by Renee Rose
He swung the staff at Zander once again. Zander dived away into a graceful forward roll.
She bit her lips against the gasp that rose at his magnificence.
The two continued sparring wordlessly, shocking her with their athleticism and the pure art behind the fighting. Clearly, Zander had studied combat arts for most of his life. Watching him fight made her blood heat with desire. Her taut nipples scraped the fabric of the dress she wore, and her pussy soaked her panties with arousal.
She shifted her buttocks over one heel, hoping to press her sex against it to alleviate the growing pressure there. It didn’t work.
Zander’s gaze flicked to her.
His teacher nearly took Zander’s head off with a sword—they’d picked up new weapons several rounds before—but Zander dropped to the ground and rolled out of the way, springing back to his feet and going on the offensive.
Their tussle grew more aggressive, and Zander’s fierce determination coupled with the sheer physicality and feline grace of his moves had her clit pulsing, her skin on fire, her breath uneven.
At last, they finished. They both bowed, and Zander spoke to him in their own tongue. The older male’s thoughtful gaze flicked to her, but he left the chamber without another word. The moment the door snicked shut, Zander strode over to her and hauled her to her feet. He shoved her against the wall and gripped her jaw, bringing his gorgeous face close to hers. “Bad slave.”
She sucked in her breath. What had she done?
“How was I supposed to concentrate when your readouts were flashing your arousal levels the whole time?”
She flushed, her fear at his sudden assault instantly morphing to wanton need.
His thumb slid between her lips and she sucked on it. He attacked her with his mouth, kissing her. It was like no kiss she’d seen or experienced before. His tongue disciplined her, lashing between her lips. His teeth sank into her lower lip before he sucked it into his mouth. He held her head immobile for the onslaught, not allowing her to control any of it.
He pulled back, his eyes a glittering dark-violet. “You’re trembling. Are you scared?”
She couldn’t make her lips move to speak, but she shook her head no.
”Am I hurting you?”
She licked her lips. “Desire,” she managed to rasp out, her voice sounding hoarse.
He seized her again, cupping her ass and lifting her from the floor. “Do you want me to wash first?”
Was he really asking her? His slave? If she said yes, would he stop this and clean himself for her?
It didn’t matter. She wasn’t going to find out, because she needed him desperately, and his masculine sweat only heightened her lust.
“I like you this way,” she purred and wrapped her legs around his waist, clutching at his shoulders.
He released his cock from his pants and yanked her panties to the side.
“I’m going to veck you right here, little slave. Right here in the exercise room.” He speared her, his huge cock filling her and taking her breath away.
With her body pinned to the wall, he slammed in and out of her, asserting his claim over her with each aggressive stroke.
Take me.
She wanted it—needed release more than anything.
“I should take your ass to punish you for distracting me,” he said, pounding so hard she thought he might crush her against the wall. Though he continued to threaten anal sex, he had yet to follow through.
“No, no, no,” she moaned.
“You were a bad girl.”
“No,” she protested.
“No? Then you’d better squeeze my cock as hard as you can, little slave...ungh,” Zander groaned when she obeyed.
He neared climax. She recognized the way his face twitched, his eyes almost black-violet.
“Now, little slave. You’d better get ready. Climax, or I take your ass.” He orgasmed, thrusting deep inside her and holding her, pinned to the wall by his cock alone.
She screamed, her muscles convulsing around his cock in spasmodic squeezing, milking it for his seed. She’d been ready to come since the moment he began fighting, so the intensity of the orgasm made lights dance before her eyes.
When it passed, she went boneless, a limp rag, hardly able to hold her own head up.
A couple of tears leaked from the outer corners of her eyes.
Zander licked them and closed his eyes as if relishing the taste of her tears. “Did I hurt you?” His voice had gone tender, now. Holy star, how she loved this side of him.
She shook her head, even though he’d surely left bruises all up and down her back. She didn’t care. It had been explosively satisfying.
He scooped her into his arms, yanked her dress down, and carried her back to his chamber.
When they passed Gunt at the door, he narrowed his eyes at her, his mouth contorting as if he’d just eaten an insect. She didn’t think Zander noticed, but was grateful when the door snicked closed behind them.
Zander arranged her in her cage with a pillow under her hips to keep his seed in. She didn’t even mind the cage—her body still glowed from the sex, her pussy pulsing and sore, her blood humming.
He set a timer. “When that goes off, you may move. Take off your clothes and wait for my return. I have a few things to do after I go in the washtube.”
Her eyelids grew heavy and she drifted off to sleep, remembering the feel of Zander’s large hands on her body.
~.~
“My lord, a word?” Gunt, the guard stationed outside Zander’s room stopped him before he went in.
His mind on all the things he was going to do with his naked slave, he stopped with a touch of impatience. “Yes?”
“Your slave, my lord. She’s been trying to escape.”
He stared, his mind stuttering on Gunt’s words. “She can’t escape.” Every exit in the pod was guarded, and every guard in the pod understood she was not to be allowed out. Even if she found an exit—and he hadn’t heard that she had gone anywhere but where she was supposed to go—she would never be permitted through it.
“She offered her body to me in exchange for helping her escape, my lord.”
Zander’s torso flushed with a flash of cold, followed closely by red-hot rage. He lunged at Gunt, wrapping his fist in the guard’s tunic and shoving his back against the wall. “She what?”
The guard’s eyes widened in shock. “I didn’t do it—I wouldn’t, my lord,” he stammered. “I told her no, of course.”
He wanted to skin her alive. Lamira—his little slave, his breeder—had offered her vecking affections to his guards.
He dropped the male and activated the door, striding into his room, ready for battle.
“Cage open.” He stormed to it and grasped her ankle, yanking her roughly out.
“Zander,” she screamed in alarm.
“Do not speak my name.” His voice sounded like cold steel. It sounded more steady than he felt. He dropped her in a cowering heap at his feet.
Veck. Veckity veck veck. Not Lamira. Not his vecking slave.
“What’s wrong?” She stood up and tilted her deceitful face up to him.
“What’s wrong?” he repeated. “I have learned about your attempted escape.”
She went still, proving the truth of his words. Veck. He’d still somehow hoped it wasn’t true.
“I beg your pardon?” Her voice sounded choked.
“Oh yes, you’ll be begging my pardon for a long time to come,” he raged. The level of his anger was beyond any he’d ever experienced. How could a little human female inspire such depth of emotion in him?
He grasped her wrists and hauled her to the center of the room. With her arms pulled up over her head, he attached her cuffs to a strap hung from the ceiling. He pulled it taut until it lifted her up onto her toes.
“Zander, Zander, please.” She twisted and danced from the bindings, her naked body mocking him with its perfection. “Tell me what’s going on. What do you mean, my attempted escape?”
/> He strode to the box of implements and picked up a thick leather strap, sliced at the end to form two tongues. “Why don’t you tell me?” Pure ice in his voice. Ice he didn’t feel. In fact, he’d never boiled so hot in his life. Veck, he’d never felt this much emotion ever—not even when his parents were killed and his planet overtaken.
This was what came of breeding a human. Her overly large emotions had somehow affected his own.
He raised his arm and took aim, applying the strap across the center of her buttocks.
She screamed and twisted away from him, dancing on her toes. A red stripe bloomed across her flesh.
He shook his head. “Hold your position, Lamira, or this strap will fall on your hips and legs and hurt far worse.”
Her full lips trembled and green eyes swam with tears.
No. She would not gain his sympathy. Not this time.
He snapped the strap across her quivering cheeks again.
She cried out and danced away, but this time returned to position.
“Tell me about your plan to escape.”
“I have none!” she cried out.
If he didn’t know humans always lied, he’d think he heard genuine indignation in her voice.
“Liar,” he thundered, whipping her even harder.
Her scream hurt his ears, but he gritted his teeth and delivered another stroke and then another. The strap left a crisscrossing of puffy red welts across her buttocks.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She was crying already. He smelled the salt of her tears but had no desire to lick them this time.
“You betrayed me.”
Betray was a strong word. She wasn’t his mate, she was a slave. And slaves by nature try to escape. It was the reason he kept her in a cage, after all. But he had no rational outlook on what she had done. It burned in his gut, made him want to put his fist through a wall and smash everything in his chamber. Offering herself to Gunt. Gunt.
He whipped her again, across the backs of her legs this time.
The terror in her scream did move him, though he wished it did not. He wouldn’t whip her there anymore.
Instead, he whipped her ass, three times in rapid succession.
She danced and screamed and wept.
“Gunt told me.”
“Told you what?” she screeched. “That he’s stealing crystals from you and selling them on the black market?”
“Stop your lies,” he yelled, whipping her again. “He told me how you offered him sex if he’d help you escape. You deceitful little whore!”
“He’s lying!” she screamed back at him. “He offered that to me, not the other way around.”
“Zandians don’t lie, only humans have such little honor,” he shouted and whipped her three, four, five more times.
He stopped, struggling to slow his breath and regain his temper. It was all her fault.
Her ass was a swollen mess—covered in angry red welts. He couldn’t go on—not without breaking her delicate skin. He unhooked her wrists and tossed her on his sleeping platform.
She curled up in a little ball, hiccupping.
Unbelievably, his cuff flashed her readout.
Forty percent aroused.
She’d been aroused by the whipping?
Well, he’d breed her then. He didn’t care if he hurt her doing it. Hell, he should take her ass for this, but he didn’t have the control to be careful enough not to cause her real damage.
His head still swam with the shock of her deceit, her betrayal. He’d wanted to pound Gunt’s face in when he told him she’d offered herself up to him.
He grabbed her thighs and yanked her to the edge of the sleepdisk on her stomach.
She turned her tear-streaked face to the side, but stared only at the wall. She was listening, perhaps, for what he would do next.
He nudged her feet apart and she spread her legs, fully compliant, despite her pitiful sobs.
Something in his chest constricted.
No. He wouldn’t feel sorry for her. She deserved her punishment.
He shoved his pants down enough to free his cock.
She offered no resistance when he rubbed the head of his cock over her entrance. In fact, he found her pussy slick and welcoming.
He pushed in. His nostrils flared at the glory of her tight, moist heat. Even now, even after what she’d done, he wanted her as much as always.
Damn Daneth and his vecking program, picking this vecking human for him to breed with.
He slammed inside her, slapping his loins against her flayed ass without care.
She whimpered, still crying softly into his blankets.
No. No pity for her.
He pumped his hips, ignoring her readouts flashing her arousal rate. He didn’t care about her orgasm this time. He would leave his seed and she would take it up, like a good slave or she’d never leave her vecking cage again.
With punishing strokes, he pounded into her, squeezing his eyes closed to block out the noise in his head and the tightness in his chest. He didn’t draw it out on purpose. It certainly wasn’t her weeping that delayed his orgasm, but he vecked her so long, he grew tired of the position.
He flipped her over.
Her wide, frightened eyes made him grit his teeth. He would not be soft on her.
He clipped her wrists and ankles to the posts on his sleepdisk, spreading her limbs wide.
Her belly fluttered with her sobbing breaths, chest heaved. “I didn’t do it, Zander.” Her reddened eyelids fluttered.
“Silence,” he bellowed and slapped her face. It wasn’t a hard slap. He would never mark her beautiful face. He covered her mouth with his hand and mounted her.
~.~
Lamira closed her eyes. She couldn’t bear Zander’s angry countenance. The only thing keeping her from utter desperation was the tiny voice in her head saying, this means he cares. Because surely he would not be so angry over his belief she’d offered herself to Gunt if he didn’t feel something for her.
And that knowledge was as satisfying as his angry thrusts deep inside her. She needed this breeding—even as angry as he was. Even as helpless and vulnerable and hurting as she was. Her swollen ass flamed, tender and so raw against his soft sheets.
Zander growled and slammed into her three more times then came.
Her own body responded without any prompting, squeezing his cock, finding her finish in perfect synchronization to his. It was as if, despite all her mental rebellion, her body knew its master. It responded always to his presence, to his touch—whether harsh or gentle.
When he pulled out, he clipped her ankles to a hook on the ceiling, lifting her pelvis in the air with her striped ass on display.
She would have cried again, but she’d used up all her tears. She hung in her ridiculous position as numbness set in, a hollow right in the middle of her chest. She drew in a hiccupping breath and watched Zander turn away from her in disgust and stalk to the washroom once again.
He ignored her when he emerged, freshly washed. Walking to his work platform, he began flicking up holograms.
A light tap sounded at the door and it slid open.
“What?” Zander barked.
“Forgive me, my lord, but Lamira’s monitors show signs of stress.”
She couldn’t see Daneth from her shameful position, but she had no doubt he had full view of her most intimate parts.
“I don’t doubt it.” Zander’s voice was tight.
Daneth walked closer. She turned her face and closed her eyes as if that would keep him from examining her in intimate detail. “What happened?” he asked mildly.
“She offered herself to my guards in exchange for their help in escaping.”
“That is not true,” she gritted through clenched teeth.
“Do not speak, slave,” Zander thundered.
Daneth released her cuffs from their binds.
She rolled into a ball on her side, her legs and arms pricking with pins and needles as the blo
od returned to them.
“What happened to her back?”
Zander didn’t answer for a moment, and then his voice sounded close to the sleepdisk, as if he’d come to inspect her with Daneth. “I bred her up against a wall,” he said dully. “She told me I didn’t hurt her. Yet another lie.” The disgust in his voice made her chest ache.
“I will take her to the lab for monitoring, my lord.”
“No.” Zander’s voice was hard. “She stays here, with me.”
Daneth’s footsteps moved away then returned. He put the fluid tube to her lips. “Drink.”
She did because she was thirsty.
“Has she fed?”
“Not in hours, no.”
“I’ll send some food in. I recommend you allow her to rest. Stress will adversely impact her ability to breed.”
“Yes, well, so will escaping,” Zander snapped.
Daneth hesitated. “Of course, my lord.” He left and she heard Zander return to his work platform.
Several minutes later a soft tap sounded at the door again. She flicked the blanket across her body to cover her nudity and curled back into a ball.
“Shall I put the food in the cage, my Lord?” a subservient voice asked.
She tensed, waiting for his answer. She really didn’t want to go in the cage.
“Leave it over there by the sleeping platform.”
A small kindness. She may want to hate him, but he wasn’t all bad. She heard the clink of a tray being set on the floating table beside the sleeping platform. She ignored it.
“You may eat.”
So imperious. A good slave would sit up and thank him for giving her food despite her punishment.
She wasn’t a good slave. She wondered whether he would keep her. Yes his anger indicated he cared, but had he been pushed too far? The imagined loss of her position here, the thought of being sent back to the agrifarm came like a stab in the chest, even with her mother there. She didn’t want to go.
Maybe she should beg. She should act more grateful, more slavey.
What would her life be here if she stayed? If she had his child?
She drifted to a semi-dream state, exhausted from the pain and angst, thinking about babies.
She would have his baby.