Sexual Memory [Dark Colony 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Elle Saint James

  A painfully thin, well-dressed man to Harcourt’s left leaned in quickly, whispering something in his ear. Lord Harcourt looked around suddenly as if he was astonished to find so many people still in attendance.

  “I’ll warn you right now, Slaver. If you force a fight between us,” Vidarr threatened, gesturing to William and himself, “I will not fight back. I will not resist him. I will let him kill me. And you, sir, will not make another solitary sliver of a credit on my blood, sweat, or fighting skills ever again.”

  Fuck. William didn’t want to kill another slave gladiator for any reason. Especially a warrior he respected after only hearing today’s impassioned speech. William pondered what might happen if he also refused to participate in a slaughter, then glanced up at the dais and their lord and master.

  Lord Harcourt’s face had morphed into what could only be described as demonic rage. His whole rotund body started shaking from his obvious fury, until Sapphire spoke for the first time. “If you let him choose the other alternative, I too will help in making it well worth your while, my lord.” She reached out and grabbed Harcourt’s forearm gently as if touching him would help her cause.

  Vidarr tilted his head to one side, pushed out a long, loud breath as he stared longingly at Sapphire. After several seconds, he nodded slightly. She visibly relaxed and released Lord Harcourt, who seemed to get hold of himself. The angry expression dissipated, he cleared his throat, and had another long whispered conversation with the gaunt, stylish man on the other side.

  William wished he knew what the fuck was going on. Next to him, Parisa squeezed his forearm with her fingertips, signaling she, too, was fascinated by this interesting turn of events. He chanced a glance at her, only seeing his mirrored confusion in her beautiful, exotic, dark eyes.

  The skinny advisor to Lord Harcourt’s left soon handed him the black rectangular device used to convey his amplified words when addressing the stadium masses.

  An ear-splitting squeal came through the arena loud speakers first before the words that followed. “Fellow citizens. Today your favored gladiator Vidarr retires undefeated from this warrior’s arena.”

  The crowd reacted immediately, boos resounded from all parts of the circular stadium. Lord Harcourt frowned. “Go about your business, citizens. Today’s battle is over.” A roar of mumbled discord settled over the audience, even as they filed out of the arena.

  As the crowd dissipated, Gruvat came back through the open door beneath the stands and joined them.

  “Take the two of them back to their original quarters,” he ordered.

  Gruvat frowned. William puzzled over the words “original quarters” wondering where else he’d take them. Gruvat then turned and frowned at them as if he’d expected different orders. Odd. Usually, Gruvat just took them back without any conference with Lord Harcourt.

  Today had certainly been all about odd.

  Lord Harcourt gestured to Gruvat with impatience. William and Parisa were quickly hustled out of the arena and headed back into their quarters before he could even form a reasonable question. He chalked it up to battle fatigue. Next time he planned to voice his curiosity over the unprecedented events in today’s gladiator battle.

  Once ensconced alone back in their dungeon room, William noticed the absence of the fresh-cut flowers right away. A glance to the right and he noted that no additional food had been brought in for their next meal either. Usually, the room had been tidied and cleaned, and a small bounty of bread, fruit, and cheese had been set out. Today, only the wilting remains of their breakfast awaited their arrival.

  William used to only worry about the monsters he’d face each day before leaving for the arena. Now he wondered what would have happened if Vidarr hadn’t made a new deal. Would they have had to battle to the death? Would he have beaten William in any battle of strength? It begged the question William had been worried about all along. Namely, what would happen if he hadn’t been named the victor of today’s battle?

  Obviously, he wouldn’t get fresh-cut flowers, a female sexual reward, any more food, and more frighteningly apparent was that Parisa likely would have been immediately shuttled to Vidarr while his lifeblood finished draining out and onto the battle arena’s dirty ground.

  For the first time since waking up in this hell hole with a giant, mutant tiger trying to kill him, William realized the tenuous position he was in. In the great scheme of things here, he was ultimately expendable unless he kept winning his battles every other day.

  The more pressing concern he pondered, would his and Parisa’s incarceration truly end after he’d won forty fights against monsters in the arena? Or would Lord Harcourt demand more once he’d accomplished that feat? Why did he trust the pompous ass to keep his word anyway?

  A sudden fury filled his mind. He’d worked fucking hard to get this far, damn it all to hell. He’d slaughtered countless hybrid beasts while trying to ensure that Parisa didn’t get hurt, watching four other souls perish each and every time he entered the arena and this was his ultimate reward? The demoralizing sting of being shown just how easily replaceable he was?

  William was more and more certain of this because it was blatantly obvious that their room had not been set up for a winner’s return. The previously hated flowers not waiting in their room bothered him most of all for some strange reason. Therefore, William rationalized quickly, he hadn’t been expected to survive the battle today.

  Lord Harcourt had just attempted to oust him as premier gladiator in favor of Vidarr.

  The fury of this realization angered him to such a degree he didn’t think he could control himself. He crossed the room to sit on the bed, distancing himself from Parisa to assess his foul mood, and to stew about what he’d do next.

  Seated in his freshly tended room, would Vidarr have enjoyed Parisa’s body? Worse, would Parisa have enjoyed Vidarr? William glanced across the room. She was staring at the dirty breakfast dishes, looking a little miffed and very disappointed. Was she thinking about what she’d do if she’d ended up with a new gladiator? Would she have fucked him with the same zeal as she’d always did when William thrust his cock inside her hot body?

  William’s eyes snapped shut, trying unsuccessfully not to picture her moaning and calling out his name, Vi-darr Vi-darr, like the crowd had chanted in the arena. He quietly seethed, unable to clear the unsupported thoughts of Parisa’s imagined infidelity from his mind.

  He didn’t want to be angry at Parisa, did he? His head throbbed suddenly. His focus shifted to Lord Pompous Ass, their self-assigned lord and master, who kept them in line. If he could, William would love to chuck a weapon at the dais during his next battle, to see what Lord Harcourt would do. That idea shifted to a more murderous one.

  The singular thought in his mind suddenly changed to finding a way to leap up to the dais, to wrap his hands around Lord Harcourt’s neck, and squeeze until their lord and master turned purple and expired, gasping for air.

  Parisa said something he didn’t hear with the furious tangle of murderous schemes running in his head. The next flash of insight was of a completely different nature and had to do with the swollen, raging hard-on his cock now sported. When did that happen? Was it when he planned Lord Harcourt’s vulgar demise by strangulation?

  Now that his cock was fully engorged and ready to be rewarded, William transferred his dark thoughts to determining how fast he could get Parisa beneath him to relieve the ache in his balls. The throbbing pain which matched the one now growing in his head.

  Would she fight him? Would she turn him away, telling him she preferred to wait for Vidarr?

  William’s next evil notion was how hard she’d struggle if he simply took what he needed, slaking his virulent lust and erasing the pain in his head by using her body whether she wanted him or not.

  Chapter Eight

  Parisa barely had time to gather her wits after the strenuous battle in the arena, followed quickly by the unusual drama involving the other surviving gladiator, before being
shoved unceremoniously back into their quarters.

  Will didn’t say a word. He just frowned and stared at the wall like it might give him the answers he sought.

  “What the fuck is going on today?” she asked quietly to no one in particular, while looking at the dirty dishes she’d carefully stacked on the trestle table before heading to the arena. The fact that they were still there now, congealing with old food, angered her immediately with a rage she could barely keep contained. “Why do you think the dirty dishes are still here?” she asked, hearing the anger in her tone.

  Will crossed the room to the bed, seating himself on it without answering. What’s up his ass? Was she just supposed to stare at this pile of dirty dishes from now on? Was that the plan? Because she did not like that one single bit.

  “Did you hear me?” she asked in an even more bitter tone. One she wasn’t certain was actually called for. Glancing down, she realized Gruvat had left them so abruptly, they were still attached at the waist by the chains used in the arena to keep them tethered together.

  Are you fucking kidding me?

  Parisa loathed being chained up. It was the height of humiliation to her way of thinking. And right now, being bound together when they weren’t supposed to be put her in a really bad temper.

  The sound of the chain rattling against the stone floor startled her, but not as much as when Will yanked on his end, pulling her suddenly two steps closer to the bed.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” she asked even more angry than she was before.

  “I need my slave bitch to service me. I did defeat three rather large and nasty beasts in the ring today,” he said heartlessly, his voice harsher than she’d ever heard even when he fake punished her in the arena so the painful zap to the device in her head could be avoided.

  Had he ever raised his voice to her when they were alone? She couldn’t remember. He hadn’t, had he?

  Something was off, but in this moment, she didn’t care. How dare he pull her to him using the odious chain she hated above all other insults? And yet, looking at him, all sweaty and spattered with purple blood, made her want to fuck him raw.

  “Fuck you, William,” she grated out, using his full name instead of the nickname she always used. She then bent at the waist, grabbing the chain between them and gave it a good hard yank in hostile response to his livid demand. Truthfully, she was so wound up and horny, he’d probably stick his cock inside her body once and she’d scream the stone walls loose in unrivaled satisfaction before she’d fucked him dry. And the mere idea of fucking Will dry was growing rapidly in her mind.

  He grinned. “Yes. That’s exactly what I want. Come over and fuck me.”

  “What?” Parisa’s sudden palpable anger warred with her intrinsic lust. She wasn’t certain which one would win. Maybe both in the form of angry, hot sex. The violent idea intrigued her instantly.

  “I want to fuck you, Parisa. I have needs.” He pulled firmly on the chain again, launching her another two steps forward.

  “Just try it,” she threatened. “You’ll get a lot more than you bargained for, I promise you.” Like you’ll be fucked raw from my objective. But Parisa fought the tug of the chain. I hate this fucking chain.

  Yank. She staggered two steps closer. “That’s a promise I’ll take. Get over here. I’d love to experience more than I bargained for just once. I mean you are here for me, right? You’re ever my reward.”

  “You don’t deserve a reward. You weren’t the final gladiator standing. Remember Vidarr?” What is wrong with me? She was egging him on to a blood lust and didn’t even remember why she was so angry herself. That rational thought died a quick death.

  His expression displayed a sudden shock and looked like it was filled with betrayal. “So you did want to fuck Vidarr. I suspected as much by the way you lusted after him when he was fighting. Too bad he didn’t want you. He wanted the beautiful Sapphire, instead.”

  Parisa halted, jerking on the chain to keep from moving forward. “And I suppose you’d rather have Sapphire, the brazenly beautiful blonde dressed in richly adorned fabrics, here to service your neglected cock instead. Have I got that right, at least? Rich bitch for a change, rather than the same old slave bitch you’ve been fucking all this time.”

  He gave her an uncertain look surprisingly, as if he didn’t know how to respond to her angry insinuation. The glimpse of how wrong this conversation had gotten in such a short time invaded her mind for a slender second. They never fought. Not ever. Why now?

  Then, poof, his uncertainty was gone and the anger returned with even more vengeance in its place.

  Will’s face shifted to one filled with resolve. He pulled on the chain with more force. She didn’t have the strength to stop him. Slowly and carefully he drew her closer, step by hard-fought step until she stood only a foot from his seated position. Their tether chain piled between them like an unconquerable six inch barrier they’d never be able to overcome.

  He wrapped the taut chain around one fist, the other hand going to the toggles on his breeches. She watched with rapt fascination as he stroked his own cock a few times as if to tame the beast before unbuttoning his pants. She licked her lips in anticipation.

  “I’ll even give you a choice, Parisa. Suck or fuck?” he asked, suddenly looking up at her, yet still applying long-fisted strokes to his hard, swollen cock.

  “I know. Why don’t you suck on me for a change?” she asked, putting her hand between her legs to cup herself. “I spend just as much time in the ring as you do.” Her clit was so sensitive, even grabbing herself briefly made a gush of anticipatory moisture flow between her fingers the second she made contact. She could smell her own exhilaration. Will’s nostrils flared as if he too had scented her unrestrained arousal.

  He stood so suddenly, she almost stumbled backward. He yanked the chain to keep her upright and on her feet. “Fuck it is,” he said in a sing-song tone she didn’t care for. He grabbed her hard around the waist, dancing her backward until her shoulders hit the opposite wall from the bed. In a move she didn’t anticipate but should have, Will twirled her around until her face and breasts were pressed to the wall.

  The chain dropped from his fingers, and she felt him lift the back hem of her skirt.

  She’d never been issued any panties in all the time she’d been here. His cock grazed one ass cheek, headed for the very wet space between her legs, and sending her libido spinning like a top on a glass surface, out of control and unable to stop itself from tumbling wildly over any edge it encountered.

  Parisa hoped he was in the mood to fuck her hard, because that’s exactly what she wanted. A good hard fuck. Truthfully, if he hadn’t instigated this new wall sex position, she would have climbed on his lap and demanded he fuck her on the bed.

  Whether he wanted to or not. She also had needs.

  Her cheek pressed hard against the stone wall as he thrust his cock between her legs, aiming for her pussy, but instead he slid past her drenched opening, tempting her clit with his bulbous cockhead. She moaned and nearly climaxed from the single contact to her clit. He pulled back—his cock deliciously grazing her pussy lips along the way—and tried to enter her again with the same result, missing her wet entrance and connecting solidly with her clit. This time the orgasm she hadn’t expected five minutes ago exploded in her core with a powerful and satisfying vengeance. Pow. Release. Super pleasure.

  She screamed her lungs empty, then trembled in the aftermath of the wild, perfect orgasm. Will grabbed her hips and slammed his cock all the way inside of her pussy with one hard stroke—the third time’s the charm—and he growled with each subsequent handful of thrusts he gifted her with. On the final hard push, he, too, roared in release, falling against her as if weakened in the aftermath of their most untamed coupling to date.

  The anger within her seemed to subside with the expelling of her lust. Why had she been so filled with rage? Why had he? They both panted as though they’d run five hundred laps in the
arena. The weight of Will’s body pressed hard against her back. She was sandwiched between his warmth and the stones at her front. The well-worn rock sucked the heat from her body with each second she stayed against the wall.

  Even though the sex had been unexpected in the wake of their previous dialogue—okay, huge, strange fight—and also a little violent at the outset, the distinctive satisfaction of this sexual connection had been totally worth it. That had to have been the most powerful orgasm she’d ever experienced. At least in her limited memory.

  “Parisa,” Will whispered in her ear. “I don’t know what to say.”

  She had a few suggestions. Like how about, let’s do that again as soon as possible.

  He lifted from her slowly, the release of his weight making it easier to breathe. She rested where she stood, trying to catch her breath and work through why his tone sounded like he was filled with remorse. She had trouble wrapping her head around his regret in the wake of amazing sex. Hadn’t he enjoyed it?

  During the course of two months, they’d had sex in every conceivable position while in that crappy inadequate bed. Today was the first time he’d fucked her from behind while they both stood up. She already wanted to do it again this way, even as her legs trembled post release, threatening to give out at any moment.

  “I don’t know what came over me. I’m so sorry.” He gently pulled at her shoulders until she turned to face him, stumbling a bit as her legs quivered with satisfaction.

  “Sorry?” she managed. She didn’t understand. He’d never apologized for giving her pleasure before.

  Opening her eyes, she saw immediately his vivid contrition. He looked like he was about to break down and…weep. “What is wrong with you?” she asked. They’d just had the best sex ever, and he hadn’t liked it?

  “Honestly, I don’t know. I was so angry. And then so rabidly aroused. I couldn’t control myself. I needed…but I didn’t mean to—” He stopped talking abruptly and swallowed hard, looking like he’d rather be anywhere than here with her right now.