by Reagan Hawk
“Be still, yalenise. He goads you to get a rise from me,” stated Jaston, his lips to her ear.
Heat surged in her body. She gasped and then put both hands upon his forearm. He had her in an ironclad hold and oddly enough, she liked it. Her sex moistened and he drew in a deep breath, as did Malock.
“She is wet for us,” said Malock. “The wench is willing to serve. Perhaps she should be placed within a House of Pleasure. If the wench likes cock as much as I believe her to, she would do well there, servicing us all. A hefty purse would be made by her. She is pleasing to the eye.”
Sara gave into the urge to verbally lash him. “I’m willing to rip your—”
Jaston used his free hand to cover her mouth. “You are not yet bargained for. Do nothing to change the trader’s mind on the sale. I do not believe any would wish to remain with them. Pay no mind to Malock’s words. He says them to anger me. Not you.”
He was right. She tried to temper some of the rage she had for Malock. How could a man that good looking be that big of a jerk?
Malock cupped the front of his bulging loincloth. There was no denying what the man was packing. Damn him for making her horny while making steam want to come out of her ears. “I select you. I like my females with spirit. I shall purchase you.”
She held her tongue and resisted the urge to claw his eyes out. Jaston eased his grip upon her and she slid down the front of him. Boldly, she turned to face him. Her palms traced over his hairless chest. Desire consumed her. She wanted to lie down and open her legs to this man. She wanted to let him do with her as he may. Dammed Galaxies, she even wanted to let Malock fuck her, and he was a giant ass.
“She is mine,” Jaston repeated. His voice alone, this time even deeper than before, was going to bring her to culmination if she didn’t manage to get control of herself and soon.
She wrenched free of him and stepped away from both men. “I belong to no one.”
Malock offered a “we’ll see about that” look.
She felt her resolve shaking and knew she’d submit to both men very soon if she wasn’t careful.
Chapter Five
Jaston could barely tear himself from the fire-haired female. She was full of spirit, as Malock had pointed out. Small in stature, but taller than many of the females she’d arrived with, she wore the sheerest of wraps, showing off the fact she was clean-shaven between her legs. His mouth moistened at the idea of licking her slit, of watching her writhe with pleasure as she lay tied to his bed.
His entire body tightened at the sight of her there. Her breasts were on the large side yet not overly so. Slightly more than a handful. The perfect amount. Her nipples were pebbled points nearly begging him to dip his head and suck upon them through the material. The beast within him wanted out. It wanted to fuck the bounty before him just as the man did.
Her skin was indeed pale. Malock had not been mistaken. So creamy, so white. It would pink up amazingly if Jaston was to spank her ass, teasing her before he fucked her from behind. Maybe even from the front—she was that fetching. He could already imagine his dick pushing through the folds of her pussy. She’d be tight. He knew it. She’d be wet too. He could smell the wetness upon her already.
She was hot for sex, her pussy all but begging for pleasures. Pleasures he could provide.
He was too close to The Heat to dare to do anything with her without a long, long visit to his special room at his dwelling—the room that housed the items created to give the Ralen men sexual release, but the idea of Malock laying claim to her set his teeth on edge. Malock would not collar the beauty before him. The fire-haired female was his and his alone. The only collar she would wear was his. No other.
She was full of spirit but he could sense the desire to submit on her. It rolled off her in waves. She would look so pretty on her knees before him, taking his cock between her pink lips. The green of her eyes was deep and reminded him of the protected forest areas he’d seen once on Earth. He couldn’t seem to look away from her gaze.
The beast pulsed, wanting free, wanting to bond to the woman before him. Malock couldn’t be permitted to collar the woman. Not her. Any female but this one.
He let out a long, slow breath, fearful he’d react and harm her or scare her. He cursed his ancestors and the great sickness that had ravaged the planet long ago, leaving the males virtually untouched, but destroying their female population. The males were forced to look off world to mate. Maybe he would not have such a strong drive now had there never been a female shortage.
No. That wasn’t true. He knew the female before him was different. That she was created for him. His to be collared, though she did not seem to take kindly to the idea just yet. He could not blame her. He’d spent much time off world and serving as hired muscle on others—like Earth and its sister planets. They did not collar their females there. They used small rings worn on fingers to signify their bonds. Jaston preferred his people’s way—a collar around the neck left no mistaking to whom the female belonged, of the commitment they’d agreed upon.
He could already picture her hair of fire cascading around a black collar bearing his marks and symbols. His woman would look fierce and seductive. And she would be his and his alone.
Malock looked her over slowly. “Yes, I will collar her.”
“You will do no such thing,” the female snapped.
“Then you select the Houses of Pleasure?” asked Malock, appearing amused.
Jaston’s teeth ground together. “She does not.”
“Wait. Not so fast.” She looked at Jaston. “Is that a whorehouse?”
“It most certainly is and you will not choose it.”
He saw the challenge in her eyes and knew his approach had been wrong. This female was not quick to bend to his whim as all others he’d ever encountered had been. This one seemed to enjoy standing in opposition to everyone. He fought the urge to smile. She was perfect. She would also find herself tied to his bedposts soon enough. He would do whatever was necessary to ensure she was not in service at the Houses of Pleasure. If that meant securing her to his bed, so be it. She was to be his.
He shook his head, trying to reason why he was so firm in this belief. The longer he stared at the beauty before him, the more he understood the tales of old. She was truly created for him. He was sure of it.
Malock raised a hand to gain the attention of the traders. Traders who feared Jaston because of their past run-ins with him. “I want this one.”
“She is mine,” Jaston said, close to shifting forms and ending Malock once and for all.
Malock glanced to the woman. “Have you a name, female?”
She flashed a dangerous smile at him. “Sara.”
Sara.
Jaston liked the name instantly.
Sara glanced in his direction and then paused. Her eyes widened. “Your teeth.”
He touched his mouth. Dammed stars, his anger had caused his teeth to lengthen. He took a calming breath and his teeth returned to normal.
“You are safe,” he said. “It is the way of Ralenium males.”
Surprise lit her face. “I’m on Ralen?”
Malock licked his lips. “You’ve heard of us?”
“Nothing good,” she shot back quickly, and then her lips twitched as if she was trying not to laugh.
Jaston noticed it then, the lack of hate pouring off Malock. The man had been cloaked in it for many cycles—since the Battle of Tasieni. Now it was gone. Yes, he continued to goad the female, but it was almost playful for Malock, not malicious. Tiny glimpses of the man Jaston remembered began to show through.
Jaston would have remarked, but Garon and Lorne stood near a small female and Garon looked angry.
“Who dared to touch her?” demanded Garon.
Jaston looked to the female nearest Garon and noticed the bruising upon her cheek. His gut wrenched and he stared around at the rest of the lot. All were marred in some fashion including the lovely one who demanded his attention. His blood boiled
.
Lorne pushed Garon back before he could charge the traders and Jaston considered taking up his mission. Already the traders seemed on edge and fearful. If they decided to leave without negotiating a deal and take the women, Jaston’s female would be gone from him.
He nearly roared. That would not happen.
Lorne shoved Garon again. “I want them dead as well, but this isn’t the answer. If you continue to show your hand, they will put too steep a price upon her head.”
Garon stepped back.
“You marred the merchandise,” Lorne said to the traders. “Do you think we’ll pay full price for this group?”
Huddling up, the traders stayed in deep conversation for a bit before one braved speaking to the Ralen men. “Half,” he said, his voice hard to make out. “You will pay half or we will leave.”
Jaston considered ripping the breathing apparatus from the man’s face and then smashing his face in with his fist. He resisted. It was difficult.
“For the lot?” Lorne questioned. “Half? Have you abused them all as well?”
Lorne pushed too far. He was jeopardizing Jaston’s destined one. Jaston looked to the traders. “We will pay half for the lot. Now leave.”
Some of the women made sounds indicating they were afraid. Sara and the woman Garon and Lorne had been close to began speaking with the other women. One of the others sobbed hysterically.
“Shh,” eased Garon’s female. “It could be worse. We could be back on board with the walking and talking fishmen.”
“You heard what the guards told us before we landed,” one of the other women said, crying as well. “They said these men are cruel and will rape and kill us if we misbehave.”
Jaston and Malock shared a heated look before centering their rage directly upon the traders. Much to Jaston’s surprise, Malock partially shifted forms. His legs were now covered in black fur as were his arms. His fingers became claws. He snarled at the guards.
Other males fully shifted. Most of the females proceeded to scream. Jaston was torn between killing traders and calming the women. Women he knew little about other than how to fuck them. He picked what he did know. Intimidating. He moved toward the traders. They in turn bolted, running for their ship. The main control center released their electronic hold upon the vessel. The traders hurried away.
“It would appear this lot of women is free,” said Lorne.
Garon spun around, pointing to the men who had shifted into beast form.
Return back at once, he shouted on their mental path. You frighten the females.
Malock and the others returned to normal form quickly. Though now the ones who had done full shifts were naked. The women around them stared with wide eyes.
Jaston lifted his hands in a calming gesture as he neared the women. “We are Ralenium. We are a proud race. Raping and killing women is not what we do.”
“You’re monsters. Beast monsters,” a small one in the back yelled.
She was right. They were monsters by her definition of the word. He exhaled and spoke calmly to them, “We will find lodging for you until arrangements can be made to have you taken to Tagun, our sister planet. The Union is in force there. You will be able to…”
Sobs, cries and a screech sounded from the mass of women.
Sara frowned and then shook her head. “Stop helping. The more you talk the worse it gets.”
Torn between wanting to kiss her and throttle her, Jaston merely winced and then stood his ground. Several of the men he oversaw actually had the nerve to laugh. He made a mental note to run them ragged during training come first light.
“Most of us have nowhere to go, and if we’re taken to a Union-controlled planet, we’ll end up in prisons or far worse,” said Garon’s woman.
Lorne lifted his arms. “As touching as that is, Ralen is not a planet that takes in refugees. The women who reside here are married, or whores who service any man who enters the Houses of Pleasure. If you wish to remain here, I suggest you warm up to the idea of being selected by a man or fucked by many and quickly. We’re busy people. We haven’t the time to devote to—”
“We understand what you’re saying,” returned Garon’s woman.
The women huddled and spoke. It seemed to be forever before Garon’s woman stepped forth. “We accept your terms.”
“Our terms?” asked Garon.
The woman nodded. “We accept the terms laid out that if we wish to stay, we must be selected by a male of your race or we are to be placed in your Houses of Pleasure to service men’s needs. I have one request. Any women not selected, may they be given a chance to work, to assist, to do anything other than be sent away or sent straight to the Houses of Pleasure?”
“No,” said Lorne. “Either they are taken by a male or they’re taken to Tagun. This isn’t open for debate.”
Jaston knew Garon and Lorne were communicating on the mental path their kind often used. “What he said,” stated Garon. “No discussion.”
The females spoke amongst themselves for a moment longer. “Fine.”
Jaston went straight for Sara. As did Malock.
She took a large step back from him and actually went towards Malock. Confused, Jaston drew up short. She wouldn’t dare select Malock over him.
Would she?
“I pick the Houses of Pleasure.”
As the words fell free from her pink lips, Jaston’s gut tightened. All reason left him and his beast screamed at him from within to grab the female, take her into the forest and fuck her until his seed took root and she found herself claimed by the ways of old. He made a move to do just that.
Malock pushed in front of him, blocking his path to the woman.
“Move,” he ground out, his mouth partially shifted.
“Old friend,” Malock said, causing Jaston to take pause. Malock had not referred to him as a friend in a very long time. Malock lowered his voice. “This one is headstrong. She must feel she has choice. Permit her this. We will speak with Utan. He will understand and help us.”
Utan oversaw the Houses of Pleasure. He was head of the guards who protected the women and ensured the day-to-day operations of the whorehouses. Utan and Malock were first cousins, and requests from blood were taken seriously.
Jaston did not relax. He locked gazes with Malock. “You wish to collar her and take her from me. This is more of your trickery. More of you wanting to keep me from happiness.”
“Jaston, I have sensed The Heat upon you. I know how close you are to falling over the edge. The same edge that forced us to hunt Jayton.”
Confused, Jaston shook his head “I have not been suffering that long.”
Malock touched his shoulder lightly. “You have. We both have. I know you have always believed too much ale on that night caused memories to be unreliable and even black, but that was not the case. We lost control then, Jaston. Me more so than you.” He closed his eyes. “When we woke the next day, we were already high from our win in the battle and you seemed to have no memory of anything beyond that. I envied that. I wanted to forget.”
Horrified at the idea he’d lost control, Jaston stiffened and looked to Sara who stood several feet from them, looking like she was rethinking her choice of a whorehouse. Maybe it was the best place for her. If Jaston had already lost control of his Heat, then he could harm her without meaning to. He nodded. “House of Pleasure it is. Come.”
She opened her mouth and then closed it quickly. She bowed her head and followed close behind him. The walk to the nearest House of Pleasure was long and Jaston suspected Sara’s feet hurt. She was not Ralenium. She would not be accustomed to walking in bare feet or even thin boots made from hides of indigenous animals. She was from an inner planet. The innerworlders were not as hardy of stock as the Ralenium males.
Sadness enveloped him. He considered carrying her, but the spirit in her would no doubt counter any attempts he made to offer comfort. It was best to let it play out. Malock might very well be on to something.
; Chapter Six
Sara stared around the expansive room and marveled at the reds it was draped with and painted in. The color was so rich that nothing as deep and vibrant as it would have been found on her home planet unless it was attached to a hefty coin price. Fresh white flowers of some type were placed in decorative vases throughout the large sitting room, offsetting some of the red. Two women approached from the left curtain area. They kept their heads bowed as they entered, trays of food and drink in their hands.
Sara found herself slightly jealous of their presence. Their nipples were pierced by gold jewelry, the chains attached to them circling their nipples twice then looping through a belly button ring as well. Thin scraps of high-end material covered their sex, but when they turned around only sheer fabric draped over their backsides. The women had tight bodies, and the way they kept moving closer to Malock and Jaston, Sara wondered just how well the men with her knew those tight bodies.
The one near Malock shook her hips in a tempting manner. She pushed the tray of food in his direction, keeping her head bent, never making eye contact with him.
“Master,” she said in a hushed tone. “May I serve you?”
Master?
Sara bit her inner cheek to keep from commenting. Worse yet, she wanted to be the one serving him—not some tart in gold chains. What was wrong with her? She wasn’t a servant girl. She wasn’t prone to bending to another’s whim.
Malock took a piece of fruit from one of the trays the woman held, his gaze lingering on the woman. He popped the fruit into his mouth and then ran his knuckles over the woman’s exposed breast. He pinched her nipple and Sara nearly smacked his hand away from the woman.
The woman gasped and swayed her hips more. It was easy to see she liked the pain.
“Malock,” a man said as he entered the room. He lacked the loincloths the other two wore, wearing instead leather pants that molded to his muscular body. He was shirtless but had gold armbands upon each biceps. The strong resemblance between him and Malock made her wonder if they were any relation. “What do I owe the honor? Do you want a female to spank or does your cock require a good suck?”
