Their Defiant Human

by Ivy Barrett

  “Stop! Please, stop,” she sobbed, more afraid she’d come if he didn’t cease than of more pain. “I’m sorry I disobeyed, and I’m sorry I thought about deceiving you.”

  His swats slowed, then finally stopped, leaving her ass hot and throbbing. “That’s sufficient for now, but our activities have just begun.” He handed the paddle to Roark, who returned it to the cabinet. Then Mal Ton walked to the head of the apparatus. “This puts your luscious mouth at the perfect level for fucking.” Mal Ton grabbed the back of her hair and pulled her face up until she looked into his eyes. “It also angles your hips just right for the introduction of anal play. I don’t really need to ask if you’ve ever had a cock up your ass, do I?”

  “Is that what you intend?” Dread made the question sound strangled. “Do I have any other choice?”

  “You had other choices.” He glanced at Roark then returned his full attention to her. “You chose defiance, which means your virgin ass is mine.”

  His harsh expression and imperious tone sent a fresh wave of fear crashing over her. The two men silently glared at each other while Andrea waited for Mal Ton’s next move. She wasn’t sure if they were communicating telepathically or using silent signals, but they started touching her at exactly the same time. Roark trailed his fingers up her spine as he stepped in front of her. Mal Ton moved behind her and squeezed her stinging ass. While Roark’s fingers teased with feather-light touches, Mal Ton’s touch was firm and possessive.

  “I don’t want that,” she cried, growing more agitated as Mal Ton focused on his target. “Anything but that.”

  Roark reached beneath her and cupped her breasts as Mal Ton rotated the contraption farther forward. She gasped and stiffened, but the straps held her snugly in place. The top of her head nestled against Roark’s crotch. Mal Ton was right; all she had to do was raise her face and he could slip right into her mouth.

  Both men were still fully dressed. She couldn’t really see Mal Ton but no discarded garments had gone flying. Warm fingers brushed her inner thighs.

  “You’re already wet.” Mal Ton traced her slit, the easy slide of his fingertips proving his point. “Did the paddling get you this hot or was it the thought of taking me up the ass?”

  How was she supposed to answer that? No, please, shove your cock up my ass. If your penis is as big as the rest of you, I’m sure it will only hurt—like hellfire!

  She wasn’t sure if he heard her sarcastic thought or he was just tired of waiting for her answer. His palm came down across her tender ass cheek and she yelped, straining against the bands. “What the fuck was that for?” The obscene word sprang readily to her lips.

  He didn’t answer her indignant question. Pushing two of his long fingers into her slick passage, he spanked her other cheek. The sting from the first slap had mellowed to an almost pleasant heat when he delivered the second blow. She cried out louder and her inner muscles tightened around his fingers.

  “That’s right.” He pulled back and thrust in hard as he returned to the first side.

  “Oh!” It was part anger and part shock. Heat spread out and penetrated deep, triggering odd little flutters. He repeated the tantalizing sequence—slap, thrust, and pause. Roark rolled her nipples and sensation spiraled from her chest to her pussy just as Mal Ton’s palm connected again.

  “Don’t fight it. You’re almost there.” He twisted his wrist, his long fingers moving in a teasing spiral as he pulled nearly out. Her core rippled and tingled. How was this possible? He rubbed her burning skin, accenting the heat, as he pumped his fingers in and out of her throbbing pussy.

  She closed her eyes and concentrated on the feelings gathering low in her belly. If he would just touch her clit. One little squeeze and she’d go off like a rocket. Instead, he gathered her cream and painted her tightly puckered anus. His finger circled, venturing deeper with each pass.

  “You said you wouldn’t—”

  He pushed inside as his other hand lightly spanked her mound. Pleasure burst with breath-stealing intensity. She gasped and trembled as he pulled his finger out, prolonging the unexpected spasm. As the pulsing sensations began to fade, he pushed back in, saturating her senses with a fresh wave of release. Another firm tap against her mound made both her passages tighten with greedy abandon. The teasing slide of his finger maintained the staggering release. On and on he drove her—spank, thrust, spank, thrust, passing the pleasure back and forth between her mound and her ass.

  She screamed as her inner muscles clenched so hard she saw stars.

  Mal Ton nipped her bottom and finally withdrew his finger. “Tell Roark you like being spanked or I’ll get out my strap.”

  She was ready to admit to the new discovery when an odd beeping interrupted her. Roark stepped back and she heard Mal Ton speaking rapidly in a language she didn’t understand.

  He spoke louder and Roark replied in the same language. What was going on and why didn’t they want her to know about it?

  She heard the door slide open and close. Roark rotated her so she knelt on the bottom rail then released the bands. “What happened? Why did he have to leave?”

  “Are you disappointed?”

  His hostility surprised and annoyed her. Rather than adding fuel to the fire, she snatched up her pants and covered her nudity. He tossed her the shirt then moved to one of the cabinets built into the walls.

  “What are you doing?” She found her shoes as he loaded a small case with items she couldn’t see because of the angle of his body.

  “He’s not sure how long he’ll be gone so he wants me to prepare you.”

  “Prepare me for what?”

  * * *

  Roark gritted his teeth in exasperation. Watching Mal Ton’s fingers slide in and out of Andrea’s squirming body, knowing the commander triggered each shocked gasp and cry of pleasure, had been utter torment. Roark desired Andrea, ached to participate in her sexual awakening. But the situation resonated with unpleasant memories.

  Baylie, Roark’s ex-fiancée, had succumbed to the dark passion of a man very much like Mal Ton. She had urged Roark to include his Second in their lovemaking with greater and greater frequency until Roark realized he had been displaced. Standing by passively while Mal Ton dominated Andrea brought the past surging back to the surface.

  “Can’t you guess what the commander expects?” He snapped the case shut and turned around, kicking the cabinet closed with the heel of his boot. “The night is far from over. Mal Ton will likely return.”

  After spending half the afternoon watching Andrea on the surveillance feed, Roark had convinced himself she would agree to work on a cure. He didn’t need empathic receptors to know what she was thinking. Her expressive eyes told him she had been genuinely moved by the case studies and intrigued with the possibilities. And still she’d refused to help with the genetic crisis.

  But she wants me to punish her. Haven’t you figured that out? Mal Ton’s mocking words echoed through Roark’s mind. Did she want Mal Ton or did she just long to be touched, even spanked? Roark gripped her upper arm and led her toward the door.

  “Why are you angry with me?” She twisted out of his grasp, her gaze narrowed with annoyance.

  “I’m not angry,” he grumbled.

  “The hell you aren’t. You of all people should understand I have no control over how my body responds to… What was I supposed to do?”

  Help me with the crisis! He kept the comment to himself. Part of him understood her resistance. They were manipulating her. “Let’s go back to my quarters. This place makes me uncomfortable.” He didn’t share Mal Ton’s need to dominate his sexual partners. Roark enjoyed sharing pleasure with his lovers, not overwhelming their inhibitions. Still, Andrea seemed to need a controlling hand.

  He rushed her through Mal Ton’s bedroom, unwilling to watch the hunger smoldering in her eyes. Mal Ton was a typical Second. The kind of man women lusted after, played with for a while then realized they needed a deeper connection, a more nurturing relationshi
p. At least that was how it was supposed to work.

  Roark had the stable, supportive personality women desired in a mate. So why did Andrea seem indifferent to him? Because you’re too damn nice. Maybe Mal Ton was right. She was surrounded by dramatic circumstances. If he ever hoped to cut through the din, he had to be more assertive, perhaps not aggressive like Mal Ton, but more decisive in his seduction.

  “If you’re not angry with me, what’s bothering you?”

  “Memories.” He knew she’d presume he meant the indignities he was supposed to have suffered. She didn’t need to know her attraction to Mal Ton kept taking him back to his fiancée’s betrayal.

  “I’m sorry. I should have realized.”

  They didn’t speak again until they reached his office. He scanned open the door to his bedroom then heaved an audible sigh. A sneak attack really wasn’t his style. “Have you ever heard of a butt plug?”

  She looked at the case tucked under his arm with obvious suspicion. “Why do you ask?”

  “He wants me to put one in you. I’m supposed to demand your cooperation or put you in restraints. I’d much rather explain what is expected of us and work through this together.”

  “Can’t we just say we did and not go there?” Her hopeful smile made him chuckle.

  “It stays in until he gets back.”

  She gasped and took a step backward. “What if he doesn’t come back tonight?”

  “He’s going to com me when he knows more about the situation. Until he tells me otherwise, you’re supposed to get used to the fullness.”

  “This is a form of training, isn’t it?” She fidgeted, looking everywhere but into his eyes. “He intends to… do that to me. Doesn’t he?”

  He found her aversion to graphic words endearing. Her fear, however, needed to be elevated. “Why are you so uncomfortable with the thought of that?”

  “Have you ever had a cock up your ass?” If her crimson blush was any indication, she’d blurted out the question without thought. “That’s none of my business. Forget I asked.”

  “The answer is… sort of.”

  Her eyebrows scrunched and she finally met his gaze. They still hadn’t entered his bedroom. He stood in the doorway and she stayed a step back, just out of reach.

  “All right. You answered, so explain what ‘sort of’ means.”

  “I’ve never had a man fuck me, but one of my female lovers enjoyed using toys, especially when my cock was in her mouth.”

  “I see.”

  He hadn’t thought it was possible for a blush to deepen, but her cheeks suddenly looked as if she’d been slapped. Rather like her smooth ass cheeks had appeared after Mal Ton spanked her. Roark shook away the arousing thought and reached for her hand.

  “Mal Ton never used you like that?” She didn’t resist as he pulled her toward him.

  Damn! He’d slipped out of character for a moment. “Mal Ton can be a ruthless bastard, but to my knowledge he has never raped anyone. I’m not attracted to men. So he found other ways of tormenting me.” It was an awkward recovery at best, but she seemed to accept it.

  He kept the door open until she brushed past him. “Where did Mal Ton go?”

  Was there any reason not to tell her? There was no way she could use the information against them, so he said, “After a ship full of test subjects.”

  “Test subjects?”

  “Bryson was so confident in your abilities he arranged test subjects for your use.” He followed her into the bedroom and the door slid closed behind him.

  “The only test subjects I would need are those affected by the mutation.”

  Roark nodded. Thank gods, Bryson was his own worst enemy. “That’s why Mal Ton went after the ship. Bryson was lying to you. We’re not sure what he wants from you, but it has little to do with reversing the mutation.”

  Chapter Five

  “We’re too late, sir,” Vi Pone reported. “There are no life signs.”

  Mal Ton scanned the wreckage for the third time, refusing to accept his lieutenant’s assessment. According to Mal Ton’s informant, there should have been twenty test subjects on the transport along with a standard crew of six. So why did the scanners only detect fifteen bodies?

  “Why were they so far off course?” Mal Ton mused. “There isn’t a spaceport anywhere near here.”

  “We’re sixteen kilometers south of a military base.”

  Mal Ton accepted the reminder with a stiff nod. Bryson might have been reluctant to bring his guests in through the front door, but he’d done little to disguise his movements. Something or someone brought this ship down and Mal Ton doubted it was the general.

  Fidgeting in his chair, he studied the readouts, determined to give the mission his full attention. Still, images of Andrea lingered in his mind. Her skin had turned such a vivid pink, and cream slicked her inner thighs as he worked his finger in and out of her tiny hole. She’d cried out so sweetly, unable to deny the pleasure his touch unleashed.

  He’d barely begun to ‘punish’ her when he’d been called away. If her immediate response to the spanking was any indication, Andrea was a natural submissive. So few Stilox women were content in the passive role. War had reshaped their thinking, made them self-sufficient, more assertive, and less willing to entrust their pleasure to anyone else. It wasn’t that Andrea lacked self-confidence or spirit. He just sensed her need for domination.

  This speculation was pointless. He would investigate his suspicions more thoroughly once he returned. Ignoring the uncomfortable pressure in his crotch, he turned toward the pilot. “Get us as close to the debris as you can. We can’t account for eleven people. I want to know why.”

  With uncharacteristic optimism, Mal Ton had set off with a minimal crew. He’d wanted to leave plenty of room for the rescued test subjects. They approached the crash site cautiously. Their scrambler shield made them undetectable to scanners but visual detection was harder to avoid.

  “Has the rescue team come and gone?” Vi Pone looked directly at Mal Ton. “Why isn’t the wreckage crawling with Bryson’s men?”

  “Damn good question. I say we find out.”

  The pilot stayed with the ship while Vi Pone followed Mal Ton into the dense forest. The scent of pine and smoke were heavy in the air as they crept along the ridge overlooking the downed transport. Nothing moved in the surrounding darkness and only the distant groan of the settling wreckage disturbed the starry night.

  “This doesn’t make sense,” Vi Pone whispered across the comlink incorporated in their helmets. “Bryson’s men should be crawling all over this valley.”

  “Cover me. I’m going to take a closer look.”

  Vi Pone lay on his stomach at the crest of the hill and activated the high-powered scope on his plasma rifle. “There are blind spots all through the debris. Try to stay where I can see you.”

  Acknowledging the warning with a silent wave, Mal Ton started down the hill. Scanner readouts scrolled down the sides of his visor while night vision enhancement allowed him to see clearly. The smoldering ship created pockets of heat. He identified bodies within the alloy rubble, yet there were no hover tracks or indications of how the survivors had been moved. If the eleven were survivors.

  An unseen hand wrapped around his upper arm and yanked him behind a cluster of twisted metal. He looked and scanned frantically, but there was no one there.

  “Commander, I can’t see you,” Vi Pone’s voice erupted in his ear.

  “If you want to know what happened here, tell your sniper everything is fine.”

  Mal Ton didn’t recognize the intruder’s voice. He wasn’t even sure if it had been audible or in his head. His body armor would protect him from weapons’ fire, but his assailant was invisible! The hold on his upper arm remained firm but his scanners revealed nothing.

  “Stand down, Vi.” He infused his tone with calm and curiosity. “There are tracks back here. I’m going to see where they lead.”

  “I’d feel better if I could see you
.”

  Mal Ton chuckled. “I get that all the time.”

  “Mute your comlink,” the phantom instructed.

  Mal Ton kept his pulse pistol firmly in his grasp but he had no idea where to aim.

  “The clean-up team is on its way. We really don’t have time for your mistrust.”

  Someone grasped his head and pulled off his helmet. Mal Ton swatted at the unseen hands and crouched, preparing for another attack. Why had they left him with his weapon? He pointed the pistol at each shadow in turn, his heart thumping out his confusion and fear. They’d overcome him effortlessly. Why was he still alive? All he could detect was the outline of bodies and glowing amber eyes.

  Mutants.

  Mal Ton tensed. “Did you bring down the ship?”

  “No.”

  “Do you know who did?”

  “Yes.”

  Are you capable of more than one-word answers? “Were there survivors? Why aren’t Bryson’s men here yet?”

  “The trauma team is here and gone. There was nothing they could do for the dead. As I said already, a clean-up crew is on their way. Why are you so focused on Bryson? He had nothing to do with the crash.”

  The voice came from Mal Ton’s left, but he couldn’t be certain which of the mutants spoke. “Who are you?”

  “Fane sent us to recover the women. Max beat us to the finish line.”

  “Who the hell is Max and why do you say women? Were all the test subjects female?”

  The mutant made a derisive sound, part chuckle and part scoff. “Two steps behind as usual. Tell the Earth woman to focus on the female case studies. She has to find a cure before it’s too late. If Fane dies, Max will take over Protaria, and Stilox will be powerless to stop him.”

  “Max brought down the ship?”

  “You find a cure. We’ll worry about the test subjects.”

  One of the mutants tossed Mal Ton his helmet then they all melted into the night.

  * * *

  “Are you hungry?”