Blue Planet (sci fi, D/s, wife)

Jem Alaasha slowly paced the small, confined, featureless space in an endless, pointless procession. Six measured paces, turn to the left, six measured paces, turn to the left, over and over, just as she had done since awakening in this empty, padded box some infinite time before. She was beyond fury, beyond rage, beyond hatred. All her immediate anger had now spent itself and all that was left was a cold determination to see that whoever was responsible for her current condition would suffer unimaginable torments for daring this outrage. As she moved, her body tensing and relaxing like a tigress preparing to spring on helpless prey, she thought back once again to how this had occurred. She and her Jex had been on a pleasant, thrilling cruise in one of the small, local grav-speeders, skimming over the gently rolling hillsides of this admittedly lovely world, feeling the pushes and pulls of inertia and gravity as the sleek craft topped small hills and plunged into gentle, sloping valleys. Jex had been piloting the speeder. He was an excellent pilot, another of his delicious qualities, along with his attractive, carefully engineered body, his razor sharp mind and his utter ruthlessness in his devotion to her. He was the best value she had ever exchanged for and perhaps he even knew it. But then, without warning, there had been a quick series of loud buzzes and many small lights on the control panel of the speeder had come to life all at once. The craft had lurched, bounced on its cushion of magnetic force, shuddered as Jex struggled to maintain control, slid sideways and finally the magnetics failed completely, dropping it to the ground where it dug a shallow furrow and then struck a large boulder in a field, flipping into the air, tossing them both like limp puppets. When she had come to some unknown time later, she was sore, bruised and confined in this empty, featureless, small room, with its white padded walls, ceiling and floor emitting their soft, constant glow. The lights never dimmed, never extinguished, and with no sound to break the unending stillness she had lost track of not only the hour but the day and by now certainly the week. She wondered where Jex was, perhaps confined in a space quite similar to her own, fretting and seething over where his beloved owner was, for that deep devotion had been programmed into him. At regular intervals a small doorway opened in one wall revealing a niche in which was set a tray containing various of the bland local food dishes. And she could, with the push on a small panel set in the corner of one wall cause a body waste pedestal to rise out of the floor or a somewhat comfortable padded, flat shelf on which she could lie to slide from one wall. But aside from these small interuptions her time since she had arrived here had been totally consumed in pacing and fuming and plotting her revenge against – against whoever was responsible for this. Did they not know who she was? She was a Jem, for Helsha’s sake. What sentient being in their balanced mind would dare affront a Jem? Especially one of her status and wealth. Occasionally she was overwhelmed by bouts of panic when she wondered if her Jex had been seriously injured or even, unthinkably, terminated in the crash of the speeder. But she always forced those thoughts and feelings down, crushed them, told herself he was perfectly well, simply confined as she was in some space like hers, perhaps quite near. The rest of the time she plotted her escape and eventual revenge. And what a revenge it would be. Legendary. She would wreck this entire planet for what it had dared do to her. Wipe it clean of the foul, little creatures who were the pitiful top of its miserable, insignificant food chain. Gathering her dignity around herself once more the drew in a deep breath and steeped off once more. Six paces, turn to the left, six paces, turn to the left, six paces…

Debbie drifted up from slumber like a piece of soggy balsa wood breaking loose from some deeply submerged wreck and floating leisurely toward the surface of a calm sea. Her mind was aware first that she was asleep, then that she was waking even before she arrived at full consciousness. She opened her eyes and gazed out across the plush, dimly lit room, her face pressed heavily into the soft, deeply quilted fabric of the platform. She didn’t move for a long moment, simply letting her body send flashes of sensation to her mind from its various sprawled limbs and parts. She ached, she was sore, she felt wonderful. Her body was sticky from head to toe, the dried residue of endless hours of passionate coupling with – She raised her head suddenly and looked around. She was alone. He was gone. She felt a moment of disoriented panic. Her lover had left her, alone in this strange place, after – Then her mind shook off the last of sleep and took firm hold. Of course, she realized. The transfer. His job was done. She now held the information she had been sent to retrieve. She lowered her head back onto the soft, cool fabric of the downy, plush platform and smiled. That was some transfer, she thought with a deep, satisfied giggle. And that was one hell of a messenger to receive it from. She let her mind focus on her pussy for a moment, trying to sense it, feel how now it was different than it had ever been in her life before. It was the pussy of a woman, she thought. It had tasted its first cock and it liked it. Liked it, hell, it craved it, she corrected herself. And her clit. Feeling it brush against her underwear or the crease of her jeans or the occasional brush of her fingertip was one thing. But to have the soft, thick hairs at the base of a mans cock tickling it with each deep thrust, or to feel a hot, wet tongue rolling over it… that was indescribable. She rolled over onto her back with a groan and relaxed focusing on pulling herself fully awake. Whoever he had been, this strange man/creature with the very interesting cock… no, cocks she corrected herself, he had been an experience she decided she would not have missed for – Robert. The word snapped into her mind, stunning her and she sat bolt upright, holding herself up with locked arms pressing into the platform. Her husband. “Oh God” she moaned, her voice a light whimper. Then panic seized her. What time was it? How long had she been in this place? She pushed herself off the platform, scooped up her discarded gown from the floor and began searching for what her mind was telling her was the equivilant of a bathroom. She found the cleansing alcove and completed cleaning and relieving herself in what must have been record time. Then she was out the door and rushing down the stairs. She barely paused to bid goodbye to Sandistra who was only coming awake herself of the large, soft seat in the main downstairs room, rushing out with a flurry of her gown flapping behind her and the owner of the house blinking with surprise at such strange behavior. Outside she hailed a public vehicle and tersely instructed it to take her back to the space port, then settled into the rear seat and focused her thoughts as best she could. She now had the data, she knew. She had seen it, in her minds eye at the moment of transfer, and despite the explosion of pleasure that was overwhelming her, she knew it had been done and done well. Now what. She forced herself to be calm, closed her eyes and tried to summon up the next step in her task. At last it drifted up as if slowly stepping into an overhead spotlight. Of course, she realized. Now she had to travel to a place called Dioscalia, which was the primary moon of the planet Scalia Three. There she was to… to…. Nothing further came to her despite her efforts to draw it forth, and at last she sighed and slumped back in the seat. Security, she thought sourly. Always the damn security. She looked out the window and noticed the space port in the distance, slowly approaching. She wanted very much to encourage the driver of the squat, stumpy machine to go faster but bit back the words and waited. Several minutes later the machine slid up to the opening archway of the space port. Debbie quickly blurted out her identity name and number and scrambled out of the back of the lumpy vehicle, moving swiftly to the archway and stepping through its force field. She maintained a rapid pace as she strode swiftly through the terminal, back to the lounge at which she had last seen Robert, found the archway and stepped through it. Inside the lounge all was quiet in contrast to the noise and bustle of the port just on the other side of the force field. Debbie saw that there was a different orange skinned woman seated behind the long counter and she approached her, reminding herself that she was a Jem and therefore could command respect and attention without having to exert herself. As she stepped up the orange woman raised her eyes from the small screen set into to counter before her and smiled pleasantly. “Yes, Jem” the woman inquired pleasantly. “How may I be of assistance.” “I arrived on a flight from Terrel Major” Debbie said, her voice dripping with bored tolerance “I believe it was a cycle ago, and my Jex had to go into quarentine. I’m about to depart now and I’ve come to retrieve him.” “Your identity?” the woman asked, politely. Debbie gave her the false identity name and number, then let her expression denote wistful ennui as the orange woman turned her attention back to the screen before her, fixed on it and various symbols arrived across it’s face in swift succession. When she looked up, there was puzzlement in her face. “I’m sorry, Jem Alaasha” she said “but I show no record of your having arrived with a Jex.” Debbie was momentarily caught off balance by this, but forced her face to remain impassive. “Well, I can assure you that I did. Please check again. I don’t have much time” she said evenly. The orange woman looked back at the screen on which more alien symbols danced and this time when she looked up there was genuine concern in her eyes. “Jem Alaasha” she said, hesitantly “I have no record of any Jex accompanying you when you arrived three cycles ago. None at all.” Three cycles, Debbie’s mind screamed, shocked. That translated to about a day and a half. That long? No, it wasn’t possible. Or was it. She shook herself, fighting to focus on the immediate problem, looking at the orange woman, slowly narrowing her eyes in what she hoped would be a threatening gaze. “I don’t care what your machines say” she replied, her voice low and dangerous “I want my Jex back. Now.” The orange woman was now visibly shaken, casting a darting glance down at the screen before her and then looking back up at Debbie. “Perhaps I should summon my superior” she said, hopefully. “Yes” Debbie said, her tone now flat “do that. Immediately.” The woman’s face fixed hard on the screen which flashed with rapid symbols and several icily silent minutes later a slightly darker hued woman, this one shorter and clearly older, bustled up from a small opening in a distant corner of the lounge. “May I assist you, Jem” the woman said to Debbie, her tone calm and official. Debbie explained in her most chillingly annoyed tones about arriving, having to place her Jex in quarantine and then, after a very brief period of some relaxing fun, returning to catch a ship and finding her beloved, not to mention expensive Jex had seemingly been misplaced or disappeared and what kind of place was this where such things could happen anyway. The older woman listened intently, nodding slightly throughout the story, then went behind the counter and fixed her own gaze upon it, causing more symbols to flash across the screen. When she looked up at Debbie her expression was concerned. “I am sorry, Jem Alaasha” she said cautiously “but none of our records show you arriving with a Jex. This is your first visit to our world, correct?” Debbie confirmed that it was and, if this was an indication of the standard of competence here, most likely her last. The older woman seemed to think hard for a moment, then exchanged a glance with the younger woman behind the counter. “Why” said Debbie a bit too loudly “do you not simply fetch the one who was here when I arrived. She can tell you that I brought my Jex.” The older woman was about to politely mention that there are literally thousands of travelers passing by this station every cycle, and for anyone as busy as a Regulator to remember a single one of them would be asking quite a lot. On the other hand these Jem tended to think the entire galaxy revolved around them and in some senses it did, so of course they would expect be remembered. The older woman pursed her lips and gave a pleasant smile. “Yes, Jem Alaasha” she said sweetly “we shall indeed do that. In the meanwhile, would you care to wait in my private space?” Debbie gave a small, ‘it’s about time’ snort and the older woman led her back to the distant corner, through the small door and into a small but pleasant office where she offered her a seat on a large, comfortable chair. “Please allow me to go see about this personally” she said and left the office. The moment she was gone, Debbie’s hands began to tremble and she felt as if she was about to collapse into hysterical sobbing. If Robert was gone, truly gone, she would never have been so alone in her life, and with so little idea as to what to do next. She fought the impulse to drop her head in her hands and sob uncontrollably. The wait seemed interminable, though it probably was no more than a few minutes. Finally the door slid open and the older woman stepped into the small office once more. This time her expression was grim. “Would you accompany me please, Jem Alaasha” she said, her tone solemn. “What’s going on” Debbie said sharply. “Please” the woman repeated, a bit quieter now, but definitely more firmly “follow me.” An icy chill of fear ran through Debbie as she rose and followed the older woman out of the office. They re-entered the lounge, stepped through the arched force field into the bustling main concourse and directly across it to another archway, this one rectangular and shaded so that it could not be seen through. The older woman stepped through it, vanished as if she had stepped into a mirror made of black mercury. Debbie sucked in a breath, closed her eyes and followed her through. On the other side where the sounds of the concourse died away behind her she opened her eyes to find a modest looking office with a few chairs grouped in the center. Seated in one of them was a short, almost stocky woman who reminded Debbie of a bulldog with her bulging shoulders and beefy frame, though her pale yellow face was pleasant enough, topped with a mat of close cropped black hair. She was already rising as Debbie entered. “Jem Alaasha” the stocky woman said, her voice calm but sympathetic “I am Sector Commander Balial. Internal Security Forces. I am afraid I have some bad news for you.” Debbie felt her stomach plummet and her knees begin to tremble under the long, flowing gown. “Go on” she said evenly, hoping her voice was not trembling. The stocky woman looked at the older one who gave her an understanding nod, turned and, without a further word, walked past Debbie, through the force field and was gone.” “Won’t you be seated” the stocky woman said, indicating one of the chairs. Debbie was about to protest, tell her to just get on with it, but decided if the news really was bad she should hear it sitting down from where she would not be able to fall. She carefully lowered herself onto the seat and took a moment to compose herself before fixing the stocky woman with a calm expression. The stocky woman looked decidedly uncomfortable as she began speaking, carefully, almost hesitantly. “Jem Alaasha” she said quietly “I don’t know of any other way to state this but to simply inform you…” Debbie felt her breath hold in her chest. “I fear” the stocky woman went on quietly “that your Jex… has been stolen.” For a moment the meaning of what the stocky woman had said didn’t quite register with Debbie. Then she understood and her mouth dropped open in stunned horror. “What” she hissed. “I know” the stocky woman said sympathetically. “It is shameful and shocking but I am afraid it is a growing problem in certain systems. Unfortunately it is reaching rampant proportions in this one, based as it is on… pleasurable pursuits.” The stocky woman dropped her eyes, embarrassed, leaning forward to rub her hands together uncomfortably. “Let me try to explain” she said with the finality of a patient teacher. “This system is, as you know, economically based on its ability to supply members of certain societies a haven where they can…. Well, let us say, find the sophisticated entertainment’s and relaxation’s they deserve. However, it also happens to be located at a particularly strategic position on this spiral arm of the galaxy which puts it within reasonable traversing distance from a number of frontier outposts and observation stations. As such, we are often visited by… well, to put it bluntly, some rather unsavory individuals. Those that operate on the fringes of our society. In particular, many of the long range patrol pilots stop off here just to center themselves after a difficult, lonely tour of duty.” The stocky woman paused. “Go on” Debbie said quietly. The stocky woman flicked an uncomfortable glance up at her then continued. “These patrol pilots… many of them are doing, essentially, a kind of punishment duty for minor rules violations. They go out, alone, in large, automated craft and patrol various planets, collect information about them, that sort of thing. Usually they are given a wide patrol pattern to follow and they are out there quite a long time. Megacycles sometimes. That means two things. First, their stock of credits can build up quite high. There’s nothing out there to spend it on so by the end of a tour some of them are actually quite wealthy.” The stocky woman shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “The other thing is… if they can manage to swing by a place like this in the middle of their patrols, they are quite…. shall we say…. anxious. You know what I mean.” The stocky woman flicked another glance up at Debbie, sighed and rose, beginning to pace slowly around the office. “It now appears that what happened was that one of these patrol pilots took a fancy to your Jex and…. stole him. Probably to keep her company for the rest of her patrol tour. I’m afraid that, even if we are able to determine which one it was, there is very little chance that we will be able to go after her. The craft she would be mastering would be a combat vessel and Internal Security has nothing that could stand up to it if she should decide to ignore an order from one of our own craft to halt and be boarded. On top of that, there really would be no way to tell exactly where in her patrol pattern she was at any given moment. Her ship would be stealthy and she could easily evade us. I’m afraid the most we can do is try to discover her identity and wait until she finishes her patrol, try to retrieve your Jex then.” A pained expression crossed the stocky woman’s face. “That is, if she hasn’t sold him or… worse by that time.”