by Corin Cain
Gods – it’s too fucking big! Like a python crawling down his thigh.
My eyes flit left and right – and I see that each of Marcel’s battle brothers is packing an equally impressive shaft within their shorts.
Goosebumps ripple across my skin. My nipples pucker and harden. I have to press my thighs together tightly as my pulse throbs between my legs.
A moment before I’m the one who loses control, I rush through the door Marcel pointed to – emerging into a luxurious bedroom and leaving Tessa behind me.
The bedroom is as sprawling as the lounge, but spartan in comparison. A big bed – far bigger than what we consider ‘king-sized’ on my home world – dominates the room. The furnishings of these quarters are very clearly designed to host Aurelians, which utterly confuses me. Although the two species hold an uneasy peace at the present moment, they’ve been in rivalry for dominance for a thousand human lifetimes.
The other thing that strikes me is how the bed is messy. The Aurelians don’t strike me as the sort to leave such disorganization. There’s something very strange about seeing an unmade bed in here – as if the warrior who slept here had neither the time or inclination to tuck in the blankets and make it look presentable.
But, if one thing has become clear, it’s that Marcel and his two battle brothers defy practically all the assumptions I’d held about their species. Once again, I try to fathom any justification for the three Aurelians to be on this Toad ship, and partaking in a slave auction. My trembling body is screaming for an excuse – for some explanation that isn’t as brutal as profiting from piracy and slavery.
I want to believe they’re not as evil and immoral as the circumstances suggest. I try to think about their presence logically. Surely, even if the profits from buying and selling slaves are huge, no right-minded Aurelian would risk involvement – right?
If the Aurelian Empire found out what they were doing, Marcel and his two battle-brothers would instantly be placed on the Aurelian Kill List – a death sentence. Everybody in the universe knows that once Aurelian Law Enforcement get the scent of a slave-trading Rogue Aurelian, they don’t stop pursuing them until the rebel is behind bars or executed.
The bedroom leads to the showers that Marcel promised. My skin feels clammy and sticky as I walk into the bathroom, and I’m eager to feel clean for the first time in what seems like a lifetime.
The bathroom is no less impressive than the other two rooms. It has a wide mirror on one wall, and a huge shower cubicle built to the towering dimensions of an Aurelian. The cubicle has gleaming, glass partitions – so well-polished it’s as if they’re not even there.
I step inside the cubicle, and instantly my imagination paints the vision of the three Aurelians eagerly following me into the bathroom. I’m utterly naked, and they want me. Any one of the triad could step into this huge shower and slam me up against the glass – sinking their huge cock straight inside me.
I mean, I saw the look in their eyes – I’m not wrong. Tessa is beautiful, and was as naked as I am now, but it was like they didn’t even notice her while I was standing in front of them.
My mind races to explain that, too.
Glancing around the shower, I see that there are no faucets, or controls.
“Water on,” I command – assuming that this shower is voice-activated, and linked to an AI.
Nothing happens.
I try again.
“Scalding fucking hot!”
I need the near-burning heat to cleanse me – not just my filthy body, but my soul and mind. Yet, three seconds pass by and nothing happens. With a snarl, I slam my hand up against the glass – and that’s when water begins to cascade down, beautifully hot and cleansing.
As I lather myself in the deliciously hot water, my mind races. I wasn’t imagining it – those three Aurelians only had eyes for me. It was as if Tessa had as much sexual allure as a chair, or table.
I wonder…
There’s only one thing Aurelians truly crave – the explanation for their relentless obsession with collecting and rutting as many human females as they can get their huge hands on:
Finding their Fated Mate.
A sudden chill runs down my spine, despite the scalding water.
Could it be?
If the three Aurelians aren’t remotely interested in Tessa, perhaps it means they’ve caught the scent of a potential Mate…
My scent.
I shudder as I allow my imagination to follow that thread – to imagine being Bonded to the three dominant aliens.
For a second, a pulse of arousal flows through me – but then it chills beneath the deluge of hot water. I literally pray to the Gods that I’m not linked to the three Aurelians – these three in particular.
As gorgeous as they are, the fuckers are working with Toads. These luxurious living quarters? They’re symbolic of the place of honor the Aurelians hold aboard this slave ship. Even the Captain of this mothership, when his voice roared through the speaker in the auction chamber, sided with them over another of his own kind.
But that could explain Marcel’s behavior, and the way the three of them stared so hungrily at me as if Tessa wasn’t even in the room.
The Bond.
The fucking Bond!
It seems like every Aurelian has developed a renewed obsession with the Bond, ever since Queen Jasmine took the throne. She ushered in a new era of mating and breeding for the Aurelians when she was found to be Bonded to Emperor Raegan’s triad – the first such Bond to be forged in countless centuries.
And the irony? Jasmine was nothing before that happened – just some scavenger on a distant, alien planet. She was sold to three Aurelian gladiators – warriors who later challenged the ruling Emperor and took control of the Aurelian Empire through brutality and violence.
Queen Jasmine may wear the crown, but she’s nothing but a useful puppet to the Aurelian Empire. That’s all women can ever be to these beasts. I’m shocked she even managed to gain political influence, and pass laws promoting the fair treatment of humans – especially the women who join Aurelian harems.
But her political achievements don’t make up for the real value Jasmine has – or the fact that she spends most of her days being used by her triad. Sometimes, their rough mating is even broadcast on holo-vid, so the entire universe can watch her being bred.
It’s when she’s pregnant that you see the truth though – the real and only purpose human females have to the Empire. Jasmine’s tits swell up, filled with milk for the next massive, alien babe she has growing inside of her. Her body contorts and adapts in a way that seemingly defies biology – and demonstrates that she’s truly little more than breeding stock for a species desperate for survival.
Jasmine has born almost twenty Aurelian sons since she took to the throne – and she’s destined to birth countless more in the remainder of her massively-extended lifetime.
I can never be like her. I can’t let myself be like her.
I shake my head, returning to the moment. Steam has now filled the shower until I can barely see my hands.
“Cool down,” I command, and this time the AI listens. After a few seconds delay, the temperature lowers until the water is simply hot, not scalding.
The filth of the Toads is finally washing off me. I’ve been lathering myself with a bar of black soap, which seems to be the only toiletry in the cubicle. It has a pleasant, but masculine scent – but I don’t care. I use the soap to scrub my face and body until my skin is red and tingling, and yet I still feel like I’ll never feel truly cleansed of the filthy Toad hands that squeezed and groped me.
As I wash, my mind wanders – and I find myself wondering which of the three Aurelians sleeps in this ensuite bedroom. One of those towering gorgeous creatures has stood right where I’m standing now – and my mind clouds with a vision of him rubbing this very bar of soap over his beautiful, marble-white muscles. An illicit shiver ripples down my spine.
Don’t you dare think of them!
>
But I can’t help it. Marcel and his battle-brothers might be assholes. They might be working with Toad slavers. They might be Rogue Aurelians – hunted by Law Enforcement for turning their broad backs on the law of their Empire…
…but the three of them are still perfect specimens of Aurelian masculinity.
I remember the way my body responded when I knelt in front of Marcel. I remember how vividly dark desires welled up inside of me – desires I never knew existed within me, but that are now undeniable.
That’s the other problem with the Bond. I don’t know if this rumor is true or not, but I’ve heard people whisper that there’s a dark influence the Bond elicits in a Fated Mate – one of those astronomically rare women who can bear the sons of a specific Aurelian triad.
The rumor is that the Bond lures out whatever dark desires you had buried deep down inside – and once it does so, it becomes impossible to push them back down.
They’re the deep, dark thoughts you only catch a glimpse of when you’re at your most open and vulnerable – like when you’re on the brink of falling asleep. They’re the deliciously forbidden images that flash in your mind as you climax in orgasm. They’re the you that you’ve been conditioned to repress.
Each woman’s darkest desire is unique, and I’m shocked at mine.
I discovered a pulse-pounding thrill in the feeling of submission, and in being controlled. When I was leashed to Marcel, it turned me on in a way I don’t want to understand.
If I somehow was Bonded to these three men, those dark desires would grow so powerfully inside of me that they’d take over my mind completely – and then I’d become a slave to the Aurelians in a way no amount of credits could ever have paid for.
Again, I snap myself from my thoughts – and realize I’ve scrubbed the same spot on my leg over and over again, until the skin is bright red.
I don’t stop, though. I want to take a layer of skin off if I have to – that tainted layer which bore the slimy handprints of those disgusting Toad guards.
But the Toads are the least of my problems right now. I have to figure out what’s going to happen to me now in the possession of those three Aurelians?
I have so many questions. Are they living on this Toad mothership long term? The luxurious living quarters would certainly suggest so.
But maybe they’re just here for the auction. Will they get me and Tessa off this floating hellhole?
But what if they do? What happens then?
And what happens if I am Bonded to them?
I know the chances are one in a million – no, a billion. But the problem with chances are that they’re real – and sometimes you beat the odds. That’s how Queen Jasmine became Bonded to her triad – and the other Bonded women who followed her.
And it’s not all bad. There is one advantage to the Bond.
Aurelian warriors typically live for thousands of years – assuming a Scorp doesn’t end them first – and the older they get, the slower they appear to age.
Because she’s destined to bear her triad sons, a Fated Mate finds her DNA rewritten to extend her own lifespan – until it matches that of her three Aurelian partners.
Would I even want that?
I’d been running away when the Elnor was captured by the Toads – and my plan wasn’t a bad one. Maybe it would be best to find a hidden, peaceful planet like I’d originally been headed to, so I could live out the remainder of my natural, human-scale life in safety.
I’ve led such a fraught existence in my short life already, I don’t think I could deal with thousands of years of additional life. In this fucking universe? It could be a curse.
I look down. My skin is now tingling and pink. The shower was the first time I’d had a moment to think for myself since I first rose from my little bed back on the Elnor.
Being aboard that ship seems a lifetime ago now. I’d been thinking about the odds of being Bonded, but surely everything that’s happened to me so far has been a game of chances.
Just think – if I hadn’t decided to go for a walk that day, I never would have met Tessa – or saved her from that rapist.
At least now I smell better.
Everyone on that death trap was ripe – but I’d become used to the smell. Now, for the first time in as long as I can remember, I actually feel clean and pure.
“Off,” I command – and after a two-heartbeat delay, the AI shuts the water off.
My mind races, and I find an explanation for the delay. The AI must be translating my commands from the Common tongue to the language of the Toads. Does that offer me any clue as to how long the Aurelians plan to remain on board?
Now I’ve had time to think, my mind is sharpening. It feels like I’m waking up from a deep fog – one that I’ve been submerged in ever since Ling’s death. I don’t think I can ever be the old me again, but I’m starting to feel aspects of her rising up inside me again, even as I let myself crave the dominance of the three Aurelians who’ve purchased me.
As the final drop of water falls, hot air suddenly blows on me from all directions. My tingling skin is dry within seconds – and my hair becomes a big, frizzy mess.
I step out of the shower, spotting my reflection in that huge mirror. Glancing around, I fail to find a comb or a brush – which makes sense. The Aurelians – with their close-cropped buzz cuts – have no need for such things.
Maybe I should just shave my damn hair off! I could ask one of the Aurelians to give me a trim with their Orb-Blade.
But I’ve got a more pressing problem first – I’ve got no clothes.
I’m completely naked – although, in a way, I feel like the Aurelians could already see right through me, even when I was wearing clothes. Now, I start to wonder: If they can smell my arousal, who’s to say they can’t smell my fear, as well? Or my anger – or any other emotion?
I bite my lip, remembering what I’d promised these three, towering alien warriors if they bought Tessa from that disgusting Bullfrog...
Anything.
Literally, anything they want.
Now, I fear they’ll be expecting me to emerge from the shower naked and ready – willing to immediately sate whatever unquenchable desires they have boiling up inside of them.
The worst part? What alternative do I have?
A deal’s a deal, right? And if I did try to escape, where would I even go? They haven’t taken Tessa or I off this Toad mothership yet – and assuming I even managed to escape these dry, clean quarters, it would leave me back out there – stumbling through ankle-deep filth, helpless and naked, and trapped on a ship full of far more terrifying, disgusting monsters than Marcel and his warrior triad.
I have no other options. I promised them anything they wanted – and now I have to deliver. When I emerge from this bathroom, any of those three Aurelians could snap their fingers and order me to my knees – to pleasure each of them, or all of them. If I so much as hesitate, the consequences could be unthinkable. I’m not eager to experience the famous Aurelian discipline.
Or, am I?
I shudder, feeling those dark desires bubbling up inside me again – the ones I never even knew I had.
I’ve heard tales from Aurelian harems – whispered rumors discussed in drinking dens and behind closed doors. It’s no secret that Aurelians get off on dominance and obedience – and that they love to spank and whip their women even if their transgressions are minor.
For their species, discipline is part of the sex act – conducted for their own dominant enjoyment.
It sounds unthinkable – depraved and sadistic – but a strange shiver ripples through my body as I imagine how powerless and small I would feel if these three Aurelians decided to discipline me. I’d feel like a child’s doll, tossed over the lap of one of the three enormous creatures. I know the species enjoys taming their women, and I know I still give off the air of a feral wildcat in comparison to the women who volunteer for service in Aurelian harems.
I’m not sure if I feel so feral
anymore – but I do still remember back when I couldn’t have been tamed. The old me would have remained defiant to the last second.
Now, though, I just want to feel safe again. That’s all I wanted after Ling was stolen from me. It’s what led me to board the Elnor, and flee for a distant world – and yet, ironically enough, it delivered me right into the very situation I was so eager to escape from.
I take a deep breath. Old habits die hard. Today, I’ve already demonstrated how the old me is coming back, little by little. If the old me hadn’t urged me to risk punishment, and plead for the help of the Aurelians, Tessa would still be with that grotesque, sadistic Bullfrog right now.
Yes, the old me is coming back – and while I’m trembling with trepidation, I realize I don’t feel scared of the Aurelians – not like I did when that scarred Bullfrog threatened to buy me.
If Marcel and his battle-brothers had evil intentions, surely they wouldn’t have even let me take a shower unsupervised. They have no need to – in their minds, I am their property, after all, and property has no expectation of privacy.
They haven’t touched me, either – not yet. That tells me something.
I feel their need for me – that much is as real as the deck beneath my bare feet. I felt how close the three Aurelians came to snapping, and how the sight of my naked body was almost too much for them to resist…
...but only almost. Something inside them wants to resist my allure – or needs to.
And in that case? I shouldn’t tempt them…
In different circumstances, that wouldn’t even have been a consideration. Yet now, some dark and traitorous part of me wants them to lose control.
I want them to take me.
In fact I’m shocked – perhaps even disappointed – that I’m not already on the floor back there. My pulse races at the thought of being pinned down by one of those enormous alien warriors – on my knees, back arched as they pound me from behind, or perhaps thrown across the couch as each of them take their turn with me.
Heat instantly rises between my thighs as I explore these visions, and my clit tingles inexorably. My breath hitches as I realize I want to be filled by them. My body is in rebellion against my rational mind. Logically, I know these creatures are evil. Logically, I know they’re slavers – profiting from their business relationship with the Toads; choosing wealth and women over loyalty to the noble principles of the Aurelian Empire.