Pet's Pleasure

by Renquist, Zenobia

  Pet’s Pleasure

  Zenobia Renquist

  Starling envied the easy life of pets…until she became one. Kidnapped from Earth and sold to the highest bidder, she now belongs to an alien king. But she doesn’t want to be his pampered possession. She wants Bekion to see her as an independent woman with needs and desires of her own.

  Only deviants break the laws barring sex between owners and their pets, and King Bekion has no intention of succumbing to simple lust. But the long nights with Starling’s lush body pressed tight against his take a toll. Her strength and intelligence make it difficult for Bekion to remember Starling is forbidden. He knows it isn’t right but he can’t stop thinking of his pet and all the pleasure he could give her, even if it costs him his crown.

  Ellora’s Cave Publishing

  www.ellorascave.com

  Pet’s Pleasure

  ISBN 9781419936524

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Pet’s Pleasure Copyright © 2012 Zenobia Renquist

  Edited by Carrie Jackson

  Cover design by Mina Carter

  Photography: Dreamstime.com

  Electronic book publication April 2012

  The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

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  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  The publisher and author(s) acknowledge the trademark status and trademark ownership of all trademarks, service marks and word marks mentioned in this book.

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  Pet’s Pleasure

  Zenobia Renquist

  Chapter One

  Starling noticed several things as lucidity crept over her drug-addled brain. First, the annoying and persistent flow of cold air over her body and the press of cold metal against the bare skin of her stomach and chest told her she was naked. A slight shifting of her body confirmed the lack of clothing or even a blanket.

  “I think she’s waking up.”

  Second and most alarming was not recognizing the voice of the woman who’d spoken.

  “Yup, she’s awake.”

  Someone touched her shoulder. Starling jerked back and whirled on the person. She regretted her hasty reaction two seconds later. The room swam, wrenching a pitiful moan from her. She clutched her head.

  The unknown woman patted her shoulder. “Easy, kid. You’re okay.”

  “I’m not a kid,” Starling whispered, cracking open one eye. The room seemed stable so she opened the other eye and looked at the woman who knelt at her side. “Who are you?”

  “Monica Conners. You?”

  Somewhere across from them, a man said in an urgent, low voice, “Psst. They’re coming back.”

  Hearing a man instantly alarmed Starling. Where was he? Was he the reason for current state of undress? And who was coming back?

  Monica placed a hand on Starling’s shoulder. “Just stay on the ground. You’ve been out since they brought you here. You’re the last to wake up. A lot of us thought you wouldn’t.”

  A lot of us?

  Starling peered around her surroundings. At first glance, she’d call it a jail cell—metal and square with bars. Several women stared at her. Each looked concerned, partially relieved and naked.

  At least she wasn’t the only one. That was little comfort since she still didn’t know where she was or how she’d arrived there minus her clothing.

  She asked, “Where am I?”

  Monica whispered, “I’ll answer that in a second. Just be quiet.”

  The hand Monica had placed on Starling’s shoulder twitched and the woman shook. Starling followed Monica’s gaze then she started shaking too.

  Three very tall—inhumanly tall—men stared through the bars. They gestured to her and spoke in a language she didn’t know. The man in the middle sounded like he was whining. Whatever he was saying made his partners glare at him. The man on the far right yelled at him while pointing at Starling.

  Another man joined the group, which made the trio snap to attention. A leader, maybe? The fourth man listened to what had to be a report. He glanced at Starling a few times, nodding the whole while. After a few clipped words, he left again.

  The three men spoke in hurried, lowered voices and then rushed away.

  Starling couldn’t make sense of any of it. She only knew the danger—if there was danger—had passed because Monica relaxed.

  “All clear,” said the man who had given the earlier warning.

  Starling asked, “What’s all clear? Where am I? Who were they? What were they saying?”

  Monica patted Starling’s shoulder again. “Aliens is our best guess but we don’t know. Like you, we all woke up in this cage with no memory of how we’d gotten here or who they were or what they want with us. No one can understand them. We can barely understand each other.”

  “What’s not to understand? You all speak English, right?”

  “Only a few. One girl speaks Italian and broken English. Thankfully I speak broken Italian as well as some Tex-Mex Spanish. I’ve been trying to act as a translator for the two Italian girls and the ladies from Mexico. There are also quite a few Asian women. The only other black women sound like they’re from Africa.”

  Starling looked over her cellmates again. A rainbow of skin tones greeted her. Being a Floridian, she was used to seeing a multiracial populace due to living so close to the theme parks. She even recognized a few of the mumbling women’s accents.

  There were no men though. Where was the man who had warned them?

  Past the bars, across a wide hallway, on the other side of another set of bars stood the men. Like their female companions, they were naked and agitated. Starling was happy whoever had kidnapped her and the others had decided to keep the genders separated. She didn’t want to add rape to the long list of things going wrong.

  Starling asked, “How long have I been asleep?”

  Monica shook her head with a slight shrug. “If I still had my watch, I could give you a definite answer. It feels like a few days, maybe five at the most.”

  “Five days? What the hell did they slip me?”

  “That’s a best guess. There was no telling how long most of us were out before we all woke up. Like I said, you’re the last to wake. We all thought you weren’t going to make it. Our captors seemed equal parts pissed and worried over that fact too.”

  It was time to stand. Starling rolled to a sitting position. Monica immediately offered her assistance and both women stood.

  Monica gave a low whistle. “You’re right. You’re not a kid. Not with knockers that big.”

  Starling looked at her breasts. Mother Nature had blessed her with boo
bs instead of height. If it was a toss-up between the two, she was happy with what she’d gotten.

  One man called out, “She okay?”

  “Looks like it,” Monica called back.

  Starling looked at the owner of the voice from before.

  He smiled sadly and gave her a greeting nod. “I’m happy you’re awake. I tried to impress upon our captors that you were having an adverse reaction to whatever they’d given you. They didn’t understand me and only became angry when I wouldn’t be quiet.”

  Starling asked, “Are you a doctor?”

  “Med student almost graduated. How are you feeling?”

  “My head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton.”

  “Do you normally react badly to medications?”

  “Always. I’m also a really, really cheap date. Two or three sips of beer and I’m gone.”

  “Well, you woke up. That’s the important thing.”

  Starling gave the doctor-to-be a wry grin. “You sure about that?”

  “Putting our present situation aside, yes.”

  The sound of footsteps nearing the cells stopped further conversation. One of the giants from earlier returned and opened the door to the women’s cell. All the women huddled together against the back wall.

  Monica pushed Starling behind her to the middle of the pack. The giant made an annoyed sound and barked something in his language. He then pointed to the spot in front of him and said a single word.

  Starling recognized a command to step forward when she saw it, language barrier or not. She had no intention of obeying. The other women didn’t act like they would either.

  The giant walked forward, grumbling to himself. He grabbed for the nearest woman, who screamed and railed at the man in rapid French while clawing at his hand.

  The giant yelled in her face then shook her but the woman didn’t desist. As they struggled, the man snapped a collar around the woman’s neck. That accomplished, he yelled over his shoulder.

  Another giant from the earlier trio entered the cell. In a laughing voice, he said something his companion didn’t seem to appreciate before he came to help. Between the two of them, they collared all the women.

  It was a flimsy leatherlike strip, not too tight or too heavy. It could almost be mistaken for a choker. Starling ran a finger under hers, turning it around and around and around but not finding the latch or even a seam. The giant had placed it around her neck and then closed it. There should be a seam.

  One woman broke from the group and ran for the cell door. Everyone cheered as she got out and ran down the hall. She didn’t go more than a few feet before she clutched her throat and fell to her knees, gasping for air. The leather strip had tightened visibly.

  One of the giants pointed to the choking woman as he addressed the women who remained in the cell. His meaning was obvious—try to escape and they would regret it. Everyone, including the men, nodded.

  The joking giant strolled over to the runaway and hauled her to her feet. Once he touched her, the choker loosened. She gasped loudly, sucking in mouthfuls of air. The man chuckled out a question as he tapped the woman’s back in a gesture that could be mistaken for being soothing. A quick conversation with the other giant preceded the women being herded out of the cell and made to stand single file.

  After some shuffling and a few minor skirmishes from those who didn’t want to be touched, Starling ended up at the head of the line. She looked down the row. The women had been arranged by height. And of course that put her four-foot-ten-inch self first. But first for what? As curious as she was, she was also scared.

  The joking giant grabbed her wrist and started walking. She followed without fighting because she didn’t want him dragging her. He said something to her with a smile on his face and then, with his free hand, he patted her head. If it was meant to make her feel better, it didn’t. She didn’t want the man touching her. She didn’t want to end up choking either so she would deal.

  She glanced over her shoulder. The other women followed with the second giant making sure they stayed on line. Some had even started crying. Looking farther back revealed the men had been left in their cell. Would the giants go back for them later?

  The better question was should she really be worried about them when she didn’t know what these giants had planned for her?

  She turned her gaze back to the path ahead. The group paraded down several long hallways until they neared an open doorway. Sunlight, smells of random foods and excited chatter filtered through the door.

  Starling slowed her pace and tried to cover herself. The giant holding her wouldn’t release her wrist. Instead he tightened his grip and pulled her harder. She had to follow but she huddled in on herself to hide her body as best she could from the waiting crowd.

  The doorway opened onto a wide stage. The giant Starling had thought was the leader stood behind a podium, facing a throng of people who chatted happily in the oppressing heat. Even with beads of sweat rolling down her skin, Starling kept her arm pressed against her breasts.

  The giant shook the arm he held while trying to push her other hand down as he walked her to center stage. She swatted at him and continued covering herself. She’d scream her denials if she thought it would do any good.

  Her reluctance to stand up straight and let a crowd of people ogle her for some unknown purpose turned the joking giant into an angry giant. He yanked her arms down and held them against her sides. As soon as he let her go, she covered herself again.

  He yelled at her and pointed. She shook her head.

  A few of the people in the crowd laughed.

  The man behind the podium barked an order. The giant walked around her then grabbed her from behind, pinning her arms to her sides. He lifted her so her feet dangled a good three feet off the ground.

  The crowd cheered. Starling squeezed her eyes shut against angry tears. Her body vibrated with the need to lash out but she knew what would happen if she did. And what could she do against an opponent so much bigger than her? Where would she go if she managed to get free?

  All the unknowns made her chest clench. Deep despair took hold of her and a dark thought surfaced. If only she hadn’t survived the drug they had given her, none of this would be happening.

  The jovial tone of the man behind the podium as he spoke to the crowd contrasted drastically with Starling’s bleak mood. But his voice gave her something on which to focus. Instead of contemplating her own death, she started imagining his. A few people called questions the announcer answered before he continued his speech. When he finished, a hush fell and all movement stopped.

  Starling opened her eyes, looking for the cause of such an unnatural silence. Even the wind had stopped. What happened? Was it over? Her captor didn’t put her down so the answer must be no.

  The announcer raised one arm.

  All at once the crowd erupted in frenzied shouting. Several people waved jingling bags as they vied for the announcer’s attention. The pandemonium made no sense. The announcer wore a large, satisfied grin. He pointed to people at random and shouted a single word.

  It took Starling a moment to recognize the scene. She was at an auction with her as the prize. Someone in the crush of people would take her home but for what purpose? Did they know she’d been kidnapped? Did they care?

  The number of people shouting bids dwindled to a handful and then finally two—a man in the middle of the crowd with a look on his face Starling didn’t like and a cloaked individual who stood between two men. One of the men had his arms crossed over his chest and wore a menacing expression that got darker whenever someone happened to get a little too close—a bodyguard. The other man leaned down to the cloaked individual before every bid he made—an aide or a secretary, maybe?

  The two parties went back and forth at least ten times. Each bid made the announcer smile so wide Starling thought his face might tear. In the end, the trio won.

  Starling’s captor lowered her so she could stand then released her. She didn�
��t move since covering herself seemed pointless. Everyone already got an eyeful.

  The aide from the trio approached the announcer and handed him a thin sliver of metal. Starling guessed it was payment. The announcer didn’t seem pleased to receive it. The man looked downright scared. He pasted a fake smile on his face as he took the metal. He handed the secretary a bag and then gestured to Starling.

  Rather than make the aide come to her, she went to him. The giant who’d presented her to the crowd grabbed her. The announcer yelled something that made the man release her once more.

  He grumbled under his breath as he removed the leather strip from her neck before pushing her toward the edge of the stage. She glanced back at the other women. Monica raised her hand. Starling returned the gesture, knowing she would probably never see the woman again.

  The aide grabbed her arm in a tight grip and yanked her off the stage. She almost nosedived into the ground except his grip on her arm kept her upright. She glared up at him but he paid her no attention.

  He dragged her to the cloaked person—a woman. A very affluent woman if the jewelry adorning her was any indication. Her throat and wrists dripped with gems of varying sizes and in a rainbow of colors. Starling even caught a glimpse of something that could be a tiara under the hood of the woman’s cloak.

  Starling’s new owner looked her over then nodded. After a few words to the aide, she walked away with her bodyguard.

  Rather than follow the cloaked woman, the aide took a different route. He piled Starling into a hovering vehicle waiting on the road. It was a nice conveyance with soft seats and a cool interior Starling appreciated after the pressing heat outside. Even if the cool air made her sweat-drenched body freeze, it beat the alternative.

  The vehicle had no driver. She looked around and around but there was nothing resembling a steering wheel. Her companion busied himself doing something with the pad he had so close to his face it almost touched his nose, ignoring her.

 
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