy. “I only want Tom. Tom is my toy
and will be forever.”

Tom sighed in relief. “That’s one disaster avoided,” he
said, more to himself than her. “I just don’t think you should use the word
‘toy.’ It’s going to make the captain turn all kinds of colors,” Tom said.
Da’shay reached up and unhooked the cuffs from Tom’s wrists, leaving the chains
to hang from the shower wall.

Rubbing his wrists, he waited to see what she wanted. She
handed him the soap and pushed him back a half-step so he was pressed against
the wall. Then she just looked at him. Tom could feel the frustration of not
understanding start to rise up like a bubble.

Da’shay took his hand with the soap and brought it to her
chest and moved it over her collarbone and then down over her round, firm
breast. “Mutual grooming for production of oxytocin and better socialization,”
she said. The words didn’t make much sense, but Tom could figure out she wanted
washing. He ran his hands over her body, her strong muscles tensing and relaxing
as he let the soap and his fingers explore curves. He’d never really got to
look at a woman like this before and he ran the soap down the blue stripe
between her breasts before running the soap through the curls between her legs.

“You want me to bring you off?” Tom asked. He had talented
fingers, or at least the doxies he’d hired told him he had, and generally he
thought they were telling the truth because he could get them to lose all
control and make that twisted expression that meant they were coming hard.
Women tended to try to hide that particular face, but Tom loved how a woman
looked when she lost all control.

“Nope, just touching,” Da’shay said. Tom opened his mouth to
protest, but she brought a finger up and put it over his lips. “Mutual orgasms later.
Touch and oxytocin production from stimulation of skin now. Brown to white,
washing out the other lights.” She turned and pressed herself back against Tom.
Tom sighed and set to exploring her curves and making sure every bit of her was
clean. As carefully as she’d washed him, he figured she was really into getting
clean. Sinking to his knees, he lifted one of her feet and started washing.

“If not toy, what should I call you?” Da’shay asked. She
leaned against his shoulder as he ran his hands over her legs, soaping them and
feeling the curve of the muscle.

Tom thought about that. “Slave and toy are both likely to
make Ramsay crazy,” Tom said. He figured her legs were clean, but simply
touching a woman was a real pleasure. He ran his hands all the way up until his
fingers found her hot clit inside its hood. Da’shay flicked her finger against
his head hard enough to sting and Tom pulled his hands back and settled for
stroking up her slippery legs. He knew a word, but it might drive Ramsay just
as crazy and Tom really wasn’t sure he wanted Da’shay using it.

He was thinking on that when the water came on and he got a
mouthful of wash water. He spluttered and got to his feet, taking the shower
head from Da’shay. “You’re dangerous,” he complained.

She stroked a hand over his cheek. “Colors too bright. Too
much teal.”

“Can’t exactly help it,” Tom said, but he rinsed the soap
from Da’shay’s legs. “It’s just that most of the time if two people are having
sex and planning on staying with each other forever, they call each other
mates.” Tom remembered standing on a kitchen chair so he’d be tall enough to
rinse potatoes in the sink. His father would kiss the back of his mother’s neck
and call her his favorite mate. His mother always laughed before pointing out
that she was his only mate. Tom blinked and pushed that memory aside. He didn’t
like to think about that laughing version of his mother because it hurt too
much considering who she became later.

“Soft blue, like a flower washed out by the sun.” She traced
over his slave mark, and Tom shook his head.

“Old memories,” he said. “Can you see what I’m remembering?
Do you know what I’m thinking about?”

She looked at him and shook her head. “Only the blue-gray
staining your white.”

“You could fix that,” Tom said. He started to reach for his
own cock, but Da’shay’s hand caught him.

“My mate. My right to play with him, but he has other things
to think about than the white. Ship all stained red and teal.”

“What? Something’s wrong with the ship?” Tom turned the
water off and was ready to leave, but Da’shay caught his arm.

“Only the same shadows that’ve been over the ship the whole
time. No new enemies.” She reached over and handed him the shampoo. Tom was
caught. If something was going on with the ship, he should find out what, but
he did love running his hands through the cool silk of Da’shay’s hair and she
didn’t seem to think the danger was immediate. Actually, it couldn’t be too bad
because Ramsay hadn’t come for him. Officially, Eli was second in command, but
in reality, the captain relied on Tom to handle security issues.

“My mate.” Da’shay said firmly, and from that Tom did get
the impression that they weren’t leaving the shower until he’d finished his
job. There was something comforting in knowing that she wasn’t going to let him
race back and forth between her and Ramsay. She was making it more than clear
that he was hers and Ramsay was going to have to come second. Command would
give birth to kittens at the thought of a soldier not answering to his
commanding officer, but Tom was oddly unbothered. He poured a small amount of
shampoo into his hand and stroked her long, silky wet hair.

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