His to Command (Alien Masters Book 1)

by Kallista Dane

  Curious as to what would become of her, he had followed as the soldiers led her through the streets to the doors of the Citadel. When they disappeared inside, he turned away. No doubt the woman would soon be available in the Lyceum—if she didn’t end up as a personal plaything for General Tok.

  He wouldn’t blame the general. Not only was she beautiful, the woman had spirit. Something sorely lacking in the female population of Petra. He shook his head as he headed for the living quarters he’d been assigned to. It was a mystery to him why men would want a woman who displayed no intelligent thought of her own. He’d been to the Lyceum once, a guest of General Tok when he first arrived. But the experience, though physically satisfying, had left him emotionally empty.

  He’d been in Petra for two months. Today, for the first time, he’d been allowed to roam around the city unaccompanied on his day off. The general’s ever-present guards hadn’t appeared this morning. It looked as though he’d finally achieved a level of trust.

  Kaden entered the large dormitory where he’d been assigned a room when he arrived. Most of the single men stayed there at night, if they weren’t cashing in their credits to visit one of the Harlots at the Lyceum. The general avoided the sordid concept of prostitution by providing twice-weekly visits to the Lyceum as a fringe benefit of working in Petra. Additional time with one of the ladies came as a bonus from Tok for performance above and beyond the call of duty, such as exceeding one’s weekly quota in the mines or successfully completing one of the general’s secret tasks.

  It took three years of working in Petra to become eligible to own a house and a Seraph. Most men looked forward to the day they’d attain that goal. He’d heard many of them talking about how they enjoyed the idea of someday having their own mate, one they didn’t have to share. But a handful of single men who’d been with Tok the longest owned houses in the city and had been given Harlots to live with them full-time. These men had no interest in taking in a Seraph and raising children. They preferred having constant willing female companionship with the advantage of being able to trade their Harlot in for a newer model down the road.

  Kaden shook his head, imagining what his mother and sisters back in New Atlantis would say about this repressive regime. Where he came from, women trained as leaders and scholars, healers and warriors right along with the men. His sister Althea would have had Tok at her feet, cringing under the blade of her sword, if he dared to brand her as a Harlot for taking her pleasure with the man of her choice.

  He missed them, more than he would have thought. Tania would love the gardens here. He could imagine her striding down the long hall toward his sparsely furnished room, her arms filled with exotic blooms. He’d tease her about cluttering up every tabletop with her overflowing vases and stinking up the place with their fragrance, then laugh when her temper flared.

  “Kaden, have you heard?” Hisham hurried down the hall toward him. “They’ve captured a female intruder in the marketplace. She disguised herself as a Bedouin to sneak into the city. She tried to murder one of the children!”

  Kaden snorted. The rumor mill was already churning.

  “Murder? She saved the child’s life. The little girl would have been trampled to death by horses if the woman hadn’t risked her own safety to rescue her.”

  Hisham perked up like Kaden’s old nanny at the possibility of hearing fresh gossip. “How do you know? Did you actually see her? I heard she is huge. Big and fat—and ugly.”

  Kaden looked down at Hisham. As an Atlantean, he stood head and shoulders above the man. “She’s average height, at least by my standards. But she’s not ugly. Far from it. Although perhaps a bit too skinny for your taste.”

  “Gods willing, we’ll see tonight.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I keep forgetting you haven’t been here very long. The new crop of Harlots hasn’t completed training yet, and the others have been especially well-behaved lately, so you haven’t seen a Correction.”

  “A Correction?”

  “Harlots are punished in the square in front of the Citadel. At twilight, after the workday is over. All the men in Petra attend. The other Harlots are forced to watch from behind a screen set up near the platform. The Lyceum is always crowded later on that night, since all the men know the Harlots are especially willing to please us afterward, for fear they’ll suffer the same fate if they don’t. If we’re lucky, the general will order this intruder to be publicly punished tonight by the High Priest. Get there early so you have a good view. The square will be packed.”

  Hisham headed off to the dining hall, eager to share the latest news. Kaden strolled back to his room to ponder this new development. He needed a few hours of peace and quiet to lay out his plans. If the whole town gathered in the square tonight, it might give him the freedom for some long-overdue reconnaissance.

  * * *

  AJ nearly screamed. Her vagina spasmed around Thelo’s invading finger. She’d come to orgasm many times with the mechanical device she inserted as part of her holographic sexual stimulation. But this physical violation was so intense, so personal. She could feel the heat of him inside her body, the stroking of his rough fingertip against the velvet walls of her vaginal canal. To her shame, she felt lubrication begin to flow.

  He removed his finger and she let out the breath she’d been holding. Thelo’s eyes bored into hers and he replaced one finger with two. His thick fingers, probing farther, slid in easily. Her treacherous body aided him, producing more and more slick fluid.

  When he began massaging a spot deep inside her, AJ couldn’t stay still any longer. She let out an involuntary moan, squirming on the table. His eyes darkened. Thelo barked out a command. One of the soldiers came to the foot of the table and grabbed her left ankle, pulling it to twist her body on its side. With his other hand, he delivered a sharp smack to her bottom.

  She gasped in shock. Thelo’s fingers were still inside her and he plunged them deeper as the soldier’s hand connected with her lower cheeks again. She bit off a cry, stunned at the waves of unfamiliar sensations pouring through her. The soldier began spanking her over and over. Every whack of his rough palm seared the flesh on her bottom, sending a lick of flame across her tender skin. All the while, Thelo’s long thick fingers violated her, igniting a different kind of heat deep inside. Strange. Potent.

  Thelo snapped out something else and the soldier stopped spanking her as abruptly as he’d started. He twisted her body so she was lying flat again and sat her heel back on the table, this time keeping one hand locked around her ankle. But Thelo never stopped. His fingers continued their insolent invasion.

  The High Priest met her eyes again and ran his tongue slowly around his lips. Then, to her horror, he bent his head and touched his wet tongue to her clitoris. She tried desperately to control her mind, but the intense, intimate physical contact was so new and unfamiliar. He licked her there, flicking his tongue back and forth as the core of her pleasure grew hard. All her mental training disappeared. To her shock, her body began responding to the savage treatment the same way it did in her planned sessions of self-gratification.

  She panted heavily, fighting the surge of erotic sensations. Her bottom stinging, her vagina wet, and now the bundle of nerves between her legs throbbing and pulsing. His hot tongue kept up the onslaught until she was shaking, ready to explode.

  He stopped abruptly, leaving her trembling and confused. Withdrawing his fingers, Thelo stood up again. He reached for a rose-colored crystal vial on a chain around his neck, removed the ornate silver stopper, and poured a small stream of clear liquid into the palm of his other hand. As he rubbed it over both hands, AJ caught a whiff of the scent. Spicy. Exotic.

  His eyes locked onto hers once more and he reached down, fingers stroking the area around the puckered bud of her anal opening. The slick substance he’d coated his hands with felt cool at first, but as he continued, the sensation turned to warmth. He watched her face as he slid the tip of one finger into her tight
bottom hole. AJ could feel her cheeks turning a bright crimson. The thought popped unbidden into her mind that her lower cheeks probably held the same crimson blush after the spanking she’d gotten.

  His finger moved deeper and suddenly the warmth she felt turned into a burst of heat. AJ tensed, automatically tightening her muscles. The heat intensified. She wanted to squirm away but she knew that would only earn her another spanking. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying desperately to hold back tears. Fire tore through her and he kept delving deeper, taking the burn farther into her back passage.

  This time she couldn’t control herself. She began whipping her head from side to side, crying out. “Please, stop! No more. I can’t take it!”

  Thelo let out a wicked laugh and began moving his finger in and out. AJ thought she would die of shame. This barbarian was…he was…fucking her rear passage. She closed her eyes and tried to will away the powerful sensations but it was impossible. She heard the soldier at the head of the table utter a low animal grunt. Her bottom was stinging, her vagina aching for release, and the heat of whatever spices he’d infused the oil with had her bucking wildly on the table. Instead of stopping him, every gyration of her hips drew Thelo’s finger deeper.

  This time when he quit, she was shaking so hard she barely noticed at first. Her body suddenly craved something big and hard inside. Her tight back passage was stinging, burning. She’d welcome physical violation right now if it would end this torment.

  Thelo spoke again and AJ flushed, keeping her eyes tightly closed. She thought her humiliation couldn’t get any worse, but in the midst of the savage sensations bombarding her body, she’d forgotten the general had been right behind Thelo all along, silently observing her shameful reactions. Now he began talking.

  “The High Priest has tested your responses. He says you are not fit to be given as a chaste Seraph to one of my worthy men. You are far too depraved, too brazen in your responses. You are a Harlot and you will join the other Harlots in the Lyceum, available for any man in Petra to take his pleasure with you in any way he wants.”

  She lay there, still trembling, hardly able to believe what she was hearing.

  “But first,” the general went on, “you must be punished for your crimes of invading our city and attempting to deceive us by disguising yourself as a male.”

  His voice hardened. “At nightfall, you will be brought into the square, stripped naked in front of all the men in Petra, and receive twenty strokes from the High Priest with the Instrument of Correction. Then I will award you to a man of my selection, as my gift, to discipline you privately tonight before you are sent to the Lyceum for training.”

  He turned, heading for the door. “Take her away. Send for one of the Harlots to prepare her for punishment.”

  AJ sagged against the table. The guards untied her swiftly, jerking her to her feet. The djellabah fell back down around her ankles. It hardly seemed to matter anymore. They’d already witnessed her humiliation, her shameful reactions. Horrible things had been done to her body, leaving her numb. How could these primitive people desire any form of physical contact?

  She felt an involuntary shiver of arousal as her legs came together. She relived the sensation of Thelo’s tongue on her core of pleasure, his thick fingers stroking her inside, making her squirm with forbidden desires. Ruthlessly, she tried to purge the images from her mind as the soldiers once again tied her wrists together in front of her. Without a word, they led her out of the room and down another hallway.

  AJ tried to memorize the route they took, but her mind refused to cooperate. Finally they stopped in front of a door, one of dozens they’d passed, all looking the same. One soldier stayed behind in the hallway. The other, the one who’d spanked her, deposited her into another windowless room, this one furnished with a small wooden table and two chairs. With one last lecherous look, he backed out and locked the door behind him, leaving her alone at last.

  Exhausted, she dropped onto a chair, only to jump up again in shock. AJ had never been physically disciplined, certainly not spanked. Her bottom burned from the firm hand of the soldier. She tried to put the thought of twenty strokes from some unknown Implement of Correction out of her mind and willed herself to concentrate on her current situation.

  Even though she’d been unable to bend any of the men she’d met so far to her will, AJ still held out the hope that she’d be able to use her mental abilities to control whoever the general gave her to tonight. She realized now that she might have to pleasure him first in some fashion or another. Shuddering at the thought, she decided she’d practice her mental skills, targeting the woman the general dispatched to prepare her for the evening.

  She was vaguely familiar with the word harlot, recalling that in ancient times it was used to describe a woman of dubious character who bestowed sexual favors on whatever man met her price. But to her surprise, when the door opened, a young female with downcast eyes and a shy demeanor entered. She wore a sheer red floor-length gown with nothing on underneath. It displayed her charms seductively, even while seeming to cover them.

  The young woman carried a pitcher and bowl and a large basket covered with a black cloth. She spoke softly without making eye contact.

  “It is time to prepare you for your punishment.”

  “I am called AJ. What is your name?”

  “Harlot.”

  If she was to successfully penetrate the young woman’s mind, AJ needed to create a bond with her. “Surely you have some name other than that,” she replied, her voice gentle.

  The young woman glanced around the room nervously. “Once…once this Harlot was known as Dianna.”

  AJ perched gingerly on the edge of one of the hard wooden chairs, motioning for the young woman to join her.

  “You say you are a Harlot. I’ve been told I am to be one as well, Dianna. Can you explain to me what that means?”

  The woman stared dully at the wall, replying in a sing-song tone, as though repeating a speech she’d learned by rote. “Harlots serve at the pleasure of their masters. We have no duty but to please them, no desires but their desires, no will but what they will us to do.”

  Carefully, AJ sent out her power, probing the mind of the woman in front of her. She got back an agonizing wave of hopelessness. Below it, lay only sorrow. No spark of vitality, no essence of free will, no semblance of independent thought remained in this woman. It was as though she had entered a mind that was nothing more than an empty shell.

  She sighed. Nothing in her training had prepared her for this. Her mental skills were proving worthless in this culture.

  “Can you tell me what they’re going to do to me tonight?”

  Once again the woman replied by rote, parroting the words the general had uttered as though she’d been there in the room to hear them.

  “At nightfall, this Harlot will be brought into the square, stripped naked in front of all the men in Petra, and receive twenty strokes from the High Priest with the Instrument of Correction. Then General Tok will award this Harlot to a Master for the night, as his gift, to discipline her privately before using her in any way he chooses.”

  AJ wondered how many times this woman had uttered the same words to other hapless newcomers.

  “What is this Instrument of Correction?”

  Dianna shuddered visibly. “It is…”

  “Yes?”

  “It is a thick wooden implement. The High Priest uses it on Harlots in need of discipline.”

  “A paddle? So I am to be spanked?”

  “Spanked is a mild word. This discipline is much more harsh. The Harlot being punished will be tied hand and foot across the bench, rendered helpless and immobile. The number of strokes will be announced and then drumbeats will keep the count.”

  “Have you been punished that way?”

  “All Harlots have. It is part of our initiation into the Lyceum. And later…”

  Her voice died off.

  “What happens later?”

  “If a
ny man comes to the Lyceum to be pleasured and is dissatisfied with our obedience to him, he can report us to the general. The next night, we are punished by the High Priest in the public square, then given back to that Master. When a Harlot remains stubborn or unwilling, this happens over and over, night after night, until her Master declares that he is now pleased.”

  Dianna shuddered again.

  “Why do you not leave?”

  This time she looked up at AJ, startled by the question. “Where would we go? We cannot leave. Our place in this world was proclaimed by the High Priest on the day we arrived. When we become too old to please our masters as Harlots, we are appointed Sacred Sisters in the Lyceum, training the new Harlots and living a life of leisure while they tend to our needs.”

  AJ didn’t miss the fact that the woman never referred to herself as I. It was as though she no longer existed as a singular entity, only as part of the group consciousness known as Harlot. AJ could only wonder what psychological torments Dianna had been subjected to that would have buried all traces of self-worth so deeply.

  “And what of the women I saw in the marketplace?”

  “They are Seraphs, tending to the sacred fire pits in the center of every home. A Seraph has but one Master. She dwells in his house under his protection, at his pleasure, and bears his offspring. If she displeases him, she is disciplined only by her Master, in private, as is fitting for her status. But in exchange she must do his bidding forever, with no time of leisure as her final reward.”

  “How is it determined whether you become a Seraph or a Harlot?”

  She glanced up from under her lashes and AJ saw the first spark of life in her eyes. “Unlike the Harlot, a potential Seraph does not respond eagerly to the ministrations of the High Priest. A Master can rest assured that his Seraph has never enjoyed physical gratification from any other male. She comes to him pure and innocent and will know only whatever pleasure he chooses to give her.”