by Renee Rose
Holy Zandian star! Yes.
He kept his face composed, as befit a warrior and member of the royal guard. “Yes, my lord. Thank you.” Damon bowed. “What is her punishment to be?”
“I leave that up to you.”
His head swam and his horns stiffened as a kick of lust rushed through him. Every fantasy he’d entertained the past two planet rotations involving their beautiful prisoner was about to come true. Eslyn naked and on her knees, at their mercy for punishment and pleasure. Eslyn bound to the bed, her legs spread wide, pussy glistening with readiness. And beyond sex, Eslyn safely tucked on his lap while Laake and Granit entertained her young. And he had imagined Laake and Granit a part of it. Because they were brothers to him and with the scarcity of females, he would never keep the honor and luxury of a female to himself.
“Is she ours?” Laake asked, his eyes gleaming.
“This is not a permanent placement. That determination is yet to be made. I will reevaluate when her reconditioning is complete.”
A niggle of foreboding interrupted Damon’s internal celebration. What in the hell did that mean? Would the prince take her away from them when they finished? Give her back to her former mates? Veck that. Whatever they had to do to prove to Prince Zander they were worthy of caring for and rehabilitating this female, they’d do it.
Laake bowed. “Thank you, my lord.”
Granit handed Eslyn her infant and took her elbow, turning her around to face the exit.
Damon didn’t move, blocking her passage with his body. She lifted her beautiful face, eyes wide. A visible shiver ran through her at whatever promise she saw in his eyes.
He cupped her chin. Excitement radiated from his brothers, amplified by the jealous tension of nearly every male in the room. He didn’t know how he and his brothers got so lucky—so honored—for this task, but he thanked every star in the galaxy. He traced his thumb over her lower lip. “Ready, little flower?”
She blinked up at him, her thick lashes achingly feminine. “Yes, Master,” she whispered.
His cock thickened at her submissive words. Master. They were her masters now. “Follow me.”
Chapter 2
Eslyn’s heart hammered as her new masters led her back to her chamber. Granit limped beside her, his huge hand wrapped around her elbow. He wasn’t the one who frightened her the most, though. It was the one in front—Damon, based on the prince’s decree. He’d guarded her door, too. All three had. Granit and Laake, the younger one, were imposing. Large, muscle-bound warriors, they appeared both deadly and capable. But when they looked at her, their features softened. No doubt they, too, felt the pull of breeding hormones and found her attractive.
Not Damon. He may find her attractive, but more like he wanted to devour her. When he’d taken her chin back in the hall, his eyes had shone with dark promise. As if he relished having her at his mercy.
And she must be mad, because her fear of him was equally matched by excitement. Unlike her former mates, he didn’t inspire dread. Just thrills of heat and anticipation. What would her punishment be? Would he administer it?
Actually, the thought of any of the three delivering discipline made her head swim with desire. But tangled up in it was her ever-present worry. What would happen with her children? Would they allow her to still see them? What fate awaited her former mates? Would they be released after reconditioning, too? If so, would they come for her? Would the prince return her to them when it all was over?
Her stomach twisted in a knot. She dared not get too comfortable with these mates if she was just to be returned to the males she’d come to hate.
“Do not be afraid, female. Our punishment will be fair.” Laake, the youngest and friendliest of the three warriors, laid his hand on her back.
“Thank you, Master Laake.”
The warrior made a rumbling sound low in his throat. Was it disapproval?
“I-I’m sorry—”
“I know.” Damon spoke over her, grinning at Laake. “I liked when she called me master, too.”
Granit made an affirmative growl.
Her pussy clenched, though there was nothing sexy about what he’d said. Why did they enjoy her subservience? Why did she like hearing it?
Damon pressed his palm to the control panel next to her door and the door slid open. She’d never seen such technology. Even before the Finnian invasion, she’d lived away from the capitol, out in the country. Her family had been simple farmers. They hadn’t had anything close to the wealth and finery of Prince Zander’s pod.
Granit released her elbow for her to pass through the door, but his palm connected with her ass in a light slap.
Her pussy squeezed again. She carried Sol to the floating crib and laid him in it, closing the soundproof cover and activating soft music for him. He cooed and gurgled, kicking his legs and reaching for his toes.
“So,” Laake said, horns tilting in her direction. “How shall we punish her?” He looked to Damon, which didn’t surprise her. Although he wasn’t the biggest of the three, he seemed to be their natural leader. The most ruthless. Like Sankro.
No, not like Sankro. At least she hoped not. Sankro lacked the intelligence she saw behind Damon’s gaze. His dominance had been pure evil brutishness.
Damon strolled over to the hover disk where she slept, and she realized equipment had appeared while they were gone. A bin of, oh, stars—were they implements of torture?—sat on the mattress. He pulled out a thin, reed-like instrument and slapped it against his palm.
She choked on a breath.
His lips twitched as his gaze shifted over to her, roaming the length of her body with a feral interest. “Take off your clothes, Eslyn.”
She didn’t move. Not because she meant to defy him, only because her body wouldn’t obey the command from her mind.
“Let me do it,” Granit murmured behind her, his thick arms reaching around to unfasten the clasp of the robe at her throat. Her skin burned hot everywhere his arms brushed. She stared down at his large digits working the carved bead out of the loop.
Damon continued to root through the bin, pulling out ominous-looking implements. All different-sized paddles made of wood. A braided rope of animal hide. A flat strap. Cuffs and collars.
Her pussy clenched.
Laake squatted at her feet and unlaced the soft animal-skin boots she’d been given. Granit succeeded in unhooking the robe and he pulled it off her shoulders. Laake removed the boots, then slid his hands slowly up her calves, dragging the hem of her sheath up. “She’s trembling.”
Stars, she was. She had two males’ hands on her at once and now the gaze of a third. Damon folded his arms over his sculpted chest, watching with an impassive face. Like the rest of them, he wore a white uniform, which stretched across his broad shoulders and thick muscles in swoon-worthy lines. If it weren’t for the length and tilt of his horns, she might be unsure of his interest, but they gave him away.
Laake’s callused palms traveled further up her legs, sliding up her thighs, molding around the curves of her ass, up her sides. She whimpered as the fabric crested the stiff points of her nipples, but lifted her arms over her head to allow him to remove it. Her breasts tumbled free of the sheath and bounced. Her tight nipples burned, milk rushing to the tips.
“Veck, she’s beautiful,” Laake murmured.
Beautiful—her? Was it true? She didn’t know—it’s not like Sankro, Banf, or Elit ever told her and she’d had no looking glass on Zandia, save a pool of water.
Granit, still standing behind her, buried his fingers in her hair. “Incredibly lovely,” he agreed.
Her face grew warm.
Granit fisted his hand and used her hair to tug her head backwards. He peered down at her. “She’s blushing,” he observed.
The males spoke about her as if she was an object, but the wonder in their voices made it enjoyable. It was foolish, but she loved the attention the warriors paid her. It gave her a sense of power she’d never known.
; Damon sauntered forward and she blushed harder, his appreciative perusal of her body sending tingles skittering across her skin. Her knees trembled even more as she stood in nothing but her panties, watching him approach.
“Do you think her pussy is as beautiful as her breasts?” Laake’s voice sounded thick as he looped his thumbs into the waistband of her panties.
Granit circled an arm around her waist and spread his palm across her belly. “Let’s find out.” His voice, too, sounded gravelly. He slid his palm lower as Laake pulled down her panties.
“Don’t pleasure her yet,” Damon commanded and Granit’s hand stopped before it reached her mound. “Punishment first.”
Her knees buckled and Granit’s arm cinched around her waist, holding her up. His other hand came around to cup one of her breasts, which he squeezed, brushing his thumb over her sensitized nipple.
She hadn’t wobbled out of fear of their punishment, although her pulse raced. He’d said, punishment first. Which implied there would also be pleasure. And the idea of pleasure at these males’ hands made the room tilt and swoop around her.
The breast Granit held leaked a drop of milk onto his fingers. Mortified, she tried to mop it up with her finger. “I’m sorry.”
He snatched her wrist and brought her fingers to his mouth. “Mine,” he growled and closed his lips over the wetness there, sucking it from her fingers.
She gasped at the sensation, her pussy responding as if he’d kissed her there, instead.
Laake grasped her ankle to help her out of the panties and stood beside Damon, lids drooping at what he saw.
She tried to cover her pussy with her free hand, but Granit caught that wrist, too, and pulled both arms high over her head. “Is the view as beautiful from there as it is from here?”
The other two males nodded, eyes fixed on the apex of her thighs. “Perfect,” Laake muttered.
“Indeed,” Damon agreed.
A drip of arousal trickled onto her inner thigh.
“What’s her punishment?” Granit asked.
Laake looked to Damon.
“We’ll each pick a punishment and administer it,” Damon said. “Our choice of position and implement—nothing too harsh. I believe she’s sorry, don’t you?”
The other two males both agreed.
“She doesn’t appear particularly rebellious, either.” He took a step closer and pinched her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Which is a shame. I should have liked taming her.” He relaxed the grip on her chin and slid his fingers lower, closing around her throat. He didn’t squeeze, but she jerked back, genuine fear flooding her, triggered by bad memories with her ex-mates.
Damon immediately released her at the same time Granit reached to knock his hand away. “She doesn’t like that,” Granit growled.
“Shh,” Damon murmured, not to Granit, but to her. He gripped her jaw and leaned forward, brushing his lips across hers. “You’re safe, little flower. We would never harm you. Just a little pain to teach you a lesson and then we can move onto your training.” He smiled a predatory grin that sent flutters to her tummy.
“My training?” Somehow, she managed to make her lips move.
“Yes.” He thumbed both nipples at the same time, making them burn with milk letdown. When his thumbs came away wet, he leaned forward and flicked his tongue over one pebbled nipple, then the other. “Your rehabilitation. Making sure you’re fit for Zandian society.” To Granit, he said, “Keep her arms pulled high.”
Granit complied, stretching her wrists higher above her head. Laake wandered to the implement bin, dividing his attention between her punishment and what he found there.
Damon shocked the hell out of her by slapping one breast. “For my part, Eslyn, I hope you’re a slow learner. I would hate to return you to Prince Zander too soon.” He kicked her feet wider. “Spread your legs, beautiful. I need access to all your tender parts.”
She whimpered, tugging against Granit’s grasp on her wrists, which earned her a firm slap on the ass from the scarred warrior. Pussy dripping, she followed Damon’s trek to the bin with her gaze, watching him retrieve a thin, slender strap.
Real panic set in—not so much because she believed it would be too painful or damaging, but at the sheer vulnerability of her position. She twisted and tried to lurch away, but Granit’s grip was like steel. “Easy, sweet female. I don’t want to hurt your wrists.”
“Which parts of me do you want to hurt?” she shot back, twisting. She found herself suddenly enveloped in his thick arms, nose pressed against Granit’s chest.
“She’s all right,” Damon said. “A bit of fear will do her good—make it more exciting.” He brushed her hair back, revealing her face. “Isn’t that right, little flower?”
She didn’t answer, but he smiled. “Can you smell her arousal? She likes her predicament, the naughty pet, even if she doesn’t want to admit it.”
Granit chuckled, relieved. “I smell it.” He pulled her wrists overhead once more, turning her to face away from him.
Touching her was pure pleasure; controlling her, even better. Her body was soft and pliable under his hands. She offered little resistance, and when she did, was easily tamed with soothing.
He wanted to believe it was because they had a special connection—that she felt safe with them, but he doubted that was true. Their female had been stuck on a destroyed planet with no other beings but three males, who’d not been gentle enough with her. The way she’d panicked when Damon’s hand had cinched around her throat had been from trauma.
He should know. He recognized the sudden surge into survival instinct, the loss of rational thought. How many nights in the past fifteen solar cycles had he woken in that state, certain the explosions in his dreams were real, that the flames still licked his skin?
Veck.
He would kill her former mates if he found out any of them had ever made her fear for her life. But they could question her about that later.
After they’d indulged in possessing their trembling female.
Damon pinned Eslyn in place with a cool gaze. “Open your legs wide, little flower.”
She eyed the strap, and a tiny whimper came from her lips, but she obeyed.
“What’s this?” Laake asked from where he stood near the implement bin. He held up a smooth, bulbous object.
Damon grinned. “It’s for her ass. Want to put it in?”
Laake’s eyes glazed with lust. “Yes.”
“There’s a dispenser of lubricant in there. You’ll need to coat it first.”
How did Damon know these things? Granit’s only experiences with females were the fumbling attempts of his youth, before the invasion and Damon and Laake had been too young then. But their friend was a relentless researcher. No doubt, he’d combed every Zandian archive or even other planetary sex guides for what he would have thought useless information. He had no idea a fertile female might one day show up on their pod. And be given to his care.
But Damon seemed to know exactly what he was doing now, as he positioned himself in front of Eslyn and flicked the thin strap against her side.
She cried out, although he doubted it had hurt much. Damon had barely put any force into his swing. He continued, applying light slaps of the animal hide down the side of her waist, over her flank, to her outer thigh. With each swing, Eslyn gasped and wiggled, making a delightful presentation. Her breasts bounced, lush ass rubbing against the bulge of his cock through his pants.
Damon repeated the action on the other side as Laake circled around behind her.
Granit drew her wrists down and held them, still locked together in his large hand, at her belly, using his other hand to push her torso forward. She folded over the support of his arm. He stepped to the side to make room for Laake, who shot him a wild-eyed glance—half-nervous, half-thrilled.
He gave Laake a nod of encouragement.
“Pry her cheeks apart,” Damon instructed.
Laake used the fingers of one hand to se
parate her cheeks. Her anus squeezed and tightened and her trembling increased, but interestingly, so did the scent of her arousal.
“Go slowly with the plug. Just the tip to begin, then ease it in. If you go too fast, you could hurt her.”
Eslyn mewled when Laake pushed the rounded tip of the plug against her back pucker. Laake lifted his gaze in question to Damon, who merely smiled. He grasped Eslyn’s head around the ears and lifted her face to his. “Take it, little flower. This is your punishment.”
Something in his words must have caused her surrender because the plug suddenly slid forward two finger widths, slowing at the widest part of the object.
Laake repeated Damon’s words. “Take it.”
She did. Her anus yawned wide and the plug slid in, seating deep inside her, leaving only the handle peeking between her delectable ass cheeks.
“Good,” Damon said. “Now hold her arms up again. I’m going to enjoy smarting her skin with this little lash.”
Eslyn gave a pitiful whimper, but didn’t fight Granit as he lifted her wrists up over her head. She made the most erotic picture he’d ever seen, legs spread wide, arms cinched high, a gleaming metal knob nested in her ass.
Her nipples dripped milk—the sweetest he’d ever tasted—and her cheeks were flushed a rosy shade of violet.
Everywhere Damon whipped her left a rosy stain on her peach-purple skin. He swung the strap again, catching the side of one breast.
She shrieked in fear, dancing away.
Damon chuckled.
“Is that fair?” Laake asked. “I mean, she has to feed the baby with those.”
“Then she’ll think of me each time she does,” Damon promised, delivering another light slap to the same breast.
“Ah… ah,” she gurgled, panting.
Damon ran the backs of his fingers over her cheek. “Shh, little flower. It stings a little, but it won’t cause any lasting harm. You know that, right?”
