She softens, defeated. I wish it could be different. I wish I could shave her in the privacy of my tent, not because I am ashamed, but because I know this is all so strange to her, so unsettling. But this is the price of her deception. Had she not entered to spy on the mating fields, she’d be on her way back to Earth now.
Ingnar is walking down from the stone. He is beaming with pride. His mate is tall for an Ythilian female and strong. Her shaved pussy has a long, narrow mound and a deep cleft. He stops beside me. Our females could not be more different.
“So it is true,” he says. “The gods gave you a human as your mate...”
“She looks weak.” His mate speaks up.
“Don’t be unkind, Illya,” Ingnar says, and while she grows silent, her glare betrays the resentment only the blessing of the gods can overcome. He steps closer. “Excuse my mate, Kohn, but some in the village are angry.”
“Then they are angry at the gods,” I say. “For it was their will, and not mine. My cock rose to her. She opened to me. It is fate.”
Ingnar nods. “And if the gods prove your bond tomorrow, then my household will accept her as the mate of our warrior brother.”
His mate, I note, does not look as convinced. She continues to stare at Anya, and I’m relieved when the line moves forward. Up ahead, the crowds cheer as the females are shaved bare by their mates.
“I can’t do this,” Anya says as we approach.
“You only have to lie back,” I say. “And look at the sky.”
“Then I will focus on that bright spot.” She points to the distant glimmer. Earth.
“As you wish,” I say. We’ve reached the stone now. I keep my hand pressed to the small of her back, gently propelling her forward lest she stops. Other couples are returning to the stone to watch, and I know many are curious about my mate. I lay her down on the stone. She does not look at me. She looks at the sky.
“You must lie still,” I say, picking up a sharp stone. I curve my fingers and sweep it through the emollient, and feel her flinch as I rub it onto her outer labia. I coat the soft, tight curls covering her pubic mound. My cock bobs under my long leather skirt, eager once more to be wrapped in her heat.
“Spread your legs, Anya,” I say. She complies, haltingly. Her pussy is wet. Even now, even in her defiance and trepidation, her body wants me as I want hers. I run the edge of the stone down her skin. The emollient, made from a plant extract, kills the hair at the root. The stone edge pulls it free, leaving a female bare for the rest of her life. Anya’s mound is plump and soft, her cleft deep. I can see the little nub of her clitoris peeking from under the hood. She squirms. She is excited. I am eager to finish, to get her back to the tent.
When she is completely bare, I raise my hand to a trickle of water running from the rock to my side and use it to wipe her clean.
“You are perfection.” I take her hand, raise her to standing. The other couples gathered around the rock are quiet as we descend. They murmur as we pass. Some smile. Some just stare. She’s different than they are. She’s different than me. But none of that matters. All that matters is whether the gods bless our union. That is the final step. Without it, my people will never accept her.
Chapter Six
Anya
I can wait no longer. I cannot take this. I cannot stay.
I have never been more afraid.
Not of him. Of myself.
I want to think he was lying about the fruit, that it really was an aphrodisiac. But I know it wasn’t. From the moment the warrior Kohn captured me, my body has been on fire for him. I try to suppress it, try to snuff it out with my anger and indignation. But the truth is, my skin tingles for his touch, my pussy is slick and aching and longing to be filled every second he’s in my presence. It’s like my body has divorced itself from my will. It’s like it’s betrayed me, broken faith. I need to leave. I need to get back to Earth. Will distance ease the fever he’s infected me with? It’s my only hope. The longer I stay close to him, the worse it gets.
Will he take me again tonight? I pray he won’t. I pray he will. When he tells me that we will sleep apart tonight ahead of the ceremony, I am both disappointed and relieved. When he directs me to a separate cot of downy blankets and soft furs on the other side of the Flame Stones, I begin plotting my escape.
He lies down, and the tent is soon quiet. I wonder again at his arrogance. Does he really think a few orgasms will keep me here? He must, because from across the glowing rocks, I see his chest rise and fall in deep sleep.
I sit up quietly. I watch him for ten, fifteen, twenty more minutes. He does not move. I stand slowly. I’m clad only in a light blue shift I was given after the shaving ceremony, so I pick up a fur to wrap around myself. The moon is almost over the top of the tent, bathing the interior in light. I pad quietly to the opening of the tent, grabbing a small bag and filling it with some of the fruit still left in the bowl. I slip outside.
I can see the shapes of other tents dotting the landscape. This planet may have seen war, but since the treaty, peace has allowed them to sleep securely. There are no sentries, which is good for me. Beyond the tents, I can see rocks dotting the plains. If I can get to them, I can hide in the small crevices and caves as I make my way north to where I hid the Hoverpod. Once I reach it, I can get to the outpost.
I run, sprinting from tent to tent, ducking behind each one. Sometimes I hear noises from within. A child whimpers in one, from another, a female mumbles in her sleep. In the distance, a creature howls, and I realize I am unarmed. I try to remember what creatures lurk the plains. There are lawkers, but the large predatory birds that walk on two legs have migrated beyond the ridges. There are small, six-legged antelope, and rabbit-like creatures with hunched backs and curved fangs used for digging up roots.
At the edge of the village, I look toward the outcrops. They seem further away than I thought. I’m tired from sprinting, but tell myself that I have no choice. I break from cover and run, but am forced to stop when I come to what looks like a sea of glass shards between the outcrops and the village. I remember then that Kohn had to carry me because of these very rocks, and I want to cry. How can I get to the outcrops from here? I must try. I take a step between two sharp jags, looking for a gap where I can safely step. Perhaps if I pick my way through.
Three more steps, and I’m looking for where I can step next when I feel the wind leave my lungs from the force of two arms squeezing and lifting me from behind. I know those arms already, and I struggle.
“Little mate,” he growls. “A few paces more and you would have been unable to flee should a lawker come by. Two steps, and you’ve had shredded your feet.”
“There are hardly any lawkers left,” I protest, wriggling in his grasp.
“Sometimes rogues cross the plains after,” he says. “It only takes one.”
He turns, carrying me back. “Foolish human. You didn’t even hear me follow you from the tent.”
“You were asleep!” I argue, but realize now that he wasn’t. He gave me a chance to obey. I failed. He doesn’t have to tell me what will happen next. I will be punished. The skin on my bottom tingles. There’s a lingering soreness from the first correction, a child’s punishment. I close my eyes, remembering the helplessness of being over his lap, the burn that sank into the skin of my bottom as he spanked me with his huge, hard hand. I don’t say anything as he carries me back to the tent. I’m too nervous.
When he enters the tent, Kohn leans down, depositing me on the blankets. His huge frame looms between me and the exit. All hope of escape is lost.
“You will not spank me again,” I say. I’m prepared to fight him, even if I know I’ll lose. “I am not a child.”
“No,” he says. “You are not. And although I can punish you as I see fit, I will let you have your way on this.” He eyes me intently. “I’ll give you the punishment you think you deserve, one more suited to a mated female.”
I have no time to consider the implication of his words befor
e he reaches for a peg on a nearby post and removes two strips of what look like rawhide. I try to sprint past him, but he grabs me again and lays me flat onto the furs.
Kohn binds my hands to a post behind my head, then picks up two pieces of wood from a nearby basket. He drives them into the ground like stakes then spreads my legs, binding them to the stakes. I watch with mounting dread as he rolls up a blanket and places it under me, elevating my hips.
I am on my back, helpless, my legs spread, and the gentle expression I noted on Kohn’s handsome face at the spring has been replaced by one of disciplinary resolve. I tug against the restraints. What kind of punishment does he have in store?
He leans down now and withdraws a strap from the basket, along with a small vial. Kohn kneels between my legs.
“What are you doing?” I reflexively try to close my legs, but I can’t. I watch as he pulls the cork from the vial with his teeth before he drizzles a honey-colored liquid over my outer and inner labia. I shudder as he touches a finger to my clit, my labia, my shaven mound. I feel a heat suffuse everywhere he massages the liquid into my exposed flesh. It’s as if my entire pussy is throbbing with intensity, even the soft mound of my outer labia. I want to scream. I can feel myself getting wet, feel the pulsing in my core, feel my nipples get hard. I am seized by the strong desire for his touch. But he doesn’t touch me. Instead, he raises the strap and brings it down between my legs, right on my exposed pussy.
It is not a hard blow. But whatever he’s rubbed into my skin has set the nerves alight, and pain cuts through me like a razor’s edge. I scream, grinding the heels of my bound feet into the rugs as my back arches skyward. The hurt recedes to become a fierce, tingling sting. It’s intense, but in the midst of pain, I feel orgasmic tension begin to wind in my woman’s core.
He hits me again.
It is agony. It is ecstasy. It is torture. Tears course down my cheeks. The tent resounds with my screams. I curl my back forward. My shaved, pale labia are bright pink where he’s struck me. The ridge of a small welt blooms across the outer lips.
“No! No! No!” I cry, my hips bouncing on the rug. The strap lands a third time, this time directly on my clit. The blow is light, but sends a searing jolt through me. I wail in pain, even as an orgasm rocks me. I’m torn. I’m releasing my sexual tension, but the wave of pleasure mingles with an equally powerful wave of pain.
I realize why he said this is a woman’s punishment, because coming itself brings a penalty. The pleasure is intense, but so is the pain, and I would give anything if only he would untie me, put me facedown over his lap, and spank my ass so that I wouldn’t have to stare into his hard, merciless eyes.
He’s witness to the inner battle playing out on my face. I’m moaning, but the moans end in screams of pleasure. Kohn rubs some of the ointment on my nipples. I want him to, but I don’t.
He leans down, and I see the leonine top of his head a split second before he captures a nipple in his mouth. He pinches my clit at the same time. I quake with conflicting sensations. I see stars, and think I’m looking through the roof, but no. My eyes are closed. I’m literally seeing stars.
I feel his lips trail down my belly. No. No. No. He can’t do what he’s about to do. I try to scoot away, but his mouth has closed over my punished labia, his tongue lashing and stabbing my engorged, hypersensitive skin before he suckles on my clit.
I writhe uncontrollably. My pussy contracts and pumps. I cry out with every pass of the tongue that laps it greedily away. My wrists and ankles burn from pulling at the restraints. I am covered in sweat. I feel as though I may explode from this exquisite torture.
I want it to stop.
I want it to go on forever.
He pulls his body up until his face is level with mine. His eyes glitter. He looks feral, terrifying, more beautiful than any god or angel.
“You cannot escape me,” he says. “Even if you fly beyond the stars, you will forever feel the force of our bond.” He strokes the tears from my face, and his eyes are kind again. “Do you not feel it now, Anya?”
He’s right. There’s a pressure inside of me, pulling. I’ve never believed in a soul, but I can feel it now, pushing, pushing against my chest.
“We’re supposed to wait,” he says. “But I cannot. I must show you.”
He rises to kneeling, and undoes the bonds on my feet, leans forward, unties my hands.
Kohn speaks softly to me. “If you stay, I will rule over you. I will protect you. I will die for you if I must. I will take your body again and again and again. I will breed children on you, strong sons and beautiful pale daughters.” He pauses. “I had to punish you, to show you what to expect. But there’s more. Open your legs.”
I part them, mesmerized by his words. Even though my pussy is still tender from his punishment, the ache of emptiness is worse. My hips rise to meet him when he pushes into me, and I feel my life force, my soul, expand from my body. I see it—a visible glow. One emerges from his as well. They combine and swirl around as our bodies, moving as one. There is no pain now. There is only pleasure, deeper than I’ve ever known. My arms and legs go around him. I don’t understand this. I don’t understand how my prejudices about the Ythilians could have led me to this moment, to this revelation. I only know what I feel is magical, unexplainable, and very, very real.
When we come, we come together. The glowing field of our combined souls pulses and glows. His cock is impossibly deep inside me, making me feel complete, whole. My shuddering cry joins his low moan as our orgasms peak and subside. Kohn sinks down beside me, draws me into the safety of his arms.
Only then do we sleep.
Chapter Seven
Kohn
The temptation to stay here in my tent, locked in the warm embrace of my little mate is strong. But I cannot skip the ceremony. And I cannot dismiss the gravity of what I’ve done, either.
I have broken our laws. I have bonded without blessing. Will the gods punish me by taking Anya away? From across the room, she looks at me from the crowd of elder women who have come to array her in ceremonial dress. It is a courtesy extended to all the newly mated, and they care for my little one as if she is one of our own.
She looks shy and innocent as the moon-colored shift slides over her head. They plait gemstones into her hair. They paint her eyes with kohl and her lips with red pigment made from a flower that blooms only during the festival.
I don an ochre sash and matching kilt, and tall boots. It’s the formal uniform of a warrior and chieftain, but today, all couples are the same at the ceremony. We all ask for the same sign, the one that will permit the soul bond we’ve already entered without divine permission.
I look back at Anya, and she smiles—actually smiles. It’s the first smile I’ve seen since I laid eyes on her. My heart swells with happiness. I walk over to her.
“Leave us,” I tell the elder women, and they nod and obey. I watch them go before turning to her.
“You look so beautiful.” I wrap a tendril of her dark hair around my finger.
“Last night,” she says. “What happened?”
“You tell me,” I say.
“Magic.” I see her shudder at the memory. “Magic happened.” Then tears fill her eyes. “What do I do, Kohn?” She’s said my name. Another first. “I’ve never felt like this. I’ve never felt...” She puts her hand to her chest while staring at mine. “I’ve never felt part of anyone’s life, let alone part of them.”
I pull her to me. I wish I had answers, but the truth is, I don’t know, either. I did not want to take a defiant human to the ceremony. I was sure we would have a soul bond, and we do. But to experience it without the blessing. I don’t want to make her afraid, but she deserves to know the truth.
“Come here,” I say, and sit with her on a low bench by the ring of Flame Stones. I explain the ceremony, explain that we were to ask a blessing of the gods. I explain that as each warrior lights a sacred fire today, an image will appear in the smoke. Not all couples who ma
te experience a soul bond. They may still be true mates, but they can live apart. I tell her my fear, that the gods may well punish us for what we’ve done. We may have angered them. They may strip us of what we have. Only the image in the smoke will tell.
“I would have called this superstitious barbarism days ago,” she says. “But after last night... I realize there’s so much I don’t understand.”
I keep a protective arm around her as we join the procession to the eight standing rocks that mark our holy place. There are mounds of sapphire rocks, one for each couple, that will be lit by the warrior.
The priestess, a beautiful female with long silver hair and a strong, ringing voice, welcomes us all. She explains the ancient ceremony, and tells each couple they will see a sign in the flames. If the image is of a male and female embracing, it is a sign from the gods that they will form a soul bond this day. But if the figures are parted, there will always be a distance between them.
My brother nods to me from where he and others are seated. He has already gotten his mate with child. Her hands are resting on her swollen belly. I want the same for me and Anya, but I’m afraid to look that far ahead.
Ingnar and his mate are the first to approach their rocks. The priestess hands them a torch, and they touch it to coals glowing in a brazier. Once it lights, Ingnar touches the tip to the sapphire rocks and twin plumes of smoke rise skyward. Within moments, they morph into figures that dance and move apart and then together. The elder priestesses sing a song of praise as the smoke couple twirls together in an erotic embrace that mirrors that of the couple.
Alien Alphas: Twenty-Three Naughty Sci-Fi Romance Novellas Page 54