Virile

by Virile (Evernight)

  Her count became garbled, but he had no doubt she knew how many blows were pending. The last five were laid on fast and heavy to deliver maximum effect on top of that especially tender joining on the upsweep of her buttocks with the last one right over her anus. With an effort, more because of his heavy heart than because her boneless form actually weighed anything significant, he stood her on her feet and forced her to face him. The sadist in him had never reared his head so there was no pleasure for either of them, merely sad, if important, necessity.

  Stormy, moisture-filled eyes avoided his, and her cheeks were flushed and tear stained. Her nose ran and she sniffed pathetically. Thorn dug out a linen square and dried her face with it, ignoring her flinch so as not to take it to heart. He had just blistered her ass for little apparent reason to her, so what might he expect?

  “Tell me why I tanned your bottom.” He fought the urge to stroke her cheek.

  Despite the spanking, probably the first time anyone had touched her in that manner, a hint of what he thought he might expect flashed across her face. “To make sure I remembered your order.”

  Teary and sore she might be, but his intended was not cowed. If anything she was furious with him and refused to really meet his eyes. Thorn’s dominant side rose to the challenge even as his heart warned him this woman was unlike any other he had known and dominated. He decided to be content with her insubordinate answer.

  “Use the facilities and dress in the clothing that is hanging behind the door. I will pack the outfit you travelled in. Drink the entire bottle of juice that is on the sink.” The sooner she partook of the nectar of Virile the better.

  A barely audible snort indicated her anger, and she was probably plotting against him already, wanting to resist his new orders. No matter. He had given her a solid reminder not to defy him and disobey the rules of safety, so the end justified the means. She marched towards the bathroom, perfect, red ass calling to him like a syren. He longed to feel that heat against him as he thrust his cock—He shut down his lust. They had to leave shortly if they were going tonight. A night with Adara in the bed in this room would suit him to the ground, but he had his brothers to consider.

  ****

  Raw fury simmered beneath her attempt at a carefully bland exterior—at least Adara hoped she hadn’t given anything of her strong feelings away. A hint of awe tempered her rage an infinitesimal bit. If that solid pulsing erection against her side was any indication, Thorn Freestar would have rather fucked her. The man’s self control and his strength were perhaps worthy of someone’s admiration, but she wasn’t going there. Neither was she going to consider the emotions elicited from being naked at this hot stranger’s feet and by his carefully applied spanking. They surely were too foreign, and they undermined her feminist self! As if a man she’d just met could make her want to acknowledge his approval of her naked body and her submission! As if a man knew best how to teach her a lesson!

  It roiled her emotions and curdled her common sense, and she was going to find a way to express herself—what was it she wanted to express, anyhow? It had to be disgust and dismay, she decided. She just needed time to sort it out and calm that surge of hormones. Her brain must be muddled by the space journey. Drinking the small bottle of juice down, gulping the contents as she realized how dehydrated she’d become, Adara fought to order her thoughts.

  The hideous dress helped stiffen her spine. Yes, the fabric was unbelievably soft against her heated skin, particularly the sore and obviously reddened skin of her ass, and it was comfortable. But it was all he’d left her to wear and it was ugly with its long full sleeves that fell to her fingernails. And it had a hood, shades of monkdom. Such a specious claim. Her nakedness beneath the baggy garment seemed all the more obvious because of its shapelessness. He knew, and she was intensely aware of that. Surely the little shudder passing through her body was indicative of terror and not anticipation. The size and heat of his cock beneath the barrier of his pants was imprinted on her brain, and no way was she looking forward to feeling it in places other than under her palm. She supposed she was grateful that he allowed her to be covered at all, and that grated too.

  Adara pinched her forearm viciously to remind herself this was a battle of wills and hissed at the pain and immediate bruising. It was her curse, the fair skin of being a redhead—every little injury showed. That thought had her yanking the skirt of the cursed dress up to her waist, and she strained to peruse her bottom. It was definitely red, but there was no sign of bruising. Her captor clearly knew his stuff. For sure she’d be tender for a while and would be reminded of his stern lecture for some time, but there would be no actual marks left once the red faded.

  She wondered where he’d honed his spanking skills, and then shut it down. Why would she care how many women he’d spanked? Maybe that drink she’d partaken of included something other than nourishment and a muscle relaxant. Maybe that attendant had included something to shut a person’s thinking brain down, because there was no way the old Adara might consider the next month as anything other than a period in her life to endure. She had a goal at the end of this particular tunnel.

  “We must leave.” Thorn’s deep voice interrupted her newly found determination to get through this. She hurriedly pulled the dress down to veil the lower half of her body, noting the way his eyes darkened with lust when he’d caught a glimpse of her nether parts. His pants still bulged over his cock, and she forced her eyes to the floor. She nodded.

  “I didn’t injure your beautiful skin, Adara. You will likely bear my marks in time, but that spanking was merely to make a point, if an important one.”

  Okay then. He was so fucking arrogant, thinking he could read her mind. Well, he had, but as for marking her later—the contract spoke against irreversible physical harm.

  “You will beg me for my marks, Adara. At least some of them.”

  Double arrogant. And she needed to work on how expressive her face was—carefully bland obviously wasn’t cutting it. Sammy had given her some insight, but this Thorn overwhelmed her. She bit her tongue, literally, and steadfastly stared at the floor.

  “Pull the hood up and come.” Was there a hint of exasperation in his tone? Hopefully. Not that she wanted to give him an excuse to hit her again, okay, discipline her, but damn it—she wasn’t a doormat. She covered her head and went.

  ****

  Using his profiler, Thorn had checked to ensure the cargo was loaded then scooped up Adara’s discarded pieces of apparel, stuffing them into her case. He doubted she realized it had been offloaded and set in the room while he greeted her. He would check her possessions before releasing them for her use, especially her profiler. Her contact with the outside would be curtailed until she accepted her future with them.

  The object of his true affection—hades—his obsession, stalked from the bathroom ahead of him to stand by the outside door. The loose fitting garment woven from the chaff of their crop engulfed her petite frame, although shifted suggestively across the thrust of breast and round of her flanks. The pale color suited her wildly flowing hair and now flashing eyes, although she was quick to avoid his own.

  Groaning inwardly, Thorn schooled his features and moved to open the panel and usher Adara through to where their transport waited. She was going to test his patience the whole trip to the farm, especially when he wouldn’t allow himself carnal knowledge of her until with Kellis and Orion. He didn’t trust himself with her, at least not until she embraced her submissiveness and surrendered. At least she wasn’t the fragile flower he’d assumed her to be. Adara was a strong, powerful woman and a perfect mate for them all.

  ****

  The mode of transportation he guided her to wasn’t like anything she’d seen before. It was quite large and would likely hold up to ten people. And it was armored, like the pictures she’d seen of military vehicles on gaming devices. Just how dangerous was Virile? Stepping inside, she cautiously sank down on a bench covered in a thick cushion. She controlled a wince, no
t wanting him to see how he’d affected her, but her bottom hurt. Much of the interior was filled with boxes and crates she believed she’d seen on the craft that brought her here, other benches folded up into the wall to make room. She realized they would make up into a large bed once the cargo was removed and wondered if the brothers used the vehicle for seduction or if sometimes they were required to use it as an abode. The front panels sported a myriad of lights and controls beneath a darkened expanse of glass. The suns hadn’t yet set so she supposed the glass had UV filters built in, as on her own planet, although they had but the one sun.

  There was a tiny closet built into one wall, the crates stacked to give access to it. She stared at it.

  “That contains facilities. One cannot relieve oneself outside of the vehicle, Adara. It is too dangerous unless someone is on guard, and you are not yet aware of what to defend against.”

  Again she only nodded. While she was curious and actually quite interested in learning more about her home for the next month, she didn’t want to engage with her captor any more than absolutely necessary. Stockholm Syndrome was an ancient tale, but one still written in books, and she had read about it.

  Thorn’s huff of breath definitely spoke of exasperation, but he didn’t say anything, merely taking his place beside her on the bench as the door sealed shut with an anguished hiss. The hum of electronics filled the silence as the interior darkened slightly and the controls illuminated to a greater degree. Adara watched his big hands dance over the panels in an orchestrated dance that spoke to long practice. Practice. She squinted her eyes and tried to remember Samuel’s lessons as the vehicle surged into motion and they were away, the port receding in the distance. There was nothing ahead but the beginning of darkening shadows as the suns began to sink beneath the horizon, throwing the last of the golden rays against the desiccated earth.

  “Remove the dress.”

  Holy angels. Any sense of calm dissipated. Trying to control her breathing, aware that his peremptory order somehow made her pussy damp, Adara obeyed. She didn’t want another lesson. The material caressed her skin as she awkwardly pulled it from beneath her thighs and buttocks and then past her waist to tug it over her head. Thorn took it from her and tossed it behind them.

  “You will be naked with us unless we tell you differently.”

  She couldn’t help but glance out the window.

  “We will protect your privacy, Adara, as you will come to learn, unless we find sharing your beauty is something you require.”

  “Sharing? With more than you and your brothers?” Her voice squeaked with horror, and she swallowed against bile.

  His tone turned cold, and he fixed that disturbing gaze on her. “No one will touch you other than us three, Adara.”

  So what did he mean by sharing? She wanted to ask, but he forestalled her. “As with everything we possess, we are proud to show others.”

  A possession. She’d do well to remember that. The flattery seemed unnecessary or perhaps it was their way of talking to women they planned to use. They owned her for the next while and if they wanted to display her like a prize cow—or whatever passed for a cow here—then that’s what they would do. So others wouldn’t be allowed to touch her, merely ogle her—if she required it. Again, she struggled with conflicting emotions just thinking about it. She never thought she held exhibitionistic tendencies and certainly didn’t consider her plump body something people would want to look at, but Thorn didn’t seem to think that was the case. She shrugged, involuntarily. They would do what they would with her, and she would survive it.

  “I feel your conflict, little one. You will come to trust that we will know what is best for you, what will give you pleasure and make you come to appreciate your worth. Now get over my lap.”

  She wanted to refuse, or at least protest, then acquiesced, her breasts resting on the seat cushion just on the other side of his thigh, her belly centered on his thighs. The thick ridge of his erection nestled into her ribs as she turned her head to lay her cheek on the seat. She was probably going to get another ass whacking because she’d hesitated for god’s sake. A popping sound filled her ears, and something cool and viscous drizzled across her butt. She shivered, and his big warm hand swept into the substance, smoothing it across her ass and down over her thighs. It quickly warmed, the sensation deepening as it worked in and eased any residual soreness.

  “Hitch up, Adara. Come up a little onto your knees. Separate them but not so much you will fall from the bench.”

  Gods. What was he planning to do? The tender care of her bottom confused her, and she didn’t want to risk him changing his mind. As she followed his directions, more of the same mixture dropped to ooze between her buttocks, followed by what had to be his fingers. One teased the gel over her back entrance, and she clenched against it. That earned her a smack, the sound reverberating in the close confines of their vehicle, but it didn’t really hurt. It did get her attention, as if him messing with her back there hadn’t.

  “Relax and do not fight me, little one. This will not hurt you. A little uncomfortable perhaps, different, but if you cooperate it will go more easily.”

  Fine for him to say—he wasn’t the one being penetrated in a hole that no one other than her doctor had seen. And her physician touched her only briefly. Thorn was spending a lot of time there, and she was positive she hated the edgy, forbidden feeling. The gel heated her up too. Embarrassment and humiliation overwhelmed her, and she whimpered before she could bite the sound back.

  “Shhh, Adara. This part of you will be well used, and you must be prepared so as not to experience injury. Deep breaths, agapi mou.”

  She breathed deeply and did her best to relax, wondering what language he spoke and what agapi mou meant. Probably nothing flattering seeing as he was now pushing one of those big fingers inside her bottom hole. She wanted it out and pushed tight with her muscle there. He slid in deeper—a lot deeper. If he went farther, she’d feel him in her chest.

  Pulling that devilish finger out, he shoved back in before she could appreciate its loss. In and out it went, sometimes deeper, sometimes shallower. Just as she became used to the sensation another blunt finger joined the first, and she writhed to get away. Too big, too much. His other hand descended upon the small of her back and pinned her.

  “Please,” she begged. “I don’t like it.”

  “You will, little one. Accept it now. There is no option.” He pushed in and separated those big digits, stretching her ever wider. He wasn’t rough with her, although she wouldn’t say he was being gentle either. Deep breaths didn’t help as much, and the bite of pain made her screw her eyes shut to hold back the tears. Her mouth opened to cry out when the jangling spits of pleasure overrode the pain. Thorn must have recognized the change in her response because he rubbed her back in concert with the movement of his fingers deep in her back channel. He sank those appendages in until she felt them stop as the palm of his hand rested on her ass cheeks. Untried nerve endings sparked around them, and she clenched.

  “Ah, there you go. Such a tight little fist around me. You will bring us such pleasure, just as we will bring you the same.” He pulled them back, dragging along the walls of her passage, then pushed back in, repeating the action several times. Adara wanted to squirm and press her pelvis against his thigh. Thorn the arrogant mind reader removed his hand from her back and leaned away far enough to slide it under her, unerringly finding her sweet button. An orgasm hovered just within reach.

  “You will not come.”

  “What?” Oh boy, that was her incredulous response. She wanted to go over, immediately, if not sooner, and where was her resolve to suffer what they put her through and keep herself above it all?

  “There is more, and you will not come until I say you can.”

  More. The need to come dissipated like mist in front of a raging wind. More as in another brother? A cousin? Thorn’s fingers retreated out of her body, leaving a strange, empty feeling—but not for long.<
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  “You are so beautiful here, agapi mou. Your tiny opening is stretched like a little mouth. Now, deep breath.”

  She sucked one in to ask him what he was going to do when an unforgiving, hard object pressed in to replace his fingers. There was no quarter as he inserted it, and no apparent end to it either, although it got bigger with each advance. But his clever touch on her clit distracted her a little, and a twist of the object took her breath as the more rapid rubbing at her apex increased. It abruptly became too much. The thing narrowed and her walls clamped around it. She climaxed, biting her tongue to contain the accompanying sound. She wanted to deny him that for using his experience against her. She wanted to hang on to her umbrage, sensing that it might be the only thing to protect her very essence from this man who seemed determined to take it all and they’d just fucking well met!

  “There, little one.” A gentle pat over the base of the godsdamned object accompanied Thorn’s satisfied comment and she tensed, waiting for whatever came next. But he merely stroked over her buttocks while the hand beneath her cupped her sex in a curiously comforting manner.

  “Scoot backwards to pillow your head in my lap,” he instructed, and she did as he bade her, the hardness in her back entrance inhibiting her motions. She shivered a little, the heat of his assault on her anus and ensuing climax leeching away. There was an immediate click, and warm air flowed down around her naked form.

  “Sleep, agapi mou. It is still a fair piece to travel, and you have experienced considerable today.” His speech, the choice of words and syntax dragged over her ears, and she considered that his native language was definitely not hers. Wonderful. The brothers could communicate with one another and leave her guessing. She should have spent more time learning about Virile and less on submission. As far as she could tell, Thorn, and probably Orion and Kellis would tell her what to do, do things to her and she would comply or get punished. Submission was just another word for dumb obedience, and while it vexed her, she could probably act the role—unless she allowed them to get inside her head. In that case, they would see her for who she really was and it wouldn’t go well for her. On that sober thought, she fell asleep.