Surrender To The Cyborgs (Interstellar Brides: The Colony Book 1)

by Grace Goodwin

  Surrender to the Cyborgs

  Interstellar Brides: The Colony, Book 1

  By

  Grace Goodwin

  Copyright

  Surrender to the Cyborgs: Copyright © 2017 by Grace Goodwin

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electrical, digital or mechanical, including but not limited to photocopying, recording, scanning or by any type of data storage and retrieval system without express, written permission from the author.

  Published by Grace Goodwin as KSA Publishing Consultants, Inc.

  Goodwin, Grace

  Surrender to the Cyborgs

  Cover design by KSA Publishing Consultants, Inc.

  Images/Photo Credit: Hot Damn Stock: fotolia.com- Romolo Tavani

  Publishers Note:

  This book was written for an adult audience only. Spanking and other sexual activities included in this book are strictly fantasies intended for adults and are neither endorsed nor encouraged by the author or publisher.

  Table of Contents

  Surrender to the Cyborgs

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Epilogue

  Books by Grace Goodwin

  Connect With Grace

  Chapter One

  Rachel Pierce, Interstellar Brides Program Processing Center

  “You can’t escape us.” A rough male voice whispered in my ear. The room was dark, nearly black, and I could not see his face, but his tone excited me. I should have been afraid, terrified, and yet my body arched off the bed at his words, eager. Wet. Throbbing with need.

  I tugged at the bonds about my wrists, the unbreakable cuffs secured over my head. The fit was snug, but not painful. They ensured that I was well and truly captured, yet unharmed. There was no give in the restraints, but the soft yield of the bed under my back was soothing. So were the calloused hands that ran over my heated skin, that cupped my upturned breasts, the insides of my spread thighs, my bare mound.

  “Our little prisoner.”

  I stilled at the voice. The second voice. There wasn’t just one man in bed with me, but two. Two sets of hands.

  “Ah!” I cried, when little erotic bites elicited a fiery burst of pain at the tips of my nipples. Two mouths.

  I couldn’t see their faces, but I could feel their hands, hear their ragged breathing, feel their heat, smell their dark, spicy scents.

  “I want to touch you,” I replied, licking my dry lips. I tugged once again on the binds, but they were unforgiving. I didn’t need to see them to know they were big, so much bigger than me. Their hands were large, spanning the breadth of my belly, dwarfing my breasts, which were far from small, gripping my knees and holding them apart so that my naked body was open to their every urge, every desire.

  I should feel panicked, for while I didn’t seem to know these men, I knew them, felt safe with them. Safe enough to be tied up and at their sweet mercy.

  I’d never been into bondage play or any kind of BDSM before. Not even a little kink tossed into a wild night. My sexual experiences ranged between high school fumbling and wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am kinds of encounters.

  This, this was something else entirely…and I liked it.

  I liked the heavy weight of the cuffs about my wrists. I liked the way there was no give in the rope. I liked the way the men were touching me, arousing me to a fervor I’d never known before. And they were only touching.

  When a hand dipped between my thighs, I arched my back, pushing my hips into the touch. “She’s dripping. You like to give over control.”

  I didn’t know that to be the case before, but with these two, now, I did. Hell, yeah.

  I moaned at the feel of his fingers stroking over my folds, circling my clit, pulling back its protective hood for…oh fuck. His hot breath.

  When his mouth closed over my clit, I cried out, tugged involuntarily. Hands on my thighs held me open, exposed, available.

  I couldn’t do a thing but take whatever they wanted to do to me. To give to me.

  “You’ll come first, then we’ll fuck you.”

  I had no problem with that whatsoever. “Yes,” I replied on a breathy moan to the man who was licking my pussy.

  The other was working my nipples with his mouth, alternating between them. I felt the rasp of a trimmed beard, the soft hairs tickling my tender skin and awakening every one of my nerve endings. “You can feel it, can’t you? Our need, your need, building and building. The collars join us, link and share our pleasure.”

  I felt the weight of something about my neck, felt the eager intensity of the men’s desires, their domination, my submission, swirling around us like a vibrant, red aura. I was hotter, wetter, more eager than ever in my life.

  I was going to come. There was no way I could stop it, for while I was bound by rope and cuffs, I was ensnared by their attentions. My pussy ached, swelled, pulsed. My clit throbbed. My nipples stung.

  “Yes, I’m going to… I need, right there…just a little—no!”

  The men knew I was going to come and not just from my mindless rambling or the way my body shook. It was the damn collars. They knew one more flick of a tongue against my engorged clit, one more decadent bite on my nipple and I would have succumbed to the most powerful orgasm.

  Instead, I was sweaty and needy, tears slipping from my eyes, desperate for them. My body was almost electrified with need. Just a touch in the right place and I’d go off.

  The man by my head moved to lie down beside me, his hot length pressing against my side. Hands gripped my waist and flipped me over on top of him, my arms still up over my head, over his as well. If I leaned down a few inches, surely I would kiss him. Shifting my legs into a comfortable position, I straddled him. My breasts chafed against the soft hairs on his chest. My slick skin slid easily over him. My pussy coated his cock, which I rested upon, the girth of it parting my folds. Our breaths mingled and yet I still couldn’t see him.

  “Please,” I begged, wiggling my hips to get his cock at my entrance, so I could get him deep inside me. I needed him deep inside me. I had never thought it before, and if that made me a total slut, I didn’t care, but I needed cock.

  A hand came down on my upturned bottom, the sting of it a surprise. While it hurt, it morphed into even more pleasure and I gasped, then groaned.

  “We say how,” the man behind me said.

  “We say when,” the one beneath me finished.

  A palm cupped my stinging bottom, pulled my cheeks apart. A hard finger, slick and coated with something cool slid over me there, finding my back entrance, circling, then pushing in.

  The sharp bite of the stretch had me panting, stilling. The finger worked the lube into me, more, then more still.

  “Are you ready for our cocks, mate? To be ours forever?” The man behind me spoke as he gently yet thoroughly prepared my ass for…oh god. Our cocks. Forever.

  Yes. I was ready. More than ready. Time didn’t exist, only the feel of his finger as he worked me, stretched me open, the feel of the hard, muscled body beneath me. Hands stroked my back, my sides, my hair.

  “She’s ready.”

&n
bsp; I’d been ready for a while but didn’t mention it, afraid I’d get spanked again. They were in control, so I bit my lip.

  I felt them move, heard the rustling of their actions as I was lifted up so that the cock beneath me nudged my pussy. Yes! I wiggled, trying to lower, but he would have none of it. I realized when I felt the other’s cock at my prepared back passage that they were going to take me together.

  Really together. Not one after the other. Not one in my pussy, the other cock in my mouth. Together, as in double penetration.

  As I panicked, a sense of eagerness, of extreme arousal washed over me. I felt the men’s desires mingle with my own through the collar and it tempered my panic and soothed it with mindless need.

  “Please,” I begged, feeling their cocks pressing. The one at my pussy slid in easily, the wet sound of my arousal as loud as our breaths. In a smooth stroke, he sank deep, filling me. He groaned. I groaned. God, he was big. Thick. Hard. So fucking deep.

  “I’m going to come.”

  I was. They’d primed me so well that I was shaking with it.

  “Not yet. As soon as you are ours, when you take both our cocks we will be truly joined. Only then will you be collared, mated, claimed.” The man behind me spoke in my ear as he pressed inward, the broad head of his cock slowly opening me. My body held barely any resistance to his efforts. Perhaps it was the lube or his intent, but I truly believed it was the collars that connected us, that made me relax, to breathe out, to give over. They’d wanted me to submit and this act was the ultimate submission.

  I could do nothing but take whatever they wanted. When they wanted. How.

  It was that knowledge more than the second cock sinking into me that had me coming on a blissful scream. I was so full, so open. Exposed. Vulnerable and yet powerful all at once.

  It was too much, the pleasure. I was truly imprisoned, caught not only by the bonds over my head, but the cocks that joined us. We were one.

  When I felt their hot seed spurt from them, I screamed again, then again.

  “Miss Pierce!” The voice repeated itself and a hand shook my shoulder. “Stop screaming, please.”

  I was thrashing, felt the way my hands were bound, knew it was real.

  “Rachel!”

  No, it wasn’t real. The voice shouting at me was a woman, not the deep rumble of either man.

  I blinked, once, then again. Bright light filtered through the seams of my closed eyelids, turning my vision a deep, dark red until, unable to deny the annoying woman’s voice, or the too small hand on my shoulder. I opened my eyes.

  Fuck. There were no men. No hands, mouths, cocks. There had definitely been an orgasm though. I was sweaty and I could feel the heat of it, the pleasure still coursing through my body. My pussy rippled and pulsed around…nothing. My bottom clenched. Empty. The wet result of my arousal made my bottom slip and slide on a strange exam chair. It was like I’d been tied down, naked, at the dentist’s office.

  My hands were bound, but not by the men’s cuffs and I wasn’t in a soft bed. No. I was restrained to the testing chair in the Interstellar Brides Processing Center. The men were nothing more than a dream, a figment of my sex-starved imagination. I hadn’t been with a man in a long damn time. Over a year.

  Apparently, my body had gone from zero to orgasm in about five seconds flat. But it had been so good, so hot and hard and…

  “Miss Pierce. I need you to look at me.” There was that annoying female voice practically barking orders at me. I didn’t care for her tone. Not one bit.

  I focused on the face swimming before me and waited for my vision to clear. When it did, I found a somewhat unpleasant young woman’s face looming over me. I remembered her now. Unfortunately, I remembered everything. “Warden Egara.”

  “Good. You’re awake.”

  “You wanted me tested and now you’re taking the dream away from me?” It had been a dream. Since when had reality included two hot, virile lovers who fucked me at the same time? When had I ever had an orgasm that strong? That intense? When had I ever been so desperate to be touched that just thinking about it had nearly made me scream?

  Never. Smoking-hot, dominant lovers were not part of my reality.

  My reality included prison. Harsh lighting. Bad food. Stale air. Several hundred women who looked at me like I was fresh meat. Loneliness. Betrayal.

  “Yes, Miss Pierce. I’m terribly sorry. I don’t normally stop the testing so abruptly, but I have to admit, I was a little nervous about your screaming.”

  I couldn’t help but flush. “Let’s just say the dream was very…vivid.”

  She looked down at her tablet, apparently having decided that I was not dying in her testing chair. She went around the generic table and sat down. The room was clinical, beige. I’d think I was in an office conference room if not for the fancy testing chair I sat in. No, that I was tied to like a mental patient. The cuffs around my wrists were at least four inches wide and an inch thick. I wasn’t sure what kind of superhuman women they normally strapped down, but the only way any normal girl would get out of these was with a hacksaw.

  I looked down at myself, oddly pleased to see that I wore the bland, gray testing gown instead of the orange prison pants and white t-shirt that had made up my wardrobe for the last few months. I was naked beneath, and bare from the knees down. Medical gowns, it seemed, were standard-level ugly no matter what planet they were from. And I wasn’t a fan of my bare ass sticking to the chair. Where was the standard-issue granny panties and sports bra?

  “The testing was successful, a match was made at a ninety-nine percent.” Her smile transformed her face, and I realized that she wasn’t that old, probably even a few years younger than me. Her brown hair was pulled back in a severe bun, a style that reminded me of Wild West school marms in the old movies. Her gray eyes held a keen intelligence I could respect, but her words alarmed me. I was here at my attorney’s insistence. But I’d never really believed in this whole matching process. I mean, really? How the hell could some alien computer select a man who would be perfect for me? I didn’t believe it. But that didn’t stop the little kernel of hope from bursting to life with a painful buzz in my chest.

  I frowned to hide the reaction. This was not how things were supposed to go. “I’ve been matched?”

  “Yes, to a Prillon warrior.”

  “A Prillon?” I knew nothing about the other planets in the Coalition. I’d had my nose in a petri dish and my eyes on the lens of a microscope for the last decade. “I told you I didn’t want it. A match. This. I don’t want to go off to some…some planet.” I spit out the last as if it were foul on my tongue. “I told you. I shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be in jail. I’ve done nothing wrong, except expose the truth. I’m not going to leave Earth because someone else broke the law.”

  The warden looked at me with sympathetic gray eyes. “Yes, I’ve heard of your case, heard your claims of innocence. From a process standpoint, the testing doesn’t change that you’ve been convicted of a crime. It doesn’t change that you are going to be in jail for the next twenty-five years.”

  “I filed an appeal.”

  “Yes, your attorney informed me and I wish you the best of luck.” Her gray eyes softened and I found my anger fading beneath the onslaught of pity I saw there. “I’m sorry, Rachel. But your innocence or guilt is irrelevant to me. And believe me, your new mate won’t care. You’re here. You were convicted. They must have had evidence.”

  “It was planted,” I countered.

  All hints of the orgasm had faded, replaced by the same anger, frustration and bitterness that had followed me for the past five months. When the Whistleblower law went into effect, it hadn’t included me. No. I’d been quickly taken away, falsely pinned with crimes I didn’t commit by people who committed far worse just to hide their own.

  Yes, I’d been the lead researcher at GloboPharma. The trials had been under my supervision. But I’d pulled the plug when things went wrong. I’d followed the FDA guideline
s to the letter. The data in my reports was truthful and accurate. Yes, I’d known that the company had hundreds of millions of dollars on the line, looking for a cancer cure. And the treatment worked, it just killed too many healthy cells in the process.

  I’d filed my reports and expected my superiors to do the right thing.

  The day I heard that the FDA approved the drug, I’d nearly puked up my hot mustard and salami sandwich at my desk. I’d called the president of the company personally, and when she wouldn’t listen, I called the CEO.

  They all ignored me, and sent some goons to wreck my house and shut me up. They’d fired me, discredited me, and, little did I know, kept my data and lined me up to take the fall if things went bad.

  And things went really, really bad. At least four hundred people died before the FDA figured out it was the new drug doing the damage. When they came looking for someone to blame, GloboPharma handed them my head on a silver platter.

  Fuckers. I refused to go down without a fight. I was not going to run like a scared puppy and live the rest of my life on another freaking planet. I had to do the right thing. I had to fight. If I didn’t, the bastards who did this to people would just do it again. And again. And again. I went to graduate school and completed my PhD just last year in biochemistry. I studied physiology as an undergrad so I could make a difference in the world, so I could help people. I never wanted to be in a fight like this. But now that I was here, I couldn’t walk away. I didn’t have a choice. It was either fight or rot in jail. And if I let them beat me, they’d just do it again, make another mistake. Kill people. Lie about it.

  “I can’t leave. I have to go to court. Please, I want you to understand.”

  “Your appeal is two months away,” she replied, not commenting on my rant. She knew what had happened, the charges, the trial, my conviction. It was all in my file on that tablet of hers. Everything about me was on there, including what I ate for lunch three months ago and my bra size. “Your lawyer recommended that you be tested for the Interstellar Brides Program, just in case.”