StarPyre

They had accepted their fate and acted more like voluntary pleasure workers than slaves sold for sex to the highest bidder.
Maybe my studies had been wrong after all. Perhaps my masters had somehow broken me with all their tests and experiments. Or the excitement of spending the night with him had been spoiled when the things I’d envisioned hadn’t happened.
It had tarnished the whole experience. I’d been disappointed when the images from my studies differed from reality. Perhaps it was a good thing sex with my dreamscape male had been a one-time thing.
I was used to being disappointed.
I was a Yaarkin-created prototype, their prized possession.
Being different from the other human experiments had its advantages and disadvantages.
I’d never had to deal with being sold to clients as the other female humans had. But the other females steered clear of me in fear of what the Yaarkins might do to them too. They didn’t want to suffer the daily experiments I was forced to endure.
So, I remained the sole focus of the Yaarkins’ tests and experiments. The pain they inflicted daily wasn’t what I would call fun, but the freedom in not being forced to service multiple clients made the sessions worth it. I was kept segregated from the other humans aboard ship and only saw them in passing in the hallway.
Something had changed nine days ago.
My masters had feared their experiment with me was a failure. Instead of my usual daily tests and experiments, I’d been placed in a showcase with the other human females. Since I wasn’t a regular pleasure slave, my masters had hoped they could sell me to a higher-paying customer by advertising me as a unique experience. They made it clear—as long as I behaved and made my special customer happy, I would continue to live to earn back some of the money they’d invested in me.
When the time had come for me to walk on stage at the showcase, I’d kept my head high and tried to focus only on getting through it. But when I glanced at the crowd as they cast their bids and he had won, I froze, my eyes locked on him. He’d stood motionless at the back of the room, a figure in a black hooded cloak and gloves, with those amethyst eyes I would have recognized anywhere.
Later that evening, he’d been delivered to my room. He had kept the lights off and had been in control of both the conversation and the whole sexual experience. And he held me afterward until the time had come for him to leave.
I didn’t really mind he may have used my vulnerability. Yeah, the pain from that night had taken some time to go away, but I was grateful I had experienced my first—and only—time with someone who had at least acted as if he cared for me.
The other humans I came across ignored me almost as much as my masters did. Any physical contact I had with my masters was strictly clinical, and even then, the Yaarkins were more machine than anything biological. They hid anything that wasn’t robotic under metal armor, leaving nothing visible for anyone to determine their species.
After many years of playing the loyal test subject, always alone, I craved any form of companionship. An overwhelming need to be touched, to have contact with other biological beings capable of feelings rode me every waking moment.
The result? Me giving into my needs and allowing him to do whatever he wanted with me, just so I could experience the touch of someone organic and living, not something cold and hard.
And now, I’d finally come to the realization I needed to find a way to escape on my own. To depend on someone to rescue me, no matter what strange connection we’d had, was clearly not going to help me. My dreamscape male hadn’t met me in my dreams since that night. I felt foolish for trusting him.
I laid on my back on the bed, staring up at the blank ceiling on the evening of the ninth day since that night I spent with him. No matter how much I tried, I couldn’t forget the night with my amethyst-eyed male. Thoughts of him plagued my mind.
Should I continue to believe the promise he made me? My dreams have been empty, and I haven’t been sold to another since that night. My mind played the question endlessly.
An alarm blared, startling me from sleep. I scrambled out of bed and darted to the cell door to peer out the porthole, hoping I could figure out what was happening.
“Attention, humans! We are under attack. When your doors unlock, head to the hangar to receive further instructions,” a robotic voice commanded from the ship's speakers.
A tsunami of feelings rushed through me.
Fear of what was happening.
Excitement the commotion could indicate a rescue. Is this it? Did he really come back for me?
Anger I couldn’t keep him out of my head.
I forced myself to focus, suppressing the maelstrom of emotions and halting my wishful thinking. Now was neither the time to panic nor get my hopes up—it was time to survive. Plenty of time to think of him after I reached safety.
Placing my hand on the door scanner, I slumped with relief when it lit up green, unlocking the door. Easing forward into the doorway, I peered down the hall filling with the other female humans. Most hurried by with fear-filled faces. The few who noticed me met my gaze with shock in their eyes. One or two made a snide remark and snickered as they passed me, but all rushed down the hall toward the hangar. I ignored them, stepping out to elbow my way through the crowd. Survival was my focus; the others didn’t matter.
I crammed into the lift with a group of panicked females. They shifted restlessly and surged out of the lift as soon as the doors opened, then down the hall that led to the hangar. I trailed behind as the others