Dimly, Talia heard the ragged chorus. The strap whistled through the air again and she flinched, anticipating the blow before she felt the lick of fire.
“Rule number two. Do not move from the position you are told to assume—or we begin all over.” She raised her voice. “Count again—from one.”
Talia heard a sympathetic gasp as the strap descended. Then everything became a blur as she focused on remaining in position, unmoving, no matter how hard the blows came. Sori wielded the strap with a fierce concentration, laying each stroke alongside the next, covering Talia’s entire bottom. The cruel hide covered more of her tender cheeks with each whack than Balam’s wooden paddle had.
The heat became an agonizing blaze.
By the tenth, Talia’s body quivered with the effort it took to remain still. She’d never struck a person. Now she wanted to jump up, grab the strap, and lay into Sori with all her might. Though Sori was a head taller, she was sure that with her greater muscle mass she could overcome the trainer.
But she couldn’t overcome Balam’s entire force, easily summoned with a single cry from Sori. And she dared not act rashly, since she feared the trainer would take out her wrath on the other women. Talia had already tipped her hand there, jumping in to save Irna. She knew that Sori wouldn’t hesitate to use threats against Irna and the others to keep her in line.
Sori walked around and bent down, holding out the strap. “Now thank me—and kiss the penis of the beast.”
Talia swallowed her hatred and made her tone contrite. “Thank you, mistress,” she repeated.
Sori didn’t move until Talia raised her head enough to touch her lips to the strap. The thick hide stank of sweat and fear and Talia wondered how many other hapless victims Sori had disciplined with it.
“Get up,” growled the trainer. “Go back and wash the hair of the woman you rescued, then let her wash yours. The water will be cold as ice by then. It should feel good dripping on your burning ass.”
Irna waited in her tub. She darted Talia a sideways glance, her eyes filled with gratitude tinged with guilt. Talia patted her shoulder reassuringly, letting her know it was all right, then set to work washing the woman’s hair.
Her fingers moved through the woman’s matted locks, separating the tangles. She worked the soap into a lather, rubbing Irna’s scalp hesitantly, then drawing her hands down through the soapy strands. She’d never touched another person so intimately before, had no idea if she was doing it right. Irna helped, turning her head one way and another, then gesturing toward the bucket when it was time to rinse.
When her turn came, Talia gasped as she lowered herself once again into the tub. Sori had been right—the water felt icy cold. But it relieved the painful burning on her bottom. She leaned her head back, as Irna had done, and the woman poured a stream of water over her head. Then she set to work, massaging the soap into Talia’s scalp with strong but gentle fingers.
Despite all she’d been through, Talia found herself relaxing under the soothing touch of the other woman. She didn’t know physical contact could be so comforting. She closed her eyes and allowed herself a moment to simply feel.
Her respite was short-lived. Her eyes snapped open at the sound of the penis whip slapping the side of the tub.
“Enough! Get out and go stand with the others.”
The women formed a ragged line, shivering once again at the chill in the room. Leto paced back and forth in front of them, pinching a nipple here, squeezing a bare buttock there. He drove a bony knuckle into the middle of Talia’s back.
“Shoulders back! Stick those mounds out. The Zolex love groping them. Their own females are all flat as boards.”
Meanwhile, Sori had laid out an array of frightening implements on a bench next to a high wooden table. She pointed to Talia.
“Since you’re so eager to step forward, you can be first. Get up here. Lay on your back, put your feet flat on the table, grab your ankles and pull them up to your ass.”
Talia shrank back. With the Jamrons, she’d had no choice. They dragged her to the table, wrestled her onto it, and held her down. She thought it couldn’t get any worse. Now she was being commanded to willingly place herself in an embarrassing position, spreading her legs wide in front of Leto and Sori and the other women.
“Move fast—or I’ll have to punish you again.”
Hearing that, Talia had to restrain herself from covering her bottom with both hands. She climbed up onto the table top, lay down, and bent her knees.
“Spread your legs wider.”
Blushing, she did as she was told. Sori called Leto over and both of them bent low. Touching her clitoris, her labial folds, all the while keeping up a running commentary in a language that seemed to be made up of clicks and grunts. The Tellex chip only worked after several hours of prolonged exposure to a foreign tongue, so Talia had no idea what they were saying.
But she didn’t need an interpreter for what came next. Sori spread her vaginal lips apart and Leto reached for a long instrument carved from smooth black stone. It was easily three times the length and girth of the tool Talia used in her gratification sessions and she cringed as he brought it closer. He began inserting it into her vaginal canal, working it in slowly, twisting it around. The probe had ridges all along the shaft, small near the tip, but turning into increasingly bumpy protrusions further along. Talia shuddered deeply as he worked the first of the ridges past her tight vaginal opening.
He began twisting it around, running it in and out, each time a little further, making the ridged shaft rub up against the walls of her inner passage. She’d never felt such a powerful erotic sensation. A wave of raw lust poured over her. It was all she could do to keep from writhing on the table. Flooded with shame, unwilling to look anyone in the face, she stared at the painting on the ceiling above her, unseeing, as she fought back the rising tremors of arousal.
The Tellex chip kicked in, just in time for her to understand Leto’s remark. “She’s very tight—almost as if she hasn’t been used before.”
Sori laughed, that evil cackle. “We’ll declare her a virgin. That should please Balam. She’ll fetch a good price.”
She bent down to give Talia a thin smile. “You’re very responsive too.” she said in Gandolinean. “Balam will be happy to hear that. He may want to demonstrate just how responsive when you’re up on the auction block.”
She turned back to Leto. “Let’s not give her too much. The expression on her face when he shoves it in all the way will be priceless!”
He withdrew the probe as slowly as he’d put it in, watching her face the whole time, listening carefully to see if he could elicit a whimper or a stifled moan. When he finally pulled it out completely, Talia sighed with relief. She’d never have been able to live with the humiliation if Leto had continued and gratification occurred in front of others.
“If she reacts so strongly to a probe shaped like the rod of an average Zolexian, let’s see how she handles this.”
She turned to Talia. “Roll over. Get on your knees on that table and put your forehead down, just like you did earlier.”
Talia complied. The prospect of another spanking was nothing compared to the humiliation of being violated and brought nearly to arousal.
Her relief proved short-lived. Sori walked back to the bench, picked up a different instrument, and handed it to her twin. This probe was shorter, made of smooth dark wood. It had a small rounded tip, flaring out wider and wider along the shaft before narrowing again to end in a flat base with a curved handle.
“Spread your legs again,” Sori demanded.
She reached down and shoved Talia’s knees further apart, then addressed Leto. “From the way she reacted earlier, I think we’d better secure her to the bench for this one.” She lowered her voice seductively. “I’d hate to think of your lovely body being bruised by this savage.”
She moved closer to him. Her long purple tongue snaked out to lick up and down Leto’s bald head. He groaned, eyes half-cl
osed, and arched his back like a big cat. Talia looked away, embarrassed at the blatant eroticism of his reaction.
Sori’s thin mouth curved into a satisfied smile. Talia wondered if the display had been for her benefit. Was Sori so insecure she needed to demonstrate that despite having a naked woman to fondle, Leto responded sexually only to her?
“Put your arms out in front of you.”
Awkwardly, Talia stretched out both arms. Sori seized her wrists and bound them together with a length of rope, then secured it to a hook on the front end of the table. At the same time, Leto wrapped another rope around one of her ankles, pulling it to one side and securing it to another hook. He did the same with her other ankle, leaving her bound and spread wide on the table. Ass high in the air, every private part of her on full display.
What they did next had her bucking wildly on the table, desperate to escape. Sori dipped the tip of the probe into a pot on the bench, coating it with a slick substance. Then she handed it to Leto. He stepped to the foot of the table and began working the greased tip around her anal opening. Talia bucked harder as she felt the tip begin violating her bottom hole.
It was removed abruptly and she sagged against the table. Then she heard the dreaded crack and shuddered as the penis strap connected with her bottom again.
“Do not move. You will submit to anything your master and mistress choose to do to you—or you will be punished even more severely. And then we will have our way with you. So I suggest you cooperate and save yourself a great deal of misery.”
Sori wielded the strap again, laying another stroke on the same burning patch of skin, then stepped back. Talia felt the tip of the invasive probe pressing against her tight rear passage, then gasped as Leto worked it inside her.
“This hole has definitely never been used,” he announced, sounding surprised. “It needs work.”
He kept on, pushing it deeper. The probe got wider and wider, stretching her bottom hole until she wanted to scream. Though she was careful not to utter a sound, Leto seemed to sense her reaction. He pulled the probe back, then began inserting it again. Slowly. Relentlessly. Over and over, each time going a little deeper.
Talia fought her natural instinct to clench tight, realizing that doing so only made it more painful. Desperately, she tried to send her mind away, to imagine herself anywhere but here. But it was no use. The tool kept up its pitiless probing.
“Leto, my dearest. Let me help you.”
The soft words sounded so strange uttered in Sori’s shrill voice. Talia wasn’t sure what she meant until she felt the woman’s bony fingers running along the skin of her belly, working their way down to the hood of her clitoris. She shuddered as the trainer began rubbing back and forth, awakening the sensitive bundle of nerves, making the tiny nub grow hard.
“That’s better. She’s taking it in now.”
Leto’s voice seemed to come from far away as Talia fought against the rising surge of arousal. Sori’s fingers kept up their sensual massage. The probe moved deeper into her bottom hole, filling her even as it created shocking new sensations. Talia forgot the room full of strangers, the humiliation of being put on display, naked, in such a lewd fashion.
Swept away in a rising tide of savage lust, her mind shut off and her body took over yet again. She found herself making tiny involuntary movements, grinding back and forth against Sori’s hand. Every rocking motion made Leto’s probe rub against a new spot inside her, setting off yet another wave of shocking desire.
She panted heavily as her orgasm began building, then let out a low moan when both her trainers stopped at once, leaving her just short of gratification.
“Leave the anal probe inside her,” Sori ordered. “If we keep her hands tied in front of her, we can control her easily using that handle. And it will prepare her for the ass fucking she’ll be getting on a regular basis once she’s sold.”
“Yes, mistress.”
Back on Earth, every one of Talia’s personal sessions ended in gratification. Frustrated, still shaking with arousal, she didn’t even register his response. Never realized that Leto, too, was nothing more than one of Sori’s slaves.
Chapter Four
Haldor groaned, holding his head as though it might topple from his neck and crash to the floor with any sudden movement.
“Let’s go, you lazy lout.”
“Lower your voice, man, or I swear I’ll send you straight to Valhalla! The king himself would pardon me for slaughtering the man who dared to disturb my rest this day.”
Kylar’s laugh echoed off the stone walls, eliciting another pitiful groan from Haldor. “Your king would have no sympathy for a Viking who let something as trivial as a hangover get in the way of his duty.”
“This is no hangover. It’s a curse by the gods. They’ve cleaved my head in two. Look close. The axe must still be imbedded in my skull.”
Kylar picked up the bucket of water he’d brought along and casually tossed it over Haldor’s hunched form. The big man let out a roar and surged to his feet.
“Damn it all, where’s my sword? Brother or no brother, I swore I’d run you through the next time you did that.”
“Yes, and you also swore you’d lay off the honey mead next time and stick to ale. You know that brew is like a feisty wench—she may go down easy, but you’ll pay for the pleasure later, one way or another.” His tone grew serious. “Come now, brother. My head aches too, but I need you to have your wits about you. We’ve said goodbye to our comrades as best we could last night. With no bodies to burn, they’ll never get to Valhalla. It’s time to gather and plan our attack. We need to rescue the living and bring home our dead, so we can send them into the next world as Viking warriors. I’ll not have their souls wandering this land, forever cursed.”
Chastened, Haldor reached for his clothes. “You’ll be a good king one day, brother. You’ve always put the needs of your people before your own.”
“I pray that luck be with us as we ride, and that the day of which you speak be far in the future.” Kylar strode out of the room with Haldor in his wake, fumbling with the belt that held up his trousers as he hurried to catch up.
They headed for the Great Hall. A dozen warriors still lay where they’d dropped last night, snoring on the stone floor. Kylar winked at Haldor, then crashed his sword against his shield. Heads shot up. Angry curses rang out, followed by pitiful moans.
“Look at these fair maidens, slumbering sweetly, while their kingdom goes to ruin!” Haldor strode among them, prodding and kicking, as though he too had not been asleep in a drunken stupor just minutes ago. “Get up, you worthless old hags.”
He kept up his rant as the men stumbled to their feet. Soon they were joined by others, who’d taken solace in the arms of their women instead of mugs of strong spirits. When his leaders had all assembled, Kylar called for food to be brought in. They gathered around the longest wooden table in the center of the Great Hall, warmed by roaring fires in the twin hearths at either end of the room.
“Eat,” he commanded. “I know your bellies recoil right now at the smell of roast boar, but we need to keep up our strength and get ready to do battle.” He heard footsteps and looked up. Another warrior entered the hall and acknowledged him with a slight bow.
“My lord.”
“Heinrick. Welcome. How fares your son?”
“He is mending, my lord. For any of us, that wound would be only a scratch. His mother coddles him as though he were still a babe. I swear she’d be nursing him at her breast if her milk still flowed.”
Despite his dismissive words, Kylar could see the haggard lines in Heinrick’s face. The man probably hadn’t slept all night, keeping vigil at the bedside of his badly wounded son. Word had it his survival was still in question.
“The lad fought bravely as any warrior in this room. When he is well enough, he’s earned a place at this table for his service to his king.”
Heinrick bowed his head. “Thank you, my lord. You honor him.”
&nb
sp; “An honor well deserved. Your son has already shown he is a drengr, more valiant than many a man twice his age. Come. Sit and eat with us. I’ve called for Elwen to join us and give us his report. He is on his way.”
Kylar stood as Elwen entered the room. The others followed suit, a great honor to the dwarf who stood barely above the waists of many of the huge warriors. The little man looked exhausted.
“Elwen. I thank the gods for your safe return. We eagerly await your report. But first, come. Sit by me. Eat and drink and gather your strength before you speak.”
“Thank you, my lord. But I know you must be desperate with worry, so let me tell you first. Your father, the king—he lives. Balam has him locked in the caverns below the palace, along with four of our women. Irna, the tavern wench. Signe, the wife of Gunnar.”
A harsh cry rose from one end of the table, a sob of relief followed by furious curses. Gunnar had feared his wife was dead. But he knew the fate she was no doubt suffering would be worse than loss of her life to a proud Viking woman.
Elwen waited a moment until Gunnar composed himself, then went on. “There are two other females who I do not know. Balam has brought in trainers from Axion 5 to prepare the women. He’s transporting a dozen or more captive females here from other worlds as well. Word is that he’s holding an auction at the palace in three days’ time. All the depraved creatures from other worlds he can reach through Portals on his planet have been summoned to come and bid on a brand new crop of slaves. Those slimy little Jamrons have already arrived.”
Elwen hung his head, as though reluctant to deliver the last of his news. “The king—the king is to be auctioned off as well. The last of the lot. Bidding has already begun on him, and on one of the unknown females. Rumor has it that she is something special. Balam claims she’s a virgin. He’s asking a starting bid near to that of your father for her.”
A gasp went up from the assembly. A female valued at a price near that of the Gadolinean king? Surely Elwen had heard wrong.
Kylar wasn’t surprised. Balam loved money, but he loved to bask in victory even more. He’d sell the vanquished king for a single tribid just for the satisfaction.
His to Conquer (Alien Masters Book 3) Page 5
