by Reagan Hawk
Sara stiffened. She wasn’t used to quite this much sexual frankness.
The man drew up short, his gaze coming to her. He smiled but it lacked a certain something. The way he watched her said he was sizing her up. He glanced to Malock. “Cousin, you brought me a new whore.”
Wincing, Sara fought to keep an even façade.
Malock flashed a smile. “We did, Utan. A prize to be sure. Look at her hair and her breasts. I imagine the treasure between her legs is as pleasing.”
Jaston said nothing, watching her in measured silence. For some reason she was pleased his attention was on her and not the two women dressed in less than she.
You’ve no right to be jealous. You didn’t want either of them.
That wasn’t true. Instead she wanted them both. She just couldn’t agree to being kept or collared—whatever they called it.
Malock covered the distance to her. “The life of service is not for all. She is spirited. She will do well.”
A tic began in Jaston’s jaw. He clenched his fists and seemed very on edge as Utan neared her as well. Sara stood perfectly still as the man lifted her hair and tilted her head to one side and then the other, as if he were inspecting livestock. She felt cheap.
Cheap was better than dead.
As Utan’s hand eased over her collarbone in the direction of her breasts, Jaston moved across the large room with a speed that shocked her. He grabbed Utan’s wrist and growled.
Malock touched Jaston’s shoulder and Jaston released Utan’s wrist. Utan said nothing of the matter. He continued his visual inspection of her, careful to avoid actually touching her again with Jaston close.
Something beeped behind the curtain and Utan walked away, vanishing behind the curtain to the left. Sara was fast beginning to suspect an office of sorts was back there. The two servant girls hovered, their trays at the ready as well as their bodies. Malock and Jaston paid them no more heed and she was thankful for that.
They’re mine.
She twisted slightly, her cheeks flushing at her thought. They weren’t her men. She hardly knew them. Still, she didn’t want the other women anywhere near them. The more the two women wiggled their bodies, the more Sara wanted to become violent. She was already on edge because of her situation.
*
Jaston held on to his beast by a thread. Utan was too close to Sara. Too close to what was his. Malock’s scheme to get her to surrender to them by appearing to give in to her choice to join a House of Pleasure was too much for Jaston to deal with. If Utan dared touch Sara in a sexual manner again, Jaston couldn’t be held responsible for his actions. From the way Malock positioned himself artfully between Jaston and Utan, Jaston guessed the man knew as much.
“Be calm,” mouthed Malock. “She will bend.”
So says you, Jaston said along their mental path. She is spirited. We know as much. So spirited she may join to spite us.
Malock laughed but said nothing.
The Heat is upon me, Jaston warned. She must bond to me.
It is upon me too, friend.
Jaston gasped. As much as he didn’t want to share a woman, the part of him that saw Malock as a sergeant brother, despite their past, couldn’t allow his friend to be lost to The Heat. Then we shall bond to her.
Chapter Seven
Sara did her best to wrap her mind around all she’d been through. The arrest, the detainment, the sure knowledge of death, the slave traders and now this. A whorehouse.
So far, she’d met about a half dozen girls who worked at this particular House of Pleasure. All seemed nice enough, but Sara knew better than to instantly trust them. She’d been around too many whores for hire growing up. She knew they’d often do anything for coinage, even turn on a friend.
The reality of her situation set in. She too was now a lady of the night. A woman for hire.
A whore.
She glanced at Malock and Jaston who were in deep discussion with Utan. A long, deep gold curtain was drawn back as another woman entered the giant sitting room area. She held the curtain open and watched Sara’s expression as Sara glanced past it. There, just inside the room beyond the curtain, were four women and two men. One man was standing with his arms out as two women sucked his long, thick erection. The other man was buried balls deep in a woman strapped to a bench. The fourth female stood there, naked except for a red collar. She had a riding crop in her hand, smacking her own palm as the man fucked the woman.
The woman holding the curtain open pushed aside her shift and ran her hands over her exposed nipple as she continued to watch Sara. Sara kept her head held high. She’d been with a couple of men in the course of her life. They hadn’t been anything special. One had taken her virginity in their fleeting few seconds together, and the other had been abusive to her—never giving her what she needed but taking what he wanted too often to count. She’d ended things with him and he’d not been pleased.
She was hardly a shrinking violet who would fade at the idea of a man’s cock being crammed into her, but she couldn’t fathom the idea of servicing many men. Of always having her body at the ready so they could get off.
Closing her eyes a moment, she internalized the hows and whys. It was this or be collared by Malock or Jaston—whatever that was exactly. The slave traders were gone. She had no other choice, not that she’d had much of a one with them still planet-side.
She couldn’t look away from the spectacle before her. The man getting his cock sucked moaned and took hold of the head of one of the females. He began fucking her face at a rate that looked painful. Instead of being sickened by the sight of it all, Sara found herself oddly turned on.
She was vaguely aware of Malock and Utan speaking quietly among themselves. She couldn’t tear her gaze from what was playing out before her. It was so erotic. So tempting. She wanted a man to be forceful with her. To fuck her face with the same need that man showed. She wanted the power the female clearly held whether the male admitted to it or not.
Jaston neared her, his body pressing close to hers. His manly smell assailed her and she found herself rocking back against him. He caressed her arms and then his lips found her shoulder. The kisses he planted upon her shoulders excited her. They promised of more to come.
Pride kept her from opening her mouth and taking back her decision to join the House of Pleasure. Right now she simply wanted to join with Jaston. To be one with him. To have his cock in her mouth, his hands on her body.
Utan neared, leery of Jaston. “My cousin tells me you are called Sara. As is customary, a show of skill is required. We do not take in virgins with no knowledge of how to please a man. I’m sure you can understand why.”
Sara froze.
Malock flashed an even wider smile. “You may join in the scene taking place before you or we can help you create one of your own.”
Jaston’s jaw remained tight as he slinked his long fingers around her wrist. “If you wish, Malock and I could play it out with you. It must be your choice.”
She eyed Utan. “And you?”
Jaston growled.
Utan put his hands up. “No. Not yet. First I would simply watch you please them. If you are any good and still wish to remain here in my establishment, then we would discuss numbers and contracted years.”
She swallowed hard. She could go in and join the women with the men already having sex, or have sex with Jaston and Malock. Closing her eyes a moment, she thought upon it. As Jaston caressed her inner wrist, the decision became clear. She opened her eyes and met his gaze. “You’d help me?”
“As would I,” Malock offered, much to the clear chagrin of Jaston.
Sara’s palms began to sweat. She found herself easing her hand into Jaston’s for support while she nodded to Utan. “I select them to assist in my scene play.”
The two serving wenches had the nerve to glance up at her, their gazes narrow and something akin to dislike roaming through their eyes. They were all Sara needed to find the courage to go forward.
> “Where do we do it? Right here?”
Utan laughed. “She is eager. That is good.”
He motioned to them all and then pivoted, heading to a different curtained area. He drew back the red drapery and held it as Malock, Jaston and she entered. Utan took the lead once more, guiding them down the long, ornately decorated corridor. Large, dark wooden doors with beautiful carvings on them lined the hall, evenly spaced. Sara could only guess as to what sexual depravity was taking place behind each door.
Utan finally stopped at one and turned the handle. She wasn’t sure what she expected. What she found wasn’t it. There was a large cross of sorts in the room on the right. To the left was an oversized bed, covered in varying shades of purple. On the back wall crops, floggers, and things she couldn’t even begin to fathom a guess at hung perfectly, appearing as decoration, though it was clear they were for use.
Sara wet her lips, her body tightening with need and fear. She was caught between the urge to run and the overwhelming desire to submit to Malock and Jaston—to let them do with her as they will.
Utan waved a hand into the room. “Enjoy.”
“Oh, we will,” Malock said, patting his cousin’s back.
Utan paused. “It is good to see the old you again, cousin. I thought this side of you gone.”
“As did I,” Malock returned.
Jaston watched the interplay and then looked to Sara. “You accept this openly?”
“The two of you with me?” she asked.
He nodded. “Us pleasing you. Our cocks finding solace in you. Our seed releasing in you.”
He had a way with words.
Blunt didn’t seem to do him justice.
“I accept it openly,” she said in a hushed tone.
“Have you known a man in your body before?” he asked.
She held his gaze. “I have.”
He didn’t look pleased. “Then you understand what to expect.”
She had no frakdom clue what to expect. She nodded all the same. “Of course.”
Utan left the room laughing softy, as if he could easily spot her lie.
Chapter Eight
Sara was so far out of her league and depth that there weren’t words. Her sexual exploits paled in comparison to what currently faced her. Yet she’d always yearned for something like this. For something more. Something dangerous and all-consuming.
Malock reached for her hand, taking it in his. He led her to the cross and turned her so her back was to it. “Hold up your arms. I will fasten them and then Jaston will do your legs.”
“I get tied to this thing?” she asked.
“You must be secured, yes,” Jaston answered. He neared her, his fingers easing under the thin material she wore. “This must go.”
She fumbled with it, her fingers not wanting to cooperate. Jaston helped, and when the material fell away, pooling at her feet, she heard the men with her gasp.
“Secure her,” said Jaston between clenched teeth.
Malock took her wrists and bound them snuggly, forcing her arms out, her breasts up and her head high. Jaston stood before her and soaked in the sight of her before bending slowly, his warm breath skating over her goose-pimple-covered flesh. She hissed as his fingers made contact with her ankles.
Stars above, how she wanted sex from this man.
His eyes flashed with color and he inhaled deeply, his focus on her sex. He leaned his head in, pressing his nose to her quivering pussy. The act was bold. It turned her on more. When his tongue darted out and over her exposed slit, she nearly died on the spot. Pleasure rushed through her.
Malock laughed and slapped one of her breasts playfully. He then did the same to the other, causing heat to flash through them. He pinched her nipples as Jaston licked her cunt again. The men had her at their mercy. She knew that now. She recognized they’d gotten what they’d first wanted, and she understood she wanted it too.
She strained against the bindings holding her in place. She wanted more. She wanted to be fucked.
Malock breathed her in. “Jaston, her scent.”
“I know,” Jaston said, taking a second from his sensual assault on her pussy. His chin glistened with her cream. The sight was erotic and she wanted more. She wiggled her hips as best she could.
Jaston’s gaze was feral, raw, and she knew he was in charge. That he’d merely permitted her to believe what she’d said. He was the type of man who demanded complete and utter surrender. She knew that now and she knew she was the type of woman who secretly wanted to give him just that.
She’d never been so naughty. So free with her sexual wants. It was liberating, not humiliating as she’d always assumed it would be if she gave in to her kinky desires.
“More,” she whispered.
The men shared amused looks. Jaston eased her legs open and buried his face between her thighs. Malock pinched and tugged at her nipples. Each time he did, there was a flash of pain followed quickly by burning pleasure. She liked it rough. Liked what he was doing to her body.
He dipped his head, leaning in, his mouth close to hers. Unable to stop herself, she pressed her lips to his. His tongue darted into her mouth and instantly began mating with hers. If the man fucked like he kissed, she was in for a treat.
Jaston thrust a finger into her tight, wet passage and she nearly came. She wiggled more, wanting another finger added. He obliged and she kissed Malock faster, the hunger in her burning to new levels.
Malock tore his mouth from her and looked away. It was then she noticed the fur sprouting on his forearms. She tempered her fear, her passion too great for it anyway.
Jaston withdrew his fingers from her and stood quickly by Malock’s side. “Old friend,” he said, his voice calm.
Malock didn’t respond.
Jaston lifted his glistening fingers and reached around Malock. He pressed his wet fingers to Malock’s lips. “Taste of our woman.”
Malock stiffened. “Our?” he asked, his voice sounding strained.
“Ours,” Jaston confirmed.
Malock glanced at her and she saw the signs of his pending change. He was part animal. She knew as much now. All the men were. It didn’t scare her now. It excited her.
They excited her.
She didn’t care how much of a fiend she was, how depraved. She wanted these two men and she’d have them. “Fuck me,” she said boldly.
The men shared a look and Jaston nodded to Malock. Malock in turn walked to the wall and pulled a lever. The cross she was affixed to began to lean back. She gasped and found herself lying flat on her back, attached to the cross, spread wide for them. Jaston was first to dip near her exposed sex. He pushed his tongue into her cunt and she cried out in pleasure.
Malock approached her face. With one hand he made quick work of his loincloth, tearing it away. His huge cock bobbed before her face. Eagerly, she opened her mouth. It took some positioning but he managed to fit himself at an angle that she could take him in her mouth. The minute his cock head passed her lips, she felt complete, as if she’d been in limbo all her life, waiting for this moment, for these two men.
Jaston finger-fucked her as she sucked with hungry need on Malock’s cock. Various scars marred his lips, but they took nothing from the beauty and perfection of his sculpted frame. His heavy, hard and now wet cock slid deeper into her mouth, touching the back of her throat. She relaxed, welcoming him.
Jaston added a third finger, stretching her wide, and she arched her hips up at him. He chuckled into her pussy and then stood. She didn’t look away from her taste at hand—Malock’s cock. He needed this. He needed her. And she needed him.
She sucked more.
Pressure against her entrance told her Jaston was there, ready to fuck her. She wanted it. Wanted him.
He pushed his cock into her slowly at first. He was larger than either man she’d had in her before and he seemed to understand that fact. He took his time, allowing her body to adjust to him. Soon, need outweighed common sense and she thrust up,
grinding herself deeper against his cock. He roared and then pushed deep into her. The pain gave way quickly to pleasure. She was so full. A cock in her mouth. A cock buried deep in her pussy. The way it should have always been for her.
She knew that now. Knew coming to this planet was no accident. They were what she’d always needed. And from the sounds of their pants and grunts, and the feel of their cocks in her, she was what they needed as well.
Malock fucked her face and she gasped for breath as his cock pushed deep down her throat. His ball sac slapped at her cheek with the odd way her head was turned. She wanted to touch him, to cup his ass and force him to thrust faster. With her hands bound, she couldn’t.
Jaston was a man who had pleased many women, she could tell from how his hips moved, how he knew to rub her clit with his thumb as he pumped in and out of her in long, steady strokes.
Malock put his hand in her hair and then pushed in deep, holding steady, his cock twitching. Seed jetted down her throat. She swallowed and couldn’t stop the smile that played at her lips as he withdrew his cock from her. He bent, his lips finding hers. The kiss was tender and full of emotion—emotions neither should feel so soon, but that were clearly there.
He broke the kiss and then turned her head so that she looked directly at Jaston as he stood between her open legs, fucking her pussy. “Look upon him,” Malock said. “For he is not known to fuck this way. Yet he soaks in the sight of you. He does not look away. Look how eager he is for you. Look at the raw need he holds for you.” He kissed her cheek. “That we hold for you.”
Jaston gripped her hips and lost his rhythm then. His speed increased and she thought she might break from his thrusts. Instead, her body reached new levels. It pulsed and then pleasure burst through her, emanating from her groin. She shook, thankful she was secured, or she’d have flopped like a fish out of water.
