Lamira touched the first sprout of a watermelon plant from her row of starts. Her p***y was raw and sore from fresh use and her limbs wobbled like they were made of rubber. It must be the recent o****m that made her spirits soar now. She shouldn’t be this excited over new plant starts.
After she’d made her list of supplies, Zander had found a catalog and let her leaf through the holograms and pick everything herself. He’d allowed her to buy several types of exorbitantly expensive heirloom seeds, originally grown on Earth, before the planet was destroyed by the overpopulation of the Ocretions. He’d paid for the best soil and beautiful pots, since the “garden” would actually be in his great hall. He’d even ordered two of his servants to assist her. She’d planted the seeds four days ago, and
