by Renee Rose
She likes it when we talk about her—we’ve discovered it gets her hot. She likes the element of danger even more.
“I’ll keep them open,” she promises, sliding her legs wide again, showing us that delectable cunt.
“See that you do.” I surprise her with a swipe of the strap, then another, so fast that she can’t cry out in between. I give her the last of my five, a good hard one, while she’s still processing the first two, then I toss the strap to Benn. Coming around to the front of the ottoman, I take her face in both hands and kiss her, passionately, and she responds instantly, her mouth opening to mine, her tongue greedy.
“Just a taste,” I whisper, “of what you’ll get if you take the last five without complaining.”
“But if you ask us to stop, or say a single word”—Benn stands beside her and lays the strap across her buttocks—“we’ll veck your ass and pussy but not let you come until much later this evening.”
“Oh, please,” she whines, shifting on the surface.
“No please about it. Just obey.” Benn teases her with the handle of the strap. “Feel this? You like this in your pussy? Take your strapping and you’ll get nice, hard Zandian cock instead.”
“I’ll be good,” she breathes, her voice barely audible.
Danica
I’m tied down and my ass is on fire. This hurts almost as much as the cane, and I still have five to go, but I’m turned on beyond belief. I think I’ve never been this wet in my life!
“Gorde will keep you company up there while I finish the conversation with your ass. But first...” Benn chuckles, then pushes the handle of the strap deep into my pussy a second time. With my legs spread so wide, I can’t quite clench down like my body is dying to do, but I squeeze my muscles, unable to resist.
“Oh!” It feels so good, and I need more.
“Oh, indeed.” He pulls it back out and in, out and in. Fucking me. “Ride it, Danica. Show us how much you want our cocks.” He shoves it in harder.
I’m shameless, and I do as he bids, pushing my hips as hard as I can to reach the handle, which he moves, tantalizingly out of reach, making me work for each contact. “Please.”
“Surely you can do better.” He tsks at me. “Do I have to give you an extra with the strap as motivation?” I hear the hiss of the leather flying through the air, and then the pain explodes on my ass, mixing with my pleasure in a way that’s indescribable.
“Fuck!” I scream, bucking my hips, and he slides the handle back into me for a second.
“This? This is what you want?” He runs it over my clit, and it’s so wet by now from my juices that it slides easily over my skin.
“Mother Earth,” I gasp.
“Or did you want this?”
He removes the strap and strikes me again, even harder than before, right across both ass cheeks, and I wail. It is what I want. I want it again, harder, more. I cry out my need, wordless sounds, sobs of desire.
“Smell your sex in the air. The room is full of your scent. Your desire.” He straps me again. Again. Again.
The pain and pleasure are mingled inextricably and I’m flying now, lost in a sea of sensation. I’m so wet and needy that I can’t think straight.
I hear the strap fall to the floor and it takes me a second to realize that they’re done punishing me. Benn picks me up and tosses me on the hoverseat. “Hands and knees,” he orders, his voice taut. “I’m going to veck you good and hard, Danica, and come in your tight pussy.”
I’m barely in position when his huge cock presses against my entrance. I’m so wet that he slides in without any issue at all, and when he starts pumping me, I sob in pleasure. This. This is what I need. What I want.
“Missed this so hard,” he mutters, pumping me. In. Out. Balls deep. “Gonna let you come, baby, even though you don’t deserve it,” he whispers, and that inflames me so much that I can’t hold back.
The orgasm explodes, sending me into a bliss I’ve never known, pulses of white-hot lightning, over and over. “Benn,” I cry out, as the feeling keeps coming.
“Danica,” he roars, and bites me hard on the shoulder. His cock tightens and I feel his essence flow into me, hot.
“I think it’s my turn.” Gorde grabs me as I come out of the shower. “I’ve waited long enough.”
I giggle and squeak as he tosses me down onto the hoverseat. Across the room, Benn lounges, naked, on a hoverchair. Smiling.
“Your turn for what?” I tease. “Cooking me dinner? Cleaning the…”
My words turn to a sigh as he buries his head between my thighs and finds my clit with his tongue. “Ahhhh.”
He looks up at me for a second, his eyes glowing with passion. “My turn to pleasure you,” he says simply, then puts his head back and sends me into the stratosphere.
I reach down and grab his horns, stroking them with my fingers, feeling them harden under my touch. At the same time, my clit throbs with desire as he licks me, flicking his tongue in a way that drives me mad. When he sucks my clit into my mouth, I almost levitate.
“Gorde!” I cry out.
He smiles down into my face. “I love you.”
“Me too.” I melt at the sight of his strong, fierce jaw, his gleaming eyes. Full of passion, for me. “I love you too.”
Still looking at me, he nudges my thighs a little wider. “Open for me, baby. Let me in.”
“Always.” I wiggle and tilt my hips, and he presses down, and our bodies find the perfect angle so he can slide in. “Oh, Mother Earth. So good.”
I shut my eyes and hum as he pushes in deep. He has this way of twisting as he comes out, and he hits all of my spots. He can usually make me come so fast.
“Wait for it, baby,” he urges, and I open my eyes to see his expression. That small smile on his sexy lips. Those chiseled Zandian jawbones.
He stops moving and just waits inside of me, and I swear I can feel his pulse in his cock, and my heart matches it. I reach up to touch his face, amazed at how close we are. How much I care for him, for Benn. For all of us.
My ass stings in a delicious way and my whole body is in tune with his. As he moves again, I grab his arms, his shoulders, pull his body to me while he fucks me. And when we come at the same time, I cry out his name, with a rush of pleasure and joy so immense that I know that life could never be better, not on any planet, not with any other beings.
My story is a strange one, my path unusual. But it’s led me here, to Zandia. To a love greater than any I’ve known. And I know, without a doubt, that the future is going to be amazing and bright.
Want More?
Mastered by the Zandians
Zandian Brides, Book 3
Mirelle
“Hurry, hurry,” I whisper, my voice hoarse with urgency. “Faster.” I nudge the taller female with my hand. “Come on.”
Her wide eyes, glazed with anxiety and stress, are uncomprehending.
“Do you speak Ocretian?” I swipe sweat from my brow and cough. It’s the most common language in the galaxy, and these are human slaves--surely they understand my words. “If you want to leave, we do it now.”
The smaller one lurches into motion. “Mama, come on!” she wails, and tugs at her mother’s hand. “Please.” Then she coughs; the air here is inhospitable for human lungs. But the woman stands frozen and starts to tremble.
Fuck.
I’ve rescued over fifty humans, and this isn’t anything new, but it’s awful timing. Because out of the corner of my eye, I spy a being across the galactic ship lot look over with more than a passing glance. I’ve been noticed.
I don’t need any being watching me, figuring out who I am and what I do. It’s dangerous enough to even be here on this planet. I shouldn’t have come, but I can’t resist humans in need.
I assess him the way I was taught, scanning quickly: Muscles. Horns. Purple skin. Daggers at the waist. He’s a Zandian, a small but powerful species of warriors who recently took back their planet. Double fuck--he’s the one who outbid
me at the auction.
“My ship is just 800 paces away.” I take the woman’s hand. “What’s your name? I’m Mirelle.” The Zandian is eyeing us. Even across the tarmac, which sends up heat ripples, I see his amethyst eyes flashing in the brutal sunlight.
She blinks at me and I curse. “Mother Earth. You come with me, it’s safe passage to Jesel, where humans are free. You wait around here? They’ll take you back to that auction, punish you for leaving, and sell you off to a sadistic monster.” I’m not sure that’s true: The Zandian, who won her purchase, surely plans to take her to his planet. Zandia. But there she’ll still be a slave. I’m offering her something far better.
The woman finally moves, jerking her neck. “I don’t know what to do. Help me.”
I scoop up the smaller girl, even though it’s probably the mother who needs assistance, but this spurs her into action--she follows me as I jog to the ship. But just as I set down the child and unlock the portal, allowing the entrance steps to descent, I see motion.
It’s the Zandian. Mother Earth, although I know I need to get out of here, watching him move is like magic. He’s fast and graceful, like a wild animal on the plains. Intent.
My two rescues suddenly feel the urgency because they scamper onto my well-worn craft, but it’s too late for me to follow, because he’s here. In front of me. Backing me up against my own ship. The one I constructed with my own hands back on Jesel from old parts scavenged from galactic trash.
He looks right at me with those purple eyes. His horns are alert. “You have property that is rightfully mine.”
I don’t speak. I assess him, watching as he leans forward, his quad muscles tensing. Ready to attack, although his arms are loose. And I sense his adrenaline in the air, his odor. Masculine. Powerful. He must assume I’m weak, because I’m so small. Fool.
“I am from Zandia,” he continues. “And you have absconded with two females that I bought. Turn them over or I will take them from you.”
I take a slow breath in. Out. Transfer weight to the balls of my feet. But I don’t say a word. I’ve learned silence is an advantage; it confuses opponents. Plus, my voice would give me away. I dress like a male and play my role flawlessly, but it’s hard to disguise myself when I speak.
His eyes shift to the entry of my craft, and I make my move. I dart forward and jump, twisting in the air as I do, my left metal-toed boot connecting hard with his jaw.
He groans, I think from surprise and anger more than pain. Still in my aerial twist, I whip around and land, crouching low, then shoot out my leg and wrap it round his, going into the tumble I practiced for a year straight back on Jesel. The move is automatic, all the bruises and breaks merely preparing me for this. Life or death struggle against stronger opponents.
When I tug my leg forward, he topples, as expected. But what I didn’t anticipate was for him to catch his balance so quickly! While I’m still on the ground, he somehow manages to right himself and grab at me.
“Surrender,” he commands, his strong hands pressing into my shoulders, pushing me down into the baked ground. It burns through my camo gear. I kick out automatically, but he straddles me, one strong thigh on either side of my lean torso. His body heat affects me just as intently as the radiated sun on my back.
I pant and look up into his eyes, letting him see mine are green--that always confuses an opponent. I’ll know when to move. One second. Two. Mother Earth, his eyes are so clear, so intelligent. The curve of his lip--is he smiling? How cocky. I’ll show him who’s in charge.
I swallow and watch his eyes dart to my lips, my neck. His smile fades; his expression turns to one of consideration. Like he’s trying to figure something out.
That’s it. I harness all of my energy into my buttocks and legs, then twist and turn.
He grunts and shouts but I’m away from his hands, those powerful hands.
Back on my feet, I crouch, bounce, staring at him.
He’s up too, and as we lock eyes, I feel a tension I’ve never experienced. When he was over me, his face already victorious, I can’t describe ---
He lunges, his fist raised.
I block him, child’s play, then use another aerial leap--a new one.
But fuck, it’s like he anticipated it, because he blocks my kick and then he’s got me again, and he’s pressing me up against the hot metal hull of my craft. Arm against my neck, other hand grabbing my arm. Hips pressed into my body. Thigh to thigh.
His breath is hot on my neck and smells--oddly--sweet. Not fetid, as I might have expected for a warrior. I ignore the tingling feeling in my skin from his proximity.
We’re both panting.
“Who are you?” he demands. “Answer me.”
I stare at him, defiant. He’s not going to get a word from me. My headgear has come loose in the struggle and my red hair spills over my shoulders.
“Veck, you’re a female.” His voice is full of disbelief. “And you’re human?”
And he figured that out, too. I supposed it wasn’t too hard.
“How did you learn to fight like that?” He sounds grudgingly impressed. “And why are you trying to steal my slaves?”
I grunt and shake my head. I’ve never had such trouble getting away from an opponent. Zandians are clearly just as good as the rumors say.
He eases harder into my neck, an easy push, and gives me a smirk. Showing me he’s in charge now. Pressing his advantage. And despite the pressure on my windpipe, and his unyielding body holding me back, tingles flit across my skin again. In my neck. My belly. My nipples. What in Mother Earth?
I suck in air, forcing myself not to panic. Then I shift my hips and he immediately matches my move with his body, pressing himself to me even more closely. His hand moves on mine, but he doesn’t release me. This Zandian has no intention of letting me go.
“I’m taking back the other females,” he says, his gaze direct. The air from his lips, from his words, as he speaks, blows on mine. “And you know what? You’re coming with me, too.” He grins at me, and in that moment--for reasons I completely don’t understand--I almost want to melt into him. To reach up and touch those chiseled jawbones. Those lips. Those oddly enticing horns. His skin.
His body is lean and hard, muscles everywhere. His lips hover only inches from mine, and for a split second I think he wants to lean in and kiss me. I’ve never done this, but I’ve seen others--
I need to take every advantage. I dart my tongue out and lick my lips, and make a small, breathy murmur. The kind of thing I know females do when they want to entice a male. At the same time, I press my hips forward and whisper something to him that he can’t understand, because it’s in English. A dead language. Words I’ve only recently learned.
“My name is Mirelle, and I’m a freedom fighter.”
I sense his surprise and interest, and once again, I use the opportunity. Elbow drop, then up. Arm press and push. Knee up. Battle scream right into his ear, high and piercing, the first loud sound I’ve made.
And I’m free, once again, and he’s on the ground, a stunned expression on his face.
And that gives me the few seconds I need to leap into my craft, shut the door, and blast off this godforsaken ugly planet with my precious cargo.
My craft is slow but steady, and I know that if I just get enough of a head-start, nobody can find me.
But worry pricks at my neck: The Zandians, it’s known, have upgraded ships. The fastest in the galaxy. Cloaked. With every advantage. If he follows me…I don’t know what’s going to happen.
No way am I letting anyone take me hostage. Because this is my life’s work--helping rescue humans, bringing them to safety. And no being is going to stop me, unless they kill me first.
Mastered by the Zandians (coming soon)
I can fly a fighter jet in my sleep and kill with the fingers of one hand. I work alone.
No being in the galaxy can challenge me -- until I tangle with two strong, purple Zandian warriors. And crash my ship.
&n
bsp; They say I stole their cargo, and they plan to take me to their planet. Make me theirs.
Nobody owns me. I’m not going to let these Zandians master me, no matter how sexy and appealing they are.
Because I have a secret mission. And if they find it out, my entire life could be over.
My name is Mirelle, and this is my story.
Mastered by the Zandia
From the Authors
Thank you for reading Bought by the Zandians! If you enjoyed it, we would really appreciate it if you would leave a review. Your reviews are invaluable to indie authors in marketing books so we can keep book prices down.
Check out Renee’s Zandian Masters Series!
HIS HUMAN SLAVE - EXCERPT
CHAPTER ONE
Zandian Breeding season.
That was the last consideration in his mind before liberating his planet from the Finn.
Breeding season.
Zander sat at the round platform, looking at the faces of the elders he respected most, the ones who had risked their lives to save him when the Finn invaded Zandia and wiped out the rest of their species solar cycles before.
“You can’t be serious.”
“Dead serious,” Daneth, the only Zandian physician left in the galaxy said, tapping his wrist band. “You are the best male representative of the Zandian species, the only one left of the royal bloodline, and, more importantly, the only one young enough to produce healthy offspring. If you go to battle without first procreating, our species will die with us.” He gestured around the room at the other members of his parents’ generation.
He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes in exasperation. “And exactly which female do you think I will produce these offspring with? Last I heard, there is no Zandian female under the age of sixty left alive.”
