“A motion for leniency has been requested,” Councilman Breen called as he retook his place at the head of the table. “How say you all?”
As one, the Council of Nine intoned, “Agreed.”
CHAPTER THREE
Blythe Wainwright felt her heart gallop with anxiety, her breath shallow. The bullet car sped down the track, not helping her stress level—at all. It flew along the outer rail, traveling out of town toward her new home, the view of the blue-green ocean, cliffs surrounding the water, dotted with brick mansions blurred with the excessive speed. She wondered how fucking fast the damn bullet was moving but couldn’t read the dials with the foreign language.
Although she was whizzing by, the scenery was stunning, reminding her of New Orleans back on Terra. Endermere had the same bustle of restaurants, shops, and tourists. Maybe the planet of Pra’kir she and her friends had crashed upon would become someplace they’d call home.
Endermere.
Even the name sounded pretty, but with a harsh edge to it. Looking out the window she wondered for the hundredth time since crashing—Will I be happy here?
The large man driving—if that’s what you call zipping at a velocity that made her head hurt—had called himself Billex, saying he worked in the “good doctor’s” house. Once she’d heard her new foster family was actually a single, rich man—and an ex-military doctor at that— she’d assumed she’d be living in one of the brick and stone mansions lining the winding cliff roads of Endermere.
But, the houses dwindled, the view turning more and more into country roads dotted with older mansions.
Well, this must be my new neighborhood. Sighing loudly, Blythe wondered how her friends from the spaceship had fared.
Their spacecraft crashing into Endermere had not been planned, regardless of how the news media apparently had been portraying it. Listening to the judges today had been enlightening. Their fear and…the deaths. Blythe winced, feeling sad about the loss of life, but anger roiled within her.
Instead of being treated as professionals, revered and respected for their intelligence and skills, she and her shipmates had been treated as criminals, put in handcuffs and chains. The uncontrollable anger within her boiled over—several times a days—and exhibited itself in biting, clawing, and fighting anyone and everyone in her path.
Leaving a good impression usually wasn’t a concern. As a sociologist, she in particular, understood the importance of conveying accurately the mannerisms and social norms of humans, and being self-aware she had no doubt almost everyone meeting her thought the human race was rabid.
Billex maneuvered the vehicle at a much slower pace between close-set trees leading toward the house. Although the day had been cloudy and it was now nearing dusk, in the distance she could see what resembled an old Victorian on Terra. The mansion had a large, rounded downstairs parlor, with an adjoined full front porch running the full width of the house with rounded turrets on the second and third stories. The deep burgundy siding with black shutters gave it an ominous feel, and Blythe wondered at the people inside who wanted their guests to feel uncomfortable, greeted by the darkness as they came up the drive.
The late afternoon sun cast elongated shadows from the turrets, darkening the already deeply shaded porch.
“Is this where the doctor and his family live?”
Billex gave her a cursory glance, distracted with the vehicle. “Yes, it is. But he has no family, Blythe. You’re his first and only ward.”
Well maybe she’d lucked out after all. She at least didn’t have to deal with any orders, restrictions, or bullying from anyone else.
He pulled the car to an abrupt stop right at the front steps and pressed a button, The vehicle slowly descended, bumping loudly onto the concrete sidewalk, the doors opening on their own.
Blythe tilted her head, looking up at the house she’d be calling home. A shiver ran through her body, goose bumps rising on her skin. Dried fall leaves swirled in the air and on the ground...
And, once again, she thought how similar Endermere was to Earth. The chill in the air made her wonder if they received snow here or if this would be as cold as it got, similar to living in the southern part of the United States on Earth.
Billex exited, his large frame rounding the front of the vehicle, maintaining eye contact with her, opening the hatch-like door, he jutted his huge hand out to her, a silent command for her to exit the vehicle as well. She tentatively put her hand into his palm, amazed at the difference in size. The men here were just enormous. Billex was bald, his too large head looking dwarfed by his bulky mass. The large barrel chest, along with his height, had her cowering, marveling that his upper arm had to be the size of her thigh.
Unfolding herself from the vehicle, she stood next to him, coming only to the center of his chest. Looking up, she swallowed loudly.
“If you can conduct yourself like a nice young lady and refrain from biting for more than a few minutes, I’m sure Doc will take that mask off. I’m betting you’re right pretty without it, too.” He wrapped an arm around her waist, jostling her gently in warning. “Behave!”
They trudged up the stone steps to a heavy, wooden black arched door. The porch was filled with dead, dry old leaves from the numerous trees surrounding the property.
Blythe quickly looked around to see if there were any houses nearby. None in sight. That didn’t bode well for her. If she were to run, the prospect of finding haven in a neighbor’s abode didn’t seem to be an option. She didn’t care. She must run. Run anywhere…somewhere. Anything would be safer….than this. This house did not look safe—in the least.
“You’ll not be running from here, girl. Trust me.” Billex wagged his finger near her nose. “And if you do, you won’t be doing it again. You can trust me on that, too.”
The heavy wooden door creaked open, and Billex pushed her through the entryway with a hand to the small of her back.
Her eyes took a minute to adjust to the dark foyer. tall candelabra were lit among the shadows, as well as sconces on the walls. It was as if the owner was trying to mimic an old Victorian house.
She quickly blinked, trying her damndest to quicken the transition.
“I love watching you humans adjust from dark to light. It’s really a hindrance in your makeup, if you ask me. Maybe Doc can fix that.”
She’d be damned if anyone was going to fuck with her eyes. She lunged forward, snapping her teeth at him.
Billex narrowed his eyes, before stalking straight for her, and before she could back away from the angry beast, he snatched her arm almost out of its socket, turning her sideways, swatting her backside several times—hard.
Blythe shouted, dancing in a circle hoping to get away from that hand the size of a pizza paddle, to no avail. It was over quickly, and she swiped angrily at the tears that came unbidden. The unbearable sting, only from the man’s hand, had her warring to not rub her offended, angry posterior.
“I see my naughty ward is here and has already earned herself a spanking.”
Blythe turned to see a very tall—and very handsome—man standing at the top of the staircase. If possible, he was taller than Billex. His body was lean, but muscular, not as bulky as his driver. At his furrowed eyebrows and jaw clenching tightly, a tic noticeable even from a distance, she felt her heart quicken. He’s angry. The doctor tsked loudly, his shoes stomping heavily as he came down the gleaming wooden staircase to stand before her.
She barely came to the middle of his chest, her gaze skittering up to his dark eyes burrowing into her. His eyes were so black, she couldn’t even see the pupils. Although he appeared to be middle-aged, with a few gray hairs at his temples, she found him more attractive than she’d normally would have if she’d met him on Earth. Most men his age did nothing for her, but he had her stomach fluttering—and she couldn’t tell if it was from fear from the mere size of him or if it was something more.
His large hand pushed a shock of black curls back from the middle of his forehead, The
thick hair unruly and appeared a bit unkempt, which didn’t seem to fit with his refined and fastidious appearance.
His face didn’t break into a smile or even a glimmer of friendliness. In a woman it would be called a resting bitch face, but in men it was considered authoritarian, stern, unyielding—regardless it made her uncomfortable.
He stepped up to her, standing much too close, invading her personal space, but she refused to step back. Blythe never retreated and never showed fear—even if her insides and mind were screaming for her to wave a white flag in surrender. If—or when—she finally surrendered, it was with a great deal of sweat and fighting, and the resultant submission was usually accompanied with a great deal of tears and anger.
She’d been that way since she was a little girl, and no matter how diligently teachers, parents, and the military tried to hinder this trait, she remained a feisty. These days a pretty subdued—but a fighter nonetheless.
She kept her gaze on his chiseled features: a stern straight nose, narrowed black eyes with a hint of a five o’clock shadow and pencil moustache that should have had her questioning her decision to stand nose-to-chest with this giant, but she glared back, trying her damndest to match his austere expression.
“What did you do, naughty girl, to provoke Billex to paddle your bottom? Mmmm? He’s a very even-tempered man—unlike myself.” When she hesitated for a bit too long, he leaned closer to her. “Speak, girl.” His rumbling voice vibrated through her—her clit and body trembled.
“I-I snapped my teeth at him.” She hated that her voice quivered, but his height and dark countenance had set her nerves on edge.
He clasped his large hands behind him, walking slowly around her as he spoke. “I see. I’m Dr. Xan Breckett. My friends call me Doc or Xan—you, however, will call me Master. Clear?” He stood in front of her again, looking down his hooked nose at her.
“Yes, Sir—Master.”
“Good girl.” He tapped his large forefinger on the little barred opening in front of her teeth. “I think it’s time to take this off, now.”
“Sir, I wouldn’t, if I were you. She was quite a hazard at the prison. They were barely able to manage her with it on.” Billex shook his head solemnly.
“She should be able to choose whether she’ll behave or not.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Xan slid the metal mask off her face, the cool air brushing against her sweat and drool-covered face. The relief had her closing her eyes momentarily. She reached up, running her fingers through her auburn red hair, untangling the knots she’d accumulated with the entire trauma and fighting with guards at the detention center. She desperately needed to wash and brush it.
Her captor stood looking at her, his eyes roaming slowly up and down her body. Assessing and measuring. Tallying, she had no doubt, the positives and negatives about her—like one would do at a slave market.
Blythe lunged forward, sinking her teeth into the meaty part of his hand just below his thumb, not intending to release him anytime soon, either. The vile chemical taste filled her mouth just as it had with the guards at the jail. The blood of these aliens on Pra’kir didn’t have the coppery metallic taste of humans, but bitter sulfur that made her gag reflex kick in. She struggled to hold back, not wanting to vomit like she had with a prison guard.
She’d never been one to bite—not even as a child—and had no recollection of ever committing such an act before, but since coming to Endermere, she’d bitten more people than ever before. Desperate times call for desperate measures. She’d never felt this vulnerable…or alone. It was the only way she’d found to protect herself.
Xan pulled something out of his pocket, pressing metal prongs into her neck and shouting, “Behave! Level Two!”
Blythe’s body stiffened, the searing jolt coursing from her neck to her toes, she convulsed, her teeth freeing his hand immediately. Once the shock ended, she growled, bending over, putting her hands on her knees, catching her breath. “Oh my God. Oh my God.” All the muscles in her body were so tense and tight, she had to concentrate to unclench.
Xan snapped the collar around her neck, the prongs cold on her skin. Her hands went up to it, feeling the thick cloth with her fingers, gliding along the length until bumping up against the prongs only to hear a jingle.
“That was a shock collar, my dear…and, as you’ve noticed, a bell to keep track of your movements. When a naughty pet…or woman…misbehaves, I depress this button.” He showed her the remote. “Or, even better, we can shock them with a voice command. I have this one programmed to shock with the words stop, again, or now.” He rubbed her back lightly, “And, I also have a weaker, warning shock for behave. I’ll probably add words just for you, pet. It’s effective, yes?”
She slowly straightened. “Yes. It is.” She wouldn’t react now, needing to let her body recuperate. But, when she did? He’d be fucking sorry.
“Yes, Master.” He corrected her. “Say it.” He rubbed at the bleeding bite mark on his hand.
Blythe narrowed her eyes. How dare he. Apparently the good doctor needed to learn she wouldn’t be someone who would succumb to his edicts, at least not without one hell of a fight. She and her friends may have crashed onto their planet, causing loss of life and destroying their coastal properties, but she’d be damned if she’d continue to be treated as a criminal...and more importantly, a misbehaving animal. It was one thing to call someone Sir, but to call them Master. She took a step toward him, her intention to bite him—hard.
Xan shouted, “Now!”
The electric shock ran through her body once again, causing all her extremities to shiver. A yelp escaped from her, hoping in desperation to rip it off, both hands grabbing at the collar
“Obedience, girl. You’ll be required to obey me in all matters. Call me Master.” With a smug smirk, he had the audacity to wink at her.
“Fuck you!” Blythe spat the answer. She’d be damned if she’d buckle under this easily, and most definitely he’d have a fight on his hands if he thought he’d train her like an animal. She gnashed her teeth on air, growling at him.
Xan shook his head, quietly clucking his tongue at her. “I wouldn’t do that, pet. But the choice on how we proceed is up to you.” He turned looking at his tall assistant. “Billex, it appears I’ll have to go to the next level. Please bring me the insertable with the removable core.”
“Yes, Doc.” Billex lumbered up the dark staircase, slowly disappearing out of sight.
Craning his neck, Xan shouted after him. “Oh, Billex, bring me the large oak paddle, too.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Xan roughly grabbed her by the upper arm, dragging her into an old-fashioned parlor. The room was dark, with only a small lamp providing light. He sat in the armless chair in his rounded parlor facing the expansive porch she’d seen while climbing the steps to the mansion. He stood her between his knees, but even sitting he was taller than she was, requiring her to look up at him.
Blythe felt unsure, and his unnatural calmness gave her no comfort. His grip her arm tightened, his other hand resting on her hip—a little too comfortably.
“Let’s get these clothes off. You’ll have no need of them while you stay here.” Reaching around her, he quickly undid the zipper on the back of her suit, dragging it down from her left shoulder. “Don’t you dare bite me, again. You’re going to be suffering the consequences of one bite and an attempt. Trust me when I say you don’t want to deal with the comeuppance for two bites in addition to an attempt.”
She didn’t like the sound of that at all. Clutching the yellow jumpsuit tightly in her hands, she refused to let go. She’d be fucking damned if she’d let him bare her.
Squeezing her tiny, tightly clenched fists, he flicked both her hands out of his way, tugging on the material, the whole suit puddling at her ankles, leaving her in only her birthday suit.
Staring intently at her breasts, the man actually licked his lips before sliding his gaze down to her sex.
Xan inhaled
deeply, shuttering his eyes with a barely concealed moan. “You have no hair on your pussy. Do you shave or wax?” He eased his finger along the tightly pressed seam of her sex, stretching it open before slipping it along her labia.
Blythe gasped, trying to pull away, but the grip he still had on her upper arm prevented her from moving.
“Don’t make me shock you again, little one. You—along with your pretty pussy—are mine now, to do with as I please. And right now? I wish to slide my finger through your juices, smelling and tasting you. You’re my new toy, and since I like to play with all my toys, I wish to play with you.”
She opened her mouth—not sure if she wanted to answer his question or to bite him, but as God was her witness, he’d suffer dearly before she allowed herself to become his toy.
“Behave! Level 2.”
The shock running through her neck and down to her feet had her quaking. She gritted her teeth, clenching tightly. With every shock, her nerve endings became raw. There were five quick pulses, each one making her stiffen.
“I’m sorry, -Sir—Master.”
With a nod of his head, he commanded with a clear, loud voice, “Warning. Stop.”
She loudly exhaled, taking in a deep breath, adrenalin rushing through her veins. And, strangely, her clit had begun to throb. Dear God. Not in response to this, not here, and most definitely not now! It wouldn’t be the first time her body had reacted to pain in a sexual manner, but she didn’t need him noticing the side of her that enjoyed a bit of torture and the struggle.
He inhaled deeply, letting his gaze drop to her pussy. “I’m going to ask the question again, now that I believe you’ll be a good girl. So do you have no hair on your pussy? Or did you shave it?”
It galled her to answer it, but it frightened her more to think of receiving another shock. “I had the hair on my sex permanently lasered. I have no hair there.”
The Alien's Mark (Captives of Pra'kir Book 4) Page 3