by Sinclair,Ava
“No!” she said. “I don’t believe you!”
“It hardly matters,” he said. “Let’s hope your plight will serve as an example to future humans. You may not be slaves, but you are far from in control. You will be sent away to live out the fate you have earned. But first, we will see you publicly punished.”
Light filled the room, and Iris looked up and realized that the room was a type of theater, with an observation platform overhead. It was shadowed, but even so, she could now make out faceless Traoians as they silently filed in. Row upon row of them came. The silence filled her with a sense of foreboding.
“Strip her.” Malo Yvin’s voice echoed through the hall. “She doesn’t deserve to wear the Claiming Day dress.”
Hands were on her. The matrons. Iris felt her garment pulled off, felt the air touching the exposed skin of her naked form, felt goosebumps arise at the thought of what was to come.
The matrons—large, strong, and as foreboding as any large earth male—had terrified both Iris and Nora. With their robes and their cowls, they reminded Iris of giant nuns, and approached training of their charges with a fervor that was almost religious in nature.
“No!”
Iris had not meant to beg, but when she saw two of the matrons pushing a punishment platform into the room, she knew what would happen next. She was pushed over the rectangular bolster, which adhered to her skin with the same gel the guards had used to trap her hands, securing her. Her feet barely touched the floor. She kicked her legs helplessly, and could not help but whimper when she saw the implement the head matron planned to use.
It looked benign enough, but they all did. This was a flat disc on the end of what looked like a rod. Iris had seen it used on others, had heard their screams. And now, even though she knew escape was impossible, she pulled against the suction of the unforgiving gel and rocked her bottom from side to side.
A large hand on the flat of her back held her still and a moment later, she felt a tap. Just a tap. But that’s how it began. The matron would barely impact the surface of the miscreant’s bottom with the disc. But that’s all it took. That’s all it took to dispense the pain micronics embedded in the head of the disc—tiny particles that spread over the surface of the skin and heated rapidly to a fierce burn before dispersing into the air as static charge.
Another tap. And another. Two more fierce burns. Iris was wailing now; these had been applied directly to the sit spot—that soft strip of skin at the junction of her buttock and thigh. Hot tears tracked down her face. She felt as though her bottom was on fire, even though she knew that the red circles would dissipate almost immediately, even if the agony lingered. The matrons never used any correction that left welts; unblemished skin on the humans was too highly prized.
Four more taps, and Iris felt as if the room was spinning. She could not move, could not escape. She could only wag her bottom as her garbled pleas for mercy filled the silent theater. She could almost feel the satisfaction of her tormentors. And when they finally released her, finally lifted her to stand on shaky, unstable legs, Malo Yvin’s sneer was the first thing she saw through her veil of tears.
“Chastened, are we?” The sneer faded. “You only think you are. But what happened here will pale in comparison to what awaits you. The Trogarians aren’t afraid to mark a female. Soon enough, you’ll regret refusing a civilized mate.” He turned. “Take her away.”
Chapter Two
“Utak, catch!” Zios flung the hatchet underhand, and watched it pinwheel through the air. On the other side of the ravine, Utak caught it by the handle and immediately brought it down on the exposed portion of the lunging beast’s thick skull.
The Blood Beast roared, raising itself up on its thick back legs and lifting its spines as it pawed the air with massive front legs capped by two razor-sharp claws.
Utak took advantage of the animal’s blind fury to scramble up the rock face to a ledge, but both he and his brother had witnessed how this animal could loosen rock with just one swipe of its scaly tail. Green blood was running down the creature’s head, flowing into its eye. Now it cocked its head so that the other eye—yellow with a horizontal pupil—was fixed on the Trogarian warrior who’d struck him.
Zios knew there wasn’t much time. If the beast struck the base of the ledge, the rocks beneath it would crumble, collapsing the shelf and bringing Utak down with it. Zios needed a clear shot. The creature’s hard, flat spines were lowered, creating an impenetrable armor.
“Utak! Throw a rock! Aim for the eye!”
His brother did not question why he’d been given the order. Like most Trogarian males, the pair lived together, battled together, and—until recently—shared the same mate. They had complete trust in the other’s judgement. So when Zios told Utak to throw a rock, he did, hefting a boulder and bringing it down on the narrowed yellow slit.
The beast screamed again, its spines raising and vibrating in a threat display. And this gave Zios the opportunity he was looking for. Drawing back his huge, muscular arm, he let fly with the spear. The tip found its mark between the spines, sinking into the vulnerable flesh beneath. The beast whirled around. It was facing Zios now. The hatchet was buried in its head, and the eye below it was blinking away the flow of blood that clouded it. The socket of the other eye was crushed. What vision it had was limited, but it was snuffling the air, relying now on smell where sight was failing it. It pulled its lips back in a snarl, revealing double rows of jagged yellow teeth. Zios could smell its fetid breath from yards away. Its head was down. It was about to go into a blind charge.
And he was down to one weapon.
He pulled the knife from the strap on his calf, then spread his legs and arms to make himself an even bigger target. It was a direct challenge to the huge creature, who heaved its body the short distance across the ravine, only to have its quarry leap to the side and roll out of the way. The sheer size and weight of the beast made it impossible to stop, and it slid into the rock wall. As it did, its head became wedged in the small space that had been directly behind Zios moments before. Now the beast desperately tried to extricate itself, lashing its thick scaled tail and pounding against the rock face on either side of the opening with its massive claws.
Again, Zios realized time was of the essence. He ran toward the beast, leaping over the thrashing tail as he dived for the front leg closest to him. He felt himself thrashed about as the panicky creature tried to dislodge him. The beast flung him up, and on the second time down, he reached out and slid the blade of his knife across the soft, exposed throat stretched taut by the beast’s effort to pull free.
A flood of green instantly poured from the wound, the animal’s energy flowing out along with its life’s blood. Zios laid low as the tail thrashed overhead in one frantic death throe. Then the animal moaned, shuddered, and was still.
On the other side of the ravine, Utak was climbing down from the ledge. As soon as his feet hit the ground, he jogged over to Zios. Together they stared down at the creature.
“This one is bigger than the last,” Utak said when he reached his brother.
“But not the biggest in the valley. Amon has seen bigger ones.” Zios wiped the knife against the kilt he wore before sheathing it back in the strap on his leg. He placed his foot on the beast’s head, and pulled the hatchet from where it had become imbedded in the top of the bony, ridged skull.
“We will need to warn the others.” Utak looked through the narrow pass toward the encampment. “And we will need to keep the fires burning at night now.”
There was a screech overhead. Winged scavengers, scenting the rusty smell of green-black blood soaking into the red clay, were already wheeling above them.
“I’ll send Ulnos and the others to scavenge the carcass. The meat from the last one wasn’t very good, but the skin from the belly makes good leather, and the spines will make nice blades for the sons of Trogar…” Zios glanced up, and at the sight of his brother’s face knew they were sharing the same painful
thought. The son who should be waiting with his mother for their return had never seen the outside of his mother’s womb. Mara had died trying to birth him. As custom dictated, they’d burned mother and child together. They’d known it was a boy; it was almost always boys. And besides, the Crone had told them so. But she had not seen the death that would take both mother and child
Their mounts were waiting halfway up the path. The well-trained gyrands had adapted to the Traoian climate despite their wiry hair. Zios leapt up on his gyrand’s back. The sway-backed creature lowered its head and scratched the bulge of its dome-shaped muzzle against the inside of its front leg. When Zios jerked the reins, the long neck raised high and the ears perked forward. As Utak mounted his own gyrand, both Trogarians headed in the direction their animals were staring.
At the head of the pass they saw the cause of the curiosity. Trogarian younglings were crowding around a transport shuttle. The sea of younglings now parted as the two chieftains rode up and dismounted.
Two guards had exited the hovering vehicle.
“Trouble?” Zios was the same height as the Traoian guard, but much broader. And where the guards were clean-shaven and wearing uniforms, the brothers were bearded and bare-chested save for their tribal markings.
“No,” the guard said. “Senators Clim and Balord, and Acclimation Center Master of House Malo Yvin, send condolences on the loss of your mate. And in appreciation for your watchfulness of the pass, they present you with a human female.”
The brothers looked at one another. “Hu-man?” Utak said the word slowly.
“Yes. They have been utilized as slaves and mates for Traoians for several moon phases now, and our leaders would like to offer you one as a gift.”
One guard turned then and pushed a button. The opaque cylinder covering the back of the shuttle lowered and the brothers stared at the small female sitting in a curled position on the floor.
“We’ve no need for a youngling.”
“She’s not a youngling. She’s just small.” The guard reached for the female, who was bound by some restrictive gel to where she sat. He took hold of her; another push of a button released the grip of the gel and he pulled her out.
“See?” The guard held her at arm’s length. “A mature female’s body. And fertile. These humans have birthed Traoian young.”
Zios stepped forward and looked down at the female. Her eyes were the first things he noticed; he’d seen the same feral rage in the eyes of the beast he’d just killed. He dropped his gaze to her body, and could see that she did indeed have a full form. He looked over at Utak, and could again tell they were sharing the same thought. He nodded to his brother, who reached a hand into the neckline of the torn gown she wore and ripped it from her.
The female tried to turn away, but the guards wouldn’t let her. Zios walked around, inspecting this strange, smooth human. He remembered now that they were from Earth, a planet he’d heard mentioned was struggling. He’d heard their inhabitants were soft and weak. This one was indeed soft. He reached out, his rough knuckles sliding down her bare arm. She kicked at him when he did this, and his reaction was swift. Zios drew back his arm, and the crack of his huge hand across her bottom resounded through the open air along with the peal of her sharp cry.
The human fell forward from the impact, and would have landed face down were it not for the guards who still held her. Zios watched as the image of his hand emerged dark pink on her pale skin. The defiant look was still in her eyes when he walked back around to face her. She was staring out through a veil of silver hair, her bottom lip caught between her teeth as she tried not to cry.
Utak reached out, lifted the tresses over her right shoulder, and took a firm breast in his hand. He tested the soft weight of it in his hand before pinching the nipple. The human winced, but remained defiant in her expression. Utak moved his hand lower, over the slight swell of her belly to the mound of her pussy. It was bare and smooth. He’d never seen one like that, without hair. He parted the pussy lips, gazing at the inner folds, the same dark pink as her nipples. Smooth and soft. But there was strength in this little female, and the Breeding Time was almost at hand. The planting had begun back home. A baby rooted in the womb before the end of the season would grow through winter and be born in the safety of spring’s warmth, should the life spark be granted quickly. If they did not take her now, they would miss their chance to welcome a son of Trogar in this cycle.
Zios reached out and took hold of the human, who tensed at his touch.
“Tell your leaders the chieftains of Trogar accept their gift, and send thanks.”
The guards nodded as they handed the little female over. One of the guards offered the human female a mean smile that made Zios feel angry, even though he didn’t understand why.
As the guards departed on their vehicle, the other Trogarians who’d been observing the exchange pressed in. Zios looked down at the girl. He’d expected her to shrink away from this crowd of strangers who were so different from her. But she stood boldly facing them.
“Move aside! Move aside!” The crowd parted again. The Crone was lurching forward, her long straggly hair fanned away from her face by the light wind, the staff with the sacred rock held tight in her gnarled hand. Her breasts, loose and unbound beneath her tunic, swayed as she walked. She stopped in front of the brothers and stared directly at the human.
“I saw her,” she said, looking first at Utak and then at Zios. The night Mara’s body went up to the All that Is, in the flames I saw this being.”
Zios felt the hair on his neck stand up. “Will she give us sons?”
The Crone was silent for a moment. “Yes.” Her tone was flat. “And more.”
“I’ll give you nothing!” The human had spoken, and at the same moment jerked her arm so rapidly that she broke free from Zios’ grasp. In the same instant, she leaned down and deftly snatched the blade from the sheath on his leg.
“Stay back!” she cried, wildly stabbing at the air.
The brothers looked at one another. The Trogarians were staring as if in shock. It was nearly unheard of for a female to exhibit even mild rebellion. Raising a weapon was unprecedented. But Zios realized she didn’t yet know their ways. He also realized it was time for her to learn them.
He rushed her, his foot flying out to knock the human’s from beneath her. Utak was at his side to grasp her hands. It took only a little pressure applied to her wrist to break her grip on the weapon. He picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. Her warm hip was pressed against his bearded cheek. He inhaled, his sensitive nose catching her scent. She’d been pampered at one time. The scent of oils still clung to her skin. It mingled with the musky scent of her pussy, and the tang of fear sweat.
The others fell away as the brothers headed with her into their large tent. Utak laid her on her back, straddling her as he grasped her legs and pulled them apart. She was screaming now, beating her hands against the back of Utak’s legs, demanding to be let go. But the brothers ignored her. Zios moved in front of her, looking down at her defiant face. A wave of pity gripped him. She was frightened, and no doubt felt helpless and resentful after being handed over to strangers. Part of him wanted to hold this little human, to comfort her. But that would have to come later. They were in a harsh land here, living a harsh life. Females were precious and few, and obedience to protective males was as vital to their survival as food. For her own sake, the brothers could not allow her to escape punishment for what she’d done. Zios nodded to his brother, who pulled her legs together and back, fully exposing her bottom.
It was a fine bottom, firm and smooth. And in this position, with her legs trapped and pulled back, he could just see the curve of muscle beneath the padding of her soft buttocks. He felt his cock stir beneath his leather kilt. Zios looked over at Utak, who was looking down. He could feel his brother’s thoughts, and knew that he, too, found the human pleasing.
Zios moved to the side and knelt down to one knee, doubling the supple strip of
leather he held in his hands. She was looking at him, her eyes fearful now. She wriggled ineffectively as he raised the strap, sensing what was coming.
The human screamed, louder even than she had outside. That was the only sound that filled the tent for long minutes thereafter, aside from the sound of leather striking her helpless flesh. Her cries changed from screams to incoherent wails and babbling pleas as the leather raised a mass of puffy welts concentrated in the area where her buttocks met her thighs.
“You will obey,” Zios said. He was midway through the punishment when he spoke to Iris, his voice rising above her cries. He put his hand to her bottom when he spoke, feeling the heat rising off the skin. He moved his hand lower, the rough palm just grazing the pouch of her pussy. Did he imagine it, or was there heat there? He had not time to ponder it. The little one needed a harsh lesson.
He raised the strap again, laying a new layer of red welts over the raised whitish ones erupting on the surface of her punished bottom. He thought of Mara, who had been similarly punished, but only once. Afterwards she’d been sweetly compliant. Would this little human be the same? Part of him hoped so, but part of him hoped she’d keep enough fire to at least earn a trip over his knee. It was no secret that the Trogarian males were almost as aroused by the punishing a female as they were by sex. Dominance triggered something primal in them. But a good Trogarian knew not to overdo it for his own satisfaction. A female should only be punished to her limits. And Zios realized now that this little human was reaching hers.
She was writhing in pain, her cries increasing with each gyration when he finally stopped and knelt down.
