Spider Bight [Deep Space Mission Corps 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (12 page)

Emi took a deep breath. After one last glance into the room, where the second man in line was now being reamed up the ass, Emi followed her host.

* * * *

“So all those were Moran males in there?” Emi asked.

“Yes. Why?”

“I’ve heard rumors that some men from other species like to get a taste of that.”

Mauri smiled. “We do have some males from time to time of other species, yes. But they must come accompanied by a female owner. We turn down countless requests by unowned males to utilize our facilities. It would never do to have unowned males running loose on our planet. It is against our laws.”

The next room on the tour was at the far end of the corridor. Four Moran women stood in one corner. One wore a plain white robe and stood, barefoot, while three others in normal clothes stood talking with her.

At her feet sat a male wearing a yellow collar. He had no matching belt, and the square badge on his collar didn’t look like the Imperial Seal on the other collars Emi had seen. The Moran woman absently stroked his hair as if he were a pet.

Then again, I guess he is.

“That is her pleasure male,” Mauri explained. “Yellow collars indicate pleasure males.”

In the middle of the room, which wasn’t much larger than twenty by twenty, stood a sturdy metal frame. Emi wasn’t sure of its purpose but suspected she was about to find out. Padded horizontal arms extended in front of it, and it appeared to be adjustable. Inside the frame was padding, as well as what looked like restraint points. A wire harness led to a point approximately halfway up the frame, where it had been left draped over a hook.

“Breeders are extremely expensive,” Mauri continued. “Most women cannot afford to own one, much less keep up with the complex paperwork required to own one. We hold a lottery every year and give either a breeder, or breeding rights, to women who participate in the feral breeding program.”

“Feral?”

“Yes.” Before Mauri could say anything else, a door in the back of the room opened and two clothed female Moran technicians, with the help of a large, naked, red-collared male handler, brought in an even larger naked male. The silver metal collar around the larger male’s neck didn’t look like the other collars Emi had seen. His eyes scanned the room, a nervous expression on his face. The image of a strong, wild beast came to Emi’s mind.

His cock, limp, was larger than the other erect Moran male cocks she’d seen so far.

The male assisting the techs had hold of a lead attached to some sort of energy cuff restraining the larger male’s hands behind him. The three of them forcibly marched the feral male into the frame from the back side and attached his collar to restraint points inside. Then his feet were forced apart and cuffed, keeping his legs spread.

When the feral was secured inside the frame, he started to struggle a little. The Moran woman in the white robe walked over and seemed to be examining him. She talked with one of the techs. Meanwhile, the other man prepared something that looked like a butt plug, attached it to one of the leads on the wiring harness, and inserted it in the feral male’s ass. Then he patted the feral male’s back through the frame, as if trying to soothe him.

Whatever he was doing, it was having an effect on the feral male. His cock immediately inflated, making Emi gasp.

The other female tech started adjusting the horizontal section of frame, lowering it to the level of the feral’s cock.

Now the picture grew clearer in Emi’s mind.

“Of course,” Mauri continued, “all women hope to have a daughter to continue their line. If they have a male, they usually try again. Some males have been carefully selected for breeding because of their ability to produce female offspring. We do have to keep up our population of males, however, so some breeders who can have males are kept in rotation. Male infants are turned over after birth for raising by our technicians. Feral males, however, are always needed. Over the years, we have carefully bred our feral males to where they only produce males. Only the strongest, most agreeable feral males are bred. This gives us an unparalleled work force. They perform heavy labor lesser males are unable to do. And because of their lessened mental capacities, they are not suitable for more skilled labor. We treasure them for their strength.”

“Pack animals,” Emi mumbled.

“In a way, yes, I suppose you could say that. Oh, never fear, Doctor. They are treated very well. The only reason you see that one resisting is because he has been bred before. Unlike our selected breeders, ferals are raised only to ever take pleasure with males. It ensures they remain malleable by nature for their male trainers and the female technicians who supervise their care.”

The woman in the robe called her pleasure male over to her. He stood and immediately joined her. The technicians helped her climb onto the frame and fit her feet into stirrups Emi hadn’t noticed before. She opened her robe, exposing herself to be naked beneath it. The feral male struggled inside the frame as the techs and the pleasure male helped her impale herself on his cock. Emi watched the Moran woman’s eyes drop closed for moment, the hint of a smile crossing her lips before she nodded.

“Our bodies can only reproduce…” Mauri struggled for the words and turned to Baltin for help, speaking to her in Moran.

Baltin took over. “Women of our kind can only become pregnant if the male and female climax at the same time. That is why our breeder males are highly trained.” She pointed at the scene before them. “Feral males are forcibly ejaculated when the woman climaxes to ensure the best chance of a successful breeding.”

One of the female technicians handed the woman a button, which was connected to the wiring harness. Then the two technicians stepped aside. The pleasure male took over, his hands stroking the woman’s tympanic regions and other intimate areas as the woman rocked herself on the feral male’s cock.

The feral male’s eyes grew wide, reminding Emi of a scared horse. The other collared male reached into the frame and started soothing him, eventually calming the feral male. He started stroking the male’s tympanic regions, too, and after a few moments the male started thrusting as much as his limited mobility would allow.

“There,” Mauri said. “He calmed down. They always remember the jolt when first put into the frame for breeding. Once it feels good, they stop resisting and enjoy themselves.”

“Jolt?”

Before Mauri could explain, the woman’s eyes dropped closed and her back arched. Emi saw her hit the button, and the feral male’s body went rigid.

The male handler leaned in close to the feral male, talking to him. After several long moments the feral male went limp in the frame. The pleasure male, as well as the two technicians, helped the woman off the frame and over to a couch, where she lay down, her feet elevated. Her friends walked over to talk with her while her pleasure male sat on the floor at her head. She reached down and stroked his hair, her attention once again on her friends.

“So now they take the feral male out?” Emi asked.

Mauri talked to the technician with them. “No, he is scheduled for three more breedings this morning. They will keep him restrained until he is finished. Then he will be released into the feral yard for the rest of the day to rest and play before being returned to his usual duties tomorrow.”

Emi struggled to hold her recriminations in check. “Why not do artificial insemination?”

“We tried. Unfortunately, our scientists are unable to find a successful way to perform it. Male fluids taken ahead of time are not viable. And likewise, if a female isn’t climaxing when she is fertilized, her body rejects the male fluids. It must coincide.” She smiled. “Do not worry, Doctor. Only our feral males are bred in this fashion. We have discovered a slight electronic jolt will stimulate them to climax on demand. So the woman being bred pushes the button when her climax starts, and the plug inside the male triggers his climax. It is very organized. Quite efficient.”

Sooo not the word I’d use.
She followed the Moran women to the next window after a last look at the restrained feral male. His handler was still talking to him.

“Normally,” Mauri continued as they walked, “ferals are given daily release on a schedule.” They stopped in front of another window on the other side of the corridor. “This keeps them very content.”

Two male handlers in red collars stood in the room. A bench similar to the one Emi saw in the first dorm room sat in the middle of the small room. This one appeared different in that it had an attachment on it. Emi didn’t need to ask what that was for, because one of the males attached it to the other male’s cock. The first male immediately had to catch the other male, whose eyes seemed to roll back in his head at the sensation. The male laughed as he helped his comrade position himself over the bench. The male on the bench frantically thrust his ass in the air in a way that could only mean he was desperate to have someone fucking it.

The other male walked over to a door and opened it. A third male in a red collar held a short pole attached to the collar of an even larger feral male than had been in the breeding room.

Upon seeing the man on the bench, the feral male practically dragged his handler over to the bench. The feral male’s enormous cock inflated immediately, growing dark purple as it engorged.

Without further delay, the feral male grabbed the man’s hips, shoved his cock all the way inside him, and frantically began fucking him.

The other two men stood watching and talking, laughing, smiling. Despite not being able to hear, Emi imagined them discussing sports scores or vid viewing schedules, for all the attention they appeared to be paying. Neither man’s cock was even slightly hard.

“The attachment on the bench,” Baltin said, “has…suction. It allows the receiver to enjoy the experience. Trainers, the ones with red collars, have reached a stage where they are allowed to receive pleasure without actively pleasuring another at the exact same time. But if a lesser male is servicing a feral, we always use that device.” She laughed. “As you can see, the trainers enjoy using it as well.”

“I guess so,” she mumbled.

“Males all take turns doing this at some point in their life. Well, until they are privately owned. Only as long as they are in initial training, before placement or purchase, would they be in rotation for feral servicing. Males are always used.” Baltin frowned. “Unless, of course, there is a sentence to be fulfilled.”

“Sentence?”

Mauri nodded. “It is rare for there to be a crime of that magnitude. Most transgressions are minor and handled in civil tribunal through fines or restitution action or settlement. But occasionally a crime occurs where the perpetrator is sentenced to the second worst punishment there is for an honor-titled female, which is feral service.”

Huh?
“Say again?”

“Well, death is issued in the most extreme of cases. Usually for murder or gross intentional negligence resulting in death. Of males or females. Abuse or mistreatment of males is not allowed. That is the only way in which males are equals in our laws. And that kind of crime is extremely rare. But for other serious cases, a woman can be sentenced to feral service.”

Mauri pointed at the room, where the feral male was finishing up. Panting, he leaned over the male on the bench for a few moments to catch his breath. Then his handler coaxed him into standing and led the now-docile male out. Another feral male was immediately led in by a different handler. As had the first, this one raced over to the man on the bench and began fucking him without delay.

“All males at some point in their life must do feral service for at least one rotation, even if only during their initial training period after they have reached maturity. We do not allow ferals to service each other. They are trained only to take their pleasure like that.” She pointed to the window.

The man on the bench was vigorously fucking back, so he didn’t seem to be the worse for wear.

“However, it is a complete disgrace for a woman to service a feral. Any male, really.” Mauri’s expression looked like merely saying it made her ill. “Only males enjoy rutting like that. It is beneath an honor-titled woman.”

Emi didn’t bother volunteering that not only did she not see anything wrong with it, but she rather enjoyed it herself. She sure as heck enjoyed watching her men do it. It was sexy as hell.

For that matter, she realized the activities she’d witnessed on the tour had made her more than a little squishy in her panties despite also making her more than a little uncomfortable intellectually and morally.

“Any woman sentenced to feral servicing is disgraced for life from that point on,” Mauri said. “They will never hold office or own a business or property. They are only eligible for the lowest of jobs, jobs not even our males are required to perform. They are sterilized and barred from breeding. We cannot allow lawbreakers to reproduce. They are an example set in our society of how not to behave so others do not follow suit.”

“Why don’t you just castrate your ferals?” Emi couldn’t believe she’d asked the question.

Mauri laughed. “They enjoy this so much, we would hate to take their fun away. Look at the pleasure they take from it. And it is great motivation. Most of them are sterilized, however.”

That feral finished up. Another was led in. The man on the bench was now covered in sweat and holding on to the bench, but still attempting to fuck back against the latest feral who’d grabbed him and started riding him.