Book 4 in the Pleasure Partners series.
Mutilated and exiled from Earth because he helped his brother, former Star Commander Conan finds himself on the Pleasure Planet, Obsidion. Broken and humiliated, he dons the white robe that signifies his new status of complete eunuch--until a famed cyborg and sexbot maker restores his manhood with a large, unique...colorful appendage.
The friends who rescued Conan have found him a mate, Nebula. She, too, knows shame and the pitying stares of others, because she carries the dreaded mutant gene. She was sterilized by order of Earth Federation.
Nebula craves the touch of a real man, but thinks it is forever denied her. Conan is more than ready to satisfy her desires with his new bionic equipment, but he fears rejection. Two damaged people, yearning for what they have lost, seek fulfillment in each other's arms.
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November 13, 2009
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Excerpt from Imperfect Partners by Ann Jacobs
"Here is what happens to those who thwart the Federation's will."
A flash of silver caught his eye just before it sliced through his wrist. Mind-stealing agony overwhelmed him. Conan realized then that his superiors hadn't summoned him to make a semen deposit.
Some bastard turned me in for saving Xander, Conan realized before he blessedly lost consciousness.
* * * * *
"Where... What?" Conan blinked and then glanced around--a tent?
"The Federation rulers have ordered you sent into exile. We're in the Wastelands, waiting to rendezvous with Shedir. He will take you somewhere safe."
"Miles?" Exile? Wastelands? Why was he in this tent with Miles, his former copilot, somewhere on the deserted half of Earth that had been destroyed generations ago in the wars with the mutants? "Why?"
It hurt to move even his lips. Conan struggled to stay awake. His mind didn't want to cooperate. He felt as if he were burning up from the inside out.
Then he remembered the flash of that knife. He lifted his right arm and nearly cried out when he saw the tightly bandaged stump that ended just above the wrist. "What?"
"The Security Enforcement Corps. They cut off your hand the old-fashioned way instead of using a laser gun. The rulers ordered it, to make you an example for others who might consider aiding another fugitive in his escape from justice."
A searing pain between his legs stopped him when he tried to sit up. "Did they take my--" He couldn't say it, but he knew as he fell back against the primitive excuse for a cot.
Miles averted his gaze. "They took that, too. All of it. Even your prostate. The same way. You've had extensive surgery to repair as much as possible of the damage they did. I've been keeping you sedated for the past week."
Fuck. He was a maimed eunuch. Why hadn't they killed him outright? He would rather be dead. "Where will Shedir take me?"
"To Obsidion. He has spoken to Pak Song, the cyborg maker there, who assures us he can make you a new hand. Maybe a new cock, too." Miles laughed, as though trying to make light of Conan's situation. Then he sobered. "We take care of our own. At least we try."
* * * * *
Two days later, Conan donned the white robe of a complete eunuch and hobbled on shaky legs to Shedir's sleek ship. Not his own starship. Not now and not ever again.
He had been one of the Federation's best. He'd given his most productive years to patrolling the galaxy, keeping Earth safe from would-be invaders. Now he was nothing. Less than nothing.
Conan would miss commanding a squadron and fighting forces of evil in the name of the Federation. He wouldn't miss the motherfuckers who had mutilated him because he had placed blood loyalty above Federation law. He had done the right thing. He would do it again today, even knowing the consequences that would follow.
Life as Conan knew it was over. For a brief moment he had considered using his remaining hand to finish what the SEC operatives had begun. But the gods of his forefathers--gods he still halfway believed in--would protest if he ended his miserable life.
Lacking a better option, Conan had let Miles and Shedir persuade him that Pak Song might be able to restore him.
* * * * *
On past visits to Obsidion, Conan had eagerly anticipated stops at the pleasure palaces, but now when he left the starship, he skulked down the Street of Pleasure in his white robe. Humiliated at his state, he lowered his gaze so he wouldn't have to see the pity in others' eyes as he made his way to Pak Song's sexbot emporium.
Once there, he stood with a young clerk among Pak Song's collection of sexbots, and after a short wait the wizened Asian gentleman appeared. His intense brown eyes and cheerful demeanor put Conan a little at ease when Pak Song introduced the young clerk as Pak Lin, his son. "Come with us to the workroom and we will see what we can do."
Conan endured a gentle, thorough examination of his scarred, empty groin and the still-raw stump where they had hacked off his right hand. "Well?" he asked when he could no longer stand the silence.
"Be patient. We do not see problems like yours every day." Pak Lin bent so close to Conan's groin that the young man's warm, moist breath tickled his thigh. "What do you think, Father?"
Pak Song shook his head. "I fix arm. No problem. About cock, I'm not so sure. Have never tried to put bionic cock on a human. Am thinking, though, that making one work the way nature intended will take some doing."