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“No, no—he’s fine,” Andi lied quickly. “I think watching the, uh, milking procedure upset him.”
“Well that’s a great pity since he’s about to be milked himself,” Queen Pantyitch remarked.
“What?” Andi demanded. “What are you talking about? You told me that I would make the choice on whether my male-wife gets milked or not.”
The other woman arched an eyebrow at her.
“Yes, well that was before you accepted my three hospitality gifts.”
“Hospitality gifts? What are you talking about?” Andi asked blankly.
“Why, the gifts of food and drink, transportation, and shelter.” Queen Pantyitch counted them off on her fingers. “You’ve eaten at my table twice now, you’ve flown in my ship, and tonight you’ll be staying under my roof and sleeping in one of my finest beds. By Salacious Delta law, after receiving three gifts yourself, you now owe me a gift in return.” And she crossed her arms over her bare breasts and gave Andi a triumphant look as though daring her to refute her logic.
“But…but we’re new here!” Andi protested. “I didn’t know you had laws about hospitality gifts!”
“Too bad,” the other woman said loftily. “Ignorance of our customs doesn’t excuse you for breaking them. I’m afraid you must give me the gift I have requested or I have the right to throw you off my property—which includes the entire floating platform which houses the milking farm.”
“What? But there’s nothing out here except swamp!” Andi exclaimed.
“Exactly.” Queen Pantyitch gave her a cool smile. “Swamp and some very hungry kroc-o-wows. Not that I would do that to a guest, of course,” she said. “At least not as long as you give me what I want.”
“If what you want is to strap me down and let one of those fucking mechanical monstrosities suck me dry, you’re in for a big fucking disappointment.”
Thrax’s deep voice was a growl of pure fury and Andi saw he was getting ready to fight for his life. His golden eyes were narrowed and his body was in a defensive posture, as though he was about to spring.
But if he did, what happened next? The milking farm was fully staffed and there were armed guards out front. As big and strong as Thrax was, he couldn’t fight them all off. And again, they would lose the element of surprise.
Clearly, Thrax’s words had offended their hostess.
“Well!” she huffed, glaring up at him. “How dare you speak to a woman in such a fashion? You’re nothing but a man. You need to learn your place!”
“Please, forgive my male-wife,” Andi said quickly. “But he’s speaking from a place of self-defense. You see, he has a kind of phobia about being tied down or restrained in any way.”
“I don’t want to be jerked off by a fucking milking machine either!” Thrax growled, still giving their hostess a menacing glare.
“You really need to control your male-wife!” Queen Pantyitch said severely to Andi. “His language leaves much to be desired!”
“Again, I’m sorry but he’s just scared,” Andi said quickly. It was more likely that her partner was enraged, but she didn’t think it would be a good idea to tell their hostess that. “Please, just choose another gift that we can give you. If you want credits, we have plenty,” she added hopefully.
“I don’t want your money—I’m only interested in seeing your male-wife spill his seed,” Queen Pantyitch said stubbornly. “If he’s a big producer like our giant over there, I’ll offer you a contract. But I don’t know until I see it.”
“Well, you can’t hook him up to that awful milking machine,” Andi said firmly. “He’s my male-wife and you can’t lay a finger on him without my permission.” She hoped she was right about this—the “Queens” of Salacious Delta treated their men like property so it seemed reasonable to believe some other woman couldn’t just take Thrax away from her.
She must have been right because the look on Queen Pantyitch’s face was sour. But then her expression smoothed out into a smile that Andi didn’t like at all—a smug, self-satisfied smirk that looked almost sinister.
“Fine,” she said, with a flip of her long black and white hair. “I won’t lay a finger on him—but you will.”
“Excuse me?” Andi raised her eyebrows. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about your hospitality gift to me. You’re going to take your male-wife in hand and milk him yourself,” Queen Pantyitch said. “Make him come for me and I’ll consider your debt paid. Refuse and I have the right to turn you off my property, as I believe I mentioned earlier.”
“You wouldn’t really shove us into the swamp!” Andi protested, feeling sick.
“Oh, wouldn’t I?” Queen Pantyitch raised her eyebrows knowingly. “Try me, my dear. Who knows—maybe you’d make some nice new friends. I believe the kroc-o-wows aren’t nearly so fastidious about hospitality gifts as I am—they’ll be happy to take anything you want to give them.”
And she smirked at Andi again in a way that made her wish she had her blaster with her. The woman was a monster—capturing these helpless men, chaining them to the wall, and sucking them dry! Why hadn’t she seen before that Queen Pantyitch was a psychopath and how were they going to get out of here?
Andi tried to think of a way out, but they seemed to be stuck. They didn’t have their own ship so she and Thrax couldn’t just leave. Besides, they had to see if they could free Commander Kier. Which meant hanging around the milking farm at least a little longer. Which further meant she had no choice but to comply with their sadistic hostess’s demands.
