by Corin Cain
It’s not fair.
Why do I feel so fucking jealous?
I’ve never liked Aurelians. I’ve only seen the species from far away, but I’ve always hated the way they look at humans.
Like we’re inferior.
We’re smaller than them. We live a twentieth of their lifespans, and if the histories are correct, our entire species would have died off without their protection.
Alright, so maybe their haughty demeanor has some justification. But there’s still no way that three of those Aurelians deserve to have seventy eager and willing women.
Seventy-seven now, with the seven of us!
No! Seventy-six. There’s no way I’m going to be just another obedient cunt in an Aurelian harem.
“I head they’re rough in bed. Like, really rough. I don’t think Brandy’s going to be able to sit for days!” Karen laughs, as if she secretly delights in the idea. I’m not sure whether she’s referencing the size and ferocity of Aurelians – or the huge girth of their legendary cocks – but my mind instantly darts to what Riff had said when we were back on the slum-planet where we were bought.
He said he’d spank me if I insulted him again.
Maybe that’s why Brandy wouldn’t be able to sit down for a week.
I have to shift in my seat. I don’t know what it is about the idea that makes me feel so small and shy, but just imagining Riff’s huge, white palm cracking down on my bare ass…
Stop it! Stop thinking about it!
“I have to take a walk,” I whisper, and Tiana nods. She gets it. She knows I’d never admit it, but I’d thought I was somehow special.
Now it’s been revealed to me that I’m just another slut to these towering, imperious warrior-gods. Daran is probably balls-deep inside of that little tart right now, and he’s sure as hell not thinking about me as he fucks her.
I get up and stomp to the door.
“Hey! No one said we could leave.” Rebecca looks at me with shock – as if she’d expected me to sit there like an obedient little puppy while Daran takes the six other women, one by one, into his chamber and ‘tests’ to see if they’re his mate.
I shrug. My lips are a tight line. “No one said we had to stay, either,” I respond curtly.
“Use that tone with me if you like, but I’d watch it with those three.” Rebecca raises her eyebrow disdainfully. “That’s just a little friendly advice.” Her tone is anything but friendly, though, and she pointedly turns her back to me as she gets up to pour herself a drink.
Tiana gives me a look that I know means: “Want me to come with you?”
I shake my head. I need to be alone for a little while. If I’m going to spend an entire week on this ship – surrounded by all these other women – I’ll want to know what my prison is like. Hopefully, then, Daran will make good on his promise and drop me off-world to resume the wreckage of my life.
I walk out of the room and into the long hallway. I don’t want to go towards the dressing room. As much as I pretend it doesn’t affect me, I know that Daran’s chambers are up there too, and I don’t think I could stand to hear Brandy’s moans and gasps right now.
So, I turn the other way.
My bare feet are silent on the metal walkway. I pass by another set of doors. Curious, I press the button to open them.
Beyond the doorway is a gym. There’s a heavy punching bag, a weight bench, and a holo-sparring ring.
Great – in addition to being gangsters, these Aurelians are jocks!
As if the Aurelians even need to get any bigger. The species is already blessed with muscles on top of muscles – naturally incredibly powerful and lean. It’s pretty vain to keep working out on top of that.
The holo-sparring? That I get. If these three guys really are gangsters, like they claim, they’ll want to keep sharp. Holo-sparring rings look just like the boxing rings of Old-Earth. In fact, if you have a real-life opponent, you can even use them that way. Or, you can practice against the artificial intelligence using holo-projected opponents.
I’m tempted to step up into the ring and practice. It would be good to throw some punches and work out my tension. However, my urge to explore the ship is greater.
I leave the gym and continue walking down the hallway, pressing the buttons to open each door I pass. None of them are locked, and I wonder what that says about the Aurelians and their trust of their new, human cargo.
Is it trust? Or disdain? Do they leave the doors unlocked because they want to reassure us that they’re not hiding anything? Or because they think so little of humans that they presume we could do nothing to harm them by having complete run of their ship.
The next chamber I discover is a spacious dining room and observatory. I can’t help a little smile coming to my face as I walk in. Through the thick glass on the opposite wall, I can see eternity itself. The vastness of space swallows me up. We’ve been travelling for hours, and I can’t even see the dot of the slum planet we were purchased from. Instead, all I see are a million gleaming stars – and to me, that is the sight of opportunity. A million stars? More like a trillion. A trillion stars, each circled by trillions more planets. There are a trillion different possible lives to live out there.
I’m certainly not going to spend the rest of my days cooped up in an Aurelian harem, confined to a single manor on a single world, and competing with seventy-six other woman for the attention of three haughty Aurelian gangsters – all the while knowing that they’re only coupling with their whores to satisfy their most primal sexual needs.
Their hearts belong to their near-mythical ‘fated mate’ and they’ll keep collecting more and more women in their search for a Bonded partner. They’ll never care for anybody else except that one woman – who they might not, probably won’t, ever find.
It’s tragic, really.
My stomach grumbles. There’s a large kitchen beyond the dining room, and I’m surprised to see a full set of knifes, a cooktop, and everything else needed to manually cook food.
This is the height of luxury! Most ships just dole out pre-packaged, ready-made grub in foil packets, and I instantly assumed that Aurelian warriors wouldn’t be much for cooking in the first place. They have their sophisticated tastes, but only when it’s served to them in their manors or the expensive restaurants of their home world, Colossus. At other times, Aurelians are known for treating food as little more than fuel.
So, which of those three gangsters is the chef? I can’t picture Kreos making pasta, and I’m pretty certain Daran has never chopped a vegetable in his life. It must be Riff.
I wince. Either that, or they prefer to make the women in their harem cook for them. Now I think about it, that makes a lot more sense.
Is sucking their cocks not enough for them? Getting on our hands and knees and lifting our asses in their air? They want us to cook for them as well? What next?
I shake my head and rid myself of my negative thoughts.
There’s a loaf of fresh baguette on the counter that beckons to me. I can’t resist. I’m hungry, and I love to cook.
I open up the towering refrigerator and find butter and eggs inside.
It’s ironic. Wherever you go in the universe, the staples are always the same. Chickens and cows have been brought far and wide, taken to ten-thousand worlds by the original human explorers and then bred and farmed on ten-thousand more after that.
But commoners and the lower class are forced to purchase replicated alternatives – mostly artificially-grown protein formed into egg-shaped packages, or vegetable oil derived from crops. Only the wealthy can afford such luxuries on a regular basis – and I can tell instantly that these eggs and this butter is fresh and very real.
It’s a rare treat – so rare, in fact, that I used to celebrate every time I sold a sculpture by buying just enough real eggs and butter to make myself French toast like they used to back on Old-Earth, millennia ago.
I lose myself in the slow movements of cooking. I was taught by my mother, who right
now is probably getting the bad news that my ship was captured. She must be bawling herself to sleep, thinking her daughter has been killed, or sold into slavery and a fate worse than death.
I can’t believe I didn’t even think about it until now. The second I feel like my head is on straight, I’ve got to ask the Aurelians if I can contact my parents.
Will they even let me? I hate the feeling that everything I do here is at their whim. Kreos could come in here right now and tell me I’m not even allowed to make food, and that I’ve got to eat pre-packaged military meals, or something disgusting. I’ve got no power or autonomy here!
The scent of hot butter snaps me from my thoughts, and I glance down worriedly. There’s no way in hell I’m letting this French toast burn!
Pulling myself back into the moment, I flip the French toast over on the cooking surface. The delicious scent of perfectly-browned bread and fried eggs fills my nostrils and my stomach rumbles.
Suddenly, I feel a presence.
I turn, and discover Kreos standing there, right behind me, huge and imposing. I didn’t even hear him come in – for such a huge beast of a man, he moves with the silent agility of a jungle cat.
He’s changed outfits. Now, Kreos wears a tight, black t-shirt that clings to his powerful muscles, and a pair of tightly-fitting jeans that suit him well and emphasize his powerful, v-shaped figure. Beneath them are a pair of black combat boots that I instantly know are steel-tipped.
I gaze up at Kreos and my eyes are instantly drawn to the vicious scar on his neck, which is so sharply red and bright against his pure white, marble skin.
Now he’s not in a long-sleeved dress shirt, I can see that Kreos’ left forearm is adorned with a full-sleeve tattoo of intricate black icons of weapons and knives. They have some dark meaning – I know it instantly. They aren’t just an aesthetic choice – each one was chosen to represent something significant involving that individual weapon.
From his size and massive strength alone, Kreos would be intimidating – but with the addition of those tattoos and that scar, he just radiates danger. There’s something about him that makes my knees weak, and I instantly imagine how easily he could pin me up against the wall, wrench up the hem of my dress, and just take me.
I know that his species gets into famous ‘mating frenzies’ when they’re aroused, and right now the only thing between Kreos and I are two sets of clothing, and about two feet of space.
One foot of space, now.
He takes another step forward, looming over me, watching me cook with those cold, emotionless, slate-grey eyes.
It’s the eyes of Aurelians that creep me out the most. It’s not the ivory skin that makes them look like towering statues of Greek Gods, brought to life by some dark magic. It’s those emotionless, grey eyes.
I’ve never seen another Aurelian up close before today, but already I’ve realized that they’re very different to the warriors of the Aurelian Empire.
I’ve never seen an Aurelian with a beard before, and Kreos’ bushy, black beard falls almost to his waist. It suits him, though. He keeps it precisely trimmed. Everything about Kreos strikes me as precise – even the powerful movements he makes.
He looms over me.
Say something to me, dammit! Don’t just stand there like a hulking beast!
I swallow hard. My body is tense, but it’s nothing compared to the natural tenseness of Kreos. His huge, muscular arms flex as he stands above me; every line of sinew and tissue so defined it’s like they’ve been carved from marble.
Kreos’ right arm has no tattoos, and I can see the outline of every vein along its massive length; filled with blood. He licks his lips with a thick, huge tongue…
…and I suddenly imagine that huge tongue running over my skin.
“Do you… Do you want some?” I ask.
Oh, fuck!
“Do you want some French toast,” I clarify, in case the ‘some’ he thought I was offering was…
…well, y’know.
I begin flipping the French toast onto a plate.
Kreos nods silently, never taking his eyes from my body. I push one of the pieces of freshly-cooked toast onto a second plate, and carry them both to the dining room table.
He watches me as I walk, not even turning to face the refrigerator as he opens it pulls out something.
Honey!
It’s the last thing in the world I expected him to do. I’d thought Kreos was more likely to toss my delicious food aside, bend me over the counter, and just take me. From the way he’s looking at me, it’s very clear that his appetite isn’t limited to breakfast foods…
I sit down slowly at the table and Kreos follows like a lumbering giant, sitting down across from me.
It’s fucking tense. At any moment I feel like he’s going to snap. I can hear his slow, deep breathing getting quicker as he looks at me. My arm trembles as I take the container of honey and spoon it onto my piece of French toast. Needing something to do, I do the same for the portion I’d made Kreos.
He cuts a piece, bites in…
…and smiles.
I’d never thought this beast-like man could smile – but he does. It’s a deep expression of joy, and I feel a surge of pride as he chomps down the entire meal in three huge bites before I’ve even taken my first.
“I… I can make some more,” I offer, finally putting a piece in my own mouth.
Oh, Gods! That’s good! The honey is so sweet – and it’s got a subtle hint of blackberry in it. This guy knows his food.
Kreos makes no response. It drives me crazy that he doesn’t talk. I try not to stare at his scar, and I feel guilty as I wonder if the wound took away his ability to speak.
It’s unnerving, having a seven-feet-tall alien staring at you from across the table while you eat – but I don’t want to waste this delicious French toast. Who knows when I might get the chance to enjoy food like this again?
I finish up my meal. I always thought I ate fast – in fact, my mom had always told me to slow down and taste the food when I was growing up – but when it tastes this good, I can’t resist devouring it quickly.
But, for the first time in my life, I get to enjoy being the last to finish.
“So… Do you want me to make more?” I look over at Kreos, trying to break the awkward silence.
Kreos reaches forward and wraps his huge hand around my wrist. I shudder at his touch. Tingles rush up and down my body, and I suddenly get it.
I never knew how a woman could throw away her dignity to join an Aurelian harem. Now I can.
My wrist feels so small, encircled by his huge hand. I feel so small – and no man has ever made me feel like that before.
Oh, Gods… The way it would feel to surrender to his lust… To let him just have his way with me…
No!
The touch of skin on skin isn’t making just me crazy. Kreos tenses up, every muscle in his body straining. I can see the muscles bulge and the veins tighten. I realize with shock that he’s trying desperately to hold himself back. The mating frenzy is building up in him. Just the touch of my skin alone awoke something inside him…
I try to pull my hand away…
…but I might as well be a child, trying to yank my hand away from a disciplining adult. Kreos doesn’t even budge, and his fingers are like a ring of marble around my wrist.
“Please, let me go,” I gasp.
I’m not afraid of Kreos. I’m afraid that if he holds me for even a second longer, I won’t be able to resist my own dark urges. My nipples are hardening in desperate lust, as if my body is responding to his touch even while my mind desperately tries to resist. I’ve never been so turned on before. Daran is sexy in a dark, brooding way, while Riff’s cocky grin does things to me that I don’t understand…
…but Kreos is an animal. He’s more beast than man. There’s none of that typical Aurelian aloofness to him.
Oh, fuck. I breath in, and I can smell the slight hint of his musk. It smells right. I sud
denly imagine him on top of me, sweating as he lets loose and the primal part of him emerges completely.
“L-Let me go,” I say again, and Kreos gently lets go of my arm. I’m breathing heavily, my breasts heaving with barely-contained lust. It’s like Kreos triggers something deep inside of me – something I don’t understand… Some I didn’t even know existed.
I won’t. I won’t be another wench in his harem!
I push my chair back and stand up, nearly running out of the room in my haste to escape this unnervingly sexy man.
I slam shut the button in the hallway outside and the door closes silently behind me.
The moment the steel doorway separates us, I breathe a sigh of relief. Those overwhelming urges inside of me lessen.
I feel bad – I can’t picture Kreos doing the dishes, and I rushed out leaving those two plates, the pan, the mixing bowl…
…but he’s just going to have to manage without me. I’m not his servant, and I’m not his slut.
I stumble down the hallway, arms wrapped tightly around my chest, ignoring all the doors I pass. I’m not exploring any more – I’m just trying to put as much distance between me and that sexy, looming giant of a man as possible – before I make the stunningly bad decision of turning around.
Ugh, there’s heat between my legs that I can’t control, and I ache to feel his huge cock stretching me. There would be such a sinful, dark surrender in losing control – in giving up everything to be Kreos’ toy.
Don’t think that! Ah!
I step forward and suddenly see the cockpit ahead of me. I’ve walked the entire length of this ship without even realizing it.
Riff is at the controls, and his golden hair gleams in the light. Impossibly, he’s heard me coming, and he turns in the pilot’s chair, grinning at me.
“You refused Daran and Kreos, and then you come to me?”
His voice is dripping with cockiness. He’s so certain I’m going to come at his call.
I shudder, imagining how good it would feel to let Riff have me. I can tell instantly that he wouldn’t be content with just fucking me. There’s a dirty, filthy side of him that would enjoy making me follow whatever wicked orders he commands of me.