by Emma Vance
Those thoughts fueled my fury, and I hit the large, puckered-faced male with everything I had, his flesh giving way to my fist. Blood coated my knuckles, and I registered the cheers of the crowd around me, and the fact that the male beneath was no longer responding.
But I didn’t stop.
Not until one voice rose above the cheers. A soft female voice. A voice I craved to hear, could pick out of any crowd, that I dreamed about, obsessed over and that had been in my head for the past three seasons.
“Otun!” Nisha’s voice ripped from her and resounded over the male jeers. Not only was it enough to make me stop, but the fact that she was here, in the fighting pits, where any male could attack her, was enough to make me whirl towards the sound. I searched for her face in the crowd, but I was surrounded by raucous males who had likely just made plenty of Stryxx coyne on my victory and wanted to celebrate.
For a moment, I saw a flash of dark skin, the warm brown of her hair, and then it was gone.
“Nisha!” I shouted, pushing away from the males. Wit clapped me on the back and handed me my winnings, but I shoved past him.
She was there, looking perfect, if a little frazzled. I rushed to her, crushing her to my body and dragging her away.
“Otun, what—?”
“What are you doing here? You know how dangerous it is!”
She yanked her arm back from me and stood firmly. “Me? What are you doing here? Fighting! I came to find you in the pleasure house.”
We stood and stared at each other. I still had a mixture of fighting rage and protective instinct flooding through my blood, and it was a heady combination. My tail flicked back and forth, whipping the air.
I released a long breath and raked my hands through my mane. I held my hand out to her. She took it, and we walked calmly away from the ring, ignoring the shouts from Wit as he waved my winnings in the air.
Chapter Three
Nisha
I kept sneaking glances at Otun as we walked to one of the small private rooms in the guard pleasure house.
He looked awful. His dark hair, usually neat and pulled back into a tight knot, was askew, with the long strands tumbling about his shoulders. His lip was split, and blood was smeared across his face, mixed in with dirt and God knew what else. He wasn’t wearing much, just his guard cuffs and the leather lappets the guards wore around their waist, like pictures of Roman soldiers I’d seen on a TV show somewhere. Usually, he was dressed more formally when outside his quarters, even opting for the golden helmet that covered his whole face except for his eyes and mouth.
“Why were you fighting?” I asked, the thick silence between us unnerving.
“I didn’t hear from you. I was worried,” was his clipped response.
My mouth tugged down at the corners. Otun may be hard to read sometimes, but he was never usually this short or cryptic with me. “And that explains why you were fighting, how?”
“It was the only thing I could do to keep myself busy.” He touched his broken lip and winced.
“I highly doubt that.”
We came to a small serviceable room, and I made Otun sit on the narrow bed. There was a small bowl of water on a stand. I dipped a rough cloth in the liquid and wrung it out before returning to Otun and wiping his lip.
He tried to move away and raised his hands. “Nisha, my lip will heal soon. It does not need tending to.”
“Well, I happen to think it does. Hold still.” I continued my ministrations and pressed the wet cloth to his ravaged lip.
For a second we just stayed there. The only sounds the slow drip of the water from the cloth as I pressed it to his plush lips, and the mix of our breathing—his heavy from fighting, and mine from just being near him.
When I had seen him brawling with that giant alien troll, I had nearly run into the ring to stop him. Which would have been totally idiotic, not to mention ineffective. It was only when he had knocked out the troll that I called his name. When he was no longer in any danger. I doubt Otun would have stopped anything because I asked him to.
After all these years, I didn’t even know what Otun and I were to each other. We used each other, sought solace in each other, but I didn’t think he had any deeper feelings towards me. He certainly hadn’t expressed them to me if he had. Mine . . . were a little more complicated. It was hard being a slave on an alien sex planet. There were some days I didn’t want to continue living here, some days when I didn’t see the point of it. On those days, Otun was there, which obviously made him very important to me. I’d have to be a sociopath for my feelings not to be involved.
Once I dabbed the blood away from his lip, I lifted the cloth and placed it on the side table. I licked my own dry lips and unconsciously lifted my finger to trace the trail of water that had ran from his mouth down his bare chest. The light coating of sandy fur over Otun’s body was damp with sweat. It was incredibly sexy.
He’d always been muscular, with bulging biceps, and a chest and stomach looking like it was carved out of golden stone. But after the fight he looked bigger somehow. Stronger.
I was acutely aware that I hadn’t been chosen by another male tonight. The lansian root tea I’d drunk when I’d first arrived on Stryxx meant I needed to have sex with someone, and fast. Sex-poison tea, my friend Sarah had called it. It was an apt name.
I stood, not wanting the poison that flooded my veins and took over my sexual urges to dictate the situation yet again.
I had an important conversation to have with Otun.
“You usually let me know if you cannot meet me,” Otun commented, his gaze not on me, but on the window outside. “I was . . . concerned.” His fists were clenched at his side. The corners of his mouth turned downwards. Otun wasn’t usually this pissy with me.
“I got delayed,” I said, coming in front of him. He finally turned his gaze up to meet mine. It was searing hot, and my nipples pebbled immediately. It didn’t take him much to get me ready, and I wasn’t even sure that it had anything to do with the sex-poison tea anymore.
Otun was by far the hottest guy I’d ever been with—he was jacked, had death-defying cheek bones, and fucked like a sex god. Was he also an alien who looked like a furry Thor with a tail? Yep. Did I care? Absolutely not.
As if sensing my arousal, his padded hands slid up the back of my dress and he crushed me to him, gripping my ass with purpose.
“My apologies,” he murmured into my stomach, “I forgot you might be in pain. How long has it been since you’ve had relief?”
“Since you a few nights ago,” I said, not able to concentrate on anything except his hands on my back and his mouth pressing against my skin. It was laughable to call what I was wearing a dress—it was more like a sheer sari covering my body, leaving nothing to the imagination. I didn’t know why they even bothered clothing us, though I was absurdly glad we didn’t just have to walk around naked. At least it gave us a modicum of humanity.
I wouldn’t have any humanity left if I didn’t have sex soon. I’d stopped testing how long I could go without sex, it had been too overwhelming. I turned into a crazed animal, willing to fuck anything. The longest I’d been able to go was two weeks, but that had been one of the hardest things I’d ever done. And something I would never do again if I could help it.
Otun dragged me down into his lap and nuzzled my breasts. I sighed heavily. It was heaven when he touched me. He was right—it was relief. Not only that I was getting sexual release, but also that it was him that was giving it to me. If I had been chosen tonight, I wouldn’t have been so lucky.
I tipped his chin up and touched my lips to his. He eagerly pressed me to him, his silky tongue meeting mine. I adjusted myself so I straddled him, hiking my dress up and grinding against his already hard cock. His leather lappets and the filmy fabric of my dress were the only things separating us. He was just as ready as I was.
Otun gripped my ass and thrust against me and I lost myself in the blinding pleasure of his cock nestled against my pussy. The
poisoned blood in my veins sang out, making me nearly want to rip through the layers between us and satisfy the near unending need.
But I couldn’t satisfy it, not yet.
It took all my strength to pull my mouth from his and still his undulating hips. He looked at me with a question in his eyes, and I bit my lip.
I’d never stopped him before. But we’d also never had this situation before.
“Listen to me,” I said, before the moment got away from me again. This couldn’t wait. “There was a reason I didn’t come to you last night. It was because of the humans,” I blurted out. I knew I didn’t make any sense.
“Humans?” He crinkled his nose, squinting at me. “What about them?”
“No, not Kat and Mei. New humans—Bardoa stole more.”
I swallowed, thinking of the other human women I had come here with, the ones who didn’t survive the punishment for escaping. My friends.
Otun’s vibrant green eyes widened, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he waited. He knew there was more to say.
“One of them was chosen by a Dragorian alien last night, and he said he will help her escape. That he will help all the humans escape.”
His eyes flared even wider, like cardamom pods popping in hot oil. I felt the intake of his breath with my whole body.
I held onto his rock-hard arms, tensed with the same memories I was also thinking about. Memories of another time, with another group of humans, and the cost they paid for trying to escape.
“Otun, we have to stop them.”
Chapter Four
Three years ago, Nisha
When I woke up on a sex planet after being abducted by aliens, understandably things were pretty rough. When I was chosen by an alien creature who could give the Predator a run for his money to have sex with on the first night, I thought things could only get worse from there. But nope, not getting chosen to have sex with was far worse than either of those. To be specific, not getting chosen to have sex with after ingesting a sex poison that fucks up your body so you want to have sex all the time, was the worst thing that had ever happened to me.
It didn’t matter how many times I went at it by myself. I could literally masturbate myself raw, and nothing would do any good.
“You have to go to one of the pleasure houses,” explained a pretty alien named Zoyah who was bright purple and had fluttery eyelashes that looked like wings fanning her face.
I doubled over with a groan, gripping the inside of my thighs so hard I could see hand imprints. It was like . . . nothing I’d ever felt. Like my pussy was throbbing with need and it was the only thing that mattered. I couldn’t think about food, water or anything else besides the desire to be filled. I was so wet, my juices coated the fabric of the foamy dress they put us in and made it stick to my legs.
But still, I didn’t want to go to the pleasure houses.
I didn’t want to give in to them. If I didn’t have a choice, fine. I would lay down and think of America, so to speak. But I couldn’t imagine ever willingly having sex with any alien. When they first showed me and the other humans the pleasure houses, I wanted to laugh. In what world would I choose to get fucked by an alien gladiator? Or one of the silent, staring guards that watched us day and night?
Now I knew: in this world.
In this world, I would do anything if it meant relief from this overwhelming need. I would go to any pleasure house they told me to, and I would fuck the first alien that looked at me.
I took a deep breath. This would pass. It came in waves, and I could ride it out.
I looked at Zoyah, who was watching me with concern.
“It’s okay,” I croaked out. “I’ll get past it.”
She patted me gently on the head and smiled placidly. As if to say, sure you will, honey.
We both knew I wouldn’t get past anything.
“Sometimes walking helps,” she said, with a shrug. “Not for very long, but it tricks your body into thinking you are going to meet a male, so it relaxes.”
Walking. Right. I could go for a walk.
“Good thinking.”
Zoyah helped me to my feet and I scanned the tent. All the other human women were gone, as most of them had been chosen for the night by the alien patrons. It was just me, suffering by myself. I hobbled a bit before finding my stride and moved towards the exit. My legs were a little wobbly and I still felt an alarming throbbing between my legs, but I ignored it and kept going.
I exited the tent, my unsteady steps determined even though I didn’t have anywhere to go. Zoyah was right, I did feel a little better walking around. But I was still not going to one of the pleasure houses. I could work through this. At least for now. It wasn’t that dire yet.
Yet.
If I concentrated on each step, I could almost forget I was feeling so terrible. Until a throbbing pang of painful lust hit me, from my boobs to my vag, and I doubled over, my knees hitting the hard ground.
“Aaaaaahh!” I cried out, wrapping my arms around myself. I rocked back and forth and willed the tremors to cease. This was absolute hell.
A hand gripped my forearm and I started, looking up into the bright sunshine to see the silhouette of a helmeted guard standing over me.
“Female, are you all right?”
The impact of a male’s hand on my arm and the realization of it was catastrophic. I moaned low and clutched at his hand, trying to pull him down to me.
He was either kind or took pity on me, I didn’t know which, because he knelt down in the dirt with me, and placed his firm furry hands on my shoulders.
“Shall I get the Stryxx medics?” His gruff voice was filled with concern, but the sexy timbre of it pulsated through me like I’d just put a vibrator directly onto my clit.
“There’s nothing they can do for me,” I responded, my voice a desperate moan. I couldn’t decide whether to laugh or cry. I decided on both.
He tried to pull me up with him, but I stayed put, writhing on the ground when his bulky arm brushed my pebbled nipple. It was likely so hard it was cutting through the thin fabric of my dress. His touch shot a zing of lust so strong through me that I cried out.
“Can I do anything for you?” he asked, his tone cautious, his eyes watchful. I registered him as a person for the first time when looking into those eyes.
Green. Not the bright, unnatural green, like some of the aliens I’d seen here. His eyes were an earthy green, like the mottled mint of my Nani’s chutney. His eyes reminded me so much of home that despite the raging arousal I was experiencing, a pang of sorrow tightened across my chest.
The rest of him, though, did not remind me of home. My eyes swept the crouched body that was so close to mine I felt the heat emanating off him. A coating of sandy fur covered his corded thighs, and he was wearing the same uniform as most of the guards—a sort of mini skirt made of strips of leather, like an old timey Roman soldier. Like all the other guards, his golden helmet obscured most of his face, except for his strong, decisive jaw, and his eyes and mouth.
I wish his mouth was covered.
I could not stop thinking about those plump lips on my skin. He had the lips of a Brazilian Dolce & Gabana model—full, curved, and with a slight sneer. They were doing serious damage to my health.
He was like a golden alien beast come down to save me. I glanced at his hands, which still gripped my shoulders. His fingers were long and thick, and I could feel that the tips of them were padded. They gripped my skin slightly, and I had a visceral image of him holding me down on a bed with those strong hands, his muscular thighs flexing as he surged into me, again and again.
In that moment, I knew one thing: I was not letting go of this guard until I got the release I so badly needed.
“Yes. You can do something for me.” My tone was decisive. Forthright. I looked up at his face and his eyes widened.
“You can fuck me.”
Otun
This human female was crazed. At her words, I released her immediately. But he
r hands gripped mine, her face leaning so close that I could smell the soft floral scent of her. I wanted to inhale deeply until I was drunk from it.
It wasn’t often I got this close to the females. Because they were not for me.
I’d already gone down that road. I knew I wasn’t a male who could take his pleasure casually. When the females were sold off, or killed, I wondered why I grew attached to them, and why I cared so intensely about what happened to them.
So, I stopped. Stopped caring, stopped even coupling with the females.
I couldn’t grow attached if I never got involved with anyone. If I never slaked my needs at the guard pleasure house, and avoided females in general, I’d never have any trouble. Females meant obligation. Responsibility. Complications. If I wanted to get out of here, I couldn’t have those things. I was a slave, stolen and raised to be a tool for a master who could replace me with a click of his slimy, green fingers.
I wasn’t going to die a slave.
Which was why I recoiled from the soft, petite hands of the strange female with smooth features and brown skin. It served me right for trying to help her.
But she looked genuinely ill. If something had happened to her, Bardoa would be angry. This was the luxury pleasure gardens, after all, and this female was likely worth boatloads of coyne. I’d never seen a species like her, so she was probably rare.
The female was still clutching me and moaning. Her skin was flushed and hot to the touch. She had no protective fur covering her skin, so the reactions mapped across her body were fascinating to watch. She was wearing the same outfit as every female slave in the pleasure gardens—sheer fabric tied in the middle with a silvery string. It usually made all the females look like shapeless wraiths as they floated through the gardens. But on her tall form it seemed to accentuate everything, from her large rounded teats, to the generous curve of her hip. Like a luscious gauzy parcel, waiting to be unwrapped.