by Aline Ash
The feeling of him pulling me closer as he drives his rigid staff into me, plunging as deep into me as he can, fills my body with a heat that consumes me. I feel like electricity is crawling across my skin, like I might explode. The wave of sensations is overwhelming and my every nerve ending feels like it’s on fire. All I can do is lay there and let him use me as he wills, take him deep into me, and revel in the sensations washing over me.
Tulo grips my wrists harder and pulls me to him at the same moment he thrusts into me so deep, I feel like I’m about to split in half. The scream that bursts from my throat is deafening in my ears, but I can’t control it. My body thrashes and shudders as the most intense orgasm I’ve ever felt crashes down over me. I feel lightheaded and like I can’t catch my breath as I continue to come. Tulo holds himself within me, moving his hips slightly, rubbing my inner walls with those thick, raised ridges that ring his shaft, making me nearly blind with my orgasm.
Slowly, the sensations ebb, but my heart continues to race, and I continue to shake. There is a sultry light in Tulo’s eyes and a salacious smile on his lips that floods the center of me with heat. A low, throaty growl slithers out of his throat and even though my body is limp, and I feel spent, that noise ignites the fires of lust inside me again.
I use my inner muscles to grip his cock, to make myself even tighter, and as Tulo moves with me, we both cry out in pleasure. His releases my wrists and leans forward, driving himself into me faster and harder once more. He leans down, nearly folding me in half as he runs the tip of his tongue from the hollow of my throat do the tip of my chin, all the while continuing to plunge his rock hard staff into me.
Tulo fucks me with an eagerness and vitality that steals my breath. Our bodies crash together, and his fingers press hard into the flesh of my thighs. I feel his body tensing, his muscles tightening. I close my eyes as a wave of pleasure ripples through me, and feel his rigid cock begin to swell inside me.
Tulo grunts. He grits his teeth and I can see the strain in his face as he tries to hold off the inevitable. I clench my inner muscles one more time, making myself impossibly tight as he thrusts, and Tulo lets out a long, loud growl. I feel his cock erupt and gasp as I feel jets of his thick, warm cum filling me up.
We lay connected like that for several long moments as his cock continues to pulse, shooting more of his cum into me. Our breathing slows and we look at each other with a slow, warm smile. Tulo steps back, his deflating cock slipping out of me, along with a rush of his pale blue fluid. I reach down and touch it. It’s got a warm, almost tingly property to it that makes me laugh.
He looks at me and I stare back at him in wide-eyed wonder. On the one hand, I can’t believe I did this with him. On the other, I don’t know why I waited so long.
Chapter Twelve
Eva
I was surprised when they came for us the day after Tulo and I had sex for the first time. Wylto, the crime boss - aside from what he had done to me in that pit - has been relatively solicitous and kind since then and even transferred us to live in his mansion. Now, for several Tabiean weeks, we have lived in luxury compared to how we were forced to live before in those dark, dank underground cells
Though I am subjected to poking and prodding from their doctors even more regularly. It’s happened so many times already that Dr. Ryz, their head medic, has already become sort of a close acquaintance for me, as far as it can go in such circumstances.
But Tulo is still required to perform in the arena. I know his fights are basically rigged, but one bit of screwed up luck and he could be killed. He assures me there is next to no chance of that ever happening, but I always counter with the fact that next to no chance is not the same as absolutely no chance. But, as he always reminds me, there is nothing he can do but perform.
I keep trying to prod Tulo in the direction of planning an escape, but as of yet, he is not willing to even talk about it. I suspect that Wylto is blackmailing Tulo with something to make him obedient. And I need to know what it is. The rebellion needs Tulo, and I am not giving up my hope of getting us both out of here.
But for now, all that’s left is to continue playing out our assigned roles. While he is busy hacking and slashing people to bits in the arena, I get to be stared and gawked at by a host of alien creatures—some of whom look like they want to kill and eat me, others who look like they want to fuck me and then eat me. Wylto has made me his go-to drink waitress for the various games that are played around his mansion.
That way, he can still keep me on display without having me sit in a transparent box all day. Obviously, humans are a rare species around here and many of his clients pay top dollar or whatever other benefits they provide to see one in the flesh. I suppose I should simply be thankful he’s not allowing them to pay to screw me. A small blessing.
Being allowed to move freely inside the mansion while I work, I gradually study the place, hoping to find any breaches in security. But the more I learn, the more desperate I become. The place is an impregnable fortress, and any attempt to escape looks like a suicidal mission. But I will keep trying.
With I sigh, I carry a tray of multicolored drinks into a lounge area where Wylto and some of his friends, not all of them Gargolians, are playing a game that involves cards and dice. They are loud and obnoxious, laughing and talking to each other. It’s nice to see that the good old boys club has gone intergalactic.
I step to the table and offer one of the drinks I’m carrying to a short, squat man with blue skin, a wild shock of green hair on his head, a thick, bushy beard to match, and four arms. He’s vaguely humanoid, but he stinks like rotten meat that’s been left out in the sun too long.
He looks me up and down with his wide, bulbous eyes, taking in my every curve and feature. He licks his lips suggestively and nods approvingly. Well, I already know that perverted cretins are the same here in a galaxy far, far away as they are back home. The alien takes a mug from my tray and I move on, conscious of all the different eyes on me.
I finally make it to the head of the table where Wylto sits, and he takes the last mug from my tray. I’m just about to turn away when Wylto’s voice stops me.
“And how are you enjoying your new accommodations?” his voice booms.
Silence descends around the table, and all heads turn my way. I clear my throat and try to quell the flutter in my heart. “They are fine,” I reply. “Thank you.”
He looks at me, his eyes glittering malevolently. “And how are you enjoying your Tabiean?”
I feel my cheeks flush and I look away. Tulo and I have grown close – very close. I am coming to care for him in ways I never expected to when I first met him. But I’m not going to say that. I stand up straighter and meet Wylto’s gaze.
“We are enjoying our new cell just fine, thank you,” I say again.
He grunts and nods, no doubt hoping to knock me off balance. Although he has been somewhat gracious, Wylto still enjoys humiliating me in front of his friends and clients. He enjoys seeing me squirm and grow embarrassed. I learned that lesson quickly, and since then, I have done all I can to control my emotions and keep myself in check. I refuse to give him the satisfaction.
“That will be all.” He waves me off dismissively. “You may go now, human.”
I bite back the sharp reply on the tip of my tongue, knowing that would only lead to trouble. Instead, I simply turn and walk away. I follow the labyrinth of corridors from the card lounge back to the kitchen, where I am to fetch a tray of snacks next.
As I cross a large chamber, I stop when Omna steps into the doorway that leads to the kitchen. My blood turns to ice as my throat grows dry. She languidly crosses the room, stepping toward me. I can feel others behind me, and I cut a glance over my shoulder, seeing another woman and Omna’s two bodyguards step in and flank the doorway.
Omna stops a foot or two in front of me, and I meet her gaze, my eyes narrowed and my cheeks red with anger. I feel the other female standing close behind me. She’s not touching me,
but she’s so close I can feel the warmth of her breath on the back of my neck.
“You’re in my way,” I say.
“You think you’re special, don’t you?” Omna asks.
“I don’t think anything,” I reply. “I’m just doing my job. Now, if you’ll exc—”
My words are cut off as she shoves me, sending me flying backward. I hit the ground, flat on my back, and feel the embers of my rage beginning to stir. I climb back to my feet, my body tense and my jaw clenched.
I take a deep breath and let it out as I push my emotions to the side. I can’t afford to let my emotions rule me here. I know what she’s trying to do. If Omna provokes me into lashing out, she has free rein to beat me to a pulp. Or worse.
Without another word, I move to walk around her, only to have Omna slide into my path, blocking my way again.
“Where do you think you’re going?” she asks.
“I have a job to do.”
“You don’t go anywhere unless I say you can, slave.”
I glare at Omna, wishing more than anything that I had a blade in my hand right now. I would absolutely delight in gutting her. The female behind me pushes me forward but I manage to catch myself before I fall. She and Omna both laugh as she pushes me backward again. With a growl, I move to step around Omna again, but her friend behind me sticks her foot between mine and gives me a shove.
I pitch forward and hit the ground with a grunt. I try to stave it off, but the anger washes over me with the force of a tidal wave. I leap to my feet and swing the tray in my hand. It connects with the side of Omna’s friend’s head solidly, my entire arm vibrating with the impact. She stumbles to the side and falls to a knee, looking disoriented from the blow.
I feel Omna coming behind me, so I spin, lashing out with the tray once more. She wasn’t ready for it and the tray catches her square in the mouth. I watch as one of her sharp, pointed teeth is knocked down her throat. Dark blood sprays from her mouth, and she staggers backward, stunned.
Omna’s friend has recovered and drives her fist into me. I fall to my hands and knees, seeing bursts of light behind my eyes, desperately gasping for breath. Omna strides toward me, a look of absolute malice on her face. I watch, almost as if in slow motion, as she drives her foot forward.
The kick to my ribs is so painful, it doesn’t even hurt. Not at first. I think my body needed a minute to process that level of pain because when it hit, I felt like a bomb had gone off inside of me. I curl into a fetal position, unable to draw enough breath to even scream or cry. As I struggle to breathe, I see darkness at the edges of my vision, and I’m positive that I’m about to die.
“What is the meaning of this?”
Wylto’s booming voice fills the room, reverberating through my bones. I open my eyes and see him cross to Omna, his voice twisted in rage.
“You have been warned to stay away from the human,” he hisses.
“She struck Ngala,” Omna protests, then pointed to her own mouth. “She struck me as well, Father.”
“And I am sure you did nothing to provoke such an act,” Wylto says, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Omna falls silent, but she looks at me, her face a mask of the purest hatred. Then Wylto looks over at me casually before returning his eyes to his daughter.
“I will only warn you one more time,” he says, his voice low and menacing. “If I see you anywhere near the human again, I will end you. Daughter or not. You know how vital she is to me. I will not have you kill her.”
“You care more about her than you do about me?”
“At the moment, yes,” Wylto sneers. “Right now, she serves a purpose. She plays an important role in my plans. What is it you do for me, Daughter?”
Omna’s eyes smolder with rage, and I’m half-convinced I’m about to see them fight to the death right here and now. But she apparently thinks better of it as she slowly loses steam and backs down. Her eyes, though, don’t lose a fraction of their heat as she stares daggers through her father.
“You will come to regret this,” she hisses.
“The only thing I regret is not having a son.”
“Your time will come to an end, old one,” Omna spits back. “Mark my words, your time will come to an end.”
“That’s true of us all,” Wylto replies. “And as for the end of my days, I weep for this family with you in charge.”
Omna opens her mouth to speak but then closes it again, apparently thinking better of it. Instead, she turns on her heel and storms away, her friend Ngala following quickly behind. Wylto blows out an exasperated, irritated breath and looks at the two guards beside the door.
“Take her back to her chambers,” he snaps, pointing to me. “And send in the med-droid.”
The two goons stop before me and grab me up. They carry me between them, every step sending a sharp jolt of pain through me. I simply want to crawl into my bunk and lay down.
All I want is for the pain to end.
Chapter Thirteen
Tulo
He rushes in, his sword raised high overhead. I turn the blade aside and deliver a vicious kick to his midsection. The tall, well-muscled Pozyrian’s breath explodes from him in a loud gasping grunt. He doubles over, and I follow it up with a kick to his backside, sending the Pozyrian ‘warrior’ sprawling.
He lands on his face and lays still for a moment, the Gargolian mob around us laughing uproariously and cheering. I walk away from him, disgusted with this whole spectacle. Inside this enclosed fighting pit within Wylto’s manor house, the sound of the applause even of quite a few viewers is thunderous. I almost don’t hear the Pozyrian, apparently having caught his breath, rushing me from behind. Why do they always have to do this?
I do hear him, though, and casually spin to the right, deflecting his thrust, and slashing him across the back as he stumbles by me. My blade cuts through his tunic and his purple skin, sending a rush of his bright yellow blood spilling down his back. The creature falls to a knee, a low keening wail issuing from its throat, in obvious pain.
With the Pozyrian’s blood spilling onto the floor, the viewers are is in a frenzy. They mock the fallen man, jeering, and call for his blood. A tremor of sympathy ripples through me. This is not honorable. This is not right. The Pozyrians are a gentle species. They do not make war. They farm. Fighting is not in their nature, and they are obviously not very good at it.
Killing this creature will be one of the many things I have done since being captured by the Gargolians—by Wylto—that I will regret for the rest of my days. But it is the only hope I have of seeing my precious sister, so I must do what is demanded of me.
The Pozyrian staggers to his feet once more and I have to wonder what he has been promised to make him fight so fiercely when he is clearly outmatched. It doesn’t matter though. He is merely one more obstacle standing between me and Daca, and so I do what I must.
As he rushes me once more, I sidestep him and swing my blade back in a murderous arc. There is a brief moment of utter silence in the arena as my sword strikes true. And when the Pozyrian’s head flies through the air, hitting the ground at my feet, the crowd flies into a frenzy, the sight of the beheading inspiring a massive wave of bloodlust. The Pozyrian’s body staggers a couple of steps before collapsing, a wide pool of that bright yellow blood spilling out around the stump of its neck. I look down into its wide, sightless eyes, and feel a pinprick of remorse.
“I do what I must,” I mutter.
* * *
“I wish to see Daca,” I demand.
Wylto sits at his dining table, gluttonously stuffing his mouth with a cut of meat. I grimace as I watch a rivulet of grease slide down the Gargolian’s scaly face. He doesn’t seem to notice as he sops up some of the grease and gravy on his plate and stuffs that into his mouth as well. He finally looks up at me as he chews, mouth open. It’s a ghastly sight that churns my belly.
He washes his food down with a long drink from a mug of dark liquid, then sighs. He leans back in his
chair, the wood groaning under his weight, and laces his fingers across his substantial belly, studying me carefully.
“Have you not enjoyed the hospitality of my home these last weeks?” Wylto asks, his voice deep and rumbling. “Good food, comfortable beds…you get to mate with your human pet as often as you like.”
I clear my throat and look down for a moment. It is true. After Eva and I mated the first time, Wylto had us moved into his manor house. We were given a very comfortable room to live in. We have eaten better than we ever did in the subterranean cells. And we are no longer put on display in his pets’ exhibition.
But I am still forced to fight in Wylto’s games, only this is for the most important clientele, the most influential Gargolians. For a couple of times Eva and I have been made to recreate our punishment scene to the delight of Wylto’s clients.
Porn is what Eva calls it. Given how ferocious Eva is as a lover, I tend to think that she has grown to, perhaps not like them, but to enjoy those sessions for what they are. And what they are is fuel for our often frenzied mating back in our chamber later.
But still, for all of the perks that have come with being moved into Wylto’s manor, I continue to be denied the one thing I desire above all else—to see Daca. To speak with her. To know that beyond a shadow of a doubt she is alive and well.
“You have promised—”
Wylto waves me off. “I know what I have promised. I do not need you to remind me.”
“I have done everything required of me,” I press. “I have helped make you wealthy—”
“I was wealthy before you,” he growls.
“I helped make you wealthier and more influential, then.”
He blows out a long breath, clearly annoyed. “Fine. That may be true,” he admits. “But I did not need you. Do not need you. I would be fine with or without you.”
