Imperfect Partners

A nn Jacobs

Book 4 in the Pleasure Partners series.

Mutilated and exiled from Earth because he helped his brother, former Star Commander Conan finds himself on the Pleasure Planet, Obsidion. Broken and humiliated, he dons the white robe that signifies his new status of complete eunuch—until a famed cyborg and sexbot maker restores his manhood with a large, unique…colorful appendage.

The friends who rescued Conan have found him a mate, Nebula. She, too, knows shame and the pitying stares of others, because she carries the dreaded mutant gene. She was sterilized by order of Earth Federation.

Nebula craves the touch of a real man, but thinks it is forever denied her. Conan is more than ready to satisfy her desires with his new bionic equipment, but he fears rejection. Two damaged people, yearning for what they have lost, seek fulfillment in each other’s arms.

El ora’s Cave Publishing

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Imperfect Part ners

ISBN 9781419932434

ALL RIGHT S RESERVED

Imperfect Part ners Copyright © 2011 Ann Jacobs

Edit ed by Pamela Campbel

Cover art by Syneca

Elect ronic book publicat ion June 2011

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IMPERFECT PARTNERS

Ann Jacobs

A uthor’s Note

A lthough the basic stories of the Pleasure Partners series were taken from two series of novellas and a short story that was published elsewhere, they all have evolved through lengthening and heavy revision to make for a consistent and hopefully enjoyable reading experience.

I have to thank my very patient and talented editor, Pamela Campbell, for all she has done to help me make all these stories the best they can be.

I hope you are enjoying this BDSM series set in the not-so-brave new world of my imagination that began with His Pleasure Mistress.

The Pleasure Partners series will continue taking readers back to the planet Obsidion, where the series began. In the future books, Eli the Jeweler will make fortunate matches for his three beautiful daughters, whose mates will bring them power, wealth and passion, but not necessarily in the way they envisioned. I hope readers will enjoy the future stories of these lovers as they struggle to find happiness on Obsidion, the Pleasure Planet.

Earth, 2227

He saw no need to disembark but he had his orders, so he strode across the tarmac to Star Command headquarters, leaving his second-in-command in charge of securing his starship. They would be leaving again at daybreak. Conan’s superiors had annoyed the hell out of him by ordering him back to Earth while he had been in the middle of a patrol of the Delta quadrant, and for no better reason than to make up for a shortage in his required semen deposits for last month. Damn them anyway. By the time he could get back into the fray, the sky pirates they were trying to eradicate might well have taken out the flank left unprotected in his absence.

Once he reached headquarters and made his way to the semen depository room, Conan loosened his uniform pants and activated the sexbot the sergeant had assigned him. He’d leave a deposit as ordered, and then he’d get back to his real business of combating terrorists in space. It pissed him royally that he would lose at least two weeks of productive work because of his superiors’ senseless command. When he had taken leave to spirit his scapegrace half-brother to safety a month earlier, he’d been absent from his duties less than two days.

Fuck, the Federation rulers must consider my seed as valuable as the platinum they are trying to mine on Mars. Otherwise, why would they have quibbled because his deposit was a few milliliters short of quota last month?

Humpf! They’re lucky they got any at all. Conan had been livid when he’d learned the rulers had ordered Xander be turned into a drone. It wasn’t as if the dumb kid had committed treason. He hadn’t even been found to carry the dreaded mutant gene. A ll Xander had done was sneak in to a breeding farm, where he apparently had made a good effort toward impregnating as many women as possible the old-fashioned way.

Feeling distinctly unmotivated to do his duty for the Federation, Conan grasped his cock and inserted it in the sexbot’s well-lubricated receptacle. The familiar whirring noise of the motor, the bot’s tight, cool, false cunt jacking his cock and the stimulation of his prostate by its rigid metal finger felt cold. Mechanical. His testicles drew up close to his body and his cock swelled against the walls of the device as it raced toward the expected, precisely timed release.

Fuck it all. Something about this wasn’t right. Conan recalled the human sex slaves he’d fucked while off planet, the silken touch of their bodies on his and the incredible feeling that came over him as he spilled his semen in another living being instead of in this sterile depository.

If he hadn’t frequently experienced sex with the females in pleasure palaces on the planet Obsidion, he imagined he would be grateful for the cold, sterile release he was about to experience. But then, if he had disobeyed the rules and refused to use the bot, his superiors would long ago have had him drummed out of Star Command and turned into a drone.

A s they almost had done to Xander.

Though Conan hadn’t been able to prevent his brother’s castration, he had managed to save him before the surgeons could finish the job of turning him into a drone—a mindless human body programmed to perform repetitive tasks with all the emotion of a bot.

While it didn’t please Conan to think about Xander spending the rest of his days as a safe-sex slave on the planet Obsidion, that had been his brother’s choice among the limited options open to a eunuch. Using his youthful good looks and pleasing attitude as bait, Xander had managed to attract the attention of the A urelion, Romulus, who had purchased him for service in the emporium owner’s finest brothel. There, Xander would be assured of a regular supply of the hormones that would be needed for him to maintain the outward illusion of maleness, he had told Conan, explaining his decision to sell himself—to give up free will for a lifetime of slavery.

A s the bot jacked his cock, Conan tried to picture himself living like Xander, servicing clients both female and male, in whatever ways they might demand. I think I’d prefer being impotent. But Conan was not like his brother. A nd Xander had seemed content enough in the brothel when Conan had bought an hour of his company in order to speak with him before leaving Obsidion to return to the Delta quadrant.

Xander had lain against the silken cushions in his cell, restrained only by a long golden chain attached to the jeweled slave collar around his neck. His naked body had gleamed with oil that accentuated his young, taut muscles. His legs spread apart, Xander had displayed a black-and-gold triangular patch on his inner thigh and a thick gold cock ring. The ring was attached to a chain around his waist that held his shaft erect and displayed his lack of testicles—the same adornments Conan had noticed on the other eunuch slaves in this emporium.

Seeing his own half-brother on display for potential customers had unnerved Conan, but he’d managed to return Xander’s smile and join him on the cushions. “A re you truly all right?” he’d asked after exchanging meaningless pleasantries.

Xander had shot Conan a grin that reminded him of the good-humored, happy boy he remembered. “View it this way, brother. I am well fed, well cared for and well used—for the most part rather pleasurably. A s long as I please my customers, I will keep this patch and therefore continue to be useful as a cock as well as a mouth and ass. Do not worry about me.” Conan had left soon after, satisfied that Xander would survive and perhaps even thrive in his career of servicing sex-starved space travelers. A t least the brother he had saved from virtual annihilation still possessed his mind, his humanity, and from what Conan had observed, a strong will to survive.

He turned his attention to the bot that jacked his cock with impersonal precision. The gods be damned, he found the process of providing semen singularly sterile, a mechanical act devoid of all emotion. Conan straightened, bracing his legs and flexing his knees, as he anticipated the rush of sensation he knew would be coming in a few seconds.

Now. His testicles tightened. The bot jacked him harder. His cock jerked in the sleeve and began to release his semen.

Conan heard a clash of metal and saw three burly men from the corner of his eye. A s he kept coming, they stormed through the depository’s outer door and surrounded him.

“Enjoy the feeling, traitor, for you will never experience it again.” A harsh voice penetrated Conan’s fuzzy mind as his climax washed over him. “Here is what happens to those who thwart the Federation’s will.”

A flash of silver caught his eye just before it sliced through his wrist. Mind-stealing agony overwhelmed him. Conan realized then that his superiors hadn’t summoned him to make a semen deposit.

Some bastard turned me in for saving Xander, Conan realized before he blessedly lost consciousness.

* * * * *

“Where… What?” Conan blinked and then glanced around—a tent?

“The Federation rulers have ordered you sent into exile. We’re in the Wastelands, waiting to rendezvous with Shedir. He will take you somewhere safe.”

“Miles?” Exile? Wastelands? Why was he in this tent with Miles, his former copilot, somewhere on the deserted half of Earth that had been destroyed generations ago in the wars with the mutants? “Why?”

It hurt to move even his lips. Conan struggled to stay awake. His mind didn’t want to cooperate. He felt as if he were burning up from the inside out.

Then he remembered the flash of that knife. He lifted his right arm and nearly cried out when he saw the tightly bandaged stump that ended just above the wrist. “What?”

“The Security Enforcement Corps. They cut off your hand the old-fashioned way instead of using a laser gun. The rulers ordered it, to make you an example for others who might consider aiding another fugitive in his escape from justice.” A searing pain between his legs stopped him when he tried to sit up. “Did they take my—” He couldn’t say it, but he knew as he fell back against the primitive excuse for a cot.

Miles averted his gaze. “They took that, too. A ll of it. Even your prostate. The same way. You’ve had extensive surgery to repair as much as possible of the damage they did. I’ve been keeping you sedated for the past week.” Fuck. He was a maimed eunuch. Why hadn’t they killed him outright? He would rather be dead. “Where will Shedir take me?”