by Alana Khan
I’m rubbing her clit, she’s panting while still clutching her computer pad. What a lucky man I am to have found a slave who is this sexually responsive as well as being the most competent assistant I’ve ever had. I slow my hand; I want to get through this briefing before she comes.
“Thank you, sir.” She takes a deep, calming breath, then swipes her pad. “The wife, Silva, is the queen of networking and social climbing. They basically pimp out their son, Dakon to manipulate wives into convincing their husbands to sign deals. The three of them have a nice business. Much of it is legal, although they’re not averse to lying, cheating, and stealing to make money.”
“Suck my dick. I think better after I’ve come.” My cock presses against the soft fabric of my slacks, trying to escape for his reward.
She slides off my lap and sinks to her knees. I free my cock from my slacks and she hungrily sucks it to the back of her throat. I continue to thrust, pushing it even deeper. “Balls,” I order. Her hand immediately flies to my sac, rolling my balls the way I’ve taught her. “Fuck!” I bark as I come, bathing her throat with my warm fluid.
I open my eyes in time to see her wiping a few drops of my come from her cheek and licking it off her finger. I think I might just move her to the top of the rotation and have her share my bed tonight. Ah, but Floria’s ass needs my attention, too. Maybe both of them tonight?
“Sir? Would you like me to contact someone? Arrange something?”
“Cover your breasts! Only a slut would lounge around her master’s place of business like that. Remind me to punish you tonight for your insubordination.”
“Yes, Sir.”
I do love to keep my women off balance, they’re so much more compliant that way.
“Have the three brothers come to my suite immediately, fully armed. They’re to wait in the dining room. Once they’re here, contact Valerius and his wife and have them join us without delay. Put them in the conference room. This should be fun.” I stretch out my fingers in front of her face. They’re still bathed in her juices from finger fucking her. She compliantly sucks them clean.
“Yes, Sir.”
“When that’s done, come back here and suck me off again. You know how aroused I get when I’m about to fuck up somebody’s world.”
~.~ ~.~ ~.~
Marcus and Silva have been waiting in the conference area of my suite for the better part of an hoara. I hope they have the good sense to be worried. Nope, no one fucks me over and gets away with it.
I send the three brothers in first. Horatio, Hector, and Harm. Former gladiators, armed to the teeth, together they’re eight hundred pounds of pure muscle. I’ll leave them all in the room for a bit longer—let them marinate in their own terror.
“Fabia, go offer our guests a drink. Pass around those delicious anathen cakes people are so fond of. Charm them. Get them to lower their defenses.”
“Certainly, sir.”
Twenty minimas later I enter, my bearing and expression calm and welcoming. I want them to be caught off guard.
“How can we be of service, Mr. Khour? I thought the deal was to be consummated tonight before the games begin. Is there...?”
“You want to know if there’s a problem, Valerius? What makes you wonder?” I raise my drink in his direction, a silent toast, a smile still on my lips.
He stammers, looks at his wife for assistance, then proceeds, “Nothing, Mr. Khour. Nothing.”
“Did you enjoy the cakes? I’m told they’re the most popular sweet in the galaxy.” I can barely contain the smile threatening to show on my lips. I do love this sport of quietly lowering his guard before I tilt his world off its axis.
He rubs his midsection, “My stomach is a little off today.” He attempts a smile, but his expression simply looks pained.
Enough. I grow fatigued of this game. “You asked if there is a problem, Valerius? Why, yes. Yes, there is.” I nod to the brothers and they stand in unison, each drawing a three-foot sword. Horatio and Hector put their swords to each side of Valerius’ neck, Harm touches his to Silva’s.
I stand slowly to my full height and steeple my fingers under my nose, then saunter to Silva. I place my index finger under her chin, forcing her to rise, then take two steps away from the table. Circling her slowly, I assess if part of this evening’s pleasure will include having sex with her in front of her husband. She’s older than I prefer, but the renovatio treatments seem to be working their magic. Yes, I’ll fuck her.
“Sit,” I order. She complies.
“Fabia, fetch me a Vixagg pill.” Oh, the look on both their faces is priceless. I’m certain they already knew how much trouble they were in before I asked for the medication to help a male retain an erection. I can’t hide my smile.
“Silva, do you think it will be fun to be raped for hoaras?”
She blanches and blathers, unable to form complete sentences. Her husband, I notice, does not leap to her aid. Drack, this dampens my fun.
“Look here, Mr. Khour, I don’t know what’s going on, but we’ve acted in good faith.” Ah, that’s the spirit Valerious. At least pretend outrage and a little protectiveness over your wife.
“Good faith? I wasn’t aware it was good faith to extort half a million credits from the buyer you represent.” He doesn’t look shocked. Somewhere in the last hoara he must have realized he and his wife are in deep trouble.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He pulls himself to his full height, but his bravado has evaporated, his face is slack, except for his lips, which are pulled back in fear.
Damn, he’s not even putting on a good performance. I’d imagined he would try harder to protest his innocence. I’d hoped for more sputtering, more protesting, better denials. Perhaps I’d get more enjoyment out of raping him than his wife.
“I met with the owner of the Broog painting several hoaras ago. He mentioned his asking price. Let’s not prolong the lie, shall we?” I walk behind Silva and slip my hands from her shoulders down the neckline of her dress, underneath her bra, and grasp her nipples. A trick I learned in childhood at my father’s knee—sexual assault of the female in the male’s presence. It’s usually quite effective at inspiring terror. He seems unaffected, though.
“Tell me, Marcus, are you unaware of my reputation? Did you not know I’m the head of the MarZan cartel? Did you underestimate what type of male rises to the top of the underworld? Did you think I wouldn’t find out? Did you think I would let you off lightly? You know I have to make an example of you two. Well, I guess I have to make an example of the whole family.”
“Mr. Khour.”
Ah, the wife. Perhaps this will be more interesting. Will she beg? Plead? Offer to please me sexually? She’s piqued my interest.
“It’s obvious we did, indeed, underestimate you. For that, I apologize.” She smoothes imaginary wrinkles from her oh-so-fashionable dress. “We were...greedy, and that is a terrible flaw.”
This is a surprise. She’s not begging or pleading. She’s...trying to “handle” me. The husband isn’t the brains of this operation—it’s the wife!
“I don’t need to remind you, sir, that no money has exchanged hands. You have not been financially harmed. You don’t need to be made whole in terms of credits,” she continues bravely as if my fingers weren’t pulling at her rather large nipples.
“I’m certain you don’t want word of this to get out. You wouldn’t want others to think you’re an easy target, which of course you’re not. I understand you need to make an example of our family. Certain things...need to be done when operating a thriving business. However, I have a proposition for you.”
Ah, here it comes. I can’t wait to hear her offer.
“As universally well known as the Daneur Khour name is, and as well respected as you are throughout the galaxy, you can’t be all things to all people. After whatever punishment you decide to mete out, I suggest you allow my husband and myself to work for you. We could be your emissaries, working on your behalf, rea
ching out at your behest to further your business ventures.”
I pinch her nipples until she yelps, then saunter to the head of the conference table. She’s one tough female. If a stranger were to walk into the room, they would be hard-pressed to detect she’s afraid for her life.
“Let’s say I consider, even for a moment, this absurd scheme of yours, Silva. How could I ever trust you?”
“How could you not, Mr. Khour? We, more than anyone, are well aware of how far-reaching your intelligence is. After this, how would we ever underestimate you again? It would be presumptuous to use the word ‘partners’ in relation to this arrangement, but you would have two lifelong allies at your service.” She looks me straight in the eye. Clearly negotiating is her element.
“And the little matter of punishment?” I smell her arousal. It hit me moments after I mentioned the Vixagg pill.
“Whatever you deem fair, sir.” She glances down, feigning the shyness of a young female at her first sexual encounter.
I think for a long moment. I did my research before I engaged them to broker this deal. They had a fine reputation, and I give them credit—they had a wide enough social network to find the exact Broog painting I was looking for. The wife is cunning. I’m certain they could be useful to me in future dealings. If I find an adequate punishment, they would be too afraid to cheat me in the future.
Her husband might be stupid enough to believe sex with her is retribution for their misdeeds, but she and I both know she would love to be fucked for hoaras. I need a punishment with enough bite to keep these two loyal for the rest of their useful lives. I’ll share that after the effects of the Vixagg wears off.
“And you, Valerius? Do you agree with this deal?”
“I don’t approve of you raping my wife,” he says, stiffening in his chair. All three of us know he’s just posturing.
“One of you,” I make a show of swallowing the little purple tablet, “is going to be on the receiving end of this pill. Are you volunteering, Marcus?”
I see the whites all around his irises as he pulls back an ince. Horatio and Hector weren’t ready for that, and thin lines of blood now trail down each side of the male’s neck.
“I wouldn’t make you suffer that, dear,” Silva interrupts. “I will endure the torture.”
I barely contain the barking laugh that almost explodes from my mouth. Endure, indeed.
~.~ ~.~ ~.~
Almost two hours later, Silva and I emerge from my bedroom. She looks her age now: makeup smeared, hairpiece askew, lips bright red from fellating me for the better part of an hoara. Her husband might never know—it’s our little secret—that there’s a trickle of blood dripping from her ass even as we re-enter the conference room. I nurse a smug satisfaction that she’ll carry the remnants of pain there for at least a few days.
Silva sits gingerly in the seat she vacated hoaras ago; she can’t quite give me eye contact. Valerius seems more focused on me than his beloved wife. I guess he’s wondering if he’s going to retain his miserable life.
“Horatio, please escort Mr. Valerius to that corner.” Oh, this is good. His upper lip immediately beads with sweat and his eyes widen in fright. I doubt he was too worried about what was going on in my bedroom with his wife. After all, whatever I did to her didn’t hurt him. Now, however, he’s intensely interested in what will come next. My cock twitches in excitement even though I spent myself four times with Silva.
“Mr. Valerius, it’s to your wife’s credit that I’m considering this proposition of working with two people who tried to cheat me out of half a million credits. I made her pay. You need to have a very clear recollection of what happens to anyone who crosses Daneur Khour.
“Valerius, remove your shirt and coat.”
He sputters a brief protest even as his fingers fly over the buttons in his attempt to follow my directions.
“Horatio, I want Mr. Valerius to be able to attend tonight’s gladiatorial festivities. Please only punch him along his beltline. This can be covered by his fine clothes later this evening. I don’t want his internal organs damaged. I don’t want him to die from your ministrations. I do want to see bruises already turning red in a ring around his midsection before you finish your job.”
Horatio is a master at his craft and takes my instructions seriously. He places his sword behind me at the far end of the room from his target. On his way back toward Valerius, he rolls up his sleeves in slow, meticulous fashion.
Then, like a bare-knuckled fighter, he makes controlled, tight punches to his victim’s midsection. Working closely to the male’s skin, he circles slowly, making certain to leave no ince unmolested.
Valerian’s screams are irritating as fuck. They’re high-pitched, girlish, and embarrassing. He quits shrieking about halfway through the process and is emitting a steady moan. Good, that’s far less annoying.
Horatio is attacking his kidneys now—that must hurt. He’ll be pissing blood for a week. Maybe more. That’s a visual he won’t soon forget. My experience is that people often forget pain, the brain has a way of erasing it somehow. The visuals? They remain longer.
By the time Horatio returns to Valerian’s navel, I can see the faint blush of early bruising appearing around his beltline.
“Thank you, Horatio. Fabia, I’m famished. Bring me a slice of that delicious anathen cake and a shot of Sillerian whiskey.
“So, now that you’ve both received punishment and you know what type of male you’re dealing with, do we have a deal?”
Valerius would be in a pile on the floor if Hector wasn’t holding him up by his fashionable belt. He stiffens, perhaps wanting to reject my offer—his wife cuts him off.
“Mr. Khour, how could we refuse your generous offer? We were totally in the wrong, I’m certain we’ve both learned our lesson. Greed is a terrible character flaw. Just to clarify, we would continue our business as usual, doing your bidding only when asked? Of course, your business would always garner higher priority than our own...” I notice for the first time the tiny abrasion at the corner of her lip. I must have fucked her mouth vigorously, indeed.
“Yes. Good to hear you wish to help me further my career ventures. To show you what a generous male I am, I will give you a three percent fee on any business deal you assist in.”
Marcus almost interrupts, wanting, I assume, to protest the seven percent reduction from his usual ten percent fee. He appears to think better of it when he catches the sight of my eyes slitting, my hands gripping the edge of the table, and me about to rise out of my seat.
“Marcus? Are you on board?” My voice is low and serious. If he refuses, I’m ready to have them both jettisoned out the garbage bay—in pieces.
The male, still groaning, nods his head, then grits out, “Yes.”
I stand and turn to go, then pivot back as if I forgot something. “Just one more thing.”
I immediately have their full attention. I believe after the last few hoaras neither of them will underestimate the extent of my power or the depth of my wrath in the future.
“Your son, Dakon? Are the three of you close?” Their eyes widen as they become still as statues. “So that neither of you will ever attempt to steal or extort even one credit from me in the future, I want to give you both one additional reminder of what happens to those who cross Mr. Daneur Khour.
“Some mistakes don’t deserve reprieves or forgiveness. Some mistakes can’t be undone.” I take a long, slow breath in anticipation, excited to see their reaction to my next little torture. “Dakon has yet to reach the age of majority on your home planet, is that correct?”
“I, uh, I don’t know,” his mother stammers.
“Well, I’m a male who does his homework. So, yes, he is still considered a minor. Parents of minor children on Morgana can make decisions about whether their child can marry, join the military, and can even sell them into slavery.”
This, I think, is my favorite moment of the transaction, better than the anal penetration of the Mrs. I
can smell their sweat bloom in the enclosed room.
“The two of you have two minutes to decide if you want to sell your beloved son Dakon into slavery in my service, or if you want Horatio, Hector, and Harm to send you to your final reward out the garbage chute into the dark embrace of space. Starting now.”
I sit back and enjoy the show—it’s better than vids. Interesting, though, neither of them is lobbying too hard to spare the son. Both seem far more worried about their own lives.
“He can earn his way out of servitude?” Silva asks, piercing me with her blue gaze. “We might be able to buy his freedom at a later date?”
On a better day, I might have given a different answer, but at this moment I’m tired and want a nap. I’ve grown fatigued of this interaction.
“That might be difficult, Silva. The moment you sign the papers, I will be entering him in a gladiatorial match tomorrow night, the last night of the Septus Games. Only the best fighters will be performing. His chances of surviving one of those battles will be nil.” My mouth clamps closed and I watch every emotion on the mother’s face: shock, hatred, and acceptance in the span of one minima.
When my own mother called me a vornhund as a child, perhaps she was right. It’s times like this I wonder if I have a soul.
Chapter Three
Dakon
My body feels fantastic. My cock feels even better. It’s too bad older women have a bad reputation; Armena was tight and firm as an eighteen-annum-old. Whether it’s the renovatio treatments or not, it doesn’t matter. The last several hoaras in bed with her were exceptional.
I’m stalking through the hallways to my room, feeling like I could climb a mountain. There’s nothing like giving a woman ecstasy to make a male feel virile.
Bellumar is a modern space station—sleek and well designed. The hub is the spacious arena and viewing stands. The seats are well-appointed and comfortable. The round fighting area at the center is filled with sand.
The gladiators are kept somewhere in the bowels of the ship. Of course, I’ve never seen this portion of the space station, why would I?