by Viki Storm
“Yes,” I moan.
“Are you embarrassed now? Do you feel ashamed to be bent over, spreading yourself open so I can play with your asshole?”
“No,” I say. And it’s the truth. Not even his dirty language can make me feel ashamed. All I feel is the wanting and the desire.
He shifts between my legs, kneeling down behind me. He puts his lips on me, taking my swollen and throbbing clit into his mouth. He sucks gently, and I scream out in pleasure. But as soon as he started, he stops, instead teasing me with the tip of his tongue, lightly tracing all over my lips. He licks me so softly I think I’m going to go insane from the denial. He finishes with an upward lick that leads him to my bottom, where he pauses to swirl his tongue around that sensitive, puckered opening.
He stands up, and I feel his cock press against me. He’s fisting it, rubbing it against my pussy, sliding it easily over my wetness. I push against him, eager to have it inside me, but he pulls away.
“No, little Queen,” he says. “Not today. You don’t want me to take your virginity. If I do that, you’ll be mine. I will own you forever. Get up and take off your dress. Lie down on the table. Put your feet on the edge and spread those legs as wide as you can. I want to have another taste of that sweet little cunt.”
I move up as he instructs, and he gets between my legs. His mouth does amazing things to me, nibbling with his lips, probing with his tongue, sucking gently. Then I feel his finger at my bottom entrance again, only this time, he is not rubbing and teasing. He gets his finger slick with my own wetness then slides it inside my bottom. I gasp, expecting it to hurt or feel weird—but the feeling of his finger stretching out that tight hole only serves to heighten my pleasure.
He slides it in and out slowly, his thick finger struggling at first as my muscles grip him but slowly loosening me up.
“The last time I made you come,” he says. “What was in your mouth?” He has barely moved his lips from my pussy, and as he speaks, his lips graze my flesh, his breath tickles my folds, and the vibrations of his deep voice make me go weak.
“Your cock,” I gasp. “Your cock was in my mouth.”
“And now,” he says, pumping his finger in and out of my bottom. “What’s inside you now?”
“Your finger,” I say.
“And where is it?”
“It’s in my ass,” I say, using the same dirty language that he uses.
“Do you want me to take it out?” he teases, sliding his finger out and rubbing the outside.
“No,” I say. I writhe and arch my back.
“Then ask me nicely. Maybe I’ll put it back inside you.”
“Please, Captain Vano,” I whine. “Please put your finger back inside my ass.”
“Do you feel like a Queen right now?” he says, plunging his finger back inside me. “Begging the alien invader of your planet to finger your tight little hole while you come all over my face?”
But I can’t talk, can’t even think. My orgasm has crashed into me, overtaken my entire body. I shake and spasm, riding the waves, expecting them to stop but they only get stronger. When the pleasure finally starts to subside, Vano stands up and fists his cock, rubbing it between my legs. Maybe he’s going to take my virginity after all. I push against him, trying to lower myself onto his shaft, but he keeps it at a distance, just rubbing the head at my opening, sliding it back and forth against my slippery folds.
When I think he’s going to thrust it inside, he groans, and I feel my stomach and breasts coated with his thick seed.
“You look like a Queen,” he says, staring down at me. “Even covered in my seed. You are beautiful and powerful—and nothing can change that. Succumbing to your own lust only enhances your inner strength. Don’t forget that.” His eyes are calmer now, softer—and I think I almost get a peek behind the cold exterior of Captain Vano.
But just as fast as it appeared, it’s gone. “Get in bed—but don’t clean yourself off. I’ve marked you and want you to remember who gives the orders. Any time you forget and want to pull a little stunt like you did today, just remember how I bent you over and had you begging me to put my finger in your asshole. I think that pretty much puts me in charge, do you understand?”
“Yes, Captain,” I say. I get up and gather the hairpins off of the floor. When I stand, the essence between my legs drips down, smearing thickly between my thighs. His seed also drips down, covering my breasts. But I do not wash, as he instructed.
He has marked me. And isn’t that the truth.
He pulls me into bed with him, and we lie on our sides. He is behind me, cradling me, draping his arm over my waist to cup one breast.
And I start to fall into an easy sleep, quickly, without being plagued by the troubling thoughts that come with ruling a planet.
For once, I have someone to help me. And even if he insists that all humans must eventually evacuate, I know I can’t let that happen. This is the settlement my ancestors built, and I will not let it be taken on my watch.
Because evacuation is unthinkable. My people cannot leave their homes. They cannot leave this planet.
My last thought as I drift to sleep is that I cannot leave the planet, either, because I cannot leave my captain.
This has gotten out of hand already. This girl, this queen. She’s not what I expected. I am not sure what I expected, but I didn’t expect…to feel. To feel much of anything except lust and the desire to thrust.
With Bryn, I can feel bad things starting to happen to me. Males of my species change when they find their bonded mates. The chest turns purple, flushed and tingling. We call it ‘rutting’ because you’re powerless against the desire to rut at your mate like a barnyard animal. The libido increases to an intolerable level—the universe’s way of forcing you to mate with your chosen female.
When you mate, your genetic material is exchanged, and more physical changes take place in both the male and the female—but at the molecular level. Only the Healers know all the details, but the hormones and chemicals actually change, creating a physical link between the fated pair.
And I felt it again.
The tingling at my chest, a few pinprick spots of purple starting to bloom on my skin.
When I took out her breasts and started to pinch her nipples, my own chest started to flush. I fought it off, willing the urges to go away.
I wanted to mate her more than anything I’ve wanted in my life. Wanted to sink in deep, wanted to feel her hot, wet cunt gripping my shaft as I plunge it into her over and over. Wanted to hear her scream as an orgasm wracks her body.
It was a physical urge, but it was more than that. It was as if the physical act was the only way I could make any sense of what I was feeling.
But I didn’t do it.
I can’t do it.
Queen or not, Bryn will be evacuated along with the rest of the humans in a matter of months. This is no longer a matter of mere intercourse. This is bonding. And there is nothing more sacred to a Zalaryn than the bond between mates. To create that bond through the act of physical intercourse knowing full well that the two of you will be separated, knowing that you will have to cast your mate aside… That’s unthinkable.
Bryn stirs next to me, shifting the furs and letting in cold air between us. It feels good on my hot skin. Despite the frigid temperatures here, I worked myself up quite vigorously. The furs slip down, and one of her milky white shoulders is exposed. I run my finger along its curve. She seems so much more vulnerable while she’s asleep. Without the cold walls she built around herself, the defiant tilt of her chin, the carefully cultivated haughtiness of a Queen, she looks much like the fragile young woman that she is. She’s barely more than a girl, but the weight of an entire planet rests on this small shoulder.
I take the fur and pull it back up, covering her again.
“How long have I been asleep?” she asks. Her voice is rough, partly from sleep, but I’m sure it’s also because of the screaming. Void, how she cried out. Those sounds. Whimpering
, whining, begging, moaning. I have never been with a female who was so enthusiastic.
“An hour or two,” I say. “I wasn’t keeping track.”
“Did you sleep?” she asks. She rolls over and faces me. Her hair is wild, falling in loose waves around her face.
“A little,” I say. I don’t want to admit it to her, but I couldn’t sleep. I’ve been thinking about what we’re going to do.
Because those desiccated cows—that’s a problem that threatens us all.
“You said that we had two things to discuss,” she says playfully. She inches closer to me, and without thinking about it, I put my arm around her and pull her to me, positioning her head in the crook of my arm. She fits perfectly, like a part of me I didn’t know I was missing.
“Yes, two things. Punishment and the livestock. I think we thoroughly covered every detail of the former,” I say. “Unless you wish to openly defy me again?” I reach my arm around behind her and grab her ass. I give it a squeeze, loving the way the plump curve fills up my hand.
“No, I do not, Captain Vano,” she says. “I’ll be good.”
“You’d better,” I say. But even though this lighthearted bedroom banter is enjoyable, my heart is not light. Not at all.
“What of the other?” she asks. “You said you know what’s happening to those cows.”
“I do,” I say. “And you’re not going to like it.”
“Then you’d better tell me now,” she says.
“Get dressed,” I tell her. “I’m not going to be able to concentrate if I can reach over any time I want and do this.” I take both of her breasts in my hands and squeeze her nipples. I roll them between my fingers and she gasps, pressing her hips against my leg. I take one into my mouth, slowly winding my tongue around the tip, eliciting a long moan from low in her throat.
“Stop,” she says. She’s already panting, and I know if I slipped my hand between her legs I would find her wet and eager again.
“You don’t tell me what to do,” I say. “Did you forget? Do you need another reminder?”
“No,” she whines. “No, don’t.” But she loops one of her legs over mine and starts to wiggle her hips around.
“I think you need another pinch to make you remember,” I say. She squeals, but I ignore her and start to press my fingertips together slowly, clamping down on the tips of her nipples.
“I’m sorry,” she says. She pulls her chest away from me, but I hold on to her nipples.
“Don’t struggle,” I say. “It’s only making it worse.”
But she likes it. That’s why she’s struggling. She pulls away, turning side to side so I pull on her nipples harder.
“What are you sorry for?” I tease.
“I told you to stop touching me,” she says.
“Can I touch you whenever I want?” I ask.
“Yes,” she pants.
“Do you need to come right now?”
“Yes,” she says again.
“Then I think the best punishment would be to make you get up and get dressed. Would you like that? Do you want me to stop?”
“No, I wouldn’t like that,” she says. She’s rubbing herself against the side of my leg, pushing her slick folds back and forth, trying to find release.
“Then that’s what you’re going to do,” I say. “Get up. Get your clothes back on. You’re compliant right now because you want something from me. You want me to make you come. Earlier you weren’t so compliant, were you? You need to know that I control your pleasure. A little denial will be good for you. You can practice having some willpower.”
When she realizes I’m serious, she rolls off the bed and starts searching for her clothes. I catch a glimpse of her face and see that she’s confused and more than a little hurt.
“Come here,” I say. She slips her gown over her head and stands at the side of the bed next to me. “The pain you feel right now,” I say and trace one finger lightly up her thighs to find her sex, slippery with her essence. “The throbbing ache right here,” I say and swirl my fingertip around her hard little clit one time, then withdraw my hand. “The desire, the frustration. Do you feel it?”
“Yes,” she whispers.
“This is how I feel around you all the time. That insistent ache, the raw need for release. I’ve felt like this all day today. But a Zalaryn warrior learns mastery over his impulses. If you really want to rule as Queen, you must be strong. You must have self-control. You must be able to deny yourself the things you really want. Do you understand?”
She looks up at me with those eyes, and I feel like a fraud with all my talk of self-control. I’m a hair’s breadth away from throwing her back onto the bed and taking her completely, claiming her virginity and making her mine.
She nods and sits down on her chair and pours a glass of water from the pitcher. “I am sorry,” she says. “I feel a little foolish, letting my…” She takes a drink and clears her throat. “My desires get the better of me. You are right, of course. You can never have too much self-control. Will you tell me now about the cows?”
“Yes,” I say. I know she’s not going to like this. Void, I don’t like this. “Have you ever heard about the Rulmek?”
She chokes on the mouthful of water. A small amount dribbles down the side of her face. “Rulmek?” she pleads. I really don’t like this now. I don’t want to be the one to cause her distress. But I must. I can’t protect her from everything, as much as I want to.
“Yes,” I say. “Probably a lot of the stories you’ve heard about them are exaggerated. That’s not to say that they’re a friendly lot, but you know how rumors get spread. The more grisly the better.”
“I have seen them,” she says. “They have been to Lekyo Prime before.”
“When?” I say. If they have been to this planet, then she will know that some of the grisly rumors aren’t true—but a lot of them are.
“Ten years ago,” she says. “No, wait. Twelve years ago. Three small ships came in the night. They plundered the settlement. They… they took…” She choked off a sob, her face contorting with the effort.
“How many did they take?” I ask. I don’t need to ask if the Rulmek took any women. Of course they did.
“About fifty,” she says. The tears are falling down her cheeks now, but she is still holding back the sobs. For now. “Including my sister.” I sit up and reach for her. She flinches away from the comfort that I want to give her. I instinctively feel hurt until I realize it’s nothing personal. She feels guilty for surviving. For not being taken—for being Queen in a large room with silken pillows and a feather bed. She’s enjoying all the comforts of royalty while her sister is…who knows? Nowhere good. The Rulmek are flesh-traders. They would have taken her sister to a slavers’ market and sold her for quick coin.
I lean forward and extend my arms to her again. She makes no move, so I grab her, take her in my arms and pull her back into bed. I arrange the furs on top of us and hold her while she cries. It takes a long time, but the tears eventually run out, as tears always do.
There is a loud knock at the door. She tenses in my arms, and I hold her tight. “It’s okay,” I whisper. “Let me get it.”
I get out of bed and slip my breeches back on. I am lacing them up when I open the chamber door. It is Yar, her giant slab of a bodyguard.
“What’s wrong with my lady?” he asks.
“She’s tired and overwhelmed,” I tell him. The big human looks me up and down and sneers. He shoulders past me and enters the room.
“My Queen!” he calls. I see red. He has just barged into the royal bedchamber of the King and Queen without proper leave. He has brushed past me as if I were a mud-splattered peasant in a crowded marketplace. And now he’s kneeling at the foot of my mate.
My mate? Is that what I just thought? I meant the foot of my pretend mate. Because she proclaimed us wedded, but that is only in name, only a farce to fool the councilors into following our edicts.
“You must leave at once,” I
say. I don’t want to fight this human, but I will if I need to. Not even this huge mountain of a man would be a match for me, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t give me a fair number of bruises for my efforts.
“Has he hurt you? Did he… Has he outraged you?”
Bryn shakes her head and tries to explain, but she’s just heard bad news, and she isn’t her usual articulate self. This doesn’t help convince Yar.
“I am going to let those first insults pass as a sign of your gross ignorance,” I say. “I know that humans are a primitive species and cannot possess both strength and brains. You have ten seconds to get out of the royal bedchamber and apologize for your behavior.”
“Why, so you can abuse her some more?” Yar says. His hand is at his sword.
“Everything is fine, Yar,” Bryn says. “You can leave us. I am alright.”
“You’ll never be alright as long as you’re kept in here as this alien bastard’s prisoner.” He puts his hand on Bryn’s shoulder and I lose what little composure I had left.
I have had enough. In three bounding leaps I am upon him, my fist clenching and smashing his nose with the sickening squelch of a boot in a mud puddle.
He roars in pain and launches himself at me. He is a big male, probably used to winning every fight with his size alone. He is bigger than me, but I am bred for fighting. I have done little else with my life. I accept his challenge the way other species accept offers to dance or sing. It is much the same for me, my feet tapping a rhythm as I dodge his blows, my arms swaying as I prepare to land my own.
I get his arm twisted behind him and press up on his elbow. This is a move that Zalaryn lads learn before they’ve seen their thirteenth year—because it’s very effective.
