1. Hugo

I gotta be honest, when I was accepted into Harvard at the end of my senior year of high school I never once expected I’d end up here, a galaxy away, contemplating sucking a squishy pink alien’s dick.

I was open to the idea for a plethora of reasons. I knew I’d get a raise, for one, and that was supremely motivating.

Raises for slaves on F’ukYuu—the pleasure planet—came in the form of jelly-filled donuts, and these weird burrito things full of spongey stuff I didn’t recognize but tasted kinda like Mexican food, and sometimes—if we were really lucky—an entire night off.

It was the positive side of things I focused on, because if not, the fear of the punishment I would receive for not serving my purpose would consume me.

Punishments were…yeah. I don’t even want to go into that.

I’d seen other captives disappear behind the red, red doors that led to the room of “retribution”—as I’d dramatically nicknamed it in my head—and I was fairly certain sucking cock would be far more palatable than anything that happened back there.

“Make him happy”, that’s what The Manager had commanded. He hadn’t given me a step-by-step guide, even though I would’ve preferred that. He’d just pointed at me while I put my translator on, narrowed his four yellow eyes, and directed me toward my “office” of the day to wait.

I’d been assigned this room on a few occasions over the three years since I’d been abducted, and every time, it had been to entertain politicians or the rich.

Though the space was visibly the same as the other pod-like rooms—a round exterior, color-changing lighting, and a pole in the center to dance with—this “entertainment room” was different from the others because of what lay beneath the white walls. Somewhere inside it, this pod in particular was outfitted with a non-transmitter device.

This was only necessary because the “elite” who came to visit from other planets didn’t want details of their nights here spread around. I’d asked once, and one of the other slaves had explained how it all worked. Which was…endlessly fascinating. What was less fascinating, was the grimace on the other slave’s face as they’d wiped their mouth and chugged a glass of water to get rid of the “taste” left behind from their turn in the room.

The translator headset I wore over my ear felt impossibly heavy as I readjusted it for the hundredth time, heart thrumming. The fact I’d been picked for tonight was unsurprising. Just another event to add to the long list of things that’d fucked with me in the past. For example, the reason I had to wear a headset at all.

If I’d been anything but inherently unlucky I would’ve had one of the permanent translation disks that A&R installed for all humans before “re-location.” A&R, short for “Abduction” and “Rehabilitation” was a Space Facility that used advanced technology to abduct and prepare “talented” humans for distribution across the galaxy. The shipment of translators for my group had been stolen by pirates. And after failing the test—rather than bring me back home like I’d hoped they would—they’d dropped me off here, sans translator implant.

The idea that there was a device that could not only translate all the languages in the galaxy but also neuro-transmit them directly into the wearer’s ear was just—wow. That was the kinda shit I’d always dreamed existed. Unfortunately for me, The Manager hadn’t thought I was important enough to order a replacement from A&R which meant from that point onward I’d been stuck with temporary headsets only when upper management deemed it necessary.

During my time as a captive on F’ukYuu I’d done my best not to be too crushed by what was happening to me—projecting wonder at the world rather than the fear that simmered deep inside me.

Always pushing forward and looking ahead.

Now that I didn’t have power over my life, the only thing I still controlled was my mind, after all. And I’d decided early on that there was nothing I could do but remain positive. Laugh in the face of danger! And enjoy this, in whatever ways I could, otherwise I’d break.

My temporary translator sat centered over my ear like it always was on the occasions that I was blessed to be given one. It offered a little comfort, though there was still a nervous energy buzzing beneath my skin that I couldn’t seem to turn off.

Normally …no one was supposed to touch us.

Unless we were given extra direction from the higher-ups.

At least…that’s what they’d said during orientation.

This was the first time I’d been pulled into The Manager’s office and received said “extra instruction.” He wasn’t a good man, and I’d been unsurprised by his request. In fact, I was shocked it’d taken this long.

It had only been a matter of time, right?

I’d gone three entire years without any “special requests”. I figured I should be grateful. It wasn’t like I hadn’t thought about sucking dicks before. Because I had. Plenty of times. A thousand. Maybe more? I’d just…never really had the opportunity or guts to do it.

Besides, who would want their dick sucked by me of all people?

Stay positive, Hugo.

Who cares if this is your job?

You get to touch a real-life person!

An alien!

That’s what I told myself as I prepped for the customer and hyped myself up about my first ever sexual encounter. To be honest, I’d been a little disappointed when I’d finished orientation and realized that “pleasure slave” was synonymous with “space stripper.” Which meant instead of hooking up with a butt-load—literally, ha!—of interesting organisms, I more than likely would die a sad, lonely little virgin.

So really, this was a good thing.

It was.

I’d ace it.

I totally would.

The room felt smaller than ever as I squirmed in my uniform—a pair of black shorts that left literally nothing to the imagination. They’d chafed at first, but now I barely noticed, even when they rode up my butt when I danced. Pulling at the metal collar The Manager had quite literally welded around my neck on my first day, I did some jumping jacks to warm up while I waited to see what kinda creature I’d meet this time.

Hopefully, it was someone vaguely humanoid.

As I stretched, my thoughts wandered.

Don’t get me wrong, the work didn’t bother me.

Honestly, seeing the different species was fun as hell. For a guy who’d never left his hometown but was obsessed with strange, fascinating species, working with clients from across the galaxy was kind of a dream come true.

I mean, our clients came from planets scattered all over the galaxy, which made this an occupation that never grew boring. Once, I even gave a lap dance to a dude with three heads and four thumbs. You got that right. Four thumbs .

Fuckin’ wild.

He worked as an “accountant” for a firm three planets away and had been attending a bachelor party for his wealthy friend. Whatever the galactic equivalent for a bachelor party was, anyway. As far as I could tell, the accountant-guy was the only one in his group who had four thumbs, so I wasn’t really interested in the others.

What was the purpose of that, anyway?

Four thumbs?

He’d be a whizz at opening bottles.

Anyway , he’d enjoyed his night in “Space Vegas” and I’d enjoyed asking him questions, because it had been one of the rare occasions—before now—that I’d used this room and was given a translator to wear.

Distracting myself by interrogating him had made the night go by swiftly. Now, however, even the prospect of talking to someone new was not enough to divert my attention from what I was expected to do. Even without the translator, I knew that this customer was important. I mean, obviously . Because of the whole “SUCK HIS DICK OR DIE” thing. The translator only further solidified that.

I hoped I’d eventually climb up the ranks high enough The Manager would let me get a replacement implant from A&R. I knew they were expensive. But it would be nice to have something that would lend me more permanent understanding. I had about a thousand questions, and I wished I could ask them whenever I wanted.

The GPS-locked translators were okay, though.

Even if I only got to use them for really important clients.

Like this guy.

My current customer who had just opened through the door.

Who was…apparently pink.

And squishy.

Like Jell-O.

I’d gaped, maybe a bit rudely, when he’d stepped inside the room. With a quiet click , the door had shut behind him and he’d paused directly in front of it, ogling me for a beat as I ogled him right back. In my defense, he’d closed the door by shooting out a thousand tiny prehensile tentacles. Though…I wasn’t sure if that was an accurate name for them, as they reminded me more of ropey bubblegum than something an octopus would have. “Tendril” was more fitting.

The guest seemed to shapeshift effortlessly—his tendrils disappearing just as quickly as they had formed, leaving his upper limbs arm and hand-like once again.

Just pink.

And—did I mention pink ?

Which was just…so fucking cool.

Aside from being able to transform, his appendages looked fairly “normal”. Five fingers. Even fingernails, though those were more like claws. Other than the fact they were partially see-through, and clearly made of the same mystery organic substance as the rest of his body, they weren’t all that odd.

Which was…a relief, to say the least—considering where the night was sure to end.

Pink-guy was humanoid, like I’d hoped. Bipedal, with a man-shaped frame—giant pillowy pecs and a musculature that if I squinted, wasn’t all that different from a human male. His belly was thick, as was everything about him. And luckily for me, he even had an “acceptable” number of thumbs and heads.

Which apparently was a standard of mine now.

That was where the similarities to my species ended, however.

As he stood there, right in front of the door, observing me, I shivered.

Just how goddamn tall was he?

At least seven feet. No—fuck, maybe eight? Nine. Definitely nine.

Easily one of the largest aliens I’d encountered.

And the teeth. He had to have a thousand of them. Which made sense, considering his head was the size and shape of a shark’s. Maybe a great white? That was the closest comparison I could think of.

Hello, Bruce. Humans are friends, not food.

When he finally moved it was at a glacial pace.

Like, painfully slow.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was worried he would frighten me if he moved too fast. Which…if that was true…I genuinely appreciated it, because holy fuck . This was just—wow. Giant shark-man. Giant muscle-y pink shark-man.

And I was going to touch his dick.

Oh my god.

I stumbled back a little, trying not to look as nervous as I felt as my cock perked up and my bare back touched the outer shell of the room.

Slowly, carefully, he took his seat on the bench that ran along the edge of the circular room.

The lights were flickering, pink, blue, and yellow. His spots, because he had spots , were gray at first. Which meant because they had no color of their own, they took on whatever shade the lights shifted to as he sat still, big thighs spread, and waited.

I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to just…you know, dive in? Or if I was expected to dance like usual. Erring on the side of caution, I began to move. The shark-man’s pale blue eyes flickered over me as I swiveled my hips to the beat. I couldn’t make sense of the expression on his face. He was hard to read. But his spots were changing color on their own now—so that had to be a good thing right?

Pink, red, pink, gray. Pink, gray, red.

After three years of doing this for hours every day, it was safe to say that I’d gotten so used to dancing that it was second nature now. I hardly had to think about it as I bent over and shook my ass, other than to make sure my hips were tilted at the right angle to flash him the full curve of my scrawny butt.

Curiously, I tried to peek at the bulge between his legs to see if my display was working. And also because I figured if I was going to be sucking him off, I should get an idea of what I’d be touching, right?

One glance was all it took to confirm that shark-man was packing for sure. A thick bulge sat between his massive thighs cupped tight by his trousers. I wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing. But I tried not to get nervous—even though that was a moot point. I couldn’t fail at this. I couldn’t. I was actually kinda excited, dammit. I mean…he was hot, right? If you were open to that sorta thing.

When I reached back to frame my ass he growled .

That was a good thing, right?

Growling?

I don’t know.

He was harder to read than my other clients. And he was staring, not necessarily like he wanted to shove me onto his dick—but more like…he found me as fascinating as I found him. When our eyes met, something in his gaze called to the darkest, loneliest parts of me. It was odd. I’d done this hundreds of times but never…never like this .

Never for someone who looked at me like he was actually seeing me.

Like I was a person, not a body.

I hadn’t felt this raw since the day A&R had dropped me off in this godforsaken place.

It was strange.

So fucking strange.

Because I’d spent the first portion of my life invisible—and now I was here, front and center. I’d been the object of desire for so many aliens I’d lost count. I’d been ogled, lusted after, and longed for.

But until this moment I’d never been seen .

I’m scared.

It wasn’t a thought I’d allowed myself to have, especially not while working. It didn’t help. Just like mourning my old life didn’t. Just like being sad didn’t. I’d shoved those feelings down as far as they could go until they were buried beneath my observations, my notes, my excitement. But…unbidden, they rose to the surface.

I’m scared.

I’m scared.

Not of him. But of this place. Of these people. Of the fact that one day—if not today—those red, red doors would push open for me. It was only a matter of time before I made a mistake. Before it was my turn to face punishment. With that reminder and newfound determination, I tried to focus.

Shake your ass, Hugo. That’s what he’s here for.

Make him happy or today will be that day.

I peeked over my shoulder again—because I couldn’t help myself—to see that his attention hadn’t wavered. His cock was thickening up. At least…I thought it was? I hoped I hadn’t messed this up already. We’d kinda had a moment, but again, I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing.

I felt naked, in more than one way.

Trying to find confidence again, I stopped jerking my ass like a red-capped manakin performing a mating dance and grabbed on to the pole. This would be better. If I was spinning, I couldn’t keep looking at his face—couldn’t see the way he watched me. I could build up the mood again. I could salvage this. For both of us.

Make him happy.

Don’t fuck this up.

Put on a good show.

The cold metal of the pole was familiar enough to be comforting as I latched on tight. The sweat on my hands made me slip more than usual, but I still somehow managed to climb higher anyway. Up, I went, swinging round and round.

The walls and floor blur, blur, blurred as I swung in arching loops. The music reached a crescendo. The pole stuck to my bare, sticky skin, clinging to the back of my knee and the inside of my elbow as I swooped down. Breathless, my toes dragged across the floor before I swung my legs high all over again.

I’d never conversed with a shark-man before. Four-thumbed aliens, yes. Creatures with dozens of eyes, fur, and oddly shaped limbs. Beasts in every color of the rainbow (mostly.) But never a shark-man. Which was why I’d gotten so distracted by him earlier—not because of the way he looked at me. Nope. Totally not.

Spinning helped a little, but not enough. Every time I swooped around and he came into focus, it was like something magnetic pulled me in.

The floor was chilly against my bare feet when I dismounted. As I paused to catch my breath, my chest heaved. Inhaling greedily, I forced my hips to move to the beat again, dragging a hand down my torso and watching enraptured as the shark-man’s animalistic eyes followed the movement.

The spots that decorated the top of his head, down his back, and across the backs of his massive biceps shifted colors again, slower this time. Was it like…a chameleon thing? Only that didn’t make sense, because the booth was white—and his spots very much were not. I tilted my head curiously to the side, as they shifted pink, pink, gray, gray, gray.

Huh.

Maybe it’s a mood thing?

And if so, what the hell did red, pink, and gray mean?

Hopefully at least one of them meant horny.

I’m scared.

The thought came back, and I hated that it did.

I hoped he wouldn’t notice. Because again, it wasn’t him I was scared of. It was what awaited me outside this room. What awaited me if I failed.

When he spoke I was not prepared. He’d been totally silent the entire time we’d been in here. Which wasn’t unusual. Some aliens didn’t speak, even with translators. I hadn’t really thought anything of it, because—again, he was a fucking shark. Sharks didn’t talk. Except that he apparently did, and could.

I had just bent over again, legs spreading wider as I slid my hands up the backs of my thighs, my tiny black shorts doing nothing to hide the wag of my ass.

“Enough,” he said simply, the crackly low rumble of his voice shifting through the air as the device I had over my ear transformed the words.

Enough?

What did he mean “enough”?

Wasn’t this why he was here?

For a second, I was offended. It had taken me almost six entire months to get my lap-dance skills down. These hips were not made for wagging. At least, they hadn’t been before. I had never been physically gifted at anything. Not even video games—though one could argue those were far harder to master than most sports.

You could blame my dad, really.

We’d never played catch.

“Enough,” that same growly, rumbly voice sounded.

He’s probably tired of you stalling.

Not that that was what I was doing. Because it wasn’t. I was excited , dammit. Even if I was admittedly kinda terrified too. But that was because of my inexperience and had nothing to do with whether or not I found him attractive.

Apparently shark-aliens did not like eye candy—or foreplay.

Nerves danced in my belly as I tried to figure out what to do next. How was I supposed to seduce him without seducing him? Should I just get on my knees?

Was that why he’d said he’d had enough?

Tall, pink, and sexy’s translator blinked where it sat against the ear-less sides of his head. Did he have a tympanum like a lizard? Or three semicircular canals like the sharks on Earth? Either way, he could clearly hear—or he wouldn’t be wearing a translator. He looked mildly uncomfortable, if the tension in his body was any indicator. Though that could have easily been arousal.

Maybe I should say something?

As Sharky shifted his muscular body, thighs spreading wide, I got the hint.

It’s time.

He wants you to get on your knees.

Right.

Okay.

I could do this.

I could be sexy.

I totally could.

Breathe, Hugo.

You can do this.

I dropped to my knees, the cold metal floor leaching the heat from my bare skin. My collar felt like it weighed about a thousand pounds all of a sudden. Barely a second passed, and the shark-man made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a gasp. That had to be a good thing. I hoped so anyway. Back on Earth I’d been what most would consider nerdy enough to be undateable. The sexiest thing I’d ever done was win a chess competition.

Here though? I was considered hot shit for aliens. Like catnip. But nerd-nip. My scrawny ass could make their multitude of eyes practically pop out of their heads. And I didn’t even have to try to do it.

Not that I didn’t try. Because I did. Because I was a perfectionist —and even though this wasn’t my choice—it was my lot in life. I’d never been able to stomach the thought of not doing my best, even for something like this.

Keep going.

I knee-walked forward till his calves framed my body and those big-ass thighs sandwiched my shoulders. The alien didn’t move to push his pants down or anything, even with me between his thighs.

In fact, he was rigid—frozen still.

Kinda like he had no idea what was happening right now.

His legs were even larger up close. I didn’t dare touch them, even though I kinda wanted to—not even because I’d been told to, but because they looked comfortable. However, they were the only part of his body that was clothed. Which made them less interesting than his barrel chest and muscular arms.

Is he sticky like bubblegum?

I can’t wait to find out.

Was I supposed to undo his pants for him? Would they be difficult to get off if his skin was sticky?

It hadn’t occurred to me that I hadn’t spoken a word. Not until that moment, with his crotch in my face and his pale blue eyes staring down at me. I shivered, cold all over.

How hard could this really be?

Lick-lick, suck-suck, done-done.

It’d be fine.

I reached for the button on the alien’s pants. His nostrils flared. His chest began heaving . When his sharp teeth flashed, my belly flipped. A flood of butterflies spun frantic circles inside me as I got the button on his pants open and attempted to pull down his zipper.

“No,” he said, the deep rumbling growl making my hair stand on end. Immediately, I froze, hands beginning to shake. What had I done wrong? Hadn’t he requested this? Did he not like me? Oh fuck. Oh fuck. I’d already fucked this up.

“Make him happy,” The Manager had said.

This was not happy.

This was annoyed.

“Please?” I offered, suddenly kinda terrified. “I need to. I mean. They said that I?—”

He growled, this deep ominous sound, and my hands went icy. I removed them from his general vicinity, the limbs quaking as I settled them on my bare thighs and tried to understand where I’d gone so very wrong.

The sound he was making was almost… distressed .

“Please don’t growl. I didn’t—I mean, I didn’t mean to upset you. I thought this was what you wanted.” My heart was hammering. Red doors flashed in front of my eyes. “I’m—” My words cut off as I released a distressed sound of my own.

I’m scared.

My words had some sort of effect because the growl the shark-man had been emitting softened into what was almost a purr. Like he was trying to soothe me now, rather than warn me away. Tentatively, he reached down. For a moment his hand hovered above my head, like he was afraid to touch. When I nodded jerkily, giving him permission, his hand crossed the last of that distance, gently stroking over my hair. It felt wonderful to be touched. I wasn’t sure why he was doing it—all things considered—but I couldn’t help but melt into it despite that.

Peering at him through my lashes, confused and a little freaked out, I let the gentle scratch of his thick fingers soothe me. His hand was so large— Christ . He had to move so carefully not to hurt me. We were at an impasse as his chest heaved with each ragged inhalation, his spots gray, yellow, gray.

Fear made my hands shake.

“I’m sorry,” I managed again, confused and more than a little terrified. “I thought you wanted me.” I couldn’t fail this. I couldn’t . I couldn’t-couldn’t-couldn’t. A distressed whine escaped before I could stop it.

“It is alright, little one,” he rumbled, the quiet purr of his voice far more soothing than it should’ve been. The shape of the words did not match what I heard in my head, but it was still comforting. “You do not know what you ask of me.” His chest was still shuddering, those big thighs framing my face. But the bulge in his pants was soft. His earlier arousal had faded. I hate failing. I can’t-I can’t-I can’t.

To my disgust, my lashes were wet with tears as I clenched my hands into fists.

They’re going to punish you for this.

“ Please ,” I begged again, not sure what I was asking for. “Tell me what I did wrong. I’ll fix it.” Clearly I’d gotten something incorrect. Maybe if I showed my sincerity he’d take pity on me and tell The Manager that I’d done a good job, even though I quite obviously hadn’t?

Shark-guy shushed me. It was a sweet sound, despite being different than something a human would make. He didn’t have the lips to make a proper shhhh noise. The effect was the same though. Still soothing. Still soft. The scratching continued, and though I was shaking—it did help.

I should’ve been scared when he lifted his hand from my hair, moving to gently stroke one thick finger over the wetness that clung to my cheek, but I wasn’t. When he cupped my jaw, the warm stickiness of his skin pressing to mine only amplified the magnetic force crackling between us.

I wasn’t sure what he saw in my eyes.

It felt like he was looking through me. Like he could see where I was brittle and lost, his pale blue eyes searching, searching, searching mine.

I’m scared, I thought again, a pit in my belly.

The shark’s spots turned blue, a tranquil sort of color. Like the ocean painting my mom had put above the toilet in the guest bathroom.

His skin was warm and solid. Maybe not the same kind of solid that mine was—but certainly pleasant. I’d take the time to analyze that later. He’d be the newest entry in my journal. I’d compare him to other organisms I’d studied and see if I could find a creature with a similar texture, just for fun. But for now, I trembled, another tear slipping down my cheek.

Men don’t cry, Hugo.

My father’s voice accompanied me all the way across the galaxy.

It was the only thing he’d taught me.

“Calm,” shark-man urged, using the grip he had on my head to nudge me to settle against the inside of his knee. At first, I thought that this meant blow jobs were back on the table, but I was quickly proven wrong. No. Apparently, calm meant literally that. It meant breathe . It meant slow the fuck down and enjoy the squishy softness of the big-ass thigh against my face.

The alien’s hand returned to my hair, gently petting me. Now that he was touching me it was even more apparent how aware of his overwhelming size he was, careful of his claws and how easily I could be crushed. He smelled like apples, and I inhaled the scent greedily. When my eyes slipped shut, it became clear the only thing alien-man wanted from this interaction was to soothe me.

Until that moment, no one had ever done that for me. Not even before—when I’d been a real person, and not…whatever it was that I was now.

It was comfort in the purest sense.

A strong creature lending his strength to someone who was smaller.

A lion and a mouse.

This was care and concern . An emotion that felt suspiciously like affection—though I knew that couldn’t be what it was. Not after only knowing each other for fifteen fucking minutes.

Affection was hard-earned.

You fought for it, tooth and nail. And even then, usually you didn’t get it. Sometimes it felt like a myth. A fairy tale for children who came from happy homes. Children who grew up with bedtime stories, cookies on the table, and party hats for their birthdays.

I was embarrassed to admit the few tears I’d spilled turned into a torrent. With every gentle scratch of his claws and every soothing rumble, I cracked a little more. I hadn’t expected this. And while I’d tried to tell myself that I was ready for what the night entailed, I hadn’t been. I realized that now, as alien-guy gave me the first human decency it felt like I’d ever had.

I rolled with the punches, sure. When I’d gotten abducted I’d been upset, obviously . But I’d accepted my new role in life quickly. However, at twenty-one now, I knew how rare a touch this sweet could be. Like a unicorn, even in space.

While I quaked and sobbed, the alien continued to rumble. The sound buzzed through his body, vibrating my cheek as I pressed hard against his knee. Tucked between his hand and his leg, I had never felt safer.

Ridiculous.

I was fucking ridiculous.

He was about to leave. I’d never see him again. I was going to face the consequences of my actions. And the empathy he’d shown me surely wouldn’t extend to telling The Manager I’d done a good job when I hadn’t. My weakness would be my downfall. This embrace would fester and mold till it became just another snapshot of all the times I’d had my heart torn out.

For now though…I was content to pretend. To be comforted and loved, even if it was only for a few moments, by a stranger I had disappointed.

This alien was a goddamn saint, apparently.

Because I didn’t stop crying for a long, long time.

And when I finally did, he urged my chin up with one thick finger. His chest shuddered as he inhaled. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he looked just as overwhelmed as I felt. He bent his head low and those terrifyingly sharp teeth crept closer and closer to where I crouched.

“Pretty one, do not cry,” his voice was soft and sweet. Awkward. Nervous. Like he’d never comforted someone before and he had no idea what he was doing. “It will be okay.”

It wouldn’t, but hearing that meant more to me than he probably realized.

“I will make it okay,” he added, a promise I knew would be broken the second those doors swung shut behind him.

My head spun and spun.

Pretty one, pretty one, pretty one.

I will make it okay.

No one had ever called me pretty before. I’d been called plenty of things. Smart, stubborn, sweet. Gullible, forgiving, blind. But never pretty.

Pretty was a word reserved for girls, action stars, and botanical gardens. It was a delicate word. Soft. It smelled like fresh cut fruit and springtime blossoms. If it had a sound, it’d ring like bells. Pretty was the shade of my mother’s lipstick.

It wasn’t for me.

Or at least…I hadn’t thought it was.

Until now.

My pulse thrummed.

Pretty one, pretty one, pretty one.

I will make it okay. I will make it okay. I will make it okay.

My shaking hands stilled. The big pink beast stroked the path my tears had taken. His gaze was heavy but soft. As unreadable as it’d been since he’d entered the room. And…just like that, I knew my time was up.

That the petting was over.

And that his promise was about to be broken.

Even still, when he helped me to my feet, his hands were warm, warm, warm. His grip was commanding as he guided me through the door ahead of him out of my pod. Normally I’d wait in here on my own, but I didn’t have it in me to tell him that. We’d been inside for long past when we were supposed to. If my lack of blow job-giving wasn’t cause for punishment, that surely was.

One of his massive palms stayed on the small of my back the entire time we walked, traveling down the hallway toward the front desk together to face my doom.

He’s going to complain.

The thought made me feel sick all over again. Rather than argue, or try to run—a stupid idea—I simply accepted my fate. Slumping, I stared at the chilly floor and my bare feet, and tried not to break right in half.

As kind as he was—as gentle—I had no doubt there would be nothing but complaints about my service. I didn’t know what that would mean for me, but it certainly wouldn’t end in jelly-filled donuts.

But that didn’t matter.

It didn’t matter, because no matter what it was, I would take my punishment like a champ.

Because for the first time in my life, I was pretty, pretty, pretty .

Even if I was also pretty screwed.