Tymber Dalton - Spider Bight

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.