Azar's Prize

by Reese Gabriel

  He pushed this possibility aside for the moment, for it made no sense. Another drink, and then he would see what he would see.

  “Captain,” Robo-Leg Jim stood in the servo doorway of the old gray metal ship, the Sabre, Azar’s only real love, his only real home for ten years.

  “What is it, Jim?”

  “We have taken the cruiser apart, down to the rivets.”

  “That was fast work,” he approved. “What did you find?”

  The pirate signaled two of the others to bring in the items. Azar identified them one by one. An antique suit of clothes, called a tuxedo, a genuine box of cigars from New Cuba with a personal note from his Highness, King Fidel the Eighth, and the piece de resistance, an ancient Egyptian figurine, probably from the days of the pharaohs.

  The cruiser’s manifest confirmed the diminutive but priceless cargo. Nothing else had been found, not one shred of suspicious evidence linking it to the Guardians or the Council.

  Too perfect. Too easy.

  “The female is in my quarters?” he confirmed.

  “Aye, Captain.”

  “She is secured?”

  “Chained tight, sir. Not going anywhere in a hurry.”

  Azar’s balls tightened and his cock thickened as he pictured the beautiful female, helpless in bondage. It was so very difficult to think of her in terms other than purely sexual. “I must attend to her interrogation. I am not to be disturbed, except for emergencies.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain.”

  The pirates stepped aside as their leader strode past, his leather boots tromping down the corridor, his long mane of bound hair hanging down his back. He was a man on a mission now, and the gods help any who stood in his way. He would not rest, nor would he divert his attention one iota from his stated goal. The woman would speak the truth.

  And she would speak it quickly, no matter what means he must apply. Unless he missed his guess, there was something afoot here that threatened not only his own peace but that of the entire brotherhood of pirates.

  He could not put his finger on it, but something about the courier was very, very wrong. Her overwhelming beauty and sexual magnetism was a clue. He would find other ones, he suspected, in short order.

  Then again, there was virtue in taking his time.

  Especially as the means he intended to use were highly erotic in nature. Methods that would, as a pleasant happenstance, result in him enjoying the woman not only as a mental conquest but a sexual one as well.

  Chapter Two

  Theryssa’s hands were shackled behind her back. The pirates had put her on her knees, on the captain’s bed, an ancient four-poster carved out of a very rare living gem material found on Zanhus Two.

  A collar of old-fashioned steel circled Theryssa’s neck. It was attached to a metal chain, which they had secured into one of the four identical metal rings attached to the posts.

  They were enjoying themselves immensely, though her pirate captors had no clue, of course, that she could break this steel with her bare hands. So, too, could she have disposed of all three of them on the way down here from the cargo bay without even breaking a sweat.

  What a bunch of arrogant fools they were, thinking her just a poor defenseless woman. Especially the baldheaded one, whose name she had learned was Oleron. He was as dumb as he was crass. His hints about his rising power among the crew were hardly subtle.

  Nor was his promise to one day become far more intimately acquainted with Theryssa’s charms.

  “What goes around comes around,” he told her, though she had no clue what the man was talking about. Frankly, he was damn lucky he hadn’t actually laid a hand on her, or she would not have been responsible for her actions.

  The thing she had to bear in mind was that this Oleron was of no more importance than an ant crawling across the blanket of an old-time picnic. He was annoying, but in the end, he didn’t matter in the least.

  Her job was to figure out what Azar was up to. And that meant letting herself be chained to the bed like a common wench, a lot of horny grinning males drooling over the sight of her.

  “Please,” she begged, laying it on thick, “don’t hurt me.”

  They left her alone in the captain’s cabin, happily snickering. Never realizing that she was already well on her way to getting what she needed. So far, in fact, she was collecting intelligence faster than a spy droid operating full throttle in a nest of Calossian gun runners. Less than an hour in pirate custody and she had already gained a working knowledge of their engine and weapon’s systems as well as a good sense of their fighting capability.

  Scanning ship computer schematics with her hypersensitive brain waves and monitoring internal communication systems was the easy part, though. The hard part remained. Namely the collection of intelligence for the Council. Information about Azar’s connections to the Narthians and to other pirate groups.

  One thing she had picked up on so far was some surprising hostility among the crew. Not all the men supported Azar. Their body language, the motions of the eyes of certain members in the captain’s presence spoke volumes.

  And that did not begin to approach the blatant dissension she had witnessed in the little incident between Azar and one of his lieutenant’s in the hallway, the one called Oleron.

  The underling Oleron had been seething under his breath, and Azar had called him to task. Azar had made a fool of the man, dominating him thoroughly. Theryssa had to confess to feeling a slight tightening in her belly when she’d watched him draw his sword and upend the baldheaded man.

  Were Theryssa a man, she would mark the incident well as a warning of Azar’s power. As a woman it signified something else.

  Azar was a pirate’s pirate. He took what he wanted, including women, and he was first because none dared oppose him.

  In this environment, Azar was like her father. The undisputed boss, and so far he looked more than up for the job. Plenty of times Theryssa had rolled her eyes seeing how her mother bragged on Theron and doted on him. But now she could see how a woman would get caught up in a man’s aura and she began to wonder if she wasn’t a little jealous of the fact that her mother had a husband—a hero and protector. Just like Aunt Seria had Uncle Raylar, another man whom Theryssa followed as a child, seeking his constant approval as she had with her father.

  She had to admit, seeing Azar’s holoid and living with his stunning male beauty for so long had done little to prepare her for the real thing. Unlike with most holoids, he was actually more vivid in person. More charismatic, too. She could see the attraction women must feel in his presence, hell, she could feel it herself.

  Try as she might, she was like a moon being drawn into orbit. Those eyes, so deep and compelling, that rock solid form. And that cock, outlined beneath his skintight britches. Wild, half hard, promising a woman pure bliss at hyper-light speeds.

  It was said that women loved by him were ruined for others. The Princess Galina of Menos One, having been held hostage by Azar for a fortnight, had begged to remain behind as the man’s slave rather than resume her ransomed place on the throne of her home planet.

  Had Azar lain with her on this very bed? Certainly it was equipped to keep a woman subdued, what with the iron rings in the posts. A female could be chained any number of ways, including spread-eagle on her back.

  Theryssa felt a tingle down her spine as she looked at the rack of floggers on the wall. They were made of quaint leather, of varying lengths and styles. Beside them were hooks on which hung chains and shackles. Was it all for show or was she getting some insight into the man’s sexual tastes?

  She could only imagine if she were an ordinary woman, really trapped here, looking at all these things, and awaiting their owner to come back to his cabin. Were she not imbued with primale blood, were she not a Guardian, she would be at this moment, little more than a possession at the sexual mercy of a potential sadist.

  What a relief that wasn’t the case.

  Strange, though, how a part of her felt
a little twinge of regret…at not being able to experience such emotions, or face such erotic dangers. Given her genetics, three quarters primale and one quarter fem, she shouldn’t be feeling things like that.

  According to her Aunt Seria, however, there was more to life than genetics.

  “You might be seventy-five percent primale by blood, Theryssa, but you are also a hundred percent female. And sooner or later, hormones are going to trump DNA.”

  “When will that be?” she had asked her Aunt.

  “When you find your lifemate.” The beautiful Seria had smiled.

  Sometimes she envied her aunt and her mother for the love they had in their lives, though Theryssa did not want a lifemate of her own. Relationships were too complex. She wasn’t all that interested in sex-making partners, either. Most men bored her. And those who weren’t boring tended to be too self-absorbed and shallow. The really good ones were off limits, having devoted themselves fully to careers, especially in the Guardian Corps.

  She had to laugh when her father gave her lectures. He thought she was still a virgin and she didn’t do anything to correct him on that score.

  Damn it, why did the man keep floggers in here? The place was intimidating enough with the animal skin rugs on the floor and the snarling animal heads on the walls. The latter being interspersed with an assortment of spears and other deadly sharp weapons. What really got her, though, was the painting on the wall opposite the rack of floggers.

  It depicted a woman, incredibly graceful and beautiful. She was on her knees, naked, save for a tight, jeweled necklace, almost a collar. Her back was arched and her thighs were wide apart. She had her head back, mouth open, tipped up, her tongue stretched just far enough to catch one of the drops of rain falling in the forest around her.

  Her pussy was totally exposed, the lips glistening wet. She had placed her hands behind her head, fingers interlaced. Thus was she rendered completely helpless.

  Theryssa had never seen an image so scandalous and at the same time, so erotic. The tension in her body, the expression on her face made it clear she was in subjugation. A slave. And yet she seemed so completely at one with nature. So very free.

  She felt her mind drifting as she sought to fill in the details. Who was the man who had put her in that position? To whom was she kneeling, so much in another’s power that she dared not break position to seek shelter from the rain?

  Who was the man she called Master? Was this a painting of a real woman? Someone Azar knew? Galina, even? What if it were she in that position? What if she were forced to abase herself, exposing her sexual heat to a male…to Azar.

  What a sight she would make. The rain dripping from her hair, beading on her breasts, plinking off her swollen nipples, running in tiny streams down her belly and between her legs. Her own fragrant scent mixed in the air with the smells of the forest, wet earth under her knees, wet moss and leaves…and a wet, throbbing pussy.

  Open for Master. Hot and ready to be stuffed full of hard cock. Or maybe he would take her mouth, conveniently opened, lips already parted.

  Would he ask her what she wanted, what she needed? Would he make her say the words she feared most?

  Fuck me, Master. Throw me down on the forest floor. Fuck me in the dirt and the leaves. Fuck me in the rain. Take me like an animal. Hard and nasty. Make me come, again and again, make me scream out so the whole forest can hear me and every creature in it…

  Azar, pinning her down, underneath his rippling muscles, letting her feel everything a woman should. The delicious surrender that even a fem could enjoy at the hands of any ordinary mem.

  Or, what if he could take her further? Let her experience what an obedient feels when she becomes the absolute sexual possession of her primale? Indeed, what if she could feel the orgasm of an obedient—that release which was said to be the most profound of sexual pleasures in the world?

  A pleasure that began with the meeting of eyes…the matching of wills. That eternal male-female exchange which in this case ended up with one of them wearing a collar of brilliant jewels, obeying, like a pretty, beloved pet.

  Yes, my Master, come to me…and tell me what to do…

  “I see you are enjoying my artwork.”

  Theryssa started at the sound of Azar’s voice. The blood rushed to her face as she realized she had been rubbing her thighs together staring at the picture…daydreaming as she knelt, shackled on the pirate’s bed.

  Quickly she hopped off onto the floor, stretching the chain on her neck as far as it would go. “I demand you unchain me immediately.”

  Azar smiled at her, turning her insides a few hundred degrees hotter. He was regarding her with the amusement of a predator, a big cat, in the company of a small, fluffy rabbit. “I see you’ve lost some of your initial fear.”

  Theryssa frowned. He was referring to her sudden show of spunk. It was in sharp contrast to her earlier performance as the ultimate helpless, ditzy damsel.

  Stars, this was going to be a hard line to walk. Not being too tough or too weak, all the while holding her temper in check so as not to bust out of her chains and give the pirate a sound thrashing.

  Something felt very wrong about that last idea, that of beating up her handsome, alpha male captive. Would he really be that easily overcome? She didn’t see why he wouldn’t be, being that he was an ordinary man and she was imbued with primale power.

  It was a pity, in a way. If ever someone looked like a primale, it was him. In fact, she had never felt this attraction to any primale, not even the strongest among the Guardians.

  Theryssa ground her teeth.

  There she went again…playing with mental fire. It was suicide to wish for this man to be stronger than her. Not to mention a complete betrayal of her mission. She was to collect her information and escape scot-free.

  Strange how she hadn’t considered taking him prisoner and forcing him to reveal the information. Her superiors hadn’t suggested that either. She wondered why.

  “I just want to go home,” she said, making what she hoped was a reasonable statement coming from the mouth of a captured female courier held by deadly pirates. “Please…won’t you just let me go?”

  Azar moved to the wall with the rack of floggers on it. Her stomach tightened. Was he going to pull one down? What would she do it he sought to apply the leather to her skin? She couldn’t allow herself to be flogged like a common slave.

  No, it wasn’t a flogger he wanted, but one of the knives. It was a long, jagged one, with a two-sided blade. For a moment she thought he might attack her. Her muscles flexed in readiness to break the shackles.

  She would have snapped them like twigs, had he threatened her even one iota.

  “You see this instrument?” He held the knife up in front of her, maintaining a safe distance of several feet.

  Theryssa relaxed her guard, but only a little. “It would be pretty hard not to see it.”

  Damn it, she’d used sarcasm. Definitely not in character for a damsel in distress.

  The remark earned her a second smile from her handsome captor. He was definitely analyzing her, testing and probing. She would have to be more careful. This was not a stupid man. Far from it.

  “You’re right, the question was rhetorical,” he acknowledged. “As for the knife, this is the blade which I once used to defeat an entire squad of Zanamian Assassins, eight in all, armed to the teeth. Their commander tossed it to me as a joke, prior to what was supposed to be my execution.”

  “Oh, my,” she said. Was he trying to scare her? How was she supposed to answer? He was expecting her to say something. Revealing that she was turned on by the thought of him fighting so valiantly and that she wanted him to throw her down on the bed and ravish her would probably not be in order. “It’s such a…big knife,” she observed.

  “Yes, it is,” he agreed. “Does it frighten you?”

  She suppressed a smile of her own. The poor man was so clueless, really. She could disarm him and shatter that precious weapon of h
is in seconds if she wished.

  Still, this didn’t stop her from fantasizing about him battling Zanamians to the death. Was he bare chested at the time, she wondered?

  “I-I can’t lie…yes, it terrifies me,” she replied.

  Blast it, why hadn’t she thought to say that in the first place? It would have fit in perfectly with her role.

  The pirate pursed his lips. “Funny, you don’t seem frightened,” he noted, innocently enough.

  “I’m hiding it deep inside.”

  Oh, fuck, this must be sounding so corny.

  “Really? That’s a new one on me,” said Azar. “Generally women are pretty vocal, at least in my experience. Being chained up, no escape, my knife so close to them, tends to make them pretty expressive, hysterical even.”

  “I don’t want to make you angry by saying the wrong thing,” she offered.

  “It’s not a matter of saying the right or wrong thing.” He shrugged. “I suppose it’s just a matter of my expectations.”

  “Your…expectations?”

  “Yes, I will admit I have never thought of it in those terms, but I suppose I have some expectation as to how a woman will act when confronted with a knife, by a murderous pirate such as myself.”

  Damn it, was he playing with her?

  “Well it is my first time,” she pointed out. “Having a knife pointed at me and all…”

  “Granted,” he nodded. “I can see where that might leave you at a loss. Might I ask you a question, though?”

  Theryssa frowned. He was being way too polite and charming for her liking. “Yes?”

  “Are you expecting to be ravished?”

  Theryssa felt instant heat between her legs. Was he reading her mind?

  If only she wasn’t on a spy mission. If only this man wasn’t a sworn enemy, she would be able to strip the clothes from his body, bare those fine muscles, and kiss and lick every inch of that bronzed skin of his.

  A natural man. Born of a woman. Not a test tube. He was like an animal in the forest. Raw and completely…sexual.

  “I am at your mercy. I know that.”