by Renee Rose
Zander’s gaze flicked down at her with impatience. “Is that why your stomach grumbles?”
She nodded. “Yes, my lord.” It cost her to speak to him with respect, but she even managed not to sound mocking. If those were the rules of this new life, she would follow them. It was the way her mother had kept them safe and together so long. Head down, feign compliance. Plan a revolution. Besides, she had bigger battles to pick—like avoiding the intended taking of her virginity.
He snatched up the leash and clipped it to her collar, jaw tight, disgust painted across his handsome face. “I’ll take her to the kitchen. How often does she require food?”
Daneth winced. “Two to three times a day. And they recommend she have liquids at all times. The lack of fluids may explain why her lips have cracked. I thought it might be our atmosphere, but that’s all compatible.”
He lifted her to her feet, using the leash, which caused her to choke.
“Ouch,” she protested, glaring.
He frowned and shook his head. “Fragile human,” he muttered, but her sixth sense registered guilt behind his frustration. He hadn’t meant to hurt her.
“How often do you eat?” she asked. There was accusation in her voice, or maybe it was defensiveness. Whatever it was, it offended the prince.
He popped the leash toward him.
She flew forward onto her knees, pain flashing up her neck and into the base of her skull. Lights danced before her eyes.
~.~
Veck and excrement. He bent and picked up the weak human female from where she’d fallen to her knees. Dropping her back on her feet, he rubbed her nape to ease her pain.
He hadn’t meant to yank her so hard, had forgotten how little she weighed. Anger at himself quickly morphed into general irritation with the whole vecking situation. What was he doing with a vecking slave? He hadn’t the slightest idea how to train her or care for her well-being. He hadn’t even wanted offspring. He didn’t want any of this mess.
He unclipped the leash and threw it on the floor. “I don’t need this damn leash. You will follow a step behind me or you’ll be beaten. Is that clear?” He shouldn’t yell at her. It wasn’t her fault he’d hurt her.
Her eyes swam with tears, and guilt stabbed at his consciousness.
“Why are you crying?”
“I’m not.”
For the love of his species, were they really playing this game again?
He ran his fingers around her collar, checking for wounds. “I hurt you?” Rug burns reddened her knees, but nothing terrible.
She shook her head. “I’m hungry, that’s all.” Her voice choked with tears.
The sound of it grated on him—made his chest tighten. She affected him in far too many ways. He wasn’t an emotional creature by nature. Not like a human. But, in the course of an hour, she’d inspired anger, frustration, and guilt. And yes, lust. Because the sight of her naked body had him itching to veck her senseless.
“And you don’t wish to cry, but still you do.” He growled with impatience and snapped her wrist cuffs together in front of her. “Follow.” He marched out of the room. He didn’t look back but her light footsteps padded right behind him.
His guards stole surreptitious glances as they passed. For some reason, it made his fists clench. They were lucky none of them openly gawked or he’d have their heads. He glanced over his shoulder and caught Gunt, the guard who stood at his chamber door, staring at Lamira’s naked buttocks, which, of course, still glowed, painted red with his handprints. Gunt caught his glower and immediately shifted his gaze to the wall.
He grasped Lamira’s elbow and pulled her up to his side.
“You said to walk behind you, my lord,” she protested.
“Do not ever argue with me, slave. Your duty is to follow my lead at all times. I may change my mind or directions at a moment’s notice. You will adjust.”
When she didn’t answer, he halted and spun her around to face him, raising his eyebrows.
“Yes, my lord.” She sounded sullen, but her eyes remained lowered. It was a small step forward. He waited a moment longer for her to lift her eyes so he could give her a fierce glower of warning.
She blanched.
Good. She would learn. Hopefully sooner than later. He walked her to the kitchen.
Daneth, being the ever-capable advisor, had called ahead, and his servants there had already prepared several possibilities to feed her.
“Will this do, my lord?” Barr, the chef, asked, placing several plates piled with food on the counter. “Master Daneth was not certain what she would eat, but he suggested a few possibilities.” The chef’s eyes flicked to Lamira’s peach-tipped breasts and Zander’s horns twitched.
He wanted to throw the plates of food at the male. “She’ll eat what we feed her,” he growled, but he pushed her in front of the plates and allowed her to choose for herself.
He didn’t know what to expect, but she picked the same one he would have picked, had it been his day to eat—a meal of delicate birdflesh with fruit compote over a serving of grain.
She gazed up at him with a question in her eyes. Or was it a supplication? His horns leaned in her direction and his cock stiffened. He enjoyed that look on her. He imagined her on her knees, pleading for his mercy, or for him to grant her a boon. He wasn’t sure what it was she wanted now, though.
She dropped her eyes back to her plate and grasped the curved utensil.
He suddenly understood. She wanted her wrists freed to eat.
“Release cuffs.”
Oh Zandian sun, she was beautiful. Her smile of gratitude sent a wave of something unfamiliar through the center of his chest. He didn’t like it. She was trouble. A pain in his backside. She lied. She deceived. She couldn’t control her wild human emotions. She would distract him from his work to no end. The last thing he needed was to feel pity or...anything else for this female.
He did not often visit the kitchen, but there were far more servants crowding into the space than belonged. All of them stole curious glances at Lamira and her naked body.
She ate quickly, as if afraid someone might take the food away from her. She had been hungry.
No, he wouldn’t feel guilty about that, either.
She finished one quarter of the food on the plate and set the utensil down, pushing the plate away. She flashed a brilliant smile at Barr, the only being who remained in the kitchen now. “Thank you. This is the most delicious meal I’ve ever had.”
He wanted to throat-punch the chef. Which wasn’t fair. His entire staff—every being in the pod—was made up of Zandians. Many of them were highly skilled professionals, but they’d chosen to take serving positions to be near him, or perhaps to be near the Zandian crystals in his possession. His species needed them to survive, so, when they’d evacuated Zandia, they’d taken a load of crystal as well.
“Please, my lady…er—” Barr’s eyes darted to Zander.
No, definitely not my lady. She was far from his mate. But he suddenly didn’t want his staff thinking of her as beneath them, either.
“Lamira,” he corrected.
Barr bowed. “Lamira, please eat as much as you like…” he trailed off again, once more realizing he’d overstepped his bounds.
Zander gave him a cold stare. “She will require sustenance two to three times a day. She obviously eats very little at a time, however.”
Barr bobbed his head. “We will provide her with whatever she wishes.”
What emotions twisted around in his chest now? Some odd mixture of jealousy combined with satisfaction. He wanted Barr to care appropriately for his slave, but he didn’t like the way she smiled at him.
Stars. Having this vecking female created a starstorm of issues in his pod. She was not an honored guest here. She was a slave. Except only for him. “Treat her like a fellow staff member. No higher, no lower. She serves me like you do,” he snapped. He swept his gaze around the room, making sure they’d all heard it.
Everyone
nodded their assent.
And stared at her breasts.
Excrement. She would not be allowed out of his chamber unclothed again.
~.~
She almost had to jog to keep up with Zander’s long strides back to his chamber. He refused to look at her, a muscle flexing in his temple. She couldn’t figure out why he’d be angry. She didn’t mind hurrying, though. Parading through the halls naked with her freshly spanked ass hanging out for all to see was not her idea of fun. It was utterly humiliating. It also had her sex wet again. Now that most of the pain had faded, the memory of the spanking strangely excited her. She imagined him doing it again, then forcing her to breed.
But no. She didn’t want that. She wasn’t supposed to want the attention of any male. Which might prove difficult here. From what she’d gathered, there were only males in Zander’s pod. And, yeah, the Zandian males were...very masculine. Something about being around so many huge, ripped bodies, giant cocks stuffed in tight pants, and horns pointed right at her while the beings stared at her body had her nipples hard and her pussy damp. It had her skin flushing and tingling. It had her wondering how big and long the Zandian prince’s cock might be.
The guard who stood outside Zander’s door grabbed her ass when she passed him on her way into the room. No, he didn’t grab it. It was more of a grope. A fleeting touch—his fingers brushing her inflamed flesh, questing along her curves.
She turned and glared at him but, he stood staring straight ahead, as if nothing had happened. Should she tell Zander? But, no, he didn’t want her speaking unless spoken to.
“Door shut.” The door slid closed at Zander’s command. “In this chamber, you will always be naked. When you leave this room, you will cover yourself.”
She lifted her arms and made a show of searching around her body. “With what?” It was the wrong thing to do—she certainly ought to know better.
But her claircognizance told her Zander wasn’t cruel. He wasn’t dangerous—not like the Ocretion foremen with their shocking devices. Maybe she sensed that underneath the arrogance and superiority, he was an honorable being. Maybe part of her thought it was fun to goad the prince who thought so little of her species. Or maybe she was just a stupid, crazy female who couldn’t suppress her macabre curiosity in receiving punishment at the prince’s hand. Because the pain and humiliation of the first spanking he’d given her had left her changed.
His expression hardened. He sat down on the hovering disk that served as his chair, snapped his fingers, and pointed at his feet.
She didn’t miss his meaning and didn’t have the nerve to pretend she didn’t understand. She lowered herself to her knees near his feet.
“Look at me.”
She craned her neck to meet his gaze.
“Lamira, you have tried my patience too many times already today. If I am to believe Daneth, you are not unintelligent. If you speak to me in a disrespectful tone again, I will make your earlier punishment seem like a caress. Do you understand?”
She swallowed. “I’m sorry, my lord.”
He stared at her for a beat. She gazed into his chocolate brown eyes and realized the outer ring and the pattern within the iris was pure violet. Incredible.
“Humans lie.”
“I’m not lying.” Was she pushing him too far again? Why couldn’t she stop herself?
He slapped her face.
It stung and brought tears to her eyes, even though she knew he might have struck her far harder.
“Why do you continue to fight me?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered, staring at the finely woven rug as hot tears slid down her burning face.
She wondered about her mother—if she even knew what had happened to her only daughter. If she’d ever see her again. How all this would turn out? Did she truly belong to Zander now? His sex slave? His breeder?
Her father had revolted and given his life over his first daughter becoming a sex slave. It would kill him to know his younger daughter also ended up with that fate, to be a breeder.
She hated the quivering place inside her that found the idea half-arousing. She should not be thinking of how it would feel to be strapped down and taken against her will by a giant Zandian male.
Zander cupped her chin. His touch was surprisingly gentle but still strong and sure. He brushed her tears with his thumb then rubbed it together with his forefingers, as if mystified by the substance. “I don’t like when you cry.”
She didn’t know what he meant by that. Was it an order to stop crying? She swiped at her tears with the back of her hand. Thankfully, he hadn’t reattached her cuffs after she’d eaten. She gulped in her breath and held it, trying to stop the tears from flowing. “I’m sorry, my lord.”
His fingers wove into her hair. “We eat once a week in Zandian time, which on Ocretia is about ten planet rotations.”
She stilled, surprised to hear him answer the question he had scolded her for asking.
“The rest of the time, we get our energy from light. The solar rays are different here on Ocretia than they were on Zandia, so we use a crystal amplifier for light baths once a week or more.”
She didn’t often have visions. Usually the curse came as claircognition, not clairvoyance. But, in that moment, she had a flash of the most beautiful rainbow light bathing her skin, making ecstatic ripples of joy shimmer all around her. Gooseflesh stood on her skin.
She swallowed. “Thank you,” she whispered hoarsely.
“You’re still thirsty,” he said. “There’s a fluid tube in your cage. You may go and drink from it.”
A fluid tube. In her cage.
She wasn’t sure she would ever warm up to being kept in a cage like an animal, but there was something oddly comforting about having her own space within this terrifying new reality. When she started to stand, he lifted her with a hand under one arm.
His superior strength made her knees weak. He could hurt her. Far worse than he had. He certainly had shown restraint. Why did that turn her on?
She crawled into her cage and located the tube. The liquid inside tasted sweet and fruity. Delicious. She drank her fill and then crawled back out, settling once more at her master’s feet. He didn’t acknowledge her, but the tension between them had eased.
She watched him work, listened to his conversations, watched his messages. His large hands moved with elegant grace as he traced holograms, stretching them, shrinking them, sliding to the next one. The same large hands that had paddled her raw.
She longed for him to touch her. There. There it was. The unacceptable truth. He had slapped her face and spanked her ass. He had cupped her chin and gripped her nape. He’d held her arms. But she was his sex slave. His breeder. Shouldn’t he be interested in touching her breasts? Her pussy? When would he do so?
A tap sounded at the door.
“Enter.”
Daneth came in, followed by two servants carrying various objects. The first one brought a piece of furniture—some kind of bench. The second one carried...oh veck. They were instruments of torture. Things to beat her with. Frightening, cone-shaped objects. Various tubes of gels and ointments.
Daneth began explaining them all to Zander, who watched her face as she absorbed it. She tried to keep it blank, but probably didn’t succeed. Her ears burned. Her bottom, which had stopped throbbing, tingled. A loud rushing sound in her ears made their voices sound far away.
“Slave, come here,” Daneth said.
Zander spoke. “Lamira.” It sounded like a correction—to Daneth—and it made something in her chest flutter. Not slave. Lamira.
She rewarded the consideration with obedience, stepping forward, even though she knew what would happen. The doctor, or scientist, or whatever he was, pushed her down over the bench, snapping her wrists and ankles to the legs. She lay naked, with her ass lifted and spread, offered up for punishment.
“It can also be used for the breeding, you see,” Daneth explained, tapping her sex with two fingers.
&nb
sp; She wriggled away.
“Oh, this should also be useful during penetration. It may prevent tearing from your larger size.” Daneth roughly smeared something cold and liquid across her folds.
She tightened both holes, straining against her bonds.
“Leave us.” Zander’s voice sounded even deeper than usual.
“Yes, my lord.” She imagined Daneth bowing and backing toward the door.
Her legs trembled on the bench. This was it. He was going to shove his enormous Zandian cock in her virgin hole now. Her hands turned cold and clammy. She gripped the legs of the padded bench so hard her knuckles turned white.
It occurred to her to beg—to plead with the prince, who might not be such a terrible being, to postpone their copulation. But her lips wouldn’t work, tongue didn’t move. She remained silent in the horrible position, offered up to him like the slave she was.
Zander probed her entrance with his finger, rubbing the slick substance around her entrance. He pushed his finger inside.
Her foot jerked, and she sucked in her breath across bared teeth.
“Does that hurt?”
She didn’t answer him. No. It didn’t hurt, but she didn’t want to tell him that. She wanted him to stop, to put her back in the odious cage and leave her alone.
He slapped the back of her thigh, and she yelped. “I asked you a question.”
“I don’t like it,” she said sullenly.
A long silence stretched while he screwed his huge finger inside her. It met her virginal resistance and he paused, going slowly, investigating her interior walls. Her belly fluttered. Heat flooded her sex, flushed out across her skin. Her pussy swelled under his touch, the lubricant spreading with a more pleasing sensation now.
“Your genes, of all those recorded in the Ocreatic galaxy, are predicted to mesh best with mine. I don’t know why—it doesn’t make sense to me how a human could bear the best offspring for me, but that’s what the program says. So neither of us has to like it...but we are going to do it.” There was a steely dominance to the dictate.