by Tammy Walsh
I tightened around him and screamed as he tore an orgasm from my chest.
And still, he did not stop.
I wondered what I’d gotten myself into. I had brought this on myself.
My dress gathered around my hips as he finally shifted position, placing one hoof on the bed and my legs across his chest. My legs couldn’t even reach his shoulders otherwise my knees would be resting on them.
With the opening sprint over, he set to his long game.
Slower this time, luxurious and delicious, he kept up the slow pace for longer than I dared to imagine. Each time I stiffened, my hands found his fingers holding on tightly to my hips and pinning me in place.
The sweat dried on my body at a slower pace but a new layer dimpled the surface of my skin now. My body shuddered as he dove inside me.
His nostrils snorted and, although not tired, he was clearly working hard. He sped up as he felt me clench around him and he ripped another body-shaking orgasm from my throat.
I was in the hands of a master, somehow attuned to every movement and rhythmic pulse of my body.
He stroked me the way I liked, exactly when I liked.
I had never begged for my lover to stop before, and I was trying desperately hard not to say it now. He took me to the very fringes of pleasure that crested intense pain.
Unable to take it any longer, I broke.
“Stop,” I said. “Stop.”
He was taking me to a place I had never been before, and it frightened me.
I clutched my hands to his but he didn’t let go, didn’t stop, and kept on drilling me.
“I can’t…” I gasped. “I can’t…”
“Trust me,” he said through gritted teeth. “You can.”
I shook my head as he shifted me onto my stomach and entered me from behind, plunging me to new depths. The angle was different, deeper than earlier, and largely untouched by his throbbing cock.
He plumbed it.
He leaned forward and whispered in my ear.
“You’re almost there. I can feel it.”
My hair was slick with sweat and my entire body ached. Each stroke in my pussy threatened to overtake me. But the real danger, the real threat, was just there, on the horizon of my endurance.
I found a new lease of confidence and bounced back, pushing against him as he thrust deep inside me.
He grunted under his breath as we rode that ultimate rise to peer over the edge of the precipice to the unknown islands of paradise that lay on the other side.
“Yes,” I said. “Yes!”
I screamed as he took me over the side. He grunted and pummeled me, riding me unlike anyone else ever has before, and we both descended into the raging rapids.
I turned my head to kiss him. He leaned over me. Our lips were joined and a spark fired that began in my aching pussy and bounced over the surface of my entire body.
His hips thrust one last time and his cock hardened in that signature sign that he had climaxed as he pumped his seed inside me.
Jackhammer wasn’t an appropriate description.
How about sex god?
It wasn’t just the physical sex that pushed me over the edge. There was something else too, something unmistakable, something I had never noticed before.
It wasn’t only because he had taken me to a depth of orgasm I’d never experienced before. It was the sensation of rightness. He touched me not only physically but emotionally.
It was a crashing crescendo of perfectly formulated music with the chords and high melody working in tandem to paint complete harmony.
It was a golden light at the heart of me, at my center, and as I peered over at the stallion lying beneath me in his bed, with me curled up on his broad chest, I wondered if he felt it too.
Probably not, I thought. This was probably normal for him and there was nothing special about it at all.
Though it was easy to forget in a place like this, there was such a thing as love. I knew that from seeing the look on Ivy’s face each time Kren came to pick her up.
I’d begun to notice the same expression on—unbelievably—Harper’s face too. She’d been in this place longer than any of the others—except for Lily, who we tended not to count as part of the Prizes.
I wasn’t happy with where I found myself but through my endless studying about the history of others, I learned the great and the good and the truly evil all had one thing in common: they made the most of whatever position they were put in.
They could be at war, with the river at their backs and their enemy intent on slaying them, and they would look deep inside themselves for how they were going to deal with their situation.
This wasn’t the first time I had great sex with an inmate but it was the first time I felt that blossoming golden light in my chest.
What did it mean?
Did it even mean anything?
Probably not. And it served no one for me to think it did.
My skin felt hot to the touch and I wondered if I was still recovering from the previous night of lovemaking.
I placed my arm to the wall and the coolness of it soothed my skin.
I happened to glance at my arm where, until just a few hours ago, I sported the nasty black bruise. Only now… it was gone.
“Huh?” I said out loud.
I ran a hand over the spot where I knew it should have been but was no longer there.
Maybe I was mistaken and it was on the other arm. It didn’t sound very likely but it was the kind of thing I had done multiple times over the years.
I checked but it didn’t sport the ugly injury either. Even stranger was that the spot where I was certain the bruise should have been was even hotter than the rest of my body.
Had it been a rash? I wondered. Was that the reason for it not being visible?
Then why wasn’t it itchy? I wondered. And why didn’t it hurt?
It didn’t make sense. Why should the nasty bruise be there one day and not there the next?
Maybe it wasn’t as bad as I thought it was. That, at least, was an explanation I could understand.
I filed it away for later and focused on the moment in hand.
I’d never experienced anything like it my entire life. I kept a neat and tidy list of my favorite lovers over the years and no one had ever come close to surpassing Greg Kyle in college. We hadn’t been together long, which made our time together even more memorable.
But now, Greg Kyle was a very distant third. The two times we had sex last night overshadowed Greg’s meager effort by a long way.
Nothing even came close.
I leaned back and looked at the creature that’d brought this on me. His skin was as red as the dust in the inhospitable desert outside. His horns would have been white when he was born but had turned a waxy-yellow hue through the years of battle and war. There were more than a dozen chips to those elongated horns of his.
His body was crisscrossed with endless scars from the tip of his sloped brow to the tips of his toes where etches had been cleaved into his calves.
Most of the creatures in the prison were capable of healing quickly and I wondered what sort of harm he’d endured to have such violent marks on him as this. He couldn’t have gotten them all fighting in the pit as he’d only been here six months.
He was a pirate, I reminded myself. He could’ve easily have come across violent attacks during that time.
Pirates, I thought wryly, shaking my head.
Intergalactic pirates.
History always had a way of repeating itself, running in cycles without end.
The blankets rustled as Egara came awake. He smacked his lips and yawned, stretching with his enormous arms. His bones cracked and he wiggled his toes. He lowered his hand to my ass and patted me.
“Sleep well?” he said, shutting his eyes and letting the fringes of sleep descend once more.
“Great,” I said, surprised I really meant it.
I didn’t usually sleep well in strange rooms. I rar
ely slept well in my own these days either. Beneath the makeup, I had dark bags under my eyes.
I stretched and flinched at the pain.
“Sore?” he said.
“A little,” I said.
It felt like I’d enjoyed a good workout at the gym, something I hadn’t done since I got here.
“I’m a little sore too,” Egara said, grunting and screwing up his face. “I must have worked you hard. But it’s your fault for turning me on the way you did.”
I blushed, my cheeks and entire face burning red. I slapped him on his giant muscular forearm.
“Do you usually hurt after sex?” I said.
“No,” he said and seemed a little surprised by his answer.
Egara was not traditionally handsome. His forehead was a little too high and his cheekbones a little too striking. His was more of a visceral, animalistic attraction, the type that drew everyone’s eye whenever he entered a room. Charismatic was the word.
He rolled over onto his side and leaned his head on his bulging bicep. I’d always had a thing for big muscles and he had the biggest muscles of anyone I’d seen in this prison—and that was saying something as most of them were built.
This was my favorite part as a Prize. After fucking, after the awkward silences had passed, we could luxuriate in each other’s presence. I had a real chance to get to know the creature that’d chosen me.
Every person was a story and there wasn’t a single prisoner I’d been with that didn’t have an interesting history to share.
I rolled onto my side and faced him, our naked bodies entwined, our bare skin rubbing against each other. I peered up into his eyes—and what eyes!
They were blazing turquoise and speared me in place. He had long eyelashes, blazing red skin, and huge horns jutting from either side of his head.
And yet, I felt as comfortable as could be in his presence.
“What made you become a pirate?” I said.
“What makes anyone become a pirate?”
I thought it was a rhetorical question but he appeared to be waiting for me to answer.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Desperation. A lack of opportunity?”
He threw his head back and barked a laugh.
“I suppose it could look that way from the outside. But no. We become pirates because it’s what we’ve always done. It’s written into our DNA.”
“Always?”
“For the part of our lives that matter, yes.”
I wasn’t sure I much liked the sound of that. I preferred the idea of being in charge of my own destiny. I believed in taking responsibility for my life. But did that mean me ending up here as an alien’s plaything was my fault?
Hm. That didn’t sound right to me.
Egara smiled and lowered his face to the base of my neck and nuzzled me there, his lips kissing the soft skin and nipping at it with his teeth. He moved in closer to me and I felt his impressive thickness press against me.
“I had a ship,” he said. “There were few other things I wanted to do, so I joined the family’s pirate business.”
I sighed as he lowered his lips to my nipples and stroked them gently. I tried to form the words of my next question but they died on my lips beneath his caress.
So gentle for such a big monster.
“How about you?” he said. “What were you before you got banged up in here?”
“I was a historian,” I said, my eyes closed and enjoying his caress. I looked forward to what it might lead to.
He paused and pulled back, peering at me.
“A historian?” he said.
“Yes. I studied history and worked in a museum.”
His eyes moved between mine before he blinked, a thought coming to him. He pulled back further.
“What’s wrong?” I said.
“Historians… are very respected in my culture.”
“They are?”
“They possess the only accounts of the history of our species and where we came from. Legend has it we were not originally a pirating culture but one of art and music and advanced machinery.”
“What happened?”
He shrugged his enormous shoulders.
“There are conflicting accounts. When our aggressors destroyed our culture, they burnt much of our history along with it. They rewrote other parts to paint them in a glowing light. We’re not sure which parts are true and which are false. Our historians have been working to piece together the map of who we are since the Great Breaking. Much of what we once knew about ourselves was lost. With our wealth stripped from us, we did whatever we could to survive.”
“Piracy.”
I reached out and ran a hand over his flaming red skin and around the thick horns that curled from his head. They twisted twice—out once, then inward, and finally out again, like the twin horns of a powerful bull.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“It’s not your fault. We’re forbidden to lay with historians. They must remain pure and focus on their work. Nothing is more important than what they do.”
I thought of human monks from centuries earlier. They used to follow similar rules in the pursuit of writing and copying books to be distributed across the world.
“What’s the punishment for breaking that rule?” I said.
“Castration.”
I reached down and grabbed him by the balls. They were big and fit like plums in the palm of my hand. It only served to stiffen him further.
“A good thing I’m not a Vulcarian historian,” I said.
He grunted.
“A very good thing,” he said. “Or else half the Vulcarian population would be castrated and we’d die out from our inability to breed.”
Now was my turn to laugh. I threw my head back and laughed bawdily.
“If other Vulcarians are anything like you last night, I would die before I got around to even a fraction of that number,” I said.
He placed a large black-nailed hand on my cheek.
“I would never share you,” he said, peering into my eyes.
My insides turned weak and I was beholden by those incredible eyes, sucking me in like tractor beams.
He pressed his lips against mine and I stabbed my tongue between his lips and felt his tongue on mine.
He exhaled slowly as he drew me to him, his forbidden historian fruit. He pressed his great girth against me, encouraging me to feel every inch of him.
I wondered how I’d managed to take him inside me the night before.
An alarm wailed. I paid no attention to it. It could have been from my own body warning me not to take him so deeply as last night or else risk losing myself to him.
When Egara pulled back and peered over his shoulder at the door to his cell, he paused a moment, one hand gripping my breast firmly, the other already stroking my sex.
The alarm came from outside his cell and continued to blare loudly.
Shouts rose up from throats that had to be other prisoners.
Egara frowned. He turned to me and took in all my glory, naked, in his bed, ready for him to take advantage of however he saw fit. He looked to be in some quandary about what he ought to do next.
He grunted in agitation and stepped from the bed, naked as the day he was born—assuming Vulcarians were born in the traditional human sense—and scooped up his pants and slipped them on.
I pulled the blanket to my breast and held it there, peering at the door as he approached it.
There wasn’t anything odd about his species was there? Was it normal for them to share their mating partners with other members of his species?
I’d heard plenty of stories about other cultures where this was the case and it made me relieved there were few others like them in this part of the prison.
“What is it?” I said.
“I’m not sure,” Egara said.
He approached the corner post of the bed, gripped it in his hands, held it steady, and wrenched it free.
He did it with the confidenc
e of someone who knew it would give. It clued me in to the fact he’d had to do this more than once. He gripped it tightly in one of his giant hands and stood with his back to the wall beside the cell door.
The shouts outside grew louder, rising into a crescendo as heavy footsteps sprinted down the hallways and something clashed, banging and loud.
“Get down,” he said, waving a hand at me.
I did as he asked and threw the blanket over my head.
Why did I have to get down? I wondered. Why did he even have to check outside?
The door slid open and the noises rushed into the tiny cell.
The siren was unbearably loud. The klaxon wailed high and low, rising and falling like an incoming tide. Between those cacophonous wailing groans and the screaming and yelling and baying for blood of the other prisoners, I was terrified.
The sounds cut out as the cell door slid shut again.
“What’s going on?” I said, poking my head over the blankets.
I was shocked to find I was alone.
I peered at the wardrobe in the corner. There was no way Egara could hide in there. He wouldn’t fit for a start. Neither could he fit his enormous bulk under the bed or crouch at the foot of the bed without me seeing him there.
He must have gone.
And left me alone.
There were other prisoners out there.
Loud and boisterous and, most of all, dangerous.
And he left me alone.
What if they were to come in? What if he’d gone out there on purpose to sell me to those creeps?
I tried to calm down and tell myself he wouldn’t do something like that.
Why would he?
But he was a pirate, wasn’t he? There was no telling what those kinds of people were capable of.
I lowered the blanket from my head and expelled the heat that’d gathered beneath the covers. I peered at the door.
It was still shut. I couldn’t lie here naked and wet and ready for action in case a random prisoner came in.
I slid to the side of the bed and, keeping an eye on the door, scooped up my flimsy piece of clothing that felt little better than tissue paper. I pulled it on.
Still, I felt exposed.
I moved for Egara’s wardrobe and sorted through the clothes until I came to the simple shirts. I grabbed one and pulled it over my head. It fell to my knees. Okay, so I wasn’t about to win any style awards but if I dressed up with enough clothes, I could pass for a regular prisoner in case someone came in.