Slave: A Dark Sci-Fi Reverse Harem Romance (Dothkhan Alien Warriors Book 1)

by Tahlia Black

  I pull her in front of me, the hard bar of my cock resting between her ass cheeks. “It could start at any time, at any moment.”

  “I’m scared, Master.”

  I cannot help but laugh. “And that will make it all the more enjoyable, but you must remember, Nu’va, that no matter how dark and hopeless your situation seems, that you will survive. You must summon and draw upon every ounce of strength you have to ensure it. Do you understand?”

  She nods meekly.

  I neglect to tell her no human has ever survived the Ceremony. Our Dothkhan bodies are simply too strong and powerful. One overzealous thrust or blow and the human skeleton shatters, but Eve will survive. There can be no other option.

  Eve turns to face me. “In the antechamber,” she says, “there is a holo of you and your brother, but also someone else. Who is that?”

  I have to look past her before finding her eyes. “That is Fortus.”

  “He is also your brother?”

  I nod. “He was captured by the Alliance many moons ago now.”

  “You’ve heard nothing of his fate?”

  Emotion threatens to upend my composure, turn my entire complexion scarlet, but I hold it at bay. “I no longer feel a connection with him. Neither of us do. We fear he is dead.”

  Eve faces the courtyard once more. “I’m sorry.”

  “So am I.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  EVE

  I’m shaken awake.

  Hands reach to my wrists, pulling me roughly out of my bed. My heart pounds. “What is happening?”

  Two figures wearing black hoods drag me across the floor. I cannot tell if it’s Tyrus and Stratus or two demigods come to drag me to hell.

  I thrash, terrified.

  One grips my hair, using it to tug me roughly around a corner, my feet collecting with the wall and sending a hot river of pain up my leg.

  “Please!” I beg. “What is going on?”

  I’m dragged through the hallways and down stairs, the grip on my wrists and hair remaining as firm as ever.

  Unceremoniously, I’m dragged into the courtyard in the dim twilight before daybreak.

  “Please!” I cry again.

  And then I realize precisely what is happening.

  When I see the stocks, my knees weaken but I’m dragged to them all the same.

  I’m in the simple tunic the brothers provided. I have no underwear. The dust rises around my torso and billows my tunic out as I’m forced to kneel. My hands are taken and roughly inserted into their allotted slots. Stratus takes a handful of my hair and shoves me forward so my neck rests on the freshly shaved groove of the lower bar. The top bar is placed back into position, locking my wrists and neck in place, my knees against the grit and dirt, incapable of moving.

  The bar is locked and the key to the lock removed, the figures before me removing their hoods to reveal the brothers.

  Stratus reaches below my tunic to cup my sex.

  “Mmmm,” he murmurs. “I shall receive great pleasure taking you like this, Nu’va.”

  He swats my ass and all I can hear are footsteps leaving the courtyard.

  I’m alone.

  It’s cold in the courtyard, but not like any kind I’m used to. It sits in my bones, radiating from the inside out, my skin turned to gooseflesh.

  The suns rise and still the brothers do not appear.

  I call out, shout until my voice is hoarse, but I know that they will not come. Not yet.

  I watch the shadows drift and move about the courtyard. Time passes slowly. It feels like I’m back in the slave market, craving my next hit.

  It’s been hours and there’s no sign of the brothers. I’m beginning to wonder if they’ve forgotten about me out here.

  The idea of being left like this forever is terrifying, but I press the panic down and attempt to breathe. They will come.

  My stomach growls with hunger. My joints and arms start to ache, an itch above my neck I cannot scratch makes itself a nuisance.

  The temperature drops in tandem with the suns. All warmth is sucked away in a matter of moments. My tunic is little comfort. It blows against my back, exposing my sex. Even in the cold my face warms with embarrassment. No one’s around, but windows surround the courtyard on all sides. Only the darkness can clothe me completely.

  When night comes in full, the wind stops and a light drizzle starts, warm—a strange juxtaposition to the cold air.

  I’m soaked through. My tunic sticks to my back and hangs from my body. My teeth chatter together in my mouth and my legs shake involuntarily. If the rain does not abate, I might well lose my life before the sun rises.

  Onwards, time marches.

  I start to lose focus and clarity. My mind plays tricks on me, perversions of light and sound. I shake and quiver.

  I’m desperately thirsty, unable to summon any words my throat is so dry.

  Suddenly, I see outlines in the corner of my eye just before their spectral shapes pass in front of me.

  Just as they’re about to pass, one turns and notices me.

  “Why, what have we here?” His voice, made bold, rises above the din of the rain.

  The other walks over, crouching to examine me. “It would seem you’re in something of a predicament, slave.”

  I look down, thankful for the privacy the wet curtains of my hair allow.

  “Have you had enough?” My heart lifts when Tyrus crouches beside the stocks, his cobalt body wet and slick. “Would you like us to release you?”

  I nod, eager to get out of the cold and damp any way possible and be far gone from this courtyard.

  “Good, good.” He speaks a little louder so Stratus can hear. “First, however, you’re going to have to pay, possibly with your life.”

  It’s a game, I remind myself, though what do I really know about these brothers, the Dothkhan and their customs? I am at their mercy. They could snuff me out in an instant. Maybe it’s all led to this moment—a grand deception so they can torture and defile me.

  I nod again, resigning myself to my fate. It is just a body, flesh and bone. They can break it, but you will not break me.

  Tyrus smiles as he stands.

  A bolt of lightning in the distance turns the scene momentarily stark, blinding white. In that moment Tyrus appears before me as a haunted specter.

  Stratus is gone.

  I feel him behind me, peeling back my tunic to expose my soft ass.

  “My, my,” he says, voice rising in volume to compete with the rain. “She has a fine backside, does she not, brother?”

  He slaps my buttocks, hard. I recoil, pressing forward against the boards, feet struggling for purchase in the mud. Tyrus laughs. “Indeed, brother. Will you be taking it first?”

  Another slap sends me rocking forward. “I would enjoy that very much, I think. So, payment,” he continues, fingers falling onto my flesh, squeezing and weighing the tight globes of my behind.

  Tyrus has his cock out, the giant appendage glossy from the rain. He draws his hand up and down upon it, fingers fisted over the head. I look away sharply. It’s unnatural, the way it grows and bends in his hand, a weeping slit for an eye.

  Stratus runs a cold finger down my crack, pausing against the tight pucker of my anus before probing into my sex.

  I thrash now, struggle in my bonds, but it’s useless. There is nothing I can do.

  He seems pleased. “Oh, she’s ripe, Tyrus. She’s ready.”

  He withdraws his finger. As the rain strengthens, something thick and hard rests against the tiny opening of my sex.

  “I have made my cock bigger than ever,” he warns, “far too big for your meager human orifice, and yet still you think you can take it?”

  It’s a test, I remind myself. “Yes, Master.”

  Dread runs in icy tendrils down my spine. I shake, convulse and rattle against my wooden captor.

  Does he really mean to harm me?

  Stratus places his hands again on my buttocks and pulls them
apart. In doing so, the bottom of my sex splits open for him and his member slips inside.

  Worse than even this embarrassment is the fact my body has betrayed me yet again. The rainwater runs down the crack of my ass and around his cock, mixing with the fresh, warm desire that seeps from my loins.

  With a laugh, he holds my buttocks tight and swings his hips forward.

  His cock is far, far larger than any I’ve had before. It simply won’t go in more than an inch or so. Perturbed, he draws back and tries again with greater force.

  “What’s the problem?” heckles Tyrus. “Can’t fuck that hole of hers with your tiny cock?”

  But his cock feels anything but tiny. It feels like it will break me wide, split me in two.

  His grip leaves my buttocks. He holds the top of the stocks for leverage, swings back and uses all his weight to drive his cock inside me. I cry out as he plunges deep into my wetness with a single stroke.

  I gasp, unable to breathe, inhaling only water and cold as he pauses in my depths, allowing my sex to grow used to his colossal invader, my slickened arousal flowing freely around his girth from my distended hole.

  He pulls back and slides forward again, finding new depth inside me until his scrotum presses firmly against my clit.

  It’s too big. I can’t take it.

  I’m going to die, I think.

  I scream again, hot tears flowing from my eyes, salt streaming into the corners of my mouth as his body pendulums against my own to the catcalls and shouts of Tyrus, his cock free, all manner of shapes and sizes and ghoulish intent.

  But deep down, the further he goes, the betrayal becomes greater. Although my body trembles around him, a steady heat begins to build between my legs that I cannot stop or abate.

  The pain of the initial penetration is replaced by a throbbing, a carnal bloom that somehow opens my sex far wider than it should naturally, allowing the intruder to take me without resistance.

  “She’s hungry for my cock,” laughs Stratus. “I can feel it. She’s sucking it in like a babe’s mouth does a finger!”

  He groans and pumps harder, each thrust causing the posts beside me to strain in the ground and the stocks to press against the soft skin of my neck. My breasts heave back and forth below, sway with the assault tender and heavy.

  “Fill her up, Stratus!” adds Tyrus. “Give her that dirty Dothkhan seed she so craves.”

  He stands right next to my head jerking his member. The angry head of it is large as a plum.

  Two hands behind me tug at the neck of my tunic. Pulling in alternate directions, the wet material gives and tears in a large strip down my back as Stratus’s inhuman cock continues to burrow his way into my body.

  With a final tug the tunic comes away completely, falling into the mud below and leaving me completely naked against the downpour.

  I cry harder, sobbing to the sky as I’m abused, even as the strange heat warms my sex, spinning in my belly like the ancient will-o’-the-wisp, sensations new and fearful filling my head.

  Just as they’re building, Stratus drives forward so hard my bare shoulders slam into the back of the stocks and my neck is thrust forward. He grunts twice, a ball of heat inside me as his giant cock contracts there.

  “No!” I scream, but it’s too late.

  When he’s done filling me he simply leaves his cock in place, twitching in me until he pulls free and his heated juice spills from my freshly opened gash.

  He slides two fingers into the mess and draws them down, scooping out his seed across the soft floor of my sex.

  “There you go, Tyrus,” he says. “I cleaned her up for you.”

  Tyrus steps behind me, squeezing my buttocks in turn. “Let me show you what a real cock feels like, Slave.”

  The pain that follows is immense. Impossibly, Tyrus’s cock seems twice the size of Stratus’s, stretching the opening of my sex into a tight ‘O,’ not a single space to spare between the exterior of his shaft and the heated pocket of flesh that surrounds it.

  When he draws out it’s like my entire torso comes out with it. If it wasn’t for Stratus’s seed and the wet betrayal I add to it, I’m sure Tyrus’s cock would set a fire from the sheer friction alone.

  As Tyrus thrusts in time, Stratus grasps at my hips and breasts, twisting my nipples and thumbing them until they stand like cinnamon sticks from the mounds that hang from my chest.

  A tongue wraps around one, laughter, teeth pulling at my tender flesh.

  A hand twists my hair in a knot and lifts my head up. I open my mouth to protest but it’s immediately filled with cock.

  “Open wider,” Stratus commands, shoving his member deeper into my mouth as the grip on my hair tightens and my body is assaulted from behind.

  I breathe through my nose as the rain falls and his cock slides back and forth on the porous plain of my tongue. I wrap my lips around my teeth. This pleases him. He moans, the grip on my hair loosening momentarily.

  I use my tongue to lathe the sides of his shaft. Buoyed, he presses deeper until his chest mashes against my nose and his balls swing up against my chin. He holds my head with two hands and continues to fuck my mouth with increasing brutality.

  I’m struggling to breathe, to stay conscious. When his cockhead enters my throat, I gag, unable to take his full length and the giant size of his knob, but this only pleases him more. He thrusts once, twice and then stops, hot seed pumping from his cock directly down my throat.

  If I don’t swallow, I’ll drown, my larynx working against the worn wood below as I try foolishly to take in the ceaseless flow.

  Content, Stratus pulls free and fires off a final ribbon of arousal into my hair.

  But he’s not done, his hard cock not softening at all. Slick with seed, he slides it into my mouth and the process repeats all over again.

  “Unlike humans,” Stratus says, voice thick with sexual need, “Dothkhan do not need to recover after losing their seed. We can fuck almost indefinitely.”

  He threatens to break my jaw with each flying thrust, bucking against my face with such delight it’s as though his very life depends on spilling his seed as quickly as possible.

  Tyrus’s assault continues from the rear until he pulls out and exhales, his seed falling on my back in hot lines. He shoots into my ass crack, seed sliding slowly back into the hungry mouth from which from his cock was just birthed.

  My tears have stopped. I have no more to give.

  I will die here, fucked to death by these Dothkhan warriors. Sunrise is surely hours away and their will for harm is high. What horrors could possibly follow?

  When a member forces its way between my tender buttocks, I have my answer.

  I can’t speak because of the cock in my mouth, but instead mumble for release.

  Not there. Take my mouth, my pussy, anywhere but there.

  I picture the tiny eye of my anus, squeezed shut in fright against this monster, and imagine any member making it past into the hot depths beyond. I’ll tear like paper if it does.

  The head of Tyrus’s cock comes to rest against the tight wedge of my behind, pressing now against the twisted bud that marks the start of my anal passage. My pussy drips below, wide and slick, but Tyrus won’t have it. His thirst is only for my asshole. He tells me as much as he guides his member forward.

  The resistance is not imagined. His huge cock bounces clean off my hole on its first attempt. He brings his hips up and presses forward again. This time I can feel the muscles of my ass begin to relent, my hole dilating enough for him to squeeze little more than the tip inside.

  “You’ll take my cock if it’s the last thing you do,” Tyrus warns.

  Invitation open, he stands on his toes and bears down, grunting with the effort until half of his cock slides slowly forward into my rump like a hot poker.

  My mouth opens wider just as the cock inside it pulls free and unleashes a fresh torrent of cum. I close my eyes right before they’re glazed over. I can’t wipe them free. I can’t do anything b
ut wait for the rain to wash it away. I bounce and jerk as Tyrus gains another inch behind me, pressing firmer and firmer against my backside as his cock lodges deeper into my tiny body.

  Finally, the base of his prick taps the tightly stretched hole of my anus. Incredibly, he’s driven into me fully. Every time he pulls back and thrusts down again my open sex gapes and yawns below, slurping loudly away over the continuing cacophony of the rain around us.

  With a sharp jerk Tyrus ejaculates, filling up my backside and withdrawing. My ass does not close immediately. I picture it as a finger-wide oculus of distended black. My shame is boundless, my defiling complete.

  My tormenters relent enough for me to catch my breath. Although I am sore, I am not broken. There is no immediate pain, bar the intense fucking I have been subjected to. No, the pain is mental.

  I flinch when either of them steps close or lays a hand, finger, or cock on my body. One kicks the stocks next to my head. A step to the side and it would have been my face.

  I have to placate them, to keep them from darker acts.

  The sweet taste of their seed is still in my mouth, in my belly, womb and ass. Surely it’s enough to see me with child.

  Stratus moves behind me and chuckles. I picture his appendage in my mind and the damage it’s about to bring upon my busted sex. “So you want even more, do you, human whore?”

  The insult bites more than I imagined it would, but in this semi-conscious state, barely able to breathe, these mind games have greater impact. I have to rely on my training to see me through it, the endless torture tests we had to endure in the Academy for moments just like this.

  Something firm presses right against my open hole. It’s gruesomely large, the top of it round like a fist against the stretched ring of my sex.

  Relax, I tell myself. Relax and it will be better for you.

  Even Stratus can see the obscene mismatching. “It will not fit, brother. I’ll split her in half.”

  Tyrus crouches, lifting my face so I’m forced to stare into the obsidian abyss of his eyes. “She is here to be punished, is she not, punished in the Dothkhan way as it has been for centuries?”

  “She is,” Stratus agrees. He reaches below and separates my folds with his fingers. My hole opens, but it’s still too small an aperture for such a monster appendage.