A few seconds later, she had her answer. Balam shoved aside the Jamrons, leaning low over the table to stare down at her with another of those cold smiles. “I won’t have your stubbornness costing me money. One way or another, by the time the others arrive for the auction, you will learn how to be a good Gadolinean whore.”
He muttered it low enough for only her to hear, this time in fluent Gadolinean. The man was full of surprises. “You’ll be begging me to let the slimy reptilians fuck you anywhere they want with those skinny little appendages of theirs.” Then he reached down, grabbed her shoulders and, in one powerful move, flipped her so she was lying face-down on the table.
He moved so quickly that Talia’s head slammed into the table top, sending a dizzying jolt of pain through her. She struggled to break free of his grip. He laughed and pushed her knees up under her so that her bottom angled up in the air, then motioned the Jamrons to hold her down. They swarmed around her again, those disgusting clammy finger-like appendages making her cringe as they snaked over her naked body.
She felt one of them worming its way from her waist down along the crease between her bottom cheeks and bit back a scream. She’d understood their exchange well enough to know that Balam had offered up access to her bottom hole as a selling point to the Jamrons.
She’d never been violated anally, never even knew there were beings so depraved that they indulged in such an action. The thought of one of those writhing alien appendages taking her there was enough to cause a full-blown panic attack.
She fought with all her strength. Twisting, squirming, bucking—until the shock of a slab of wood coming down hard on her bottom cheeks drove the breath from her lungs. Before she had time to recover, she heard a second harsh smack echo off the stone walls—then the searing heat. Followed by the pain. Pain such as she’d never felt before. A blistering wave of agony that ripped an involuntary shriek from her.
She went wild, trying to shake off the creatures that held her down. Behind her, she heard Balam’s evil laugh. “This is only the beginning. I thought all Gadolinean women were spanked regularly. Do your men not know how to do a proper job?”
He smacked her again with the flat board, hard enough to make her bite her lip to keep from screaming. He wanted to see her break down, beg for mercy. But she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Her stubborn refusal to make a sound after that angered him even more. He began spanking her hard and fast, each whack sending another lick of flame across her tender bottom.
Back home, no one had ever laid a hand on her before. Not in tenderness and certainly not in anger. She squeezed her eyes shut to keep the tears from flowing. She’d heard of spanking—an archaic form of discipline used on Earth by early humans who resorted to brute force because they lacked the intelligence to exert control over others with logic and reasoning. But until now, she’d never known just how powerful a tool it could be. The harsh pain, the degradation of being in this humiliating position, the feeling of total helplessness—all combined, it took every ounce of willpower she had to keep from begging him to stop.
He’d said Gadolinean women were regularly spanked. Surely if they could stand it, so could she. Gritting her teeth, she tried to disconnect her mind from the blistering assault and set to work imagining all the ways she’d have her revenge against this cruel subhuman creature.
It seemed as though hours passed, but her rational mind said no one could maintain the intensity of her punishment for that long. When he finally stopped, she sagged against the table top, no longer needing Jamronian arms to keep her in place.
Through a haze of pain, she was dimly aware of Balam’s voice directed to the angry Jamron she’d kicked. “As you can see, all the fight has been whacked out of her. You could do whatever you wanted to her right now, and I guarantee she’d be willing, even eager to submit.”
The high-pitched voice responded from somewhere behind her. Dimly, Talia realized that the Jamrons had all witnessed her humiliating punishment. She’d been so caught up in pain and misery toward the end that she hadn’t even felt their arms holding her down any longer. She’d forgotten they were in the room.
“Yes. She good. Now. But later? We buy, you punish again before we take.”
“Don’t worry. I’m bringing in two trainers from Axion 5. She’ll have daily sessions with them before the auction. By the time you have to lay out your money, you’ll be happy to pay any price for her.”
Chapter Three
Talia sank gratefully to her knees as the wooden door slammed shut behind her. She was so thankful to be alone, she didn’t mind the darkness, the ominous rustling sounds in the pile of straw.
Shaking, scared, she gave way to the tears she’d valiantly held in for so long. Talia had never cried before. Never had any reason to. But now the wracking sobs came unbidden from somewhere deep inside. She cried until her head pounded and her throat was raw. Cried from the pain. The shame. The fear of what else awaited her in this harsh alien world. Every nerve ending on her body screamed that it could take no more.
She longed to be back in her spotlessly clean, sterile white apartment on the 213th floor overlooking New Delphi from above. Far from the sounds of so many people, the constraints of body against body, the smells. She’d never known living creatures could smell so bad.
Nothing in her years of training, in all her instruction for this posting, had prepared her for the vicious onslaught she’d been subjected to. Physical arousal, assault, sexual violation, engaging in actual combat, touching the dead body of a friend and comrade… Sensory overload! Sensory overload! her brain shrieked over and over.
Gradually her sobs turned to gasping whimpers, then died away. She collapsed in a huddle and let the blessed relief of sleep overtake her.
* * *
Hunger woke her. A gnawing in her belly such as she’d never known. Back home, eating had never been important. She consumed adequate amounts of balanced nutritional supplements along with prepackaged meals at regular intervals. But now it was all she could think of.
As best she could tell, she hadn’t had food in two days. Her captors had given her only a flask of water when they put her in the cell. She reached around blindly for it. Putting the flask to her lips, she tried once again to ignore the smell. From the texture of it, the flask seemed to be made of some type of animal hide. When she first entered the cell, the unpleasant odor had made drinking impossible.
Now, overcome by thirst as well as hunger, she forced herself to take a tentative sip. No taste of chemical additives. She wondered how they sanitized the water here and decided she’d rather not think about that while drinking it.
Talia drank sparingly. Impossible to know how long she’d be held here, how long the water had to last. She heard voices in the hall, coming nearer, and shrank back against the wall, shivering when her bare skin came in contact with the cold stones. She heard a rough scraping sound, wood dragging against stone. The door opened again.
One of Balam’s men. She could tell by the powerful squat silhouette. Talia never thought she’d be grateful to see one of them. But unlike the slimy Jamrons, at least this being looked like a human. Her nose wrinkled again, this time in anticipation. The man had a rough wooden bowl in his hand, along with a rounded utensil with small prongs carved out of the end. Apparently it served as both spoon and fork. The bowl gave off a strange but compelling scent.
The man thrust the bowl at her. “Eat.”
She took it gratefully and dipped the utensil in. Some sort of stew. She thought she recognized a piece of carrot but the rest of the ingredients were unknown to her. From her research, she knew on this planet she’d likely be eating animal flesh cooked with root vegetables.
Talia had never eaten food so near to its original form. She touched her tongue to the tip of the spoon. A riot of sensation exploded in her mouth. Salty, tangy, and even a spicy heat, all at once. Gnawing hunger overcame her revulsion at eating an animal. She bit in and chewed. Amazing textures—the vegetables
soft and delicate, the animal flesh surprisingly tender. She’d never tasted anything so good.
Talia forced herself to eat slowly. She needed to gather strength if she was to escape and she didn’t know how her body would accept this strange form of nutrition.
She glanced up to see her captor eyeing her body with the same hunger she’d probably had on her face when she spied the bowl in his hand. Talia glared at him defiantly, hiding her fear of another assault. He saw her reaction and gave an annoyed grunt.
“Balam says we cannot fuck you. He wants you unused. Unbroken. He says you’re worth too much to him to be wasted on us.” His eyes narrowed. “But I can make your time here more pleasant—for both of us.” He reached under his loincloth, brought out his stubby little male organ and pumped it up and down with his fist. Already semi-hard, purple veins standing out. “You eat this,” he said, stroking himself all the while, “and I’ll see you have plenty more of that to eat.”
He stepped closer and grabbed a handful of her hair. Before he could do anything more, a stern command from the doorway had him backing off.
“Balam would not be pleased to hear you’ve ignored his orders.”
The shrill voice came from a rail-thin female, easily seven feet tall, dressed in a skin-tight black garment that covered her head to toe. Her elongated bald head, pointed chin and slanted yellow eyes told Talia she was from yet another world. Creatures living on different planets aged at different rates, so it was impossible to tell how old she might be. Only that she was no longer young.
“I did nothing, mistress. It was only talk. Please, do not tell him.”
The female laughed. Cackled, really. There was no warmth in the sound. “You know he’d cut off that puny little dick and make you wear it around your neck, just to remind the others that he’s not to be disobeyed.”
He scurried from the room, staying far away from her. She stepped into the cell. “Get up so I can take a look at you.”
The woman spoke in fluent Gadolinean. Talia put down the empty bowl and slowly rose to her full height.
The female’s eyes widened. “Big breasts. Wide mouth.” She cocked a finger. “Come here and turn around so I can see your ass.”
Talia didn’t move. The female took two steps forward and brought up her other hand. In a move so swift it was a blur, she lashed out with something thick and hard, striking Talia squarely on her bottom cheeks, still tender from Balam’s punishment. She gasped in shock and pain.
The female smiled and held up the implement. Roughly two feet long, and eight inches wide. “My special friend. Made of mastodon penis from Nazery. Thick and hard, yet supple enough to wrap around your ass with every stroke. With a nice rough texture that leaves nasty welts if I use it long enough.” As she spoke, she slapped it hard against the palm of her other hand, then held it up so Talia could see the red marks on it.
“Do as you’re told in the future. Immediately—and you might not have to become close friends with it.” She strode to the door of the cell. “Come along. We have work to do. Balam has set an ambitious timetable for this auction.”
Talia followed, hesitant to leave the safety of her cell. The female grabbed her arm and yanked her into the brightly lit passageway, then propelled her forward with another harsh whack from the penis strap. Talia bit off a cry.
“Follow me. And no more dawdling.”
She led the way down an endless series of hallways, winding deeper and deeper into the caverns that lay below the palace. The air felt even colder here, maybe because of the dampness, and Talia was shivering uncontrollably by the time they reached an ornate carved wooden doorway. The female threw open the doors to reveal a large square chamber. Torches lit the room, illuminating elaborate murals painted on the stone walls. Sailing ships, strange animals, battles between Norsemen and bizarre creatures. With its location deep in the heart of the palace’s foundation, where only a select few had access, Talia imagined this room had seen countless secret ceremonies. Rituals to beseech their gods for luck before battles and voyages of exploration. Victory celebrations or solemn wakes afterward.
Inside three other naked women huddled against the wall in one corner, while another tall, rail-thin figure in black strode back and forth in front of them, lecturing all the while.
“Here’s the last of them,” her handler said.
The figure turned. Talia stared. Though they could have been twins, something about the bearing of this one said it was a male. The chin was a bit stronger, the shoulders wider. Her companion shoved her forward, toward the other women.
She wondered if she looked as bedraggled as they did. Hair matted, bodies streaked with dirt from lying in the filthy straw. They stood there, shoulders bowed, heads bent, their bodies in poses of utter defeat.
The female walked up to stand next to the male. “We are Leto and Sori, your trainers. You will address us as master and mistress—but only when you are told to speak. Our job is to prepare you for the auction. If you learn well, you will be bought by a wealthy master, one who will make your fate bearable. If you do not cooperate, you will no doubt end up being sold to a Naritean whorehouse. Trust me, it’s not a place you want to spend what little will remain of your life.”
She looked them over with disdain. “I have no intention of even touching any of you until you’re cleaned up. I’ve called for hot water. Plenty of it. You will bathe and then wash each other’s hair before we begin your training.”
Talia let out a sigh of relief. The idea of being warm and clean was enough to lift her spirits. She’d been fed, now she’d be free of the filth and the disgusting tracks of insects that had crawled over her skin as she slept.
The other women seemed to perk up as well at the idea of a warm bath. Before long, four of Balam’s men appeared at the door bearing huge wooden tubs, one for each woman. They were followed by an endless line of men carrying buckets of steaming hot water. They stared greedily at the naked women, but under the stern gaze of Leto and Sori, they didn’t dare do anything except dump their burdens into the tubs and head back out the door for another round.
Despite the long journey from wherever the water had been heated, it was still comfortably warm when Sori ordered them in. Talia closed her eyes and sighed with pure pleasure when she lowered herself into the tub. She washed herself with the white lump she’d been given—some sort of primitive soap. It had a pleasing fragrance, as though infused with flowers or herbs. Different from the chemically reproduced floral scents back home. She sniffed. Lavender?
The heat of the water ignited the burn from Balam’s spanking, making her crouch in the tub instead of reclining with her bottom against the wood. Still she took her time, luxuriating in the sensation of being warm again.
Sori’s voice rang out and another young woman stepped out of her tub, dripping wet, to stand behind Talia. “I am to wash your hair,” she said in a soft voice.
Talia took a good look at her. Now that her face and body were clean, her head up, Talia realized it was the woman she’d seen in the street the day she arrived. Talia blushed like a guilty voyeur when the image popped into her head of that gnome brandishing his engorged penis in front of the woman’s face.
“I am called Talia,” she said, her voice pitched low so no one else could hear. “What is your name?”
“My name is Irna.”
Talia heard a swish, then the sharp crack of the mastodon penis against soft skin. The woman cried out.
“Silence!” Sori stood behind the woman, the whip in her hand. She drew her arm back and flicked it again, laying another stroke on the woman’s bare bottom. “You will not speak unless commanded to do so.”
The woman stifled a sob, bending forward to pour a stream of water from the bucket over Talia’s head. Sori drew her arm back to strike again.
Talia stood up. “I was the one at fault. She only answered a question I asked.”
Sori raised an eyebrow. “Shall I punish you as well?”
“We haven’
t learned your rules yet. Still, if you must punish someone, punish me instead of her.”
Behind her, she heard Irna’s gasp.
“Did you hear that, Leto? This one asks to be punished.” Sori laughed again, that toneless cackle. “Very well. The rest of you—watch and learn what happens when you break my rules.”
She dragged Talia out of the tub, into the center of the room.
“Rule number one—when you are to be punished, you will assume the proper position. Get on your knees. Now sit back on your heels, head up, chest out, eyes downcast, hands clasped behind your back.”
She walked in a complete circle around Talia, slapping the penis whip against her hand as she spoke. “You will stay in this position until your master or mistress informs you what your punishment is to be, for hours if necessary. For this first infraction, it will be ten strokes with the mastodon penis. Bend forward, put your head against the floor, and present your ass high in the air. When I finish, you will kiss the penis and thank me.”
Talia shuddered but bent forward until she felt the cold stone against her forehead.
“Arch your back. Stick that ass higher.”
Flushing with embarrassment, she did as she was told, raising her bottom high in the air. The first swish came immediately, followed by the sharp crack of the leather-like hide against her skin. The blast of heat came next. Then the wave of pain.
“The rest of you will count.” When they didn’t instantly comply, she swung the strap again. Talia bit off a cry.
“Count. Or I’ll whip her until you do, and then we’ll start the ten.”
Irna began. The others joined her. Tentative half-whispers. “O-one.”
The swish, then the crack, then the blast of pain.
“Two.”
His to Conquer (Alien Masters Book 3) Page 4