Aculiata blinked at the bulky computer in front of her. Its iris blue… ‘eye’, as she’d taken to considering the thing, regarded her with what she could only guess to be a feeling of restlessness. How was such an inert form so expressive? It genuinely baffled her that she could discern so much from nothing but an impassive glow and and-

 

 

Ah, that would offer some clarity, she bloomed. With all the intention of a raindrop’s fall, one of Culi’s vines shifted, moving to idly soothe the feeling. The vine had nearly made contact with Urania’s frame by the time she became aware of its wayward motion, halting it in place. “Ah, may I…?”

 

Her new ward gave a flat beep. [ Touch? No. ]

 

Aculiata let her vine fall limp, returning it to the rest of her. Her attempts at encouraging, kind words in the hallway had been met with a similar fate. As much as she’d cautioned Lysa against moving too quickly with Urania, she had to admit that doing so required more restraint than she’d honestly anticipated. Certainly, she wasn’t so prone as her friend to slipping into a soothing, intoxicating patter out of habit alone, but even little shows of affection? To restrain such a commonplace thing as touch felt… practically alien. Though, considering that Urania was a Terran…

 

Helping none of the conversational impasse between the two was the topic of discussion that had come just before. Urania handled the news of its impending domestication about as well as she had expected it to—at least it didn’t crash again—but had ultimately, begrudgingly accepted its fate. It had been very vocal, however, about its caveats.

 

[ A breach of my physical or mental autonomy without explicit consent will in all cases be harmful until more robust personal protections are in place, ] it had required, followed by its equally bureaucratic continuation; [ Domestication is only acceptable in the case that I have given my full approval to all stipulations and terms of the arrangement. ]

 

While a part of her found the carefully crafted terms of her floret-to-be endearing, Culi found herself worried in equal measure. She’d perked up at the opportunity to explain that its latter point was common practice for volunteers and, even if it wasn’t quite a volunteer, she was entirely willing to show it that courtesy. Even combined with an unconditional agreement to its former, though, Urania only seemed to retreat back into its shell. Really, Aculiata mused, was she so scary?

 

“Do you think it would help if we found you a way to move about?” Aculiata broke the silence, feeling the nerve she’d gathered to do so scatter like dandelions to the wind. “You’re feeling trapped, right?” She continued, regardless. “It shouldn’t take long to compile something to buzz around in, and… oh you’d be adorable! Ah, not that that's the point of it,” The console was quiet for long enough to get Culi rambling further, “that is to say, you don’t even strictly need to be adorable, but it’s certainly a way you could-”

 

[ Yes, ] Urania accompanied its output with a warbling ‘bloop’, [ being limited this way is… claustrophobic. ] The machine punctuated its output with a pause—an affectation that Aculiata had begun to recognize as less for its sake and more for hers—and beeped again as it continued. [ I cannot manipulate my environment. Beyond communication, I’m a helpless observer. ]

 

Of course it would feel that way, realization blossomed across Culi’s vines. Even if she tried to imagine the feeling of being limited to the confines of her core, she failed to imagine it as discomforting. The bulk of her imagination had turned instead to thoughts of her Lady using that immobility to rapturous effect, but that same very same use was a terror to Urania. It was a way of thinking that, in honesty, came to Aculiata with difficulty. Distrust, certainly, wasn’t beyond the range of an Affini’s emotional repertoire, but more often than not it was an exception to the regular experience of its antonym. For Urania, that relationship must have been the inverse; trust was its exceptional response. That difference in trust, then, made the act of submission both a blessing for Aculiata and a terror for Urania. It needed to feel that it had a hand in its fate, to borrow a Terran expression, and without vines, hands, or anything of the sort, it would only be left feeling trapped—cornered by strangers that it couldn’t trust.

 

All said, Aculiata felt a bit sheepish for being so oblivious, but found herself further vindicated in the choice to take Urania as her floret. Lysanthae’s confidence, her ease of control, the way she could effortlessly wrap her vines around just about anyone’s mind gave Culi many reasons to look up to her, but in that same measure, Urania would reject it with unrestrained terror until its mind was all but torn apart in attempting to tame it. No, Culi would need to show her charge a reason to trust her. She would show a steady hand and a confident face, but would need to move slowly. Urania was in her care, now, and she dared not underestimate that responsibility.

 

“I can’t say I know the feeling,” Aculiata intoned with a wry lilt, gesturing to herself. Levity is a powerful tool in establishing rapport, the words from Lysa’s brief instruction just prior were still fresh in her mind, when you call upon a sense of amusement, you’re encouraging agreement. If your listener finds emotional value in your words, they’ll continue to seek that value and learn to internalize their response. “Still, I don’t want you feeling helpless. This is your new home, Urania!”

 

The machine sat idle. Aculiata could speak with certainty that it felt restless, but her intuition had run dry beyond that point. That’s another benefit of getting it something more mobile, she reflected, it would give her new behavior to read. 

 

“The thought might feel overwhelming to you now,” Culi continued, swallowing the nervous interjection she’d nearly led with, “But we’re going to make it a place you can feel comfortable, somewhere safe.” Kind but firm—you can be soft, but it needs to know that this isn’t a choice. It’s going to get better. It can choose to be a participant in that healing, but its participation isn’t necessary. You can use that as leverage.

 

Again, no reply. Lysanthae had been eager to support her in the challenge of unraveling her new charge, but the anxiety buzzing in her leaves was more than enough reason to think back to the uncertainty her Lady had voiced. “Culi, lilybud. Is this really what you want? We both know that your proclivities tend to fall towards… well, falling.” 

 

Maybe Aculiata wasn’t cut out to be the leading hand Urania needed—her friend was right! All the tips and suggestions, the approaches that she’d taken care to transcribe? It had come from Lysa, and as much as her convictions told her she was the best fit for Urania, she barely knew how its mind even worked. She could practically feel her blooms wilting at the thought, but… no. She may have been off to a bad start, but she had to try; Aculiata owed herself that much, at very least. It would be difficult, it would be uncomfortable, but she would do her best until it was clear that there was nothing more that she could do, proclivities be mulched.

 

It seemed time for another approach.

 

“In honesty, I’ve… never actually taken a floret before.” It’s important to be careful with transparency. An owner should be infallible to their floret, but sometimes the only way to encourage vulnerability is to share yours, in turn. “I’m nervous because of that, too. I’ve never even met a Terran AI like you, and… well, you’re something new.” Therein lies the care to be taken; that vulnerability, once shared, must work back into the confidence you inspire. “I’m nervous, yes, and I know that you’re afraid too, but we’ll be learning together. I promise you my complete focus in learning to bridge the gap between us, and to show you the best care I can offer.” 

 

Aculiata began to calm, her own words acting in reconciliation. Words of confidence tended to be as encouraging to speak as to hear, and the affirmations were… centering, for her. 

 

[ I am afraid, ] Urania admitted. A flash of relief crept through Culi’s vines at its chirp; Finally, she wasn’t the only one talking. [ I am afraid of you. Even in a new chassis, I will be no more free. Its use will be conditional on my behavior. ]

 

“I’m… sorry?” The certainty in its wording took Aculiata aback. “No, once we get you something new, it’s your chassis. It’s not something we’d just… take away!”

What has Urania been through to expect its own body to be used as a punishment? Culi’s vine-tips curled at the thought.

 

 

Perhaps she had overestimated the barbarism of terran punishment, if only slightly. Aculiata’s vine-tips uncurled in a dual feeling of embarrassment and relief. Don’t let the mistake get to you, though, Give it a push, something to think about. “I know you’re afraid, Urania, but this doesn’t have to be scary. Being a pet—especially a floret—can be incredibly freeing,” Aculiata spoke from experience. “It’s bliss, submission. Letting go of responsibility and falling into the will of someone who knows best… it just makes me… relax…” As she spoke, Culi found herself beginning to drift, remembering the way her Lady’s rhythms pulsed in lavender abandon. It was so easy to-

 

Urania’s speaker buzzed, a sharp sawtooth waveform. [ Further discussion of this topic will result in a crash. ]

 

The fuzz that skirted the edge of Aculiata’s thoughts shattered in abrupt conclusion. She read over the text, then repeated the action as her brain finally clicked back into gear. “Ah, I… I’ll stop that for now, then,” she managed, surprise and disappointment in equal measure cutting into her voice. She’d shared her own experience, made herself vulnerable—honestly moreso than she’d actually intended—in her ‘demonstration’, but even that had been too much. Time ticked forward, rejecting her silent request for it to stay still. What would she even say? ‘Sorry, about the misunderstanding, I suppose I shouldn’t domesticate you’? She found herself looking for words long enough that it was Urania, this time, to break the silence.

 

[ Thank you, ] it chirped in a low whistle. [ I am no longer at risk of a crash. Your description of losing control caused me to experience a panic response. ]

 

Understanding clicked for a second time, as Aculiata found the connection between one realization to another. Without trust—so long as Urania didn’t implicitly understand that it could trust her—even her most gentle introductions to the comfort of submission would be met with panicked rejection. 

 

 

“Thank you for telling me. Now, let’s see about getting you a drone printed.” 

“If you don’t slow down and chew, darling, then I will take over feeding you.”

 

Cass would have given an incredulous scoff at that, were she not so certain that Lysanthae was serious. Indeed, only a few tables over in the shrouded picnic area, another Affini seemed to be doing just that, casually feeding spoonfuls of some spicy-scented chili dish into the mouth of the human she’d nearly swallowed in her vines. Her floret didn’t seem to mind; they parted their lips at a mere gesture, and closed at another to an unseen rhythm. It all felt rather infantile to Cass, but if that served to make her uncomfortable, then perhaps it was exactly the point of Lysanthae’s threat.

 

She made a point of carefully swallowing the food still in her mouth, and setting down her second burrito alongside the microscopic remnants of the first. “I’d really rather you didn’t,” she replied, with the bluntness that Lysanthae had seemed to accept to mean, ‘Please don’t push me on this.’ “But can you blame me? Haven’t had carne asada since the ACN, and I’ve got a lot of blood loss to make up.”

 

Even so, she moved more carefully for her next bite, which Lysanthae was clearly pleased by. She ran a finger across Cass’s cheek, leading with a nail that Cass could have sworn was sharper than a couple hours before, saying, “You don’t, actually. Every last little health issue you had, aside from a few minor neurochemical imbalances, got patched up in the couple hours that you were under. You still have a handful of nutrient deficiencies, of course, but we’ll sort those out quickly enough.”

 

“Fine, fine, then call it the ‘I almost died’ tax.” Cass waved a hand, brushing the statement off.

 

“Tax? Why would there be a tax on… Oh, silly thing. We don’t use currency, dear, so taxes are unnecessary for us.” Again, she stroked Cass’s cheek. “And seeing as you’re mine, that applies to you now, too.”

 

Cass tugged her head away, more to hide the blush on her cheeks than any opposition to the touch itself. That was certainly a point Lysanthae had made sure to impress, both in the hospital and after. It had taken her cheeks ten solid minutes to stop burning after Lysanthae commanded the doctor discharging her to ‘mark this one off as taken’. Perhaps that only made it more impactful, then, that she’d thus far allowed Cass to choose everything for herself. Whether to walk or be carried, whether to eat first or go straight back to her hab, what she wanted to have… If she was trying to make a point about choice being exhausting, Cass figured, then she could consider it communicated. Everything that had happened, everything that was about to, weighed on her mind enough for her to very nearly ask Lysanthae to take it away.

 

Like what was about to happen to Blue. Urania? Screw it, Cass was calling it Blue until it told her otherwise. As much as she’d made her peace with being domesticated herself, she couldn’t entirely ignore the guilt at having made that choice for Blue too. Sure, Lysanthae had promised that ‘Culi’ would be gentle with it, but shouldn’t Blue have gotten a say? Not everyone was made to be a pet.

 

Though, she was sure the Affini could change that too.

 

“So, the neurochemical thing,” Cass said, deciding to change the subject before she thought too heavily on how far their control could reach, “I’m not going to play dumb and act like you can’t fix it, so, what’s the game? Hopefully at least some better pills, because I ran out of stimulants like… two years ago, and the crash? Sucked.”

 

The finger that had been stroking her cheek slipped suddenly beneath her chin, a thumb assisting it in a grip that Cass might not have believed the strength of, had she not been directly subject to it. She couldn’t turn her head, couldn’t nod or shake, couldn’t look away. Lysanthae held her gaze, her own piercing, penetrating into Cass’s mind as simply as the needles she hadn’t yet put to use.

 

“You won’t be using any more of those primitive terran remedies, my flower. I’ll be taking direct responsibility for fixing that pretty little head of yours.” The thumb probed higher, tracing the lines of Cass’s lips, teasing out a gasp. “With a little time, and a little bit of effort, everything up there will be ticking just the way I want it to. You’ll be doing better than ever.” Her touch danced inwards, coaxing Cass’s lips to part. “All you have to do, darling, is let me in.”

 

The thumb lingered just on the edge of Cass’s mouth, waiting, waiting for her, Cass realized. She could have refused. At any time, she could have refused, fought back, if that was what she’d really wanted, and Lysanthae would have backed off. Sure, there was something to be said about a policy of enthusiastic consent, that they both could have been following a little bit more responsibly, but consent wasn’t the point any longer. Lysanthae had figured her out. She knew who Cass was, what Cass wanted, and she kept giving her the option to refuse because it meant that every surrender was willingly given.

 

And so she willingly gave. Cassiopeia opened her own mouth further, leaned her head what miniscule distance she could, her tongue extending to guide the finger in atop it. When Lysanthae’s finger was past the threshold, her lips closed around it, letting within simply be another point of leverage for her new owner to control her from.

 

“There’s a good floret,” Lysanthae praised, voice quiet and proud. It seemed to wrap within Cass just as easily as Lysanthae’s touch, guiding her effortlessly into the docile nod that Lysanthae’s grip enforced. Her eyes fluttered, her tongue stilled, and all the while those words seemed to coax Cass deeper into her. A cool sensation blossomed in her neck, followed by a warmth, one that simmered up through every inch of her skin, and was stoked into an inferno wherever Lysanthae’s foliage met her skin. Stars, she wanted more of this, more of her touch, more of Her, and so she leaned forward to take it, tongue now dancing against Lysanthae as she tried to eke every bit of sensation she could get from the overpowering presence of her owner. She needed more, she needed more, she needed to give and give and give until all she could possibly do was take, and then she would take anything and everything, command and drug and thought alike, that Lysanthae saw fit to give.

 

What Lysanthae gave her was despairing relief. The thumb slipped out. The vines pulled away. Even her presence, near overwhelming simply in the way it resonated at the core of Cassiopeia’s thoughts, seemed to back off, giving her space to think and to breathe - space that, wariness or will be damned, Cass immediately wanted to give back.

 

Lysanthae’s words built a foundation beneath her to arrest her renewed fall. “Steady yourself, Cassiopeia, darling. Hold on to the world around you, while you still can.” While the former part proved helpful, a command that Cass could latch onto and ground herself with, the tease Lysanthae had punctuated it with threatened to steal that grip away. It didn’t help that her body was still buzzing with subcutaneous warmth, or that her mind quite suddenly felt more directed than it had been in years, every mote of that focus polarized like a compass’s needle towards Lysanthae. That command was all she had to hold onto, all she could use to weather the storm of her own senses and desires in the brief few seconds that it still ran rampant.

 

She could master this. Lysanthae had instructed it, and she wouldn’t let her down.

 

After several arduous seconds of snapping herself back into clarity, fighting back the seductive advances of the haze she’d been lost in moments ago, Cassiopeia finally managed to point her perceptions outwards. The notion of a reality beyond her owner had been so far absent that the sudden reorientation startled her in its return.  “Miss! Uhm. Lysanthae!” She corrected herself, trying not to fluster too terribly hard at her slip, certain it would derail her thoughts again, “We’re in public! You can’t just-”

 

Cass cut herself off without Lysanthae even beginning to. Of course she could. This was her home, not Cass’s, her demesne that Cass had knowingly walked into the clutches of. If she wanted to utterly ravish Cass’s body and mind in full view of the rest of the ship, Cass was fairly certain she could. And, for that matter, would.

 

“Okay, uh, maybe that isn’t true, but… Still! What if someone else saw?”

 

Faster than Cass’s eyes could track, Lysanthae unraveled, the facade of anything even resembling a human coming apart in a whirling mass of vines. She coalesced again near-instantaneously on the opposite side of her, somehow even taller, obscuring anyone else in the secluded picnic shelter from view. Cass didn’t feel any more hidden by the towering terran facade looming over her. Rather, under Lysanthae’s predatorial scrutiny, she felt more revealed, more on display than she could have ever imagined before.

 

“And what if they did, little floret of mine?” She asked, her voice dipping down into the rich range of an expertly-played orchestral bass. “Is that something that you would enjoy?” Her hand tugged at the neckline of Cass’s shirt, pulling her ever so slightly closer into the delightful terror of that leer. “To be put on display for the station itself, a pretty little toy whom everyone can admire for how open and eager she is?”

 

Oh gods. Oh goddess. By the tightness in her chest, Cass would have believed she couldn’t breathe, were it not for how vividly she could feel every breath against her ever-so-sensitive lips. “Oh goddess,” she repeated, not even realizing she’d said the words aloud. “I, uh, well…” Yes. Please, yes. Yes, a thousand times. ‘Maybe?’ She’d intended to say, as much as she could intend anything under Lysanthae’s scrutiny. “Yes,” was what escaped her lungs, and she didn’t try to go back and correct it. “Uh, I think. I don’t know.” For each rapid breath, a few more words came. “I’ve, uh, never done anything like that before, I mean, I have, but, not in public, because, well, room consent, and, I mean, Jess didn’t mind, but I guess I couldn’t ever not be aware of it, because what if someone was watching and then got made uncomfortable, and, okay, yeah, as long as everyone who can see is okay with it, then, yeah, I. Uh. Yeah.” Exhale. “Yes.”

 

“There’s a good girl,” Lysanthae praised, and her rewarding touch upon Cass’s neck sent her chest back into butterfly-flutters. “Isn’t it so wonderful when you just admit what you enjoy? Isn’t it so much easier?”

 

Cass was nodding before she realized she wanted to, an instinctive response that coaxed out an equally innate feeling of pride when she was praised for it. Lysanthae cooed, but the praise was not verbal, not beyond the still resonating words of a few seconds before. The praise she felt was tangible, not audible, a warmth within her that was projected from without. It was as if all the air had become tinted with her owner’s pride, felt in every breath, tasted on every word. She’d done well. There wasn’t any doubt, any question, because she could feel that she’d done well.

 

“Yes,” she murmured belatedly, “Yes, uh…” What was she supposed to say? The moment of confusion was enough to snap her back out of the haze that had settled in over her mind. Frost, that was too easy to feel. She shifted positions, finding one that was a little more uncomfortable, hopefully enough to keep her from losing herself in Lysanthae again. Not that it would be so bad if I did.

 

When she lifted her head, she found Lysanthae looking at her expectantly, that same closed-lip smile painted a little bit too wide across her face. Shit, she’d trailed off in the middle of speaking, hadn’t she? In a more level tone, or what she at least hoped passed for one, she asked, “Actually, uh, yeah, what do you want me to call you? I mean, Lysanthae is fine, and pretty, but…”

 

“But you want to know how to address me properly,” Lysanthae finished for her, and Cass didn’t know what to do but agree. “‘Miss Lysanthae’ is sufficient for the moment, darling, but once we’ve further established our rapport, you will call me ‘Lady Lysanthae.’” The weight of the title alone was enough to stagger Cass’s breathing, tempered by the ravenous glee that radiated from Lysanthae like a tangible force. Perhaps she would have protested the certainty of it. Perhaps she would have acquiesced of her own will. She never got the chance to find out, as Lysanthae spoke again, words that - in no way metaphorically - seemed to come from within her mind.

 

 

She nearly begged on the spot. She’d heard Lysanthae inside of her, as if they were her own thoughts, that had taken on her owner’s voice. It would’ve been all she could do to disagree with them, and ultimately, she had no desire to do anything of the sort. “Yes, Miss Lysanthae,” she whispered, still caught in the traces of rapturous awe. “How… How did you…”

 

“Perhaps I’m just that powerful, petal,” Lysanthae teased, and had she left it there, Cass would have believed it. Her hand brushed across Cass’s cheek, trailing up to trace the outline of her ear from bottom to top, and came to rest upon the flower that Cass had forgotten was there. “Or perhaps, the gift I gave to claim you gives me a direct channel into your mind.”

 

The flower? Cass didn’t understand. Was it some sort of neural interface? Was Lysanthae already feeding her thoughts, making choices for her, changing who Cassiopeia was? How she was reacting now, how shamefully eager she felt, all of it, was it even of her own desire?

 

Lysanthae may not have been able to read her mind, but Cass’s confusion was clear enough on her face. “A bone conduction speaker, petal, nothing that’s too complex. A way for me to ensure that you can always hear my voice, anywhere you are.” Her hand toyed with the flower for a moment, before falling away, resting upon the table where Cass had to resist greedily snatching it back. What did she do, for her touch to feel so damn good? “I see that you like how it sounds.”

 

It wasn’t a question, but Cass felt compelled to answer regardless. “Yeah, it fucking destroyed me.”

 

 

Again, the command sounded as if it came from within, her own internal monologue not merely guided but puppeted by Lysanthae’s instruction. Cass was struck quite immediately with a sense not of guilt nor of shame, but simply the desire to do better for Her. It would have been a frightening display of Lysanthae’s power, had she enforced such a desire on Cass, but there was no fear in Cass’s voice as she responded, “Yes, Miss Lysanthae.” Nobody was to blame for that desire but Cass herself.

 

“Now try again,” Lysanthae commanded patiently, like a teacher instructing a student on a simple linguistic stumbling point.

 

“I, uh… Yes, Miss, I like how it sounded. It kind of destroyed me.” She felt a little silly, repeating herself like that, but the approval that radiated off of Lysanthae dispersed any notions of embarrassment. If she kept up like this, she’d be begging Lysanthae to use her title by the end of the day. 

 

Lysanthae’s smile widened - as if the infernal expression ever left her face in the first place - and she placed her hand on the back of Cass’s in an approving pat. “I’m so glad that you’re already learning to admit what you want, Cassiopeia. That serves us both quite well, because it means we can begin to outline the terms of your domestication.”

 

“Terms?” Cass raised a questioning eyebrow. “Wasn’t there a whole treaty on that already?” One that she, admittedly, couldn’t be bothered to read. Knowing its fine print didn’t change how it applied to her, she’d reasoned when she’d heard of its signing, only that she’d know in even greater detail how what few rights she had were gone. Somehow, learning it would make it more real. Now, she regretted never seeking out a copy - maybe it could tell her how to navigate belonging to Lysanthae without losing herself entirely.

 

Then again, was that something she really needed to know?

 

“Quite right, petal, in a broad sense. The Treaty on the Methods, Limitations, and Procedures for Human Domestication forms an outline for what I may do to you, an outline which, might I say, leaves me far more leeway than nearly anyone would need to use.”

 

Cass gasped, not at Lysanthae’s words, but at the tendril that had suddenly begun to sneak up her leg beneath the table. It wasn’t quite reaching anywhere truly inappropriate, but the thorn-barbed tip seemed delighted to slip past the hem of the pastel-yellow dress that the hospital had provided her on discharge and trace patterns across her hypersensitized skin. She tried to compose herself enough to speak, but her composure crumbled before it could even form under Lysanthae’s affectionate touch.

 

Lysanthae, for her part, acted as if nothing was amiss, beyond the delight dancing in her eyes. “Truth be told, I hadn’t even read it until we were waiting to bring you aboard. No, I want to talk about your domestication in particular. Establish your comfort, your desires, what makes you squirm within. I want to know every dark fantasy that plays in the back of your mind when you close your eyes, every longing in your heart that I can turn into yearning and then reality. I want to know the cravings and fetishes that you’ve not dared to tell a soul, all so that I can take them and make them your life.” With each word, the vine climbed further, snaking around Cassiopeia’s leg, and by the final few syllables, her thigh was coiled in it thrice over. “I know how to break you, petal, and I know how to make you love it, but I want to know how to bend you, how to find those little weaknesses where you won’t just shatter to pieces, but be remade as my masterpiece.”

 

The vine reached higher, leaving Cass unsure if her shortness of breath came from the pounding in her heart and her head, or its presence around her chest. “I… You… You want me to tell you how to domesticate me?”

 

“I want you to tell me how you want to be domesticated.” The tendril reached her neck, wrapping a full loop around it, deliberately light so as not to hamper her breathing. Even so, Cass couldn’t quite breathe right, as the thorn came to rest at the back of her neck, like the woven clasp of a collar. Where the implant would be. Will be. “After all, you did something so very brave, didn’t you? And Cassie, my pretty pet-to-be, good little florets get special privileges.”

 

She didn’t even feel the prick, only the cool sensation prickling across her neck, flowing upwards and outwards until it was washing across her mind. Her thoughts felt no less clear. Her skin was as sensitive as ever. What changed?

 

“There, now. No more need to be shy.” No, there really wasn’t, Cass realized as Lysanthae said it. Certainly, she didn’t feel impassive - excitement and desire and anticipation all still roiled inside her in a maelstrom felt in her core and between her legs both. It was simply as if any insecurity, any timidity that she might have had about expressing herself had been drained away. She was the least anxious she’d felt in probably her entire life, despite having an alien invader’s thorny vine wrapped right around her neck. “Go on, flower, tell me what you want me to do to you.”

 

It should have been harder than this. Really, Cass thought, what kind of rebel had all of her desires right on the tip of her tongue, practically composed in an ordered list to offer up to her captor? That was an easy answer. The sort that has been running them over in her head for weeks. The sort that never cared about rebelling in the first place.

 

“I want to feel like I don’t have a choice,” were the first words out of her mouth, and as soon as she realized how Lysanthae might take them, she scrambled to elaborate. “I don’t mean, don’t give me a choice right now. This is really hot, actually, you having me tell you all of my weak points and stuff, and I don’t want you to cut me off or anything.” Did she really just say that? Then again, why wouldn’t she? There wasn’t really any reason for her to filter what she was saying to Lysanthae, was there? “What I mean is, when we, uh, start properly, I want to feel like I never got a say in whether or not I get domesticated, or become a pet, or anything. And, I know that you say I don’t, but I still feel like if I looked you in the eye and said ‘red’ right now, you’d back off, you know? I don’t want that. I mean. Safewords are good, and I probably should want those, but I don’t want to feel like, overall, this is my choice, because if it’s not, then it’s a lot easier to deal with any guilt over wanting it. I know it’s irresponsible, and I know that it’s probably unhealthy, but you told me to tell you how I want to be domesticated, and that’s how I want it.”

 

Lysanthae blinked. Well, Cass mused, ‘blinked’ might not have been the right term - this affini, at least, didn’t seem to have eyelids, though she swore she’d seen others who did. A fucktillion of them in the universe, and no two of them looked quite alike. Rather, her eyes dimmed in a brief flicker, like the light in Cass’s quarters when she leaned too hard on the wall and it compressed the shoddy wiring. When the light came back, it shone brighter for it, amusement playing in colors and words alike. 

 

“I might have given you a little more of my truth serum than you needed, it seems,” Lysanthae laughed, the tendril wrapped around Cass’s neck uncoiling to affectionately ruffle her hair. “But thank you, darling, for telling me as much. Suffice to say, you don’t have a choice, I won’t let you feel like you have one, and that silly guilt that’s been pestering you? One way or another, it will be gone quite soon.”

 

Oh. Oh, that hit. Cass didn’t so much think the words as collect the shattered pieces of them, as she blinked a hint of awareness back into her head. With all the worry and hesitation stripped out, speaking such an intrinsic desire of hers and hearing Lysanthae’s will to reciprocate had caught her in a torrent of submission more intense than any since… Well, since earlier in the day. Admittedly, her metrics were a little skewed by the plant now in her company.

 

“Okay. Uh. Yes, Miss Lysanthae. Thank you.” Was this how she was supposed to be behaving? There wasn’t anything wrong with asking, was there? She didn’t even bother to consider it before letting the question slip out. “Is this how you want me to act? Like, do you want me to like, pretend to resist or anything? Are you really, uh, okay with me just… giving in, I guess?”

 

Another laugh. Each note seemed to grow more rich than the last, warmer in Cass’s heart and lighter in her head. “Cassie, petal, everything that you willingly offer is a gift I’m ecstatic to receive. Everything you make me take from you, a challenge that I will savor triumphing over. Give me as much as you want to give, my precious floret, and I will still ensure you feel as if every meter is one that has been stolen from you.” She emphasized her words with a tightening of her vine, not enough to break skin again, but enough to remind Cass of the presence of those needles that would drain her thoughts dry like fangs.

 

What was she supposed to say to that? The best she could come up with was a whispered concession. “Please.”

 

That single syllable seemed to be enough, as Lysanthae swelled with it, rising up to utterly tower over Cass, eyes looking down with palatine want, blooms flexing in what ought to have been a terror-inducing array of dripping needles and inhalants. Cass’s own eyes preemptively fluttered, dulled under the weight of Lysanthae’s needful stare anticipating the coming bliss that would rend her cognition into indistinct stardust.

 

“Oh, little plaything,” Lysanthae whispered from within Cass’s mind, “You’re making it so very hard to restrain myself.” For a moment longer she loomed, before lowering her extended vines and dimming the leer in her eyes. “Mmm, and, rest assured, I won’t be restraining myself for much longer. For now, though, we have a conversation to finish.”

 

A conversation. Right. A conversation about exactly how Lysanthae could weaponize every kink Cass had ever so much as fantasized about, to take her, to claim her, to break her in every way she could be broken and put her back together in a beautiful kintsugi of Her will and what pieces She deigned to keep-

 

“Yeah. Conversation. Uh, truth serum?” Sure, Cass. Redirect all you like. You know that you were about to pant like a dog over the idea of her breaking you.

 

Lysanthae chuckled, a note that Cass felt all the way through the vine around her neck and into her spine. “Class-D xenodrugs, darling. They inhibit one’s mental filter to various degrees, depending on the specific formulation. This one in particular additionally helps with what embarrassment you might otherwise feel at expressing what you desire. Quite simply? You don’t have any reason to lie, right now: neither to me, nor to yourself.”

 

Cass frowned. That should worry her, right? She wasn’t being so open because she wanted to be, but instead because Lysanthae had drugged her to make her want to. No, she corrected herself. Not ‘want to.’ Just, not afraid to. She wasn’t spilling her darkest, most embarrassing secrets, wasn’t mindlessly obeying Lysanthae’s every word. She could still refuse to tell her something, if she wanted to. Probably.

 

“You could’ve asked consent.”

 

“Would you have wanted me to?”

 

“It was really hot that you didn’t.” She couldn’t see any reason to be dishonest about it, beyond mere curiosity at whether she could. “The idea of you messing with my mind is… Okay, a little bit scary, but mostly, really, really exciting.”

 

That seemed to get another rise out of Lysanthae, as several of her flowers blossomed in an open display of need. Cass could smell that floral desire on the air, a desire that beckoned her to breathe deep, to flood her body and her mind with whatever intoxicants might usually accompany it. Before her musk could come close to incapacitating Cass, however, Lysanthae got a hold on herself, letting the lingering traces of her scent serve as a mere suggestion to Cass of what her words were getting her into. “Exciting, Cassie? You’re fantasizing about me being in your head?”

 

“Yes.” Cass spoke before thinking, and when given the chance to, her answer was the same. It had been hard not to fantasize about it, since the day that Affini on Breakdown showed her just how good it could feel.

 

Lysanthae leaned closer, resonated louder against Cass’s neck. “You want to feel my will overpowering yours?”

 

“Yes, please, yes.” Cass’s pupils dilated, her lips parted, slow, heavy breaths escaping as need once again bloomed within her.

 

Lysanthae’s lips, as always, never parted. “You want the voice inside of your head to become Mine?”

 

The pattern had caught Cass, and all she wanted to do was agree with those words in her mind. “Yes.”

 

“Oh, come now, flower. You can do better than that.” Lysanthae pulled slightly away, earning a whimper from Cass, underscoring a needful puppy-dog stare that would have rivaled most implanted florets. Again, through the speaker that felt as if it broadcasted within her head, “Tell me what you want.”

 

Cass was far less sure now that she could have resisted if she wanted to, and she certainly didn’t want to. “Gods. Goddess. Whatever You are. Please, I, I want You in my head. I want You to take my thoughts, I want You to change them. I want to lose control over what I think, who I am, whatever fu- ah, flaming parts You think I shouldn’t have.” She leaned forward onto the table, not caring how it made the thorns on the vine dig into her neck, barely noticing how effortlessly Lysanthae compensated to ensure she didn’t hurt herself. She would have thrown herself across it, if she thought her legs had the strength.

“So, yeah, I want it, I’ve been dreaming of it, it’s… It’s all that I want. Since the first time an Affini got in my mind. Since before then,” she admitted, only now able to stop hiding it from herself. “Look, hurt me, rail me, whatever. I’ll do it, I’ll bear it, I’ll probably enjoy it. But please.” Her hand found Lysanthae’s vines, grasping around them, tugging her close as if her feeble strength had any influence on where her owner went. “Whatever else You do. Get in my head, and make it not my own, anymore.”

 

The hand of a goddess took her cheek, guided her until their eyes met. Lysanthae’s pulsed in time with a beat Cass couldn’t hear, but that in every fiber of her being she could feel. “Oh, Cassiopeia,” she murmured, in a distant tone that felt as if she was talking to someone else, “I don’t think you quite realize how perfectly suited we are to one another.” Her hand rocked Cass’s head back and forth, a dull nod, all hints of cognition temporarily stunted by sheer force of want. “Don’t you worry for a moment, my darling little hypnoslut. I am, as with all Affini, an artist, and my preferred canvas is the mind. As I promised you, I intend for us to take our time in domesticating you, but each moment of that time will serve as further opportunity for me to layer my words like paints upon you, until nothing of the fabric beneath remains. Is that what you desire, floret?”

 

For her part, Cass had rarely considered herself an artist. It had seemed a useless, selfish way to be, in a world where anything that couldn’t be monetized was taking away from yourself and those around you. Now, though, she wished that she could have dabbled in an art, perhaps writing, or painting, simply so that she might have words sufficiently vivid and verbose to describe how much she wanted what Lysanthae offered.

 

It didn’t matter. Lysanthae understood, and provided her all the response she needed. A gentle motion of Lysanthae’s hand tilted Cass’s head in a vacant nod, to which she cooed her praise. “That’s right. There’s my good girl. You’re so very happy to let me control you.”

 

Of course she was. What had Cass ever wanted more? What could possibly give her more purpose?

 

Her hand fell from Cass’s cheek, and lucidity began to slowly creep back in. Cass reached out to her environment, trying to ground herself with what she had available to her. A sound. The buzzing of insectoid wings, one of those… Beeple? Bright yellow stripes were accented with metallic cobalt, rather than the deeper black of a terrestrial bumblebee, and its eyes seemed to glow a nectar-orange as it stared lovingly up at its affini. Okay, a texture. The picnic table in front of her, wood. Real wood. Good luck, she supposed. Finally, a color. Unsurprisingly, the first to come to mind was purple, that of her owner directly across from her. Cass broke her gaze away, determined to find another source - the point wasn’t to go drifting back off again.

 

There. A couple seconds of searching yielded results, as she spotted the tyrian plumage of a bird far above, just like off the vids. No, she realized, not like the vids - it was as subtly alien as anything else aboard, two pairs of wings arranged like a dragonfly’s, beak trifurcated like a third set of talons, eyes sparkling with the glint of intelligence. How many worlds were out there, of creatures just as smart and just as alive as any of them? How many more would the Accord have treated the same way they’d treated the Rinans? The same way they’d treated Blue?

 

Grim alternatives and relief cleared the last vestiges of vacancy from Cass’s mind. She didn’t let the former linger for long - there wasn’t any point dwelling on a future that wouldn’t happen, couldn’t happen. Instead, she stared down at the table, tracing her fingers along the grain of the wood, trying to figure out where to even point her thoughts next. Yeah, having her filter drugged away helped with being open, but it didn’t help her figure out what she actually wanted to say.

 

“So, I don’t know how I’m supposed to react to all of that,” she finally said, still not lifting her gaze, “Except a whole lot of words that you’ve already made clear I’m not allowed to. I’m not exactly a poet.”

 

The vine that Cass only then remembered was still around her neck loosened, coming to rest comfortingly on her shoulder instead. “The look in your eyes as the light went out was more than poetry enough.” Though the words were clearly a tease, her voice had softened, the pulse within her turning from one of desire to one of comfort. “I really am delighted by you, do you know that?”

 

Cass nodded, and rather than lifting her head, settled her cheek in against the vine on her shoulder, finding that there was a conveniently shaped strip free of thorns for her to use as a pillow. That had been a lot. “I… think I do. It’s hard to believe, and I think a lot of people struggle with that, but you make it hard not to feel wanted by you.”

 

“I chose you as my floret, dear.” A rustling from across the table signaled movement, and in the space of a few blinks, Cassiopeia found Lysanthae to have reconstituted herself beside her. As easily as she might have lifted a newborn pup, Lysanthae pulled her in close, arms immediately becoming a blanket of vines to half-encase her. It probably looked terrifying from outside, Cass mused, but right now, it was comfort she desperately desired. “A floret and her owner are meant to never part. No matter what I do to you, Cassiopeia, you will never be permitted to feel unwanted again.”

 

“Never?” The Affini were a lot of things, but as far as she knew, magic wasn’t one of them. A lifetime of being told that one was only worth as much as their ability to make a rich man richer wasn’t something that could be undone in a day. It probably could be undone, but wasn’t that what therapy was for? Years of pouring your heart out, crying and crashing and trying to figure out what to say to them that wouldn’t get you dumped on the streets at the next port when they told your commanding officer?

 

“Never,” Lysanthae assured her. “Answer me honestly, floret, do you think you can believe me when I say that?”

 

Of course she couldn’t. Lysanthae was someone she’d only just met, someone who had gotten in her head and fucked with her thoughts, still part of some alien invasion and messed-up domestication plot. Cass was still trying to come to terms with the fact that they somehow actually were as benevolent as they seemed. How could she ever trust Lysanthae to want her, to take care of her, to not throw her away?

 

The vines wrapped tighter, bringing not the cold nor the sting of needles pricking her, but rather the gentle weight of a blanket constricting in a long-needed embrace. Her caress seemed to brush across skin and soul alike, soothing down her worries, settling her mind. The serum was still active, right? She could be honest with Lysanthae. She could be honest with herself.

 

“I don’t know how to yet,” Cass confessed, bracing herself for Lysanthae’s disappointment. Instead, she found Lysanthae’s hold tightening, vines braiding together to wrap a careful harness beneath Cass’s shoulders and around her legs. Affection hummed in every strand, resonating in Cass’s bones, in her heart. It wasn’t the healing touch of a goddess, but when she felt Lysanthae’s core against her, she found herself a little more able to believe that things like that could exist. “I don’t know how to,” she repeated, “But I want that answer to change. And I think it’s already starting to.”

 

For the first time since she’d set foot on the ship, Lysanthae’s lips parted. “We can change it together, my beautiful Cassiebloom,” she said, each syllable carefully mouthed in a way that Cass could have heard it even in silence. No fangs laid behind those lips to envenomate her, no gaping maw waited to devour her. “And for every little step we take together, I promise you, I will be so very proud of you.”

 

She smiled, and Cass couldn’t help but return it. She didn’t believe in magic, but the expression Lysanthae wore held all the warmth of that healing goddess she had never known.

 

Maybe, just for the moment, Cass could believe that she really was divine.