Ruled: A Dark Sci-Fi Romance

by Cari Silverwood

  “I will be moving those around and attaching more. Even below.” He sat beside her and his hand slipped between her legs. “By the time I get you on that bed, you will be begging me to fuck you, my princess.”

  Her eyes seemed locked open by his words.

  Whimpering before these mauleons would not be queen-like. She held it in. Making love on that bed would not be queen-like either. Already she dreaded leaving a wet patch on her chair.

  Why had he waited so long before having this ceremony? Because before this she might not have kneeled or allowed him such liberties with her body? Whereas now, she was embarrassed, yes, but the clamps were doing such interesting things to her. Heat simmered from them. The sharp pain had gone. Nice, horrible, bite-y things that they were.

  If he added more, my gods.

  She wanted more.

  Looking down at the two animal ornaments hanging from her breasts, she was amazed that she’d allowed this.

  “We need another on you. Or two.” Drake pinched her at the outer edge of one nipple, and applied a catlike ornament, then another on the opposite breast to match. He tugged once on all four of them. While she was still assimilating the new pains, panting through her teeth, he scooped something from his plate and held it to her lips. She ate automatically.

  A delicate morsel—what it was she didn’t know, but she swallowed it then wine and more food. The voices and conversations of the others here had become a hum she could ignore.

  His hand lay between her thighs again.

  “Will there be speeches?” she whispered, wondering how she would concentrate.

  “No. A few words, if that. You don’t have to talk. This night is judged by actions more than words, my princess.”

  And so it went.

  He fed her a little wine and food and at times she fed him also.

  Ornaments were placed and removed, sited elsewhere. Some went between her legs, after undoing the lower buttons created a split in her dress below. She had to hold her thighs open and watched him bend over her and carefully nip the jaws to the hood of her clit. Hard breaths were taken; her eyes were opened to how both draconian and subtle touches could lead her to heights of arousal. She was kissed and stroked, suckled on, sighs were made and given, and her heart was likely gifted to Drake.

  If the night never ended, she wasn’t sure she would care.

  When at last he hooked a finger beneath the silver chain-mesh collar and said, it’s time, she felt as though she lived in some other land where none of this was real.

  The click when a silver leash was attached to the collar produced a shiver in her flesh and no protest. None whatsoever.

  He stood and beckoned.

  The dimness of the lighting in this room lent itself to the hush that fell over those sitting along the tables. It amplified the dreamlike surroundings. The random clinks of metal implement or glass were mere punctuations. They were nothing when held against the fascination she found in Drake’s gaze.

  She was a princess and a queen-to-be and she was in thrall to this mauleon.

  “Are you mine?” he asked quietly, with a growl rising from the depths. “Are you?” She nodded. “Then you won’t mind me asserting my rights.”

  His smile was sinister. Sinister she wanted, thirsted after.

  He freed the clasp from the collar, and she watched spellbound as he went to one knee and attached the leash to the ornament currently biting her clit.

  “You’re mine?” He rose to his feet.

  “Yes, sir. I am.” Amazed at what he’d done, and she’d allowed, she clasped the leash for a moment then let her hand fall. She followed him up the three steps to the bed. The sway of the leash he held tugged at her clit. The other ornaments still latched onto her front jiggled and reminded her they too could bite.

  Was she mad? If she was, she wished to remain so for the rest of her life.

  The letter... it nagged at her for a fleeting second. Go away. I will deal with you, later.

  Chapter Twenty

  Drake let his princess join him where he stood before the bed. The chain leash connected him to her by the most potent sexual link—from hand to clit. He’d wondered if this would scare her or fascinate her.

  From the heat in her eyes and how the chain mesmerized her, this was a perfect addition to the ceremony.

  That first day he’d thought he would end up chaining her. This was not how he’d imagined it. This was better.

  He lifted her onto the bed, with her dress flaring and falling either side of her thighs, baring her fully. Then he unclipped the leash from the clit ornament and let the chain dribble to the floor. It was a symbol only, if a sexy one, and there was a chance he’d accidentally kneel on the chain during mating and harm her.

  Some symbols were too powerful to ever dispense with—like her silver collar.

  He traced where it circled her neck, pleased with the adoration she showed and how she waited for him.

  From his pants pocket, he brought a small heart-shaped lock.

  “Be still.” Then he attached it to the silver-mesh collar and closed it. “You’ll wear this for me.”

  Her nod was infinitesimal but beautiful. Those outside the circle of light shining on the bed cover murmured approval. They were in the dark as the other lights had been dimmed. The ceremonial mating was mandatory, even so he’d wanted to display his little human princess. Now? He almost wished them gone. Almost.

  “Spread your legs.” She opened them wide until he could see her engorged lips and clit, see the wetness shining. He pushed into her just to tease, then withdrew, laughing at her how she begged him softly for more.

  Drake applied himself to making her scream loudly for more of him inside her. He massaged her, pushing and sliding, grabbing muscles and ass, breasts, her neck, while his mouth followed. His bites worried at the sensitive, sexually alluring places, and he sucked on her nipples and fingerfucked her. Her ass raised as if to follow his hand, but he pulled those fingers from her, feeling the suction as a small orgasm seemed to shake her.

  “You came?”

  “A little.”

  “That must be why your greedy cunt was so slippery and tried to eat my fingers.” He kissed her wet mouth before she could do more than squeak in disgust. “Greedy cunt.” He teased again, knowing how this would shock her. “Will I yell it to our court of admirers?”

  “No,” she whispered vehemently. “Please, no.”

  “Not this time.”

  “You... you... oh.”

  Her words fell away as he kissed and nibbled a trail down to her stomach. Then he licked at her clit and let her wrap her legs over his head. Her hands though, when she reached for his hair, he growled at her to take those away.

  Her immediate sobbing obedience made him smile.

  The small clamps, he pulled those off as he paid homage to her body, only to place them elsewhere. He tasted her then rolled her face down, admiring the sexy curves of her back while he thrust his cock between her legs. Her moans were growing louder.

  She was almost ready.

  With three fingers he explored her entrance, widening her, making her wriggle and try to poke her ass upward to get more of them.

  Then, at last, he thrust into her slowly. “Turn your head, Princess.” He kept his eyes on her face as he went deeper, wanting to see those little giveaways that showed how she felt him violating her intimate places, how she took what he gave her and loved it.

  As his cock slid in and out, she clenched onto his shaft, in a devastatingly enticing rhythm. He began to fuck her properly, deeper, hard enough to slap at her ass. Hard enough to make her gasp and moan.

  “More, Princess?” He laid his hand on her neck, letting her feel his weight, thumbed her jaw. “More cock?”

  It amused him intensely to hear this prim girl ask for cock. Panting, ready to explode in her, he waited, stopped in place, halfway in, halfway out of her, pulsing.

  “More. Pleeease, please, more.” She even tried to hook h
er feet about his legs, as if that’d make him do it.

  When he shoved in then halted, a groan of exasperation came from where her mouth was buried in the cover.

  After pulling out, he flipped her onto her back again and removed a couple of the clamps. With the head of his cock poised in her entrance, Drake gritted his teeth and plowed into her, over and over, and kept going—not stopping this time. She stiffened, her mouth opened wide, her thighs trembled. The girl was climaxing. Flicking off a couple of the nipple clamps kicked her orgasm into higher gear. Yes. In to the hilt, skin melded to skin, he grunted and came, pumping his cum into this succulent female. Then, then she screamed. The grab of her hands at the cover pulled it into knots.

  Drake levered himself higher above the exhausted female, planted his palm on her hip and wiped his mouth then forehead with his other hand. She’d made him sweat. He smiled broadly.

  He’d loved showing these mauleons how eagerly she writhed on his cock.

  Calli smelled different. He inhaled again. There was a hint of change, like a blossoming flower, or something more poetic—if only he was a poet. Definitely not the cum anyway. If this was what he thought it could be, he had another present for her.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The coach rocked over bumps in the street. Feeling thoroughly molested and tired, Calli held onto Drake’s arm. Due to the other dress being filthy, she wore a shorter dress embroidered with yellow stars, though this seemed equally see-through. Thankfully the ceremony had allowed for him to carry her out of the room. She hadn’t been compelled to look anyone in the face after being fucked and made to orgasm in public.

  Sleeping was all she needed.

  Drake patted her head. “What was it you needed to tell me?”

  Her heart braked, managed to restart itself. She stared across his chest at nothing. She had to say this.

  “Something to do with your bot?” he asked.

  “More than that.” She wriggled out from under his arm, sat up straight, set her hands on her thighs, and wondered if he’d still want anything to do with her after this. Maybe he’d declare the throne his and lock her away as he’d first threatened all those weeks ago.

  “I have done something bad.” Say it simply. No excuses. “No excuses,” she muttered, convincing herself.

  “Tell me.” His voice had deepened and that was a sign he’d dropped into serious mode.

  “A letter was left in my rooms, weeks ago, on the hallway shelf. It was signed by my brother, Roarke. He said he was injured and that I wasn’t to tell you.” Her throat caught. “And that I’d not find him. That he’d wait and message me again when he was well.

  “There’s more,” she added hastily, when he shifted.

  “Go on then.”

  “Another came today, left in the same place. I decided to tell you and only read two words. Meet me. I decided I should let you read it first. I wanted to keep your trust, though.” Her voice almost petered out as she struggled with this. “Though I know I have already hurt you, that I betrayed you. It was my brother.” An excuse had escaped anyway. She sighed, looked to his face and was dismayed by how little expression showed.

  He was angry with her.

  “Do you have it with you?”

  “Sassi has it,” she croaked then swallowed. “I’m sorry I failed you.”

  He wound down the armored glass and said loudly, “Sassi! Lean down here.”

  The bot appeared, upside-down, head dangling. He peered through the window. “Yes?”

  “Give Drake the letter.” Her face felt stiff, her stomach roiling with dread.

  She watched Drake take it, pull the letter from the envelope, and read it, his gaze flicking across the page. Then he folded it and stuck the letter into a pocket in his coat. The envelope fluttered to the floor.

  “Okay.” He turned, leaning his arm and elbow on the seat’s back, though without touching her. “This is how it is, as I see it. That last letter said he wanted to meet you over an hour ago. Since you missed it they may assume something went wrong.”

  “Or I didn’t read it,” she grimly pointed out. Everything seemed grim. The air seemed made of stone.

  His mouth twitched. “Yes. As for the rest. This isn’t your brother. I saw the dental records and the fingerprints on the hand that remained. We may not be able to do DNA but that was conclusive.”

  It wasn’t him. Her blood seemed to drain to her stomach, to her toes. “Who then?”

  “General Vass?” He shrugged.

  “Or Aegis, or my palace guard general whose name I forget.”

  “Hmmm. He is pretty dull. Also incompetent. These letters got past your door guards. We have a traitor in the palace. I can pin that down. Find out who.”

  “You mean two traitors.” Her mouth turned down all by itself and she trembled. “There’s me too.”

  “No. Shush.” Drake’s shoulders rose and fell and he sighed. “Don’t traumatize yourself. Please.” He frowned, unfrowned, reached over to clasp her hand where it lay over her thigh.

  “I deserve your disgust.” Tears were wandering down her cheeks.

  “No,” he said firmly. “Not disgust, though I will punish your ass later. I understand why you did this, even if it was stupid.”

  “Stupid?” she snorted. “Well... okay. It may have been.”

  “Whoever did this wanted to capture or even kill you.” Slowly he wound up the window glass. “I have to—”

  Sassi appeared again in the narrow gap. “Incoming hostiles!”

  The window shut. Brilliant shards of light glowed against the night sky.

  “Your friendly meeting has come to us.” Drake popped open a ceiling panel and a gun dropped down on cords. He yanked it loose from the attachments, opened the door, and leaped out. Behind him gunfire stuttered and flashed on the narrow street. Orders were shouted, hands waved. Silhouetted figures dashed forward. “Stay!” he told her before slamming the door shut.

  Something banged above her head, then a deafening boom rocked the coach and threw it onto its side.

  She shrieked and managed to roll as it moved and not be hurt more than a bruise or two.

  Above the door was wrenched open and she saw Sassi crouched and shooting with a handgun at unseen targets.

  “Multiple targets. Multiple,” Sassi recited. “Outcome poor. Friendly forces outnumbered and with lesser weapons. Got that, Princess?”

  From where she lay against the opposite door, on the bottom of the toppled coach, Calli nodded, then she said it. “Yes. What can we do? Is Drake okay?”

  Please let him be.

  “Affirmative. He’s okay. Suggest you approve Protocol Dynamic Kill, my princess.” A burning projectile shot past Sassi’s head as he turned and peered down at her.

  “What is th—” She stopped herself. Whatever it was, they needed it. “Yes. I approve Protocol Dynamic Kill.”

  “Thank you.” Sassi stretched to full height and the metal he was made of flowed into new, sleeker positions, lights zipped across and around his legs and torso. With an ululating scream, he launched into the air.

  Mouth open, she listened.

  More screams ensued. The enemy, she prayed.

  Desperate to know what was happening, she clawed and climbed her way to the open door, now hatch, and hauled herself through. To her right was Drake, a few men, and two mauleons. Strewn to her front and to the left were what seemed the dead. On second look, most moved and groaned. The florses were alive despite the flagrantly wild gunfire. Their eyes rolled and mini wings flapped. Their hooves clattered in agitation. Dark liquids puddled and gleamed in the street lighting, and every single gun seemed focused on firing at a jumping, whooping figure that bounced from position to position, hopping down the street in a series of perfect leaps. When that figure caught the light, it shone like metal.

  “What in all the hells is that?” someone muttered.

  “Sassi,” she breathed. She’d unleashed some sort of hippity-hoppy assassin. Was this mere
exuberance or true assassin-quality violence? She had no idea.

  What she did know was the guns fell silent after the last leap. In the subdued lighting, the bot was revealed, walking back toward them with almost a maniacal swagger to the hip region. Sassi surely did not have hips.

  A bot thumb-type digit was thrust skyward. “Enemy is vanquished,” echoed down the street.

  Drake ambled forward, limping, gun in hand. Five men flanked him, then eight as a few more heaved to their feet. They hugged cover as if not convinced of their victory. “Check for anyone alive. Be prepared to shoot.”

  “I think they’re all goners,” someone added in a hushed voice.

  “Maybe.”

  “That the princess’s bot?”

  “Yep.”

  It was time to decide. She was alone.

  Using handholds and placing her sandaled feet carefully, she slipped and jumped down the side of the coach, her feet landing on dry road. Something had scratched her shin on the way down. To either side was wall but several yards back an alley attached itself.

  Follow Drake, or... she gulped.

  What did he need her for?

  A liability, that was her. A way to get his men killed. She’d caused this. This bold ambush. This carnage. And for what? To protect an evil brother who was dead anyway.

  Her eyes ached with unshed tears and felt as if someone had scooped them out, polished them, and stuck them back in her head.

  Ears ringing from whatever had exploded against the coach, she partly walked, partly staggered into the alley. The energy left her muscles and she slid down the wall and collapsed. Head in her hands, she tried hard not to sob and mostly succeeded.

  Where was she going to go? Drake couldn’t possibly want her. He didn’t need her to rule.

  Sassi came around the corner and stared down at her. She knew it was him despite his transformation into a sleek bot with flowing curves. Muted red and blue dots glowed and subsided in predatorial stripes and whorls up and down his gleaming human-shaped body. For a second the tips of his fingers were red-stained spikes, then they softened and the tips became blunt and clean.