Warlord's Enigma MM BDSM Sci-Fi Erotica
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Warlord’s Enigma
Yamila Abraham
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Warlord’s Enigma
by Yamila Abraham
Copyright © 2016 Yamila Abraham. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, digital, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner. All characters depicted in this work are over 18 years old.
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1
Rodin droned in Kinthor’s ear about chastening a viceroy on the planet he’d conquered years before the one they orbited. It was something about a shorted shipment or getting shitty grain instead of the good stuff.
Kinthor half-listened. Rodin would arrange for everything that needed to be done. The agendas he read merely kept him in the loop. With such an able high minister Kinthor had the luxury of boredom.
His people were fed, clothed, and satisfied with the comforts provided to them on their megaship. Hadn’t he been allowed to reign for another term without any challenge? It was Rodin’s job to see to this minutia.
His minister recaptured his attention when he pivoted to talk about him selecting a new comfort slave. His current showed absolute submission and loyalty to him, but was difficult to arouse. The woman had an innate frigidity that seemed her norm, rather than a flaw to remedy. He granted her less oppressive duties.
Kinthor sat up straighter in his high-backed chair. The sounds of clanking chains filled the room. He beheld five lovely men, naked and bound by their wrists and ankles, being led to him by a taskmaster and several red-armored guards. (Red to designate they worked in the ship’s underbelly, where the slaves lived.)
The group lined before him, filling his vision with luscious thighs, taut stomachs, and smooth round shoulders. They were pale since they’d come from the conquered world below them. Planet Sensicry had shades of skin going from cream to light brown.
Kinthor had no preference on color. It was the muscles, the glimmer in the eyes, and the fullness of the lips. He liked flesh to be smooth, and they provided that to him, without scales or ridges.
Four of the five men before him were tall, wide-framed, and muscular, exactly what he sought in a comfort slave. He loomed over his own large people, and the Sencrysians, a naturally smaller race, had to have girth to fit well in his massive arms.
That’s when his gaze moved to the man furthest to the left, the palest and smallest of the group. The blond had a golden crown painfully woven onto scalp—as if to make sure there was no chance Kinthor would miss him.
“Kint,” Rodin said, calling him by the familiar name he alone could utter. “That one is—”
“I know who he is.” He hoisted himself from his throne and stepped before him.
Angry blue eyes met his. The man’s lean aristocratic build reaffirmed the crown. Sensicry’s prince was 24—no, 25. He’d been 24 last year when their world surrendered. There was definition to his body, defined pectorals surrounding soft pink nipples and a v shape etched his groin.
King Shalen’s son. Kinthor gave a sound of approval through his nostrils. He didn’t wonder why he was in the offering for now. Visions of Shalen’s Xen-Kroth style surrender filled his mind. What if this one was just as sensitive as his sweet king? That alone would be reason enough to take him as his comfort slave.
Small—but extremely fuckable. Kinthor touched his chin in consideration. I could be gentle, the way I was with his father.
“If you’re done gawking at me, I’d appreciate some clothes.”
Kinthor’s brow rose. He heard Rodin gasp beside him.
The low rumble of a laugh came from his broad chest. “Would you, now?” He paused to see if the wisp of a man had any more surly words. “Prince Haine? Or is it Janus?”
“I’m Janus,” he said, still projecting every vitriolic syllable.
Kinthor’s grin remained steadfast. “You sound angry at me, little prince. I didn’t put you here. I’m merely the recipient of luscious gift.”
Janus cringed with his lips pulled back in disgust.
“Did your daddy send you up to teach you a lesson? Is Prince Haine in the slave barracks as well?”
“My father is dead.”
Kinthor felt as though a bee had stung him between the eyes. His smug expression dissipated into one of anger.
“And Haine is no longer a prince. He’s the king.”
Kinthor growled and staggered in reverse. Rodin backtracked from him, but was caught by a violent hand on his shoulder.
“King Shalen is dead?” His teeth flared. “Who did this!”
Janus parted his lips to answer.
“I’ll kill them!”
The prince sealed his mouth.
“We didn’t know about this, my lord.” Rodin fought his grip with a wince of pain. “We have no one monitoring Sensicry’s court. You said it wasn’t necessary as long as King Shalen was—”
“He's dead! Did you hear him?”
Rodin jerked free. His rapid breaths conveyed panic he rarely saw from him. His subordinate was no larger than the prince before him, only bolstered by ministerial gowns and a cloak.
“We’ll send a troop to see what’s happened.” Rodin tapped madly on his portable console.
“I’ll tell you what happened,” Janus said, still bold and embittered. “My father was poisoned. Haine pretended to be me and stole the throne. Then he stuck me in the slave offering.” His voice cracked with emotion. “Get me some clothes and send me home. I have to clean up this mess before it gets any worse.”
Kinthor flared his white teeth. “Just who do you think you’re giving orders to? Check your attitude, boy.”
A tear streaked the prince’s cheek. “I know who you are. I’m trying to tell you who I am—the rightful king of Sensicry.”
“You're no king.” Kinthor sneered. “I see an obnoxious brat. I’m your conqueror, fool. You show me diffidence no matter what happened in your court.”
Janus’ face crumpled. “Father said you were kind.”
“To him. He was humble before me. He never had to witness what I do to arrogant little shits.”
Rodin stepped forward. “There is no king for Sensicry. The ruler is a viceroy, nothing more. Your world belongs to the Xen-Kroth. You exist only for our benefit.”
Janus’ face flared with outrage again. “That’s not how it is. Who the hell are you, anyway? You’re not a Xen-Kroth.”
“I’m a citizen of the Empire.”
Kinthor groaned. Still with the attitude? The boy begged for his whip. Rodin maintained an even temper beside him. His pale green skin, small frame, and white tresses of hair contrasted to Kinthor’s red and yellow coloration, massive bearing, and blue-black mane. He’d come from a conquered wo
rld Kinthor barely remembered. It didn’t matter to him. His highest minister had earned his place.
Kinthor dropped into his cushioned throne. “I’m keeping the prince. Send the rest back.”
Rodin blinked at him. “My lord?”
“You heard me.” He snuffled. “I’ve chosen my comfort slave.”
“Your what!” Janus’ face reddened. “Would you listen—”
“Shut up!” Kinthor bellowed this loud enough to make the boy’s mouth close. He set narrow eyes on Rodin. “I want him. He’s Shalen’s son.” Kinthor squared his jaw. “I’ll give him a pass for his disrespect, because of his trauma, but only if he can wise up to his situation in the next day.”
“And if not?” Rodin spoke through a smile.
“Then I’ll break him in two.”
Janus groaned as though he were dealing with idiots. This put a tick in Kinthor’s brow. This was Shalen’s son? It’s true he resembled him—but this attitude. He’d been far too soft on Sensicry.
Rodin signaled the guards. They moved to unchain Janus from the other slaves.
“Would you think!” Janus shouted with restrained anger. “You gave us autonomy. Right now your planet is being ruled by an imposter! How can you allow this?”
“Find your off switch. Brazen twerp.” He adjusted his posture. “You’re turning me crueler than I prefer to be with fragile slaves.”
“I’m not a slave! I’m the king of Sensicry!”
The guard nudged Janus to walk while the rest of the slaves marched out of the room with the taskmaster. He glared at Kinthor, seething with his mouth hanging open. The guard had to shove him to get him to move. As the enormity of his situation settled over him, his face clenched and a sob buoyed up his chest.
“This isn’t right.”
Guards pushed him through a metal sliding door, the one round shape among the panels of silver that covered the ships walls. Kinthor let his posture deflate as soon as the arrogant wretch left.
“Janus was Shalen’s eldest twin son, but Haine was the favorite of the queen,” Kinthor said to Rodin without looking at him. “They probably colluded. The morons are using us to steal control of Sensicry. Let’s give this new king a Xen-Kroth killing. Everything, even the—”
“Kint,” Rodin said, once again feeling secure enough to return to the informal. “How do you know this isn’t the younger Prince Haine?”
Kinthor’s next word got stuck in his throat. He looked into the gossamer eyes of his subordinate. The two stared at each other.
The twist hadn’t occurred to him, but this was why Rodin stood in his highest post. Kinthor could devise a plan to conquer most any world, even those as technologically advanced as the Xen-Kroth. Politics, courtly intrigue, managing his conquests—these were things he relied on Rodin to oversee. The man was his better half in more ways than he could count.
His high minister leaned close to his ear. “Doesn’t this situation sound familiar to you? Aren’t we being a tad hypocritical?”
Kinthor swallowed down the bitter truth. “Tell me what to do, you ass.”
“You don’t care who acts as our viceroy on Sensicry, and this one obviously has no respect for you. We told them from the beginning: surrender the goods on schedule and we’ll leave you alone.”
Kinthor’s face soured. “That was when I had King Shalen down there.”
“I know,” Rodin said softly. “You were fond of him.”
“More than fond.” He ground his teeth. “I trusted the man.”
“Remind me why.”
Kinthor glowered at him. He knew damn well why, but he’d play along. Sometimes Rodin preferred leading him to the right decisions rather than just telling him.
“Shalen was meek and frightened, and yet accepted the terms of Xen-Kroth surrender because it would save the lives of his people.” Kinthor fixed his gaze outward him as he remembered. “The noble man quivered in front of me. He gave the oath while on his knees. And then when I took him to my chamber he begged me not to hurt him.” He smiled. “I pulled him in my arms gently and said, ‘How could I hurt someone so sweet and cooperative?’
“That’s when the fear in his face disappeared. He asked me all the questions bundled in his chest. Was I going to be cruel to his world? Would I ask for more than they could give? I said I had no reason to be cruel, and that I only took from his world because our megaship couldn’t sustain our population. We wouldn’t ruin his planet—we’d improve it. I told him about the amazing tech we'd deliver to his people to increase their yields.
“Once he was reassured, I felt his muscles go soft in my embrace. He didn’t shrink from me when I kissed him. I took him to my bed and made love to his luscious body for hours. He was so sensitive. I brought him to ecstasy three times. When we finished, he burrowed himself against me. I promised I would treat his planet as gently as I did him, and he said he’d never take that for granted.”
Kinthor met Rodin’s eyes. “Shalen understood he’d been conquered. He knew bitterness wouldn’t serve him or his kingdom. He made the best of things by submitting, by giving me and Xen-Kroth the respect we demanded. We had an understanding. I had faith he’d keep his people obedient.”
Rodin smiled with one side of his mouth. “Shalen was more cunning than you realize. He understood how to behave with a Xen-Kroth conqueror to receive mercy.”
Kinthor scowled. “His ecstasy was real.”
“I don’t doubt it. He’d earned your trust in the most intimate way, and you’d earned his. That’s what made him a good king for us.” His eyes, as iridescent as pearls, glimmered. “If you can achieve the same trust with Janus, you’d have your perfect king again.”
Kinthor’s brows pulled downward. “Make the son as submissive as the dad?”
“As trusting and loving toward you. Isn’t that why you took him as your comfort slave? To mold him?”
Kinthor grunted in consideration. He wouldn’t admit he kept him because he hoped the boy was as sensitive as his father. To have someone so sensual in his arms again was worth putting up with a snide attitude.
“You must conquer Sensicry all over again. Conquest is what you’re best at, Kint. And isn’t he a handsome thing? Small, but just as radiant as the former king.”
Kinthor envisioned his naked body once more. “Oh yes.”
“Make him surrender the way the ruler of his planet must.”
He nodded slowly as the idea warmed his middle. “If he’d tried to charm me, he would have gotten the help he wanted. He’s too distraught over what happened in his court to put his situation into perspective.”
“I’ll investigate things on Sensicry,” Rodin said, while making a note on his tablet. “I think we’ve neglected this world. It could implode on us.”
Kinthor nodded, but had already assumed Rodin would manage without his help. His mind had moved on to the angry slave in his hands.
2
The guards dragged Janus through the hideous ship while still not providing him any clothes. Xen-Kroth soldiers eyed him up and down as they passed in the corridor. His face grew hot.
Vile pigs!
His only hope had been this wonderful Xen-Kroth king who had so inspired his father. Kinthor was supposed to be magnanimous and gentle. He'd liked their conqueror just from his father’s descriptions of him. The beast he’d stood before, without even the dignity of clothing, was completely different from what he’d imagined.
‘If there’s any strife, ask Kinthor for help. He’ll put things to right.’
His father had whispered the words on his deathbed only three months ago. Janus’ chest clenched at the memory. He’d withered so quickly. They hadn’t even a chance to try to reach the aliens. Hours after the dinner he struggled to breathe—then he was gone.
But this is no time to relive your grief.
The two guards, burly but smaller than Kinthor, brought him to another round metal door. One of them pressed a key beside it. In moments a female Xen-Kroth, full-figured and
with the same flowing black hair as Kinthor, appeared.
She looked at Janus first, then at the guards. “Hello.”
“Lady Arda,” the guard said. “Lord Kinthor chose this man to be his comfort slave.”
Her face brightened. “Excellent. I’m glad he gave up on Deneel.” She reached up to touch the infernal thing wound into his hair. “What’s with the crown?”
The guard on the opposite side of him spoke. “This is one of the princes from Sensicry.”
“The king,” Janus said at once.
Arda blinked at him. “Oh.” She pursed her lips. “Well, let’s get this crud out of his hair first. Bring him in.”
She led him and his two guards into an open apartment. A sleek kitchenette filled one corner niche. A round bed with translucent curtains was on a raised area of floor. She took them to the central room with cushiony chairs and couches.
Arda sat on a white sofa and gestured for him to sit beside her. Janus stared with his chained hands in front of him. He didn’t move.
She darted a look over one shoulder. “Tiff!”
The patter of feet was heard for a moment, and then a blue-skinned female appeared with a bald head and massive yellow eyes.
“Can you get him some clothes?”
“Sure thing,” the blue woman said, and zipped away.
Janus let out a sigh potent enough to make his shoulders slouch. Finally.
She ordered him to be unchained when Tiff came back. The baggy black suit she presented was unseemly, but was still a relief. Janus felt human again. He sat where Arda had indicated. She touched his head to have him lean forward.
“And now for this crown.”
Janus spoke with his face aimed at her large bosom. “My father was poisoned three months ago. My twin brother Haine and I were working together to find out who killed him. After an eternity of struggling, we finally had a break-thru. I’d figured out what the poison was. The next day I woke up to trumpets blaring outside my room. An inauguration for a new king was happening right in the courtyard. Haine was being crowned instead of me.