by Corin Cain
Superficially, the three of them look similar – almost like brothers. I know Aurelians don’t have brothers, though. These three merely share the signature features of this legendary alien race – the marble-white skin, muscular physique, and intense, slate-grey gaze.
Now I can see them closer up, I observe that the leader of the triad – Marcel – stands perhaps a couple inches taller than the other two members of his triad; which puts him at well over seven-feet-tall.
As he approaches me, I feel increasingly smaller and more helpless – more so than even the handcuffs and chains had originally made me feel when I’d awoken on this terrifying ship.
I dare to gaze up at him. Marcel has thick, black brows that contrast sharply against the pure white of his marble skin. His anvil-square jaw is lined with five-o’clock shadow; but even that can’t obscure a jawline so sharp you could cut yourself on it.
There are no scars on Marcel’s face – which are often worn with pride by Aurelians who’ve completed their hundred years of service to the Empire. This means Marcel successfully avoided the claws of Scorp, the axes of Bullfrogs, and the blasters of humans for an entire century of combat.
Behind him stand the other two near-perfect creatures. The one directly behind Marcel has blonde hair and hollow cheeks – which give him a haunted, beautiful visage. This Aurelian stares intently at the leader of the Toads – utterly ignoring the women before him.
I sense the warrior is checking for any sign of resistance – any clue that the Toad intends to try and earn back his dignity by confronting Marcel. I doubt it – the leader of the Aurelians was ruthlessly efficient in establishing dominance.
The third Aurelian is just as handsome as the other two, but in an equally unique way. He has full lips and noble features. If the warrior grew out his buzzed, brown hair, he’d resemble a pretty-boy model or actor; only with that marble-white skin contrasting sharply against his thick brown brows, high cheekbones, and that model-hot face.
This one, though – his eyes have a strange spark to them; so unlike the usually dead, blank stare of these inscrutable aliens.
Handsome faces and perfect, muscular bodies. They’re the stuff of women’s dreams – except I know the truth. These creatures aren’t the stuff of dreams, but nightmares.
Neither those gorgeous features, the radiant sensuality, or the intenseness of those warrior’s slate-grey gaze can hide the truth about intentions. These aren’t Aurelians loyal to the Empire – honorable, brave, and fighting against slavery. Not these three.
This triad have gone Rogue – part of a growing movement of Aurelians who are choosing to spurn the laws of the Empire and return to the Old Ways.
The ways of claiming women – taking captives and prisoners in their search for their Fated Mate, instead of waiting for eager women to volunteer to join their triads.
Aurelians go Rogue only because they enjoy breaking a woman. To them, it’s not just about the fucking – it’s about the mind-fucking. They get off on making a helpless, terrified woman submit to them; to break her until she embraces her fate as the property of three, brutal warriors. It’s something they enjoy almost as much as sinking their thick cocks inside her and emptying their straining balls.
Power. Dominance. Aurelians are legendary for their obsession with submissive women. Even in the harems of the Aurelian Empire, the warriors are infamous for their desire to spank the women who flock to their estates; turning them into submissive little toys who’ll eagerly serve their every whim.
Rogue Aurelians take that a step further. Their love is for the thrill of breaking a woman in, as if she’s a wild horse – taming her, and stripping the fire and rebellion from her through brutal punishment and relentless, dominant sex.
I shudder as Marcel stops in front of me – me, specifically. His eyes flicker up and down my exposed body, lingering on my bare breasts.
His tongue wets those sensuous lips.
I’m filled with the urge to cover myself up – but my hands are chained, and I don’t want this infuriatingly gorgeous creature to know how deeply his intense gaze affects me.
I know if he wanted to, Marcel could reach out and touch me – and there’d be nothing I could do to stop him.
Hell, he could press me up against the walls in this very hallway – and fuck me brutally while my hands were still cuffed, and my feet were still ankle-deep in fetid water.
Marcel breathes in deeply. As his nostrils stretch open, I see his eyes roll backward; as if he’d just taken a hit of some potent narcotic.
A whimper escapes my mouth as I realize he’s smelling me – literally tasting my scent, singling it out amid all the other smells swilling around this disgusting vessel.
His huge tongue licks his lips again – and the Aurelian standing behind Marcel reacts by reaching out his big hand and laying it on Marcel’s huge shoulder – as if trying to snap him back to reality.
Marcel shakes his head, waking from his trance – and then he reaches out with his huge hand and gently places it beneath my chin.
The moment his skin touches mine, it’s as if electric shocks are being sent crackling through me; just as powerful as those of the Toad’s electro-rod.
I shiver as Marcel gently nudges my chin upward - forcing my eyes to meet his slate-grey gaze.
Those inscrutable, alien eyes pierce me. They’re brilliant – starving, and intense, and filled with naked desire; as if he’s fighting to control himself.
Those brilliant eyes paralyze me. I can’t move in his gaze. I’m like prey, helpless in the gaze of a predator. He has me frozen – as if his species has the unspoken ability to hold you frozen with just a glance.
“You’re a perfect little creature, aren’t you?”
The low rumble of Marcel’s voice resonates through me. I can barely meet his gaze. His skin is hot against mine, and I feel powerless in his dominant presence.
Marcel curls his lips.
“It would be such a shame to waste you on a Bullfrog.”
His words are slow and confident – which is the opposite of the effect they have on me.
A Bullfrog?
I shiver. Just the thought of being subjected to that fate makes bile rise in my throat. Toads are revolting enough, but Bullfrogs are even fouler – not just for their bulbous, gangly bodies and slimy, repellent skin. It’s their cruelty which disgusts me – beyond even that of a regular Toad.
The seriousness of my situation begins to solidify inside my mind. We’re going to be auctioned – put up for sale to the highest bidder.
From Marcel’s words, there’s a chance he’ll make a bid for me – if he’s serious about preventing me being ‘wasted’ on a Bullfrog.
The thought of being sold, like livestock, fills me with disgust – but what choice do I have? And out of all the grim fates I face, the idea of being bought by this triad of warriors is most certainly not the worst.
I gulp, thinking of the alternative. If this Aurelian doesn’t choose me, one of the other buyers at this Bullfrog auction will – and unless I’m miraculously lucky, I’m going to end up in a Bullfrog aquarium, pinned down against the wet ground by a ton of warty, thick flesh as it fucks the very life out of me.
Oh, Gods…
I’m at the mercy of this sinful devil. Only Marcel and his triad can spare me from that fate.
I shiver, and look back into Marcel’s slate-grey gaze. What choice do I have?
None.
I need to win him over, if I am to have any kind of tolerable future ahead of me. I’m at his mercy.
Reluctantly, I nod at his words – shamed at my submissive response to him. Yet, I don’t want to anger this towering warrior. I saw how powerfully he snatched that electro-rod out of the Toad’s slimy hands. He endured thousands of volts, crackling through him like a stream of lightning, and then shook off the pain the moment he spat blood into the water.
Marcel had endured that fearsome voltage for long, lingering seconds – whereas an instant o
f it had nearly brought me to my knees and sucked all the fight right out of me.
I tremble as I look up into Marcel’s impassive, marble-white face. I wish I was stronger – like the old me. She’d have had the strength to work this situation – to manipulate circumstances to her favor, just as Ling taught me.
The old me would have had the strength to bat my eyelids at Marcel, or smile flirtatiously at him. She’d have eagerly lied with her eyes – given the towering alien anything to show him that I’d be his; as long as he spared me from being sold to a Bullfrog.
The old me would have done that – and not even felt bad about it. It would have been a chess move in a longer game; one that ultimately resulted in escape, or vengeance.
But I am not the old me. I’m alone, frightened, and desperate.
So, I crumple. I don’t care how weak it makes me appear if I beg. I’d choose this beautiful, evil man over the alternative fate in an instant.
But I’m too weak to even attempt to seduce him.
Yet, maybe my weakness intrigues this towering, dominant man.
“Garroona! See noon!”
Sudden grunts and gurgles emerge from one of the subordinate Toads – the one who ripped my shirt off, and received a crackling jolt of electro-shock as punishment.
Marcel hears the words and slowly turns his head. The two subordinate Toads are seething with jealousy. They wanted me. They wanted every woman here, but I was the first one they’d approached – the first one marked with the glistening slime from their cruel, inquisitive fingers on my breasts.
Toads are notoriously craven, cowardly creatures – and yet these two were willing to risk punishment just to get a taste of me before the auction.
Now, they see an Aurelian touching me like he already owns me – even though the auction lies ahead. I can see the fury in their bulbous, unblinking eyes.
“Well, well,” Marcel responds to the Toad who groped me. “Late, you say?”
His voice is impassive – mocking – and he never takes his eyes from mine as he speaks.
“Yes!” The Toad shifts to the Common Tongue. “Late! Go now!”
I glance over at the Toad’s snarling face. He clearly doesn’t like seeing the Aurelian so near to me. He’s the worst kind of possessive man – angered by his own weakness, too craven to claim what he so desires.
Marcel turns to the leader of the Toads – who is no longer quite so intimidating without his electro-rod.
“Which of these two ripped her clothes off?”
He speaks about me like I’m not in the room – his face hardening in anger.
The leader of the Toads points slowly – aiming a glistening, accusing finger towards the Toad who’d dared to speak just moments earlier.
One of the other Aurelians – the one with the full, sensuous lips – glances over at me. He wets those inviting lips slowly, drinking in the sight of my exposed body.
As that Aurelian caresses me with his eyes, Marcel lets his own fingers fall from my chin. I instinctively look down – not wanting to meet his gaze any more, terrified that those eyes would render me frozen to the spot again, trapped and hypnotized.
Wherever I look, though, Marcel is standing so close that my vision is filled with the sheer presence of him. He’s one beast of a man – and his light-armor makes him appear even bigger. I know those thin panels of carbo-weave could stop a knife blade, but there’s more to the design than merely practicality. It’s as if the armor itself was designed to emphasize the boulder-like size of the Aurelian’s massive shoulders; making them appear even more massive than they already are.
The Toad who’d told the Aurelians to hurry up clearly regrets those words now. He cowers from Marcel’s accusing gaze. For the first time since I awoke on this terrifying vessel, I feel a surge of happiness. That foul creature was so confident when he was groping me. He was so full of himself – acting so powerful when he ripped my shirt from my breasts. I hate him deeply for that.
But now – now he’s cowering, craven and pathetic. I know his kind. They get off on exerting their control over those who are weaker – but fold like cards when the tables are turned.
But I can’t let his disgusting appearance fool me. These gorgeous Aurelians are no different – only they have the cool indifference and effortless strength to dominate almost any situation. They’re born warriors – crafted by the Gods themselves for fucking, and fighting.
The leader of the Aurelian triad glances back at me, and the cowering Toad gurgles in relief as Marcel’s accusing eyes finally spares him.
Now, that slate-grey gaze is burning into my skin.
“I suppose I should be a gentleman and protect your honor,” Marcel offers with a cold grin.
His hand twitches.
It happens so quickly I can’t process it.
One moment Marcel is standing there, relaxed and grinning. The next his Orb-Blade is suddenly out and activated.
I don’t even have time to blink – it all happens so quickly. The head of the Toad suddenly spins in the air – separated by a swing of that blue-black Orb-Blade that occurred so quickly, my eyes didn’t even register it.
Hot blood splashes across the water at our feet. Acidic blood spurts from the neck-stump of the now-headless corpse. Everyone but those three Aurelians takes a horrified step back.
As the headless Toad slumps into the water, Marcel turns his eyes back toward me. He smirks.
My mind reels.
Marcel actually has the audacity to smirk at me, right after he’d calmly murdered a Toad in front of everybody.
I can’t bring myself to feel sorry for that vile creature. I know he’d have raped me given half a chance. However, I’m terrified and daunted at the speed with which Marcel dispatched him – and perhaps a little in awe.
I shouldn’t be. I’m ashamed of myself.
This man isn’t a savior. He’s a killer.
For a moment, there’s nothing but a cold, empty silence. Nothing but the buzz of the flies is audible. Every one of us holds our breath.
As we stand there, frozen in terror, Marcel coolly watches my reaction.
I gulp, and it’s only when his eyes finally leave mine that I’m snapped out of the trance that gaze left me in. Only when Marcel turns away can I move again.
After that display, the Aurelians suddenly seem eager to leave. As if killing a Toad is nothing to him, Marcel steps back from in front of me, and calmly turns his broad back to the rest of the captive women.
Following their leader’s example, the other two Aurelians follow Marcel down the hallway – sloshing through the ankle-deep water and apparently abandoning us to our fate.
I stare hatefully at the huge, broad shoulders of Marcel as he strides away.
He might be beautiful – like a statue of a Greek God, brought to life by twisted magic – but that beauty is deceptive. There’s nothing beautiful about any of those Aurelians – least of all Marcel.
None of those warriors care about the dozen women they’re abandoning into slavery. They didn’t confront the Toads for our sake – to protect us. The three of them just wanted to exert their dominance – to show the Toads who the biggest dogs on this ship are.
I watch their broad backs as the three of them wade away. They’re so tall, even the tops of their combat boots are high enough to prevent the water getting in. Out of all the souls on this Toad mothership, those three are the only ones with dry feet.
But why speak of souls?
The Aurelians left all twelve of us captives to be sold as slaves. That’s not the behavior of creatures with a soul. They’re unthinking, uncaring brutes - leaving us to be parceled off to Bullfrogs like cattle, or livestock.
I let my eyes sink shut, trying to take a deep breath of the fetid air.
My mind races, trying to remember everything Ling once taught me.
All I can recall is one chilling reality.
Once you get to that auction site, it’s over.
When Ling a
nd I had rescued women from circumstances just like this, we’d done it when the women were still being detained in the holding cells – or en route to the auctions. It was too dangerous to attempt a rescue at the auction itself – or afterward.
Once a woman gets sold to an individual buyer, she’s lost. At least when Ling and I rescued women before an auction, the payoff was worth the risk. We could rescue ten or sometimes as many as twenty captive women all at once.
After the sale, though – the risks are much higher, and the payoff so much less.
Even if Ling and I were equipped to pursue the slaves after they’d been sold, managing to save them would be a suicide mission. Those who buy and sell women have plenty of money, and few moral scruples. Such slavers normally live in well-protected estates, guarded by men with guns, or armies of robotic Sentinels.
Such women are lost to us.
Even the girls we’d managed to rescue before the auction came away broken by the experience. I remember speaking to the women we’d saved, and the haunted look in their eyes was the same in each of them.
It’s a look that never leaves their eyes. Some of them had endured unthinkable things before we rescued them. A few committed suicide; proving that while we could rescue their physical bodies, we couldn’t rescue them from the memory of their experiences.
Others got trapped in drugs, or booze. Those who’d been cornered by the Toads seem to have lost their souls – leaving their hope and humanity in the same squalid aquariums in which the Toads defiled them.
I glance down – and immediately regret the decision.
At my feet, wriggling tadpoles are already converging on the corpse of the headless Toad – nibbling and gnawing at his freshly-hewn flesh.
I dry-retch at the sight of it – and for the first time, I’m grateful there’s nothing in my stomach to throw up.
The Toad leader picks up his weapon – the one Marcel tore out of his gangly fingers. The repulsive creature shakes it, then presses the switch to activate it. For a moment, there’s a sizzle, and a spark of smoke. Then, the carbo-steel tip crackled with electricity, and I jump as I see the weapon back to lethal functionality.
