"Zevon,” she called. “We have to get out of here."
"I can't clear my head. Shit,” he muttered. “I couldn't stop it."
"I know.” She racked her brain. How the hell were they going to get out of this?
Before they could form a plan, more armed soldiers marched into the room. They released her restraints, and she fell to the floor. “Get up,” one of the snapped. But none of them touched her.
"No."
Finally the soldier who had spoken gritted his teeth and stepped forward. Viciously he backhanded her, sending her flying against the wall. “Get up."
On shaky legs, she rose. Christophe and Zevon had red eyes, and their muscles strained. This time, though, the restraints held. She would have to do what they wanted.
But she wouldn't go down easy. She crouched and glared at the lead soldier. He was blond, a scar down his left cheek, and a bleak expression in his blue eyes. Handsome? She guessed so, except for the shockstick on his hip and the laser gun in his hand.
"This way,” the soldier ordered and waved his laser gun toward the door. All his men stepped back and allowed her to pass. She glanced over her shoulder at Zevon and Christophe.
In their eyes, she saw that no matter what, they would come for her. But she was a dominant. She sent them a confident smile. Chances were she'd come for them.
She was led through several corridors and shoved into a small room. The blond soldier jerked his head, and the other men left, leaving her alone with this monster.
Since she was supposed to be a submissive, she probably should have kept her eyes down. But she wasn't and he was a Primarian dickwad, so she met his stare defiantly.
"Listen to me,” he said in a harsh, low tone. “Do exactly what I say and don't argue. I know who you are. I know why you're here. I can't help you if you make them kill you."
Her stomach plummeted. How did this man know who she was? He was bluffing.
"Don't believe me?” he asked with a humorless smile. “Okay. You're Mistress Andia Cyrus, the Ball Breaker. And those two men are—were—your prisoners. You're here to find Leo Eyler and save your ass. Have I missed anything?"
Shit! Shit! Shit! What the hell was she supposed to do now? “If I'm a Nyral Mistress, as you say, how do you explain the mate mark?"
His eyes narrowed. “I don't. If I had to guess, I'd say there's a lot of complicated shit going on between the three of you.” He reached into a cupboard to his right and pulled out an outfit. There wasn't much to it but some glittery material and string. “That's what the commander wants to see.” He leaned in close but didn't touch her. “Put on a good show, Mistress. Make them think you're a submissive. Make your two prisoners so hot they fuck you hard."
She licked her lips, a rare sign of nerves. “Why should I? They're going to kill us anyway."
"You'll have to trust me.” He handed her the outfit. “Or would you like me to give Rina the Assassin a call and tell her where her quarry is?"
Andia flared her nostrils. “I don't respond to threats, Primarian."
His smile was grim. “Tell me, Ball Breaker, do you respond to anything?"
Her mind returned to the way both men had surrendered to her, then taken her. “It's complicated, but yes, there are things I respond to,” she whispered.
"If you want to experience those things again, do as I say,” the man said harshly. “I'm sticking my neck out for you."
"Why?"
"Because I want to fuck you,” he said baldly.
She stared at him. “Bullshit. I am not your type."
He raised his eyebrows. “I didn't say I wanted anything else. I just want to fuck the Ball Breaker."
She shook her head. “I've seen the kind of men you want me to think you are. They want to change me, possess me, take away the dominant power I have.” She cocked her head to the side and studied him. “And then there are the men who want to give to me, surrender to me. You're not that either. I don't believe you want to fuck me, Primarian."
"You don't know me,” he said darkly.
Her eyes widened, and the truth hit her like a hovercar. She'd never been afraid of him. Unlike his fellow soldiers, her nudity did nothing for him. She could see it in his eyes. “You don't want me at all,” she said and shook her head. “The fact that I'm a domme turns you off,” she stated.
He snorted. “Maybe I don't like blondes."
"You're Leo Eyler. That's why I turn you off. You're a Nyral male."
"I thought all Nyral males wanted to fuck you,” he sneered.
Slowly, she nodded. “Many do. Most of them want to break me. You don't. I just don't do a damn thing for you.” She sighed. “What a relief."
"Really? Because all those men out there think I'm fucking you."
"Let them,” she scoffed.
"Masturbate,” he ordered.
"What?"
He sighed impatiently. “If we both masturbate, they'll think we fucked, and we can go to the next stage of your escape."
"I don't know if I can,” she said.
"Close your eyes,” he said in a low, coaxing tone.
She complied, curious to see what he'd do. In a deep, sultry tone, he began to talk. “What did they do first, Mistress? Did they kneel at your feet?"
Her small gasp made him chuckle. He cupped her face with his big, warm hands. “I want you to picture them, the dark one on the right and the sweet one on the left, both on their knees before you."
The memory of when Zevon and Christophe had licked her boot swamped her, and she sighed with pleasure. Leo kept talking. “The dark one asks you permission to lick your pussy, and you let him. His tongue sweeps over your clit and arouses you. But you hold back, give him nothing until he earns it."
Her breath caught in her throat. Stars, she wanted Zevon to lick her pussy again. Almost as much as she wanted him to fuck her in the ass again. Disturbing thought for a Mistress.
"You make the dark one beg. I'll bet he's beautiful when he begs to fuck you.” The man's voice was gritty and arousing. “The sweet one sucks your tits, and you hold his head, controlling his movements."
She dropped her head back. The words wove through her, and she saw them, felt them. Her mate mark throbbed and glowed.
"The dark one goes too far, though, doesn't he? He scores you with his teeth, and you have to punish him,” Leo continued. “Now you put a cage on his dick, keeping him hard, not letting him come."
With her eyes closed, she only heard Leo's dulcet tones as he painted this sexual picture for her. “You let him suck you again, but he has to remain in place. Maybe you chain him to the floor and only get close enough so he can flick his tongue over your clit but nothing more."
She reached her hand down and touched her now damp pussy. With a flick, she mimicked Leo's words with her fingers, pretending it was Zevon's tongue. Not forgetting Christophe, she rolled her nipple hard, like his mouth would suck it.
"Faster, you'd tell him. He'd groan, protesting, but he'd do it. He'd be fucking hard as iron watching your pussy swell and glisten. Christophe's dick would press into your leg, his mouth full of your flesh, his hands restrained behind his back."
Lost in his words, Andia pressed on her clit harder and faster like Zevon would, driving herself to completion. Leo's harsh breath told her that he was aroused by his own words. The sound of flesh on flesh told her that he was stroking his cock, masturbating with her.
That only spurred her further. “And then I'd make them fuck me, Christophe first while Zevon had to watch. Then Zevon, hard, fast, wild.” She'd made herself crazy with the vision, drove two fingers inside her cunt, then three. Faster. Hotter. Wetter.
When she orgasmed, she snapped her head back and gasped for air. Leo's guttural cry followed.
Breathing heavily, she opened her eyes. Leo had dropped his pants and come on the floor. Then he placed his hand on her pussy and slid his fingers over her entrance.
She recoiled, reality washing over her. “What are you doing?"
Shocked, she watched him smear her juices over his spent cock. He met her furious gaze calmly. “The Primarians can smell, Ball Breaker.” He sighed. “I smell like you, and they keep their motherfucking hands off you. Get it?"
"No.” But she did. “What now?"
"Now you put on the best act you've ever done in your life.” Leo pulled his pants up and buckled his belt. “Nyral women are protected when they are mate marked, but the commander is looking for a loophole since all three of you are marked."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning he wants you in his collection, and he'll kill those other two men to get it. But he doesn't want to piss the council off. He doesn't know Pavlik is the council and that bastard wants you dead."
She wrapped her arms around herself. “Shit."
"Yeah. So here's what you're going to do.” He outlined her part and what to expect. It sure as hell wasn't going to be easy.
"Won't he know you helped me?” she asked him when he was finished.
"No. I've got a patsy.” He grinned. “One who deserves to get spaced."
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Thirteen
It seemed odd that the Primarians hadn't beaten and tortured them. Zevon glanced at Christophe, worried. He hadn't moved since the soldiers dragged Andia out.
When the door opened, Christophe's head snapped up. The blond soldier who had taken Andia strode into the room. The smell of Andia's cum wafted from the man, and Zevon gritted his teeth.
The man stepped closer to Zevon and placed his hands behind his back as he studied his captive. When Zevon looked at him, the man's focus flicked to the cameras in the corners of the room, then back to him. “We're going to conduct a little experiment,” he said in a casual tone. “You're going to show me why that tempting piece of ass wants to be dominated by a pansy like you."
With precision, the soldier marched to Christophe and studied him. “And you. If you can prove that she's yours, we will allow you to leave."
Lies. All lies. They weren't going anywhere. They were going to provide entertainment, that was all. Then the Primarians would kill him and Christophe to enslave Andia. This one had already raped her.
He was going to die anyway. He might as well take this asshole with him. “What? Aren't you going to demand to share?"
The man grinned. “Good idea. But I would never ask you to share your piece of ass without bringing mine to the table."
What the fuck was that supposed to mean?
The man turned on his heel and left the room. Unease stole through Zevon's veins. What was going to happen next?
Not five minutes later, ten soldiers entered the room and released Christophe and Zevon from the heavy restraints. “Move,” one of them ordered and jammed a laser gun into his gut.
The soldiers escorted Christophe and Zevon to a huge auditorium. On either side of an oval stage were hundreds of Primarians. The entire crew had to be seated around them.
The ten soldiers left them, and the doors to the huge room closed, presumably locked. A side door opened, and the blond soldier strode into the arena, naked, with two women on a leash.
One of the women had long, black hair, dark, flashing eyes, and wicked nails that clicked on the metal floor as she crawled toward them. Thin and wiry, she was hard-core sex on a stick. Her lips were luscious, and her cheekbones were high. Classically beautiful, she was a contrast to Andia, who crawled next to her.
On all fours, Andia was like a wild animal stalking its prey. She didn't crawl in submission but undulated like a jaguar. Sleek and pretty, she lacked the other woman's tough exterior, but there was no doubt Andia was exotic and sexy.
The glittery strings that barely covered anything only emphasized the perfect surface of her skin and the beauty of her tits. Zevon's cock filled instantly. For a split second, her glance flicked up to meet his, and he froze. She would do this. He would do this to her. And later he would pay.
Stars, he hoped he'd pay.
The blond soldier led the two women to the center of the stage. The audience surrounding them pounded their feet and shouted foul suggestions. The commander who had captured them stared down at the stage from his elevated enclosed box seat and he fucked a woman while he watched.
The Primarians were already frantic and the atmosphere in the audience was menacing. The blond soldier with the scar met Zevon's gaze steadily and handed the leash to Christophe. “As I told you,” the soldier said, and he rubbed his hand through the black hair of his little pet. “I brought my piece of ass."
Zevon noted that the soldier's “piece of ass” just glanced at her owner with murder in her eyes. Those dark pools swung toward him, and her lips curved in a sexy smile.
"Eyes down,” Zevon snapped, remembering he had a part to play.
The blond soldier nodded. “She needs a reminder."
The dark-haired woman snarled at the Primarian. “Not from you."
Her Master casually slapped her, and she tumbled across the stage. The crowd cheered. “No, I'll let these Nyral Masters tame you tonight."
It was a reminder. Don't lose focus. Dominate. That's what these assholes surrounding them had come to see. He hadn't brought the darker side of him out in a long time.
Zevon bent over the dark-haired woman. Her lashes flickered, and he saw fear and arousal. Did she think he was going to comfort her? No. He had to give these Primarian monkeys a show. Her squeak when he gripped her hair and dragged her across the stage made the crowd laugh and pound the floor with their booted feet.
What surprised Zevon was the sight of Andia on her belly, sliding across the floor parallel with the other woman's progress. The blond soldier snapped a flogger at her feet, spurring her to go faster.
It was disturbing and arousing. His cock responded. Zevon took a deep breath. Maybe they could all do this. Andia was a pain junky. Christophe liked being subtly dominated. They'd done it for years.
Zevon jerked the soldier's submissive to her feet. She clutched at the junction where his hand gripped her hair, pain pinching her face. “Get your hands down,” he snapped. “You don't raise them until I tell you to."
Her thighs quivered, and Zevon nodded. This one liked humiliation. She wanted the mean Dom. When she whimpered, Zevon gripped her chin. “No noise. Not until I tell you to."
Her eyes widened, and fear stretched the skin around her mouth. The smell of her arousal wafted to his nostrils. She liked the fear.
"Christophe?” Zevon said, still staring at the woman. “You will help me?” He let it sound like a question, though he and Christophe would both know this was Zevon ordering him.
"Ceiling restraints?” Chistophe had read this submissive, just as Zevon had.
"Yes. And a cat-o'-nine-tails."
The woman began to squirm. “I don't like pain. And they won't let that bitch you marked go until I come.” Triumph in her face confirmed what Zevon knew. This woman was here willingly; no coercion had forced her to submit to the Primarians.
"Oh, I'll make you come,” Zevon said grimly. “Whether you want it or not. And when I want you to."
When that statement floated over the audience, a low sound emanated from the men. That's what they wanted to see. Force. Aggression.
The restraints dropped from the ceiling, and Zevon glanced at Andia while Christophe restrained the other woman. The blond soldier had restrained Andia on a St. Andrew's Cross. Protruding from the crossbeams were cameras, and the soldier had placed them in strategic positions.
A huge viewsceen showed Andia's beautiful pussy glistening. All three men were focused on that vision of arousal.
The crowd chanted, and they rhythmically stomped their feet. Zevon tore his focus away from Andia and set to work on this defiant sub. He and Christophe flanked the thin woman as she spun slightly, hanging so her arm muscles were stretched. A good Dom would never let a sub hang like that for long, but the soldier had made it clear this woman needed to feel a little pain.
Zevon glanced
at the table of toys resting on one side of the stage. He obtained a small, heavy slapper and a paddle. The cat-o'-nine-tails he draped over the saddle donkey nearby.
He stood in front of the anonymous sub, her tits at eye level, her naked body stretched and displayed. “You shouldn't have challenged us, sub."
Her dark eyes rose to meet his scrutiny, and she opened her mouth. Before she could speak, he reached up and pinched her nipple. She gasped, her words strangled.
"If you speak,” he said loudly. “I'll gag you."
She spit at him but missed. Zevon grinned. “You're only extending your punishment."
He nodded to Christophe, and they went to work on her. With the heavy slapper, he tapped her clit. Not too hard but just enough to send her soaring toward pleasure. Christophe whacked her with the paddle, and she hissed. In concert, Christophe and Zevon tormented her. When he could see she was going to come, he stopped.
Her growl was like a wild animal, her eyes narrow and feral. The men around them yelled and stomped their feet. Christophe smacked her ass five times in quick succession, and the woman moaned.
Zevon met Christophe's gaze and then soothed the woman's skin. While he did, Zevon glanced toward Andia. What he saw made precum leak from his dick. Damn that man knew how to work a woman.
Strips were crisscrossed over Andia's belly and breasts. Blood oozed from a few of the lashes. The soldier used a dildo to fuck her, his words loud and clear to the audience. “Come for me. Do it now."
She threw her head back and screamed, the viewscreen filled with her pussy and the results of her climax. Every man in the auditorium went insane. Fights broke out.
The soldier tossed a glance toward Zevon and jerked his head to the cat-o'-nine-tails.
Zevon stepped to the dark-haired woman's back and lifted the whip from the saddle where he'd left it. Christophe took over with the slapper and worked her clit. They'd promised her to make her come. And they would.
Two strikes from the whip and she screamed, her neck corded and tense. Blood dripped down her back. Two more and she shattered, her keening cry filling the auditorium, and her body jerked and twisted.
Marked for Surrender [Marked 4] Page 11
