Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ YaY! ❯ Two ( Chapter 2 )

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Soon Reme was asleep in her usual position, head propped against the back of the chair, keyboard on lap and feet braced on the wall. Vegeta too had fallen asleep, still chained in that uncomfortably spread-eagle position to the cot. Sometime earlier in the night Frieza had taken Goku to nurse his bruised balls and broken ego, a sniveling, obsequious, submissive sex-toy who's all to eager to do Frieza desires to anyone.

The cot was always so uncomfortable, especially when he wanted to sleep. He could never drift into unconsciousness for long, between the pain of his wounds, the absence of his ki, and that pointy spring that poked up into his back, right underneath the base of his tail, and just to the right.

The mattress sunk and a gentle hand slipped over his mouth. His eyes flashed open. In the dark he saw the faint outline of a body. He tried to pull his head away and yell, but the hand followed his mouth. The figure moved closer and pressed itself to him. Frieza definitely did not have breasts, neither did Kakkarot, it was Reme. He relaxed, she lifted her hand off his mouth slightly and when he stayed silent, moved it to her other, which was busy with the chains around his wrists. She spoke softly,

"We're getting free of Frieza!" Vegeta scowled, disturbed and sleepy.

"How? We're on a ship, in the middle of deep-space." She looked down to his eyes and smiled,

"I know. I wrote a virus program that will replace the old ships computer operating system with my very own. All of the voice commands that Frieza had are now mine, Frieza is no longer in control of his ship. As soon as we determine where he is, which is probably his quarters with his favorite of us three under him, we can keep him there as long as we want." She finished with his wrists and he sat up, all the blood rushing to his head and he fell against Reme, pushing her down into his legs as she undid the rest of the chains the smock over her torso wrinkling into his crimson loincloth

"If we want, we can separate him from Goku, Kakkarot, or whatever the hell his name is, or not, we can do anything we want. The ship is ours." She peeled off the chains and he held himself up with his elbows.

"How do we kill him?" She smiled and began her delicate work on the ki-restrainer around his neck.

"Simple, create a vacuum and let him asphyxiate. Or we could dump him with the next load of space-trash and watch him explode, freeze and asphyxiate." She tilted his head upwards and tried to reach one of the tiny panels under his ear. Tilting his head for her she looked up at him,

"Excuse me."

"Huh?" Reme crawled up on the cot and straddled him abruptly in what would have been a very sexual, very dominate position, if it weren't for the tiny screwdriver that looked like it was his left ear's earring, and the fact that if she didn't remove this just right, he would die in a most unpleasant way. His eyebrows shot up and a faint blush crept onto his cheeks, he would naturally take the dominate role. He squeezed his eyes shut and turned his face into the mattress, trying to keep his hands from wandering, trying to keep himself flaccid and limp, with little success. She adjusted herself and tilted his head further into the cot. She raised her eyebrows, but continued to work, her thigh rubbed against his hard manhood,

"Hello, it's not very hot in here." Her voice was flat, though slightly higher than usual and she felt a cold sweat in her palms. With a shaking gesture the ki-restrainer popped off. She picked it up and moved to get off, a pair of strong, large hands attached to strong, long arms gripped her shoulders and strongly kept her in place.

"No." Vegeta snarled and coiled his tail around her waist, levitating himself off the cot, Reme's hips falling into his, her legs dangling over both sides of his. Unsure of what to do she continued to hold the collar and screwdriver quietly until with blinding speed he slammed her down into the cot, nearly breaking the thing, the tool fell out of her grip and bounced to the floor. He ground his hips down into hers, pinning her immovably, snatching her wrists and snapping them into the cuffs he once wore,

"You're not going anywhere."

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