Twelve Days of Xanthus

by Shyla Colt

  “I wish to pleasure you.” His voice rumbled in his chest. God, how could a man so subservient be so damned alluring at the same time? She’d unleashed an inner Dominatrix she hadn’t known existed. Something about those pheromones he produced loosed all her inhibitions.

  “Mmhmm, I like the sound of that. Put a hurting on my pussy, Xanthus.”

  A sound more akin to an animal then a man burst free and he leaned forward to take her swollen nipples into his mouth through her shirt and her bra. She sucked in breath between her teeth and arched. The wet heat he provided made her shiver. He sucked and nibbled as his hand massaged her opposite breast. Her fingers itched to hold on to something more than the hard underside of the chair. She freed them, buried them into his thick hair, and purred. The luxurious, silken strands felt heavenly. A shimmer in the air caught her eye. Her jaw fell open when she found herself nude in front of him. He’d put some kind of alien whammy on her clothing! She opened her mouth to protest when his hands stopped working their magic on her bare breast and moved down to spread her thighs wide. He dropped to his knees and dove in between her legs like a swimmer into a pool.

  His tongue blazed a path between her wet lips once, twice, and then he flicked her swollen button and drove his stiff tongue into her tight entrance. She screamed as the penetration tossed her into a toe-curling, spine tingling completion. Light burst behind her lids. Her body went spastic as every nerve ending she had fired at one time. When she came to, he still lapped at her pussy. He looked up as if he sensed her eyes on him. His tongue paused in mid lick and he pulled back.

  “What did you do to me?” Her voice was as shaky as her body.

  “When I’m aroused, my glands secret a chemical that heightens my partner’s arousal.”

  “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.” The man was literally engineered for sex!

  “I’m sorry, Mistress, I don’t understand.”

  He shook his head and she focused in on his face. His lips shone with her juices. Heat infused her face. What had she just allowed a complete stranger to do? No. Not just a stranger, an alien. She’d never had an after buzz killed so fast. She crossed her legs and placed her arms over her chest.

  “You need to stop calling me Mistress. My name is Violet.”

  “You would let me address you by the name given by your birth mates?”

  “Yes, you came here to gain your freedom, didn’t you?”

  “Yes.” He nodded.

  “Then it’s time you stand up and take some of it back. I do not rule you in any way, Xanthus. I’ll help you hide away. I could never sit back and allow anyone to be taken back into slavery. But I have two things to ask. Keep your…body parts-” She gestured with her hand. “-to yourself, and please return my clothes from wherever you zapped them off to.”

  He nodded and she felt the light weight of cloth and denim.

  “The other wish I will not be able to grant, Mi-”

  She glared and he paused.

  “Violet.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you are my mistress, the connection has already been made; it can’t be taken back, unless I get a new mistress.”

  “Wait! Are you telling me this insatiable need for sexual contact will continue on indefinitely?”

  “Yes, but it will lessen and soon the effects will only be felt when it’s time to be intimate.”

  She sighed as she placed her hands on her head. “Before we get into this we need to get you something to wear. Maybe it’ll block some of that potent scent you have,” Violet said standing from the couch.

  She waved him toward her before she made her way down the hallway to one of the rooms on the right. After trial and error, they managed to piece an outfit together from her brothers’ wardrobes. With Xanthus dressed and a little less distracting, they left the rooms she’d dubbed as his. On the way back, she paused to show him the bathroom before they continued back to the couch.

  Settled back in she spoke. “Okay, start over again at the top. Tell me about your planet, how you escaped, and how I can help.”

  “Thank you, Mistress.”

  “Xan.”

  “Xan?” he asked.

  “It’s a nickname. Now what’s my name?”

  “Violet.”

  She managed a small smile. “Better, we’ll get there.” Violet’s eyes began to grow heavy as the heat from the fire and comfortable couch worked together to lull her into a relaxed state that threatened to turn to sleep. “Okay, I think it’s time for both of us to go to bed.”

  “Where will we sleep?”

  “We? No, remember that independence thing we talked about? It’s going to start with you in your own room.”

  He looked crestfallen. She rushed ahead with an explanation. “It’s called a guest room; it’s where we allow friends and family to sleep. It’s not an insult or a demotion of any kind, I promise.”

  His countenance lightened and she smiled. Violet pushed up from the couch. “Come on, I’ll get you settled in.”

  She lead him down the hallway to the room and turned on the light. Xan examined the room with care, running his hand over the dresser as he scanned the room and moved to sit on the edge of the bed. He was such a strange blend of strength and vulnerability it was impossible not to like him. He touched a place that had been long dormant. At thirty-five, she had grown tired of failed relationships and given up hope of finding love. This traveler from the stars gave her hope. If he could rise above the conditions on his planet and be someone different, there might just be hope for her to find her happily ever after.

  “Do you remember where the bathroom is?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you’re all set. If you need anything, come to my room, okay?”

  “Yes.”

  “Goodnight.”

  “Good night, Violet.”

  Violet closed the door to his room, walked to her own, and slipped beneath the covers. The things Xanthus told her were amazing. His planet sounded like something out of a science fiction movie. Brilliant colors painted his landscape but the beauty wasn’t worth the price the males paid. Born into slavery, they were controlled and commanded from the moment they were old enough to be put to work. It was appalling. She was impressed that he’d had the stones to attempt escape at all. As she drifted off to sleep, she knew she’d help this man to become self sufficient enough to fend for himself in his new world. To do anything else would be cruel.

  Her father was the type of man who’d give a person the shirt off his back if they needed help. It was a legacy he’d passed on to his children. She couldn’t count how many times they’d been dragged into some project because family friend needed assistance. A friend in need was a friend in deed was a motto the O’Shea children had heard a lot. It was also something she’d adopted in her adult life. Her way of leaving her mark on the world and bringing positivity to a society flooded with negativity. This is not the same as helping someone move. No, but if anyone had ever needed help this man did. She rolled onto her side and sighed. She might regret this latter but her mind and her Irish Catholic upbringing and the fact that she didn’t believe in coincidences had her believing it was the right thing to do. Surely, he was brought her to her for a reason? She tossed on to her back. Was she the right person for this job? Could she give him a crash course in normalcy and stay one step ahead of the woman searching for him? Violet wasn’t sure, but she’d give it her best shot.

  Chapter Two

  A sharp pain in his stomach woke Xanthus from his slumber. The gurgles and growls told him it was time to eat. He wiped the sleep from his eyes and allowed his vision to adjust to the bright light that spilled in through the window on the opposite side of the room. The UV rays were different here and his eyes were still adjusting along with the rest of his body. He pushed himself up and swung his legs over the side as he took stock. His bladder was full, his belly was empty. He stood, walked over to the door, and listened for the sounds of Violet stirring. The cabin remained
silent. He opened the door, stepped out, and padded to the bathroom she’d shown him the night before.

  When steamy hot water exited the shower head, he shed his clothes, unbound his waist length hair, and slipped inside. The planet he came from was extremely hot all year round. There was no need for much more than he wore now. The droplets fell onto stiff muscles in a refreshing massage and he was grateful when the stench of travel washed off his body to run down the drain. Ten minutes later, he was refreshed and ravenous. He stepped out of the shower, dried off, and wrapped his lower body in a fluffy, black towel. He made his way to the kitchen. Violet sat at the breakfast table, still clad in flannel pants and a white t-shirt, gripping a white coffee mug. She took a healthy swallow and set the mug on the counter.

  “Crap. I thought you might have been an image of my over worked imagination.”

  “I need food, Mistress.”

  “Violet, remember?” She pushed her chair back from her table and stood. “What would you like?”

  “I’m not sure.” He shook his head. “I know the words for your items, but I don’t know what they would taste like on my palette.”

  Her eyes grew wide and filled with understanding. “Well, I guess the only way to know is to try things out.”

  She opened up the refrigerator and came out with a group of round, green items referred to as grapes. She picked them free, washed them in the sink, placed them in a bowl, and handed it to him. He popped two in his mouth and frowned. The mushy insides felt strange on his tongue. He chewed, swallowed, and grimaced.

  “No, huh?”

  “No, Mi- Violet.”

  “What didn’t you like about them?”

  “They were very...mushy? Squishy?”

  She chuckled. “I get you, and mushy was the right word to use, though squishy works too. How about we try some cereal? That’s hard and filling.”

  She pulled a blue box off the counter and shook out three inch squares into a bowel. He watched her go into the refrigerator and take out a gallon of milk. She poured the white substance over the squares and he frowned, skeptical about his enjoyment of the combination. A few minutes later, Violet placed the offering in front of him and he struggled not to turn his nose up.

  “Eat it before it gets soggy and the milk warms.”

  “Yes, M- Violet.”

  “You don’t have to answer me with an affirmative response every time I say something to you. Hell, you can tell me no if you want to, but in this instance, I wouldn’t suggest it. You have to eat something, and this is the fastest way to figure out what you like.”

  He took hold of the metal handle, dipped the spoon inside the square-filled white pond, and lifted it up to his mouth. The milk was creamy, cool, and quite delicious. The squares were crunchy, he’d give them that. He looked up to see Violet watching him like a hawk through narrowed eyes.

  “You don’t like it, do you?”

  “The squares are strange, but I quite enjoy the milk.”

  She rolled her eyes, took the bowl from in front of him, and dumped it in the sink. She flipped a switch and a loud grinding noise began. His translation chip informed him the noise was caused by a garbage disposal.

  Ten minutes later, he’d learned he was a huge fan of steel cut oats. His body rejoiced as he put down three bowls, two glasses of milk, and a delicious red fruit called an apple. Satisfied he stood, took the bowl to the sink, rinsed it out, and placed it into the dishwasher.

  “You won’t be single long, Xanthus.”

  He shook his head. “Single, what do you mean?”

  “You won’t be without a significant other. You have more manners than most men I know.”

  Her words saddened him. She didn’t want to keep him? He enjoyed being her slave. She’d allowed him more freedom than any Mistress before. The connection they shared felt deeper and more meaningful. Xanthus understood things worked differently here. People here were allowed to choose for themselves but what if she was his choice?

  “Are you okay?”

  Her concern warmed his heart.

  “Yes, M- Violet, I am fine. I was just wondering about what would happen if I make it through the twelve days.”

  “Hey, don’t say if. I‘m an O’Shea, we make things happen.”

  Her face went stern and serious. The look was so at odds with her musical voice and small stature that he laughed out loud.

  “Are you laughing at me, alien man?” She placed her hands on her hips and he swallowed. He shook his head back and forth and lowered his eyes.

  “No.”

  A gentle weight settled on to his shoulder and a floral scent surrounded him.

  “It’s okay, Xan. I was just kidding with you. You know a joke, funny ha-ha. I know things were different where you’re from but it’s not like that here. Look at me.” She placed a finger underneath his chin and tilted his head up to meet her gaze from where he sat. Her voice was soft and her touch was gentle. It was more kindness and concern than he’d ever been shown by any woman. As he peered into her eyes, he began to believe the things she said. He could be a different person here. No one knew about his past, he could make the future whatever he wished.

  “I’m different and as long as I have anything to say about it, you won’t be answering to anyone but yourself ever again, I promise.” She paused. “Okay, and maybe your boss, and the woman you’ll be with but never in the master-slave role… unless you like that kind of thing.”

  Her eyebrow curved up into an arch and the chip in his head showed him that usually meant the person was making a query.

  “I would like to be able to decide my own fate.”

  “Good, then we’ll need to work on that backbone. You’ll get eaten alive out there if we don’t.”

  His heart began to race. They ate the weak here? His eyes darted back and forth as he scanned his translation chip for instances of cannibalism.

  “Relax; it’s a phrase, not literal. It means people will take advantage of you.”

  “I understand now.” He breathed a sigh of relief.

  She chuckled. “You should have seen your face. First thing we have to do is get you dressed. That towel is distracting and on Earth, we don’t walk around in only a loin cloth. Here we keep things very covered up, unless we’re going for a swim or in the privacy of your home.” She removed her hand and he felt bereft. He wanted the contact but he didn’t think she’d appreciate him saying so.

  He followed her into one of the rooms where she pulled out one of the dresser drawers. She rummaged through and pulled out an outfit that looked similar to the pajamas she wore. A cream colored long sleeve shirt accompanied black, grey, and white plaid pants. It was more clothing than he’d ever worn in his life, but appropriate for the weather.

  “These are called pant legs; they go on your legs.”

  “I understand. Things aren’t so very different where I’m from.”

  Her face reddened. “Sorry. I don’t mean to insult your intelligence. This is the kind of situation I write about, not actually live through.”

  “You are a scribe, Violet?”

  “Sort of…put these on and I’ll explain it to you more.”

  He dropped his towel and she gasped. Her mouth opened and closed, her eyes dilated.

  “Y- You were supposed to wait until I left the room.”

  “Why? You’re my mistress.”

  “Because it’s not polite, and we’re trying to make you into an independent thinker.” Her gaze lowered to his hardening manhood. Pride swelled in his chest. He was having this reaction on her.

  “Oh God,” she whimpered.

  The sound sent prickles up his skin. The noise was filled with such need. The thought of actually being wanted by someone stirred a primal instinct. He wanted this mistress for his own, permanently. The concepts he’d witnessed among the Earthlings were amazing. Monogamy, marriage, dating. So many new opportunities were at his finger tips. If he could escape. Her floral scent deepened to an enchanting musk, and
he licked his lips. Now that he’d had a taste of her, he desired more. The smell of arousal began to fill the room. Her breath grew shallow and her pulse pounded. His keen senses picked up more than an Earthling would and her body’s responses acted like an aphrodisiac. His glands opened wider and the odorless pheromones poured out.

  “It’s starting again, isn’t it?” She clenched her fists.

  “Yes.”

  “Drop your towel and come over here. I want to show you how it can be between two people.”