“Stay still, little human. This will make it easier for you at the party. I promise it will be over with quickly.”
Chris patted Morgan’s back. “It’s like I explained. We all have to show up and put on an act or else the guy in charge will get suspicious. We’ll get it over with and that will be it.”
Chris locked eyes with Nary, but Nary didn’t need to see the slight grimace on Chris’ features to know how hard it was for him to reassure his cousin when he also needed it in return.
Our Nasha is so brave. So strong.
Nary opened the tube of cream and squeezed a small amount onto his fingers to cover the length of Morgan’s limp shaft. The substance would stimulate the blood flow to the appendage and encourage arousal. He would add an extra dollop to Morgan’s glans. If Chris’ cousin could get lost in the need to fuck, it might help calm him, make the experience less traumatic.
Nary hated himself in that moment.
Morgan flinched right when Nary touched his soft flesh and tried to draw up his knees as if to protect himself. Nary easily pushed his legs back down with one hand while still stroking Morgan with the other. He couldn’t even look at Chris, was too ashamed at what he was being forced to do to his mate’s cousin.
Once he’d made Morgan fully erect, he took the ring and adjusted it to fit to the bottom of his smaller human appendage. He tucked the full balls into the harness and secured them snugly. Nary glanced up to find Chris staring at him. His mate nodded and mouthed ‘I love you’. Nary barely held in a sob as he mouthed the words back. The weight of Lasar’s hand on his head connected them all together.
“It’s time Nashas.” Lasar’s voice was firm, but loving. “And Morgan, you are not alone. No one will harm you while I’m here to protect you.”
Nary held Chris’ gaze. “And the same is true for me.”
Chris offered him a sad smile and Nary’s thoughts drifted back to what Chris had said about the void.
Can we truly protect them anymore?
Nary feared he had just uttered an empty promise.
Chapter Seven
Chris held on to Morgan’s hand, his terrified cousin holding it back with a sweaty grip. Nary clutched both of their leashes as they trailed behind him with Lasar leading the pack. Lasar carried himself regally, head raised high, his shoulders squared in an intimidating pose that seemed to defy anyone who might dare to challenge him. Chris noted that he’d deliberately shortened his strides, with Nary following suit. As they entered the lobby of what had to have once been a five-star hotel, Chris witnessed many Alasharians tugging on the leashes of their slaves, forcing them to keep up. Or, slaves picking up a jog to keep from being yanked or dragged on the ground by their necks.
Chris loudly cleared his throat. Nary slowed his gait further.
“Is it water you require, slave?” Nary seemed to be speaking louder than necessary. “I will seek permission from my Ahna.” Nary angled his head slightly then lowered his voice. “What is it?”
“Walk faster.”
“I don’t understand, Chris.”
“Look around at all the other slaves.” Chris sighed. “We stand out too much.”
Nary’s eyes widened and he picked up his pace, but since he was a Nasha, Chris knew he wouldn’t dare overtake Lasar. “Ahna? May we offer water to the slaves?”
Lasar abruptly halted then turned to Nary. He stared at him, his expression filled with confusion. “We are almost inside and running behind schedule. The Nall had wanted us to arrive before the others in order to discuss which acts he wanted to enjoy this evening.”
Chris held in a disgusted snort. The time to react to their predicament was over. The only choice left was to somehow put on a great performance for the Nall and hope everything didn’t fall apart.
“Of course, my Ahna. Forgive me. I’m eager to keep them well-hydrated in anticipation of a vigorous show.”
Oh brother.
Nary glanced at him, his lips pursed. Chris bowed his head. They couldn’t have personal interaction and Chris was fairly certain that the only way they’d be able to maintain the ruse was by keeping eye contact either non-existent, or at a minimum.
Nary leaned in to Lasar and whispered something. Lasar puffed out his chest, the posture telegraphing his dominance.
“They can be rejuvenated inside. Come along, Nasha, and stop them from dawdling.”
“Yes, my Ahna.” Nary pulled harshly on their leashes, but Chris could tell Nary had held back, despite the seeming forcefulness of his action. “You heard the Master. He’s displeased with your behavior and you will be punished accordingly when we return home.”
Morgan grabbed his arm and Chris twisted free, taking Morgan’s hand again. “Don’t.” Chris gritted it through his teeth. “Remain docile and obedient. He’s only pretending so that we don’t look suspicious.”
They increased their pace to a trot so they wouldn’t fall behind, and luckily, the long marble-tiled hallway off the lobby that led to their destination hadn’t been too outrageously long. Nary abruptly halted and Chris slammed into him, followed by Morgan. He’d been so intent on keeping his gaze lowered he hadn’t noticed when Nary stopped.
The chatter surrounding them had increased, but only Alasharian was spoken. However, the ambience was light and cheery. It was obvious that the night was one of festivity.
For the aliens, at least.
Chris peered at the cluster of Alasharians and humans immediately surrounding them. He noticed a young blonde woman, perhaps the same age as he was, her eyes glazed over, her expression flat.
Is she drugged? Or has she simply given up and shut down?
Nausea threatened, so he tore his gaze away where it landed on a man who Chris hoped was no younger than Morgan’s eighteen years. The smarmy advisor who’d gone after his sister came to mind, as did Lasar’s explanation that he’d had to wait to match with Nary because he wasn’t ‘ripe’, in other words, he’d been underage. It reasoned that if the void could turn previously decent beings into creatures filled with greed and violence, other deviances wouldn’t be far behind.
Morgan pressed against him then whispered frantically into his ear. “That alien is staring at me, and pointing me out to his slave.”
Chris wished Morgan could’ve at least not been a virgin when the invasion had happened. He couldn’t imagine his cousin surviving the night and it was stressing him the fuck out.
“That’s to be expected, Morgan. I know it’s difficult, but you have to be strong. Just tell yourself it’ll be over soon.”
“But it won’t, will it? Tonight will be over, but there’ll be another, and another and then my master will show up and it’ll never be over.”
“Hush, slaves!”
Chris almost swallowed his tongue as both he and Morgan jumped at the roar of Lasar’s voice. They bowed their heads and Chris waited until Lasar seemed engaged in conversation with a woman who shared the same striped sable, dark brown and black hair that Lasar did.
He placed his mouth against Morgan’s ear. “Dude. One day at a time, okay? Get a grip.”
“Easy for you to say when you’re all madly in love and everything,” Morgan grumbled.
“Ow!” Chris grabbed his upper arm where Nary had jabbed into it with his elbow.
Large doors—to what Chris now realized was a huge banquet room—opened wide and the crowd surged forward, seemingly anxious to get inside. Thankfully, the area was packed tightly enough that the Alasharians’ movements were hindered. Chris and Morgan no longer had to be dragged along by the neck, for which he was very grateful.
The group began to disperse, and once the barrier of the enormous alien frames thinned out and they could get a better view of the area, Chris gasped and Morgan whimpered. He doubted he’d have the resilience to stay strong, let alone expect Morgan to. He peeked from under his lashes, and even though the lighting was very dim, the grimace of pain on Nary’s face was clear.
An open area in the center contained a
cordoned-off circular space. It took up the majority of what had to be a minimum of three banquet sections with the partitions removed. The spot was filled with burgundy, deep purple and midnight-blue body pillows, the shimmer of the fabric similar to the robes Lasar and Nary wore. A free-standing clear shelf held many objects, some obvious as to their intent, including dildos, plugs and clamps. Others defied explanation, and Chris wasn’t the slightest bit interested in discovering what their purpose was.
A riser placed at one curve of the circle held two magnificent chairs. Their intricate carvings reminded him of the rya tree he’d seen in his dream, and it was used as a major theme in the design of the frames. The ornamental pieces of furniture were padded in what Chris thought could be a soft leather, perhaps more of the basha skins, but he had no way of knowing such a thing unless he asked.
He lowered his head, scowling. Can’t do that now. The pitiful human slave mustn’t speak to the amazing and precious aliens. Chris winced as the sensation of a fist squeezing his heart assailed him. Nary. Lasar. I’m sorry. Not you. I didn’t mean you. The pain eased, his ability to breathe freely returning.
Chris wiped at the sweat that had beaded on his upper lip, forcing himself to school his expression and remain as calm as possible. He couldn’t stop himself from taking in the rest of his surroundings, though. It wouldn’t do him any favors not to—he’d might as well be prepared for the eventuality of anything.
The four corners of the party room also contained areas that had been sectioned off, but they were smaller than the circle, which Chris had already assumed had to be a type of stage. In addition to the throne-like chairs, others were placed on all sides around the play area. However, the smaller sections at the corners were box shaped and no chairs surrounded them, they only featured the pillows and toys. Chris swallowed hard. The sight of whips, chains and other implements he didn’t understand adorned the walls next to the spaces. Even worse was some sort of what he assumed was bondage furniture, similar in style as old-fashioned stocks, that was featured at one of the play spots. Lasar and Nary might be mindful of his smaller stature, but would other aliens? Would they even care?
What if it doesn’t matter to them how hard they use us? What if we’re permanently injured or…
He didn’t want to complete the thought as his heart picked up a rapid beat. He needed the Healer’s guidance more than ever. Lasar and Nary had insisted that the Alasharians had never been cruel, and he believed his mates. Which meant that whatever awful acts the Alasharians did had to be the result of the void.
But how to stop it?
He’d become so lost in his musings that he almost lost his footing when Nary yanked on his leash again. Nary led him and Morgan to the row of chairs near what Chris had decided must the throne for the Nall and his consort, Lasar’s sister. The female alien he’d seen Lasar speaking with in the lobby took a seat in one of the fancy chairs. That has to be her.
Lasar sat on a less grand chair to the right of the Nall. Nary faced Chris and Morgan, fussing over their hair and makeup. He spoke quietly next to Chris’ ear as he pretended to check his braids.
“The Nall is angry that we were late. He’d wanted to look you and Morgan over privately, and have you be the first to perform for him. He had to promise two other pairs that their slaves could start the show instead. Fortunately, the guards gave us the perfect excuse for our tardiness, and it looks as though he’s going to honor Rama’s supposed request for a virgin slave.”
Chris chewed on his lip to keep from asking a million questions. He wasn’t sure if his disobedience would stain Nary and earn him an awful punishment directly from the Nall. He might be looking for any excuse after that whole Hashor thing with his son.
Nary straightened while raising his voice in volume. “Excellent.” Chris started as Nary grabbed his dick. “Your haro is hard and leaking.”
It is?
The ring had kept him stiff enough, but he wondered if Nary was going overboard with the whole horny-human act.
Once he and Morgan had seemingly been deemed fit for raunchy sex, they were directed to kneel on the floor at Lasar’s feet. The lights dimmed further, with somewhat brighter ones illuminating the circle. It wouldn’t be considered a spotlight by any means, at least by human standards, but was still brighter than what had been glowing before.
Since Chris really had no idea what the schedule was supposed to entail, he could only guess. The four corners had been abandoned, and every alien and human attending had gathered around the circle. Chris surmised that the party must begin with a show. He wondered if any of the Alasharians would perform, or if the stage area was only to watch humans interact.
Interact.
It was one way to put it. But in his mind, it made it easier to accept, to reduce it to a clinical act. The chatter increased in excitement, and several human slaves carried shiny metal trays that held tall thin glasses of a luminescent blue drink. Every Alasharian took one, except Chris noticed that both Lasar and Nary only took a sip of theirs before setting them down. Curiosity and fear gnawed at him. The evening promised to be one, long obnoxious experience.
A small cry rang out as the snap of a whip sounded. Because the lighting was lower than he was used to, it took Chris a second before he could ascertain where the noise had come from. The moment he spotted the young man being dragged onto the circle by his leash, Morgan squeezed his hand so tightly he thought his fingers might break. Chris recognized the slave from the cages where they’d been held.
What was his name again? Chris ran the memory through his head of when Morgan had asked… Jorge. Their fellow prisoner had given them information on what to expect when they’d first been captured. And now here we all are. The terror of being at the cages returned. As it had been back then, he had no idea what the aliens might do to them. Or if Lasar and Nary can prevent it. If his mates protected him and Morgan the way they’d sworn they would, it would certainly mean some sort of horrible punishment for them all.
The whip snapped again and Morgan gasped. The tail had landed on Jorge’s back, leaving an angry red stripe. Several aliens applauded in appreciation while another male slave was shoved into the circle with Jorge. The second slave was whipped as well until he’d crumpled to the floor. More applause sounded, but some of the Alasharians appeared uneasy, frowning as they glanced at each other, some whispering to those with whom they sat. Chris didn’t need to check for Lasar’s and Nary’s reactions—he knew his mates were appalled.
How far are we going to go with this charade?
Chris checked on his cousin. Morgan had bowed his head as he cried softly. He tried patting Morgan’s hands then gave up, placing an arm around him instead. Chris recognized the brush of Nary’s fingertips against his hair, could feel the anguish rolling off his mates.
The original alien who’d dragged Jorge onto the stage area reappeared with a type of flogger, only the tails were much thicker than any Chris had ever seen. He didn’t consider himself an expert by any means, but the implement the alien held was much too large for the small man. For any human.
Jorge covered his head as the alien unleashed a volley of strikes with the heavy whip. Every available area of skin was assaulted, his arms, back, legs, stomach, buttocks—his brown flesh turned varying shades of scarlet as the blows continued. Soon Jorge screamed openly, no longer attempting to hold back. A few times during the attack, he’d attempted to flee, only to be grabbed by another alien on the sidelines then tossed back in the circle.
When Jorge seemed to have had the fight whipped out of him, he sank to his knees. The Nall called out something in Alasharian and the same aliens who had applauded laughed at his remarks. The alien in the circle with Jorge shook his whip high, roaring as if he’d just won a major victory. He reached down and tugged Jorge back by his hair. The alien grabbed his own dick then shoved it in Jorge’s face, using the large, notched cockhead to smack his cheeks and mouth.
Even though Jorge was barely conscious, he se
emed to get the message and parted his lips. The alien stuffed his large shaft in Jorge’s mouth, gagging him immediately. Jorge struggled to get away, clawing at the alien’s wrists as he choked and gasped. The alien held him fast, both large hands fisted in Jorge’s hair while he fucked his mouth.
Chris covered Morgan’s eyes, cradled his head against his neck so he couldn’t see. But he couldn’t stop him from hearing the agonizing sounds of Jorge choking, the alien’s cheering or the screams of the second slave who’d collapsed but was conscious again.
He and Morgan had been with Jorge at the cages, he’d offered them what information he had on what they might expect. At the time, they’d all managed to tell each other that it wasn’t so bad. So what if the aliens wanted sex from them? The concept had somehow morphed in their minds to them becoming pampered poodles who had to suck the occasional alien dick, maybe endure an ass pounding here and there. How bad could it be?
This bad.
Chris inhaled a sharp breath as unrestrained fury swept through him. Lasar. Nary. They hadn’t discussed what they’d do if things got completely out of hand, if they would try to run, if Lasar would claim illness or what. Would they immediately be arrested? Or would the guards who held weapons at the perimeters of the room merely turn them on their own? But Chris knew one thing—if his mates showed any aggression whatsoever toward the Nall, he doubted any of them would survive the night.
The assault on Jorge seemed to have ended since he was curled in a ball on the floor and the alien on stage had turned his attention to the second slave who kept screaming. Morgan buried his face deeper in Chris’ neck, and plastered his hands over his ears. Chris held him, no longer bothering with the pretense that he was the dutiful sex slave. He didn’t see the point. Judging from how Lasar and Nary had described previous pleasure parties, and from the reaction of many of the non-cheering aliens, something very unexpected was going on.
Once the alien had yanked the screaming slave on his feet by the leash, he wrapped the lead around his hand, pulling it high enough that the slave had to remain on the tips of his toes. The alien grabbed the slave’s sac and twisted it hard, the young man shrieking once before his body went limp and he dangled from the leash. The alien made a disgusted sound, then hurled the unconscious man to the floor. He gestured to another Alasharian on the sidelines, and he strode over, grabbed the end of the leash, then dragged the slave away.
Cherished by Two Page 13
