The Yielding of Rose (Terran Captives Book 2)

by Trent Evans

  They were all his. And he wanted her mind to understand the truth of that down to the most instinctive of levels, whether or not she was ready to accept it yet.

  The fact that he owned them, that he owned her, and that he intended to enjoy all of her — whether she wanted him to or not — only deepened his dark, possessive arousal.

  He gave her clit a gentle squeeze and this time she yelped, her eyes closing, her body arching off the mattress, wrists pulling at her bonds. He knew she was close despite the shame — or maybe because of the shame — so near to flying off that precipice to something into a universe she had no experience with. Yet.

  And that made it all the better.

  He slapped her breasts back and forth as he continued to friction that clit, knowing it was equal parts pain and pleasure, loving that she surrendered to both, regardless.

  Her eyes were glazed, the pupils wide, her breathing coming in quick pants now. The words were on her lips. He wanted her to say them. He knew she fought saying it, and it wasn’t until she almost succumbed that he stopped.

  Standing over her, licking her spicy essence from each one of his wet fingers, he smiled down at her. He drank in the confusion in her wide blue eyes, her mouth hanging open as she panted. Then her sweet, freckled brow furrowed deeply, her eyes narrowing.

  Would she rebel at that last moment? Would she?

  He knew inside that she thought of it. Part of her would always rebel, no matter what, and he liked that part of her. He needed that part of her.

  Then her jaw tightened, her teeth snapping together and she dragged her gaze from his, looking away, exposing that tender hollow of her throat that he longed to taste.

  Once again though, he held himself back. Delaying his enjoyment of that last vulnerability, that fleeting reminder of innocence. He would take all of it from her, and in so doing, he would lead her on the first step in becoming what she was destined to be.

  The journey to becoming his.

  He left her that way on his bed, needy, frustrated, confused. Drawing this out would make her eventual conquering all the sweeter.

  Returning to the viewing room, pacing back and forth, his arms behind his back, he thought of her suffering, of the cooling of her cunt, the aching of her clit, the knowledge that he could deprive her, even at the last moment. He knew it was sinking into her then as she laid there, helpless, dawning on her that he controlled everything, her body, her pleasure, her pain.

  Everything.

  It was all his. And he intended to exert that control down to the last atom of her being.

  After some minutes, he returned to the bedroom, found her, the sweat pooling between those sweet breasts, her belly hollowing as she breathed deeply.

  “You understand now,” he murmured as he undid her bonds.

  Her reply was so soft that at first he wasn’t sure he’d heard it.

  “I understand that you’re evil.”

  He didn’t respond, but her spirit made him grin. There was that fight he so admired in her. He was thankful he hadn’t extinguished it, for there was still much to do, much for her to discover — and even more for her to surrender.

  He took her in his arms then, her entire body humming with need, with the completion they both knew he intended to deny her.

  Laying her down on her pad then, she sighed, curling up on her side,the night falling rapidly. Never before had she seemed the tense feline, the animal, the subject.

  The plaything.

  Thus began their new routine: Rose put through her paces until she was sweating, exhausted, every muscle trembling with fatigue.

  Then he would make her watch him stroke his cock until the come was dripping from the swollen head, until his fist was slick with his emissions. It was becoming more difficult to hold out at bay his own orgasm — for in truth, he was torturing himself almost as much as her.

  But he wanted that image to be the symbol of him that spoke most to her, the totem of his dominion over her.

  For she needed to understand that deep truth of things; that is was that cock that ruled her now. That was what she served.

  He needed her to know that down to her bones, instinctively, making those primal connections that only the sexual female could make.

  And he would make those connections strong.

  After her time kneeling before him, he always bound her again. Sometimes it would be her wrists only, sometimes wrists and ankles. He’d never let a pattern develop, always keeping her guessing on how he’d secure her naked body.

  After binding her, he would stir her up until she was practically pleading through clenched teeth, her eyes wide, wild, sometimes rolling up into her head before he took temporary mercy upon her, letting her burning, swollen clit throb it’s way through yet another slow, agonizing cooling of her ardor. Always, he took her right to the edge, until she was almost pleading with it.

  Sometimes she would cry, as he held her climax so cruelly at bay, the tears dripping down until they darkened the russet hair at her temples. And each time, at that moment of agonized crisis, he would kneel down next to the bed and murmur that one question at her ear, “Are you ready? You know what I want to hear from you.”

  Each time, she would be silent. But day after day after day of the torment, of the relief those words would grant her body, made her want her to speak them even more, until they were heavy on her lips.

  As he drew her closer and closer to an orgasm both of them knew he would never let her have until she gave in, she would be so close to saying it.

  That one last surrender.

  He was a man who kept his word, and long ago he’d promised not to take her... until she begged.

  Then one night, after being particularly defiant in her bonds, cursing at him as he stroked her cunt, as he drove his fingers deep inside her, as he slapped her breasts until he’d left them red with marks from his fingers, nipples well pinched, swollen, stinging, she cursed him. Cursed him with every word he’d ever heard in her language — and a few novel even to him — tears streaming down her face.

  As always, as he licked the spicy evidence of her surrender from his fingertips, he waited for those words.

  And that night, he finally heard them.

  “Please, sir, I beg you.”

  Chapter 12

  It was a day like so many that had come before it. He’d been particularly exacting in running her through her positions, and he’d had to punish that round, soft bottom of hers more than once. As usual, made to watch him, then spread across his mattress bound and spread upon his bed, Rose was left trembling and exhausted and needy.

  Before this day was out, however, Rose’s virgin cunt would be stretched wide around his cock, and she would officially be his.

  He walked slowly back into his bedroom, finding her where he’d left her. Her breathing was quick, anxious. Rather than binding her arms to the corners of the mattress this time, he’d bound her wrists together, secured tightly to the headboard of his bed straight behind her.

  Because of their differences in size, he’d decided to bind her legs wide apart, soft straps running under each of her knees, pulling her legs back and to the sides until she was spread, vulnerable, helpless — all that she had to offer displayed for him.

  He walked around the bed, once, twice, his erect cock bouncing before him, her eyes watching him with every step he took. Her cheeks were flushed, sweat pooling at the base of her throat, at the hollows of her collarbones. Her sweet nipples were so hard, so swollen, pinched until they were an angry red.

  Her sex — that virgin sex -- was dripping already. And though he saw fear in her eyes, he saw one thing above all else.

  Lust.

  Still, despite how he knew she fought it, those words that she’d uttered, that truth that she’d accepted, had made it clear they both knew what it meant. She would take that first step, whether she was ready to or not. Because she knew now she had no choice.

  He knelt upon the bed, her breathing quickenin
g as he moved close. He laid his heavy cock across the smooth expanse of her inner thigh, using the hard shaft to slap it once, twice, a third time. She bit her lower lip as he did it, but he said nothing.

  He caressed those inner thighs, smoothing his hands up to the bend of her knees, then down until his forefingers were against the humid, wet heat of her sex.

  It was time.

  He placed the swollen, purple head of his cock against her pussy, easing those lips apart.

  She drew in a sharp breath. “Please, it won’t — it won’t fit. You’ll tear me.”

  He gave her a slow smile, shook his head. “The doctor assured me it’s safe.” He leaned over her, his cock tapping against her belly.

  Drawing that wild, red hair away from her eyes with his fingers, he loved the way she watched him, the tears already brimming, threatening to fall. He wrapped his big hand around the nape of her neck, reveling in the delicate skin there, the feel of her wet, heavy hair against his fingers. He held her that way, possessively, securely, and he hoped imparting a message that he wanted her to receive.

  He had her. He wouldn’t hurt her.

  Not any more than he had to.

  Laying his thumb along her throat just under her jaw, he could feel the rapid, jumping pulse of her carotid artery, like a frightened rabbit, jumping, jumping.

  “It’s okay,” he murmured. “It’s okay. I don’t want to have to hurt you, but this first time, there’s going to be pain.”

  “I know,” she breathed, her lips trembling as she said it, her eyes conveying considerably less confidence. “I know…”

  “I’ll try to make it as easy as possible.” He pushed gently against her and her body tensed. “Be brave for me, slave girl. I’ll make this as fast as I can, but you’re going to take me. This is only the beginning, and after this day, it won’t hurt anymore.” He looked deep into those gorgeous, frightened blue eyes, lowering his voice to a rumble. “Unless I want it to.”

  Her eyes flew open at those last words, and though there was defiance in her gaze, there was no mistaking what else he saw there.

  Arousal.

  It was an animal lust she could no longer hide, that he felt in every trembling muscle of her being, and every pulse of the blood under his thumb, her swollen, trembling lips, those eyes so blue — so beautiful — looking up at him.

  There was no longer any doubt that her body understood who its master really was. Now, it was only a matter of showing her mind the truth of things.

  He pressed forward slowly, loving the way the lips of her sex spread wide around the width of his cock. The head slipped just inside, and then he was against that barrier, against that last symbol of what she was before that rainy night he’d taken her from Earth. A symbol of what she would never be again — and what he knew she would never want to be again. Not after this night. Not after what he had planned for her. Not after what he would make of her.

  She might not have accepted the truth of it yet — not all of it, anyway — but she could sense where it was going, where he was taking her.

  And where she wanted to go.

  “Deep breath, Rose. Take a deep breath and let it out for me.”

  She nodded quickly, closing her eyes. He watched her nostrils flare, her lips formed into an O as she obeyed, those round, heavy breasts rising, the smooth white expanse of her belly hollowing below her ribcage.

  Then as she began to breathe out, he pressed forward steadily, relentlessly, remorselessly, and he felt that barrier tear and give way, suddenly allowing him to sink deeper.

  Her eyes flew open, tears brimming over. She keened, a lost sound, surprised, confused. She gritted her teeth, her eyes shutting tight, those tears cascading down to her temples again.

  “Breathe, Rose. Breathe, Rose.” He advanced still further until the head of his cock was hard against the mouth of her womb. “Just breathe now. It’s all over. You’ve done it.”

  More tears fell then, but she opened her eyes and met his gaze. “It’s — it hurts!” She shuddered as she inhaled. “Oh, God… it’s… I can’t. I can’t… please!” She said the words as if she were surprised, as if she didn’t quite believe she could still speak them, as if in her mind’s eye as she’d prepared for this moment, fearing it might destroy her. That what he would inflict upon her was something she thought she could never survive.

  He knew it was a discovery for her — and a sweet one, indeed. It was a dark, confusing, and yet alluring realization for her that despite the pain, despite the burning he had no doubt she felt at that moment, there was even now a dawning of sensation, a stirring of disturbingly strong pleasure.

  But there was more.

  Pulling back, fully free of her, he looked down at the gleaming red streaks along the shaft of his cock, the evidence of an innocence she no longer possessed, the proof that she would forever be his.

  He wiped a tear from her cheek, brought it to his tongue, licking it from his fingertip.

  She bit her lip again, those impossibly beautiful blue eyes somehow even more so for the sweet vulnerability of her tears.

  “You’re mine now, Rose.” At first, he thought the words were only in his head, but the sudden crimson blush suffusing her cheeks told him he’d said them aloud.

  Rather than reply though, she simply stared at him, further tears tracking down her face. But they were no longer of pain. They were tears of wonder, of fear — and of relief.

  She’d finally begun that journey.

  As he thrust inside of her again, slowly at first, then harder and harder until the bed creaked below them, she began to moan and writhe in her bonds.

  She understood now. She would began to understand what it would mean to be his, to be his plaything.

  To be his slave.

  He couldn’t get all of himself inside of her, of course, and not only because her untried sex was incredibly tight. Despite the snug grip of her around his shaft, she was already flooded with her juices. The sight of her freshly broken-in cunt spreading tightly around his thick cock made him want to thrust, to take her hard until she was crying out with it.

  But he couldn’t do it. Not now. He had to be gentle. He had to show her he could be gentle.

  Even if part of her didn’t want him to be.

  So, he sank into her slowly again, looking deep into her eyes as he moved within the jealous clutch of her pussy. He wouldn’t let her look away, still holding her by her slender throat, his thumb stroking that vulnerable, impossibly soft skin just below her jaw, feeling the strength and heat of her pulse of that life-giving blood within her.

  And at that moment, as he thrust within her, as he claimed her for the very first time, he knew one thing about himself … that she already had a hold on him, in her own way.

  She was changing him — perhaps as much as he was changing her. There was more at work here than even he’d realized, and that revelation shook him as much as it fascinated him.

  He pulled himself from her again, slapping the head of his cock upon her furred mound. She gasped as he used it to friction her clit, pushing her hood back, working that rapidly swelling nodule with his hard penis.

  He rose to his knees, aiming his cock down at the inflamed, reddened slit of her sex, watching it give way to the broad head, those bright pink lips thinning, stretching tight about his girth, the veined shaft sinking slowly within her again as she threw her head back with a sharp exhalation of breath.

  “Yes, that’s right. You feel it now, don’t you, Rose? You feel me now.”

  “Oh… oh, dear God!”

  Squeezing her throat gently, he made sure she felt his grip as he touched her red, gleaming clit. He roughly stroked it as he took up thrusting within her again. Each time he circled that little bud, then squeezed it between his fingers, she arched below him, her yelp a confused mix of hurt and desire.

  He wasn’t sure if he could get her to that pinnacle, with that much pain, with the anxiety and heightened emotion inherent with what he’d just done
to her.

  But he wanted to see if her lust would win out, if that wanton, primitive, female need could overcome even the anguish of the loss of her virginity.

  Over and over, he worked that clit, her soft moans growing louder, her voice huskier, her body writhing in its bonds, in his grip.

  Then, as her moans grew to anguished cries, a muffled shriek swallowed down, her eyes flew open, a deep, scarlet blush suffusing the inner curves of her heaving breasts, the flush flooding up until her tear-streaked face until she fair glowed with it.

  With a last tweak to her tortured clit, she jerked, her hips bucking hard, her breath coming in agonized grunts as she reached her orgasm. He grinned down at her as she succumbed to it, as he caught her gaze, drinking in the glazed look of her blue eyes, the confusion, and shattering, consuming passion he saw there.

  Silent words formed upon her bitten lips as he thrust harder, his cock brushing the mouth of her womb on each thrust. Too soon, his climax began to build up from behind his balls.

  It would never be the same as this moment, this revelation, this changing of his captive into his slave, this girl into a woman.

  And making this human into a companion.

  He went over at that moment at the thought, arching over her, his vision going white, every muscle in his body contracting as he came.

  Then he filled her cunt with his essence, marking her with the hot torrent of his seed, claiming her in the most primitive of ways a male could.

  She cried out with his one last — and hardest — thrust of all as he emptied himself within her. Then he drew free, his muscles shaking slightly, his cock leaving a pink-tinged trail of wetness along her thigh.

  Wasting no time, he unbound her legs, then her arms, and laid down beside her, drawing her atop his chest. Her entire body trembled. Her eyes were closed, her lips murmuring wordless pleas, the tears wet upon her cheeks, now drying upon his chest.

  Stroking all that sweet hair, luxuriating in the silky weight of it. He ran his fingers through the sodden locks, loving the way she felt against his hand, loving even more the way she fit in his arms. That small, soft human frame was dwarfed by his, engendering a surprisingly strong protective urge within him. Though she was most definitely his possession, his plaything, he knew with a deadly certainty, that he would always protect her.