At the first of her cries, Whimsy’s head snapped up. Her head swung in the direction of the door. The cries escalated in volume. Then the screaming started. Whimsy stood. “H-he’s killing her,” she said.
Chaldor, eyes narrowed, asked, “Just where are you from?”
She ignored his question. “We must do something.” She gasped as a rather loud moan issued from the room. She started towards the door.
“Do not,” Chaldor said. “He claims her and would not appreciate the interruption.” At her blank expression, he continued. “The sounds you hear are of pleasure, I assure you.”
Whimsy’s eyes widened. She shook her head. It was sinking in now. They’d bought her here to be claimed. They’d prettied her up to be raped by a stranger. He was raping Miss C15 right now, and Chaldor thought she’d enjoy it?
“How could you think—“ But her words were interrupted by Miss C15 yelling. “Don’t stop! Yes, yes! Fuck me! Yes! Oh! Oh! Don’t stop! Ah! Fill my pussy! Yessssss!”
She sat down in shock. Her face burned with embarrassment. How could the rest of them sit here and listen to what should have been a private moment? When it was over, the guards went in to extract her. One of the guards carried her gown in his fist. Another held Miss C15. She was naked and unconscious, covered in a fine sheen of sweat and her thighs were wet.
Editha stood. “More,” growled a deep voice from inside the room. Whimsy cringed. Editha’s gaze passed over her for a second and then moved on to the silver blonde. Whimsy was suddenly fiercely happy that this woman hated her. At the same time, she felt like a coward. But what could she do to stop what was happening? What could she even do to save herself?
She closed her eyes. Tears rolled down her cheeks as the sounds of the blonde’s pleasure began. She covered her ears, but she could still hear the moans. They were sick and perverted to sit here and listen to this. All too soon the guards went in to remove the woman. She too was naked and unconscious, her thighs damp with her dew. Her body tensed as she heard the cry, “More.”
“No,” she whispered as they came for her. She shook her head wildly. “I won’t do this. You cannot make me! I won’t, do you hear me? I am the daughter of––“
Editha’s slap stopped her cold. She’d never been struck before. Whimsy held her cheek in surprise.
“Stop this behavior this instant. You will not deny him. Do this and you will be released afterwards. Continue to resist and I will make you regret it every day for the remainder of your life.”
Whimsy swallowed. She didn’t have much choice. She was damned no matter the outcome. There was no one to appeal to. Chaldor seemed nice, sympathetic even, but he had picked her for this particular duty. Telling them she was a princess now would hardly be believable. She nodded to show her acquiescence.
The cuffs were removed and she allowed them to lead her forward. The doors were closed and locked behind her.
Chapter Three
The room was dark. Whimsy stood with her back to the door. The opposing wall was covered in dark burgundy drapes. The only lightning was provided by candles placed at regular intervals around the room. It was warm, so very warm. She frowned at the unusual sensation. It was as though waves of heat rolled over her body.
She stepped forward cautiously, squinting into the darkness. Candles were lit at the far corners of the room, but due to the size of the room, they proved inadequate lighting. She spotted the massive bed with its rumpled sheets trailing the floor almost immediately and looked away.
Whimsy swallowed. She pressed a hand to her belly to quell the funny sensations the heat was causing. The sensation seemed to be increasing. There was also an unusual scent permeating the air. It was rich, thick and somehow disorienting. She felt drowsy and drugged. Whimsy shook her head. What was it? Was it a drug? Is that how he had gotten the two other women to submit without a fight?
She took another hesitant step forward. A sloshing sound drew her attention to the right. In the shadows, almost tucked away in an alcove was a bathing pool. It was large and circular in shape. The water was dark. A large man stood in the middle of the pool. A very large man with a fierce scowl, Whimsy mentally amended.
He soaped his body with slow precise movements. He was spectacularly built, tall and muscular. She’d never seen a man so large before. Yet, he was perfectly proportioned. His skin was a warm honeyed tone and his features were beautiful and sensual. Black hair fell from a center part in a thick wavy curtain to his strong shoulders. His dark eyes finally lifted to hers. They narrowed. His long fingers wrapped around his turgid shaft and a hiss escaped his lips. His eyes never left hers as he pumped his hand up and down his thick length. He was well endowed in this area, Whimsy noted.
The clenching in her belly increased. Whimsy moaned. She turned and fled for the door. She knew it was locked. That wouldn’t stop her from trying to leave. She struggled with the knob, hoping the lock was weaker than it appeared. What she was going to do once she got on the other side, she never found out.
Giant wet hands slammed on either side of her head. She gave a small cry and whirled to face him. She hadn’t heard him move. He towered over her. This close, she could see that his eyes were a deep blue, the color of the night sky. He pressed in closer until her gown clung to his moist skin and then closer still until her back was flush against the door. The feel of his cock against her belly caused more of the curious clenching there. She inserted her hands between their bodies, pushing against his chest. His body was slick and he was strong. She couldn’t budge him an inch.
He did nothing for the moment, merely smelled her neck, his lips hovering over her skin. Whimsy closed her eyes. An uncontrollable trembling seized her limbs. The heat was stronger now, as was the fragrance. It seemed to spread from him, pounding over her in waves. The feelings he was effortlessly evoking in her were more frightening than the physical threat he posed.
“Delicious,” he finally voiced his verdict. His voice was sinfully deep, and thick with emotion. He tipped her chin back and kissed her. The touch was light and undemanding. Whimsy turned her head but he only followed. He tugged on her bottom lip with his teeth before running his tongue over it. With small pressure from his thumb, he opened her mouth for his further perusal.
Whimsy moaned at his taste. Her nipples instantly hardened and her pussy flooded. He slanted his mouth over hers. With the deeper kiss, her blood roared in her ears. She kissed him back helplessly.
He trailed kisses down her neck, homing in on a sensitive spot beneath her ear that had her gasping. “I-I won’t . . .,” she whispered, “allow you to take me . . . oh, don’t do that,” she ended in a shocked gasp as he thrust himself against her.
“Why not? You want me.”
“I don’t!”
He smiled against her neck. “Then why are you encouraging me?”
Whimsy dropped her hands to her sides. Without realizing it, she’d been stroking his shoulders and back. “I’m sorry.”
“No need to be sorry. I liked it. Damn, but you are sweet.” He licked her. “Are you this sweet all over?” He ran his hands up her back and crushed her breasts to his chest. She whimpered at the contact.
“I won’t let you take me on the same bed, on the same sheets that you took those other women.”
He laughed softly. “Like dessert, you want to be served on a different plate than the main course?” He nuzzled her ear. “Perhaps you even deserve it. The bedding can be replaced. I cannot wait the length of time it would take to replace the bed.”
Whimsy could have kicked herself. What was she thinking? She couldn’t let him take her at all. But her body had other ideas. It was ready, willing, and all too eager to be taken. She didn’t know desire this strong could exist. Saying no to him was sapping her strength. Each of his touches, his kisses, weakened her resolve.
He took her hand in his and led her to the bed. He removed a robe from the tangled sheets, slid it on and belted it. His erection was obvious beneath the silk. He was l
arge. Whimsy looked away despite the fact that she had already seen him, and felt him pressed intimately against her body.
He picked her up as though she weighed nothing and carried her to the doors, knocking in a series of quick raps. “Bring fresh bedding,” he ordered once the doors opened.
He took her to a bench in a corner of the room and sat upon it, holding her in his lap. Editha oversaw the changes made by a bevy of servant girls. The changes were made in short order, but Whimsy could see the girls beginning to sweat from the warmth of the room. Editha, who alone seemed to be unaffected by the heat, cast a warning glance at her before exiting.
All the while, he held her close, and Whimsy studied their linked fingers. His were thick and bronzed. Hers were slender and brown, only a shade darker than his skin. Once the changes were complete and they were alone, he dropped his forehead to hers with a groan. “Dessert, you know not what this gift to you has cost me.”
She could guess. His erection was hot and hard against her hip. She could feel his heat through the silk of his robe and through her gown. She closed her eyes. Myrna, she couldn’t do this! This man was a stranger to her. And if she did this, her life would be forever changed. She would be a social outcast amongst her people, despite her royal parentage.
She slid off his lap. “We need to talk.”
He stood and removed his robe. “I need you.”
Whimsy trembled and took a cautious step backwards. His body was hard and all male. He was as tall as one of the Gogath but thicker of muscle. She’d never seen anyone built like him. He was a warrior. The men of her colony were thinkers. They solved conflicts with words, not fists. This far into colonial space, the men were probably little more than barbarians. His heat, his want, radiated from every pore. She could feel his want. It was beating at her persistently. Her eyes widened as he opened and closed his fists in an effort to control himself. The corresponding flexing of muscle held her momentarily spellbound.
He advanced. She retreated.
Whimsy wet her lips. “Listen, you’ve already had two women tonight. You need to learn the difference between need and sheer gluttony.” She glanced behind her. She was not so stupid as to back up and fall conveniently into his bed. But the only other option was running. She was shoeless, but in a gown. Whereas his limbs were unimpeded and decidedly longer, the flowing gown was sure to trip her. How long could she escape him? Long enough to convince him not to attempt bedding her?
His hand shot out. She jumped back but not before he’d achieved his goal. Her gown sprang open, parting to reveal her body to his gaze. He growled. She realized that the smart thing to do would probably be to fling the gown aside and run, but modesty wouldn’t let her. She struggled to pull the edges together.
“So beautiful,” he groaned, touching her cheek and then burying his hand into the shining waves of her hair. His hand moved lower, stroking her neck and then her collarbone. He used the backs of his fingers to trace the black edge of the gown down to the swell of her breast.
This man was dangerous. She wanted him to touch her, had to resist the urge to lean into his touch. That thought scared her enough that she moved out of arm’s reach. He smiled and followed, this time overtaking her. He pulled her flush against his body, so shocking her that she released the edges of her gown. Skin to skin, she shivered. His deep groan only made it feel better. He rubbed his chest against hers, widening the gaping edges of material and teasing her nipples at the same time. His cock burned her belly like an iron brand.
He backed her up until the backs of her thighs hit the bed, then lifted her and crawled on after her. Whimsy wet her lips. Myrna, his heat was making it impossible to concentrate. She scooted away from him, careful to keep her legs tightly closed. He watched her, his eyes flickering over her body. He made no attempt to hide the hunger in his gaze.
She rolled, thinking to escape on the other side of the bed. He caught her foot and effortlessly pulled her back. He kept at it until she was spread before him. He tugged her into a seated position and removed the remnants of her gown. Whimsy was beginning to feel like he was toying with her, letting her glimpse freedom only to snatch it away. She was his prey. He arranged her body to his liking, draping her legs over his so that she was open to him. He ran warm hands over her arms, her back, her buttocks and her thighs. She bit her lip to hold back a moan. He smiled and kissed the corner of her mouth. He ran his tongue over her lips, pressing it to the seam until she opened to him.
His taste flooded her senses again. Whimsy moaned. She slid her fingers into his hair with the intentions of forcing him away. His flavor made her head swim. The heat was unbearable. Her belly contracted pleasurably. With a whimper, she sucked his tongue in wanton abandon. The kiss was hungry and had her eager for more. His mouth slanted over hers to deepen the kiss and he pressed her tight against his chest.
She didn’t realize he was moving until the cool bedding touched her back. Still he kissed her, fitting his body to hers until their pelvises were aligned. Each thrust of his tongue was accompanied by a forceful thrust of his hips into the cradle of hers.
He trailed kisses down her neck, licking and sucking his way down to her breasts. He cupped her breasts and raked his chest with her pouting nipples. She automatically arched for more. He moved down her body. At the first touch of his tongue to her breast, she cried out. He taunted her nipple with his tongue, lashing it with licks before finally settling in to suckle.
Whimsy couldn’t catch her breath. Each tug on her nipple made her gasp, made the curious clenching in her belly and her pussy so sharp that her hips arched.
He switched to her other breast. She hungrily thrust the nipple into his heated mouth, moaning as he suckled. He kissed her belly, stabbing his tongue into her belly button. He continued his downward descent until he was between her thighs. He inhaled, a look of ecstasy soothing his features. He feathered his tongue over the seam of her nether lips, now completely hairless thanks to her earlier bathing experience. “Delicious, Dessert,” he groaned. “All this cream just for me.” He caressed her with the back of a finger.
The touch as well as his tongue was gentle and teasing. Yet they both had her gasping. Her fingers tightened in his hair. Whimsy shook her head in an attempt to clear it. Her body felt languid. More than anything, she wanted to lay there and let the pleasure go on and on. He licked her more firmly this time. She arched convulsively. Myrna! She inhaled deeply. She had to make him stop. “Please,” she whispered and could not say more.
He misunderstood her. He continued, and soon he was teasing her clit. She didn’t want to, tried not to, and was immediately ashamed that she did, but she couldn’t hold in the scream of pleasure. She thought she would die when he began to suck. Her hips arched of their own accord. She began to plead with him. Whether she was asking him to stop or begging him not to, she wasn’t sure. Whimsy didn’t know half of what she said. She was on the threshold of her orgasm when he rose above her and fitted himself to her.
He pushed in slowly. She gasped at the unaccustomed pleasure-pain sensation. Whimsy rolled her hips for more. He gritted his teeth and held her still. “So small,” he moaned. “Do not want to hurt you.”
He pulled back and eased forward cautiously. She wanted all of him. She panted as he claimed her for his own. She had no will, no mind of her own. She was a puppet on a string and he her master. He caged her in with his big, hard body and she felt feminine and dainty. She’d never felt dainty. The heat of him, the smell of him made her want impossible things.
Is this what had happened to the other women? Was this why she’d heard them begging him to take them? Had she been drugged?
The thought sobered her. What was she thinking to have let things get this far out of hand? She was not raised to believe in giving her body to a man who cared nothing for her. She didn’t even know his name. Shame consumed her. Whimsy clenched her teeth in determination. She was not going to be screaming in ecstasy as he deflowered her. He’d recently fucked t
wo women on this very bed. She was not going to be the third. She didn’t know what Editha would do to her for her defiance, but she could not go through with this.
Whimsy gripped his hips. She knew it was little defense as he was already partially buried in her pussy, but thank Myrna, she’d stopped him in time. “Stop!”
“I will not hurt you. I will be gentle.”
“No. I can’t do this. I’m betrothed.”
His eyes narrowed. “What does this mean?”
She was momentarily sidetracked. “Your people don’t have betrothals? It means––“ She cut off with a gasp as he pushed forward, stretching her. “Please, stop!” Her nails dug into his hips. “Please. I can’t.”
His eyes locked with hers. “You want me. Your heat is scalding me.”
Whimsy squirmed. She couldn’t deny it. “I can’t.”
His growl was brutal and sent shivers down her spine. “I need you.”
Tears filled her eyes. “Please, don’t do this to me.” His eyes searched hers. “Please,” she whispered. For a long tense moment, he simply stared at her, his jaw working, the muscles in his arms bunching.
Then he rolled off her abruptly. “Get out,” he said, his deep voice strained.
Whimsy was paralyzed with shock. She inhaled slowly. She turned her head to look at him. “T-thank you.”
“Get out before I change my mind.” She rolled quickly. She grabbed the gown. She didn’t bother putting it on, merely hugged it to her chest. She ran to the door. It had been locked again after the bedding was changed. She pounded on the door. She ran into Chaldor as the door opened. He folded his arms around her, his face filled with concern.
She swallowed, dashing away her tears. No one questioned her. They closed the doors behind her and led her away. Whimsy’s heart was in her throat. For the moment, she knew they thought that she’d gone through with it. She’d come out naked. They’d probably heard her screaming as he kissed her. Chaldor kept shooting her sympathetic glances. What punishment would she receive when they found out that she hadn’t submitted to him?
Whimsy Page 2
