by Meg Harris
Seeing the direction of his gaze, she slid her hand down her flat stomach and began to move it, slowly, between her thighs. “I’m very wet,” she whispered. “So wet that I could take all of you inside me in a single thrust.”
Her evocative words compelled him to imagine sliding into her, and the thought was enough to make him ache violently. At that moment he would have given almost anything to slam into her wet sheath and explode in the incredible pleasure he knew she could give him. But he knew enough about the Zytellians to know what the ultimate outcome would be if he allowed her to seduce him.
He would never be free of her again.
“Go to hell,” he said between his teeth.
She removed her hand, and he saw her moisture glistening on her fingers. Gods, she was wet. Incredibly wet. The wild longing to be inside her assailed him. “You say that now,” she said, “but you’ve only been near me for five minutes, and already your body is straining for me. Begging for me.”
“My body doesn’t know what you are. And my cock does not rule me.”
“It will,” she said softly. She reached out her fingers, damp with her own moisture, and slid one finger across the tip of his penis.
Pleasure, irresistible and overwhelming, exploded in his body. Unable to stop himself from reacting, he tilted his head back and uttered a guttural, hoarse cry. His erection jerked frantically, and he knew he was on the verge of climax and utterly helpless to prevent it.
She was right. He was totally at her mercy.
And part of him liked it.
“That felt good,” she whispered. “Didn’t it?”
It had felt better than good. Something about her pheromones had made him exquisitely sensitive to touch. He had never in his life experienced a sensation even remotely like that one, and she had done so little, caressed him so lightly. If she were to wrap her hand around him—
He struggled, very hard, to drive that thought from his head, but the image was burned into his mind, taunting him, tormenting him. The image of her hand, sliding up and down his shaft, stroking him, pumping him, until all his muscles convulsed in the intense, overwhelming sensations of orgasm…
“Look at me.”
He became aware he was leaning back against the wall, his eyes screwed shut, every muscle taut. Slowly he opened his eyes and looked down at her, seeing the gleam of triumph in her violet eyes.
She opened her mouth in a smile, and he saw her small, catlike fangs, glistening with venom.
Slowly she reached toward him again, and again her finger slid across the blunt head of his penis. All his breath was driven from him in an agonized cry of pleasure, the ecstasy so overwhelming, so brutal in its intensity, that he could barely stand it.
If only she would touch him once more, he knew he would explode in a shattering, devastating climax.
Gods forgive him, he ached with an all-consuming need, and he couldn’t resist the pleasure she offered. He knew well enough what she would require, but he also realized he couldn’t fight her and her pheromones.
“Please,” he whispered harshly.
He watched, fascinated, as a drop of venom slipped from one of her fangs and fell to her lower lip. She licked it off, and he watched, enthralled by the slow, seductive motion of her tongue. Immediately his mind filled with thoughts of her licking his cock, stroking him with her tongue, tasting him, and then sucking him into the warm depths of her mouth.
In some hidden, rational corner of his brain, he knew she’d deliberately licked away the venom to make him envision that, to focus his mind on her lush lips and wet tongue, yet he couldn’t seem to stop the images that rioted in his mind.
“Please what?” she asked throatily.
“Please,” he whispered, beyond caring that he was begging. He would have crawled on the floor to get her to end this. “Please…touch me again.”
She moved her hand between her thighs and stroked herself, lazily, while he writhed with aching need, unable to look away from her hand as she pleasured herself. Her scent grew even stronger, driving him wild. At last she reached out her hand, her fingers soaking wet with her own moisture, and he leaned back against the wall, shuddering with the need for release, knowing that the torment was about to end in a brilliant explosion of dazzling pleasure. He squeezed his eyes shut, clenched his jaw, and braced himself.
Nothing happened.
He opened his eyes and found her standing there, watching him through her catlike violet eyes.
“Please,” he whispered again.
The smile of triumph quirked her mouth again. “I won’t make it so easy for you, Terran. I’m going to leave you now.”
Oh, Gods, no, she couldn’t leave him like this. He couldn’t bear it.
Some of his dismay must have shown in his eyes, because she burst out laughing. “Don’t worry. I’m going to free your arms after I leave. You can bring yourself the release you need so desperately, if you want.” She flashed an evil smile that displayed her savagely sharp fangs. “But you should be aware that I’ll be watching you on video.”
A cold hand wrapped around his gut as he followed her gaze and saw the blue lights of four cameras, mounted high against the ceiling in each corner of the cell. He’d begged for release, pleaded with her to pleasure him, and Gods only knew who might have been watching. Strangers? Worse yet, his crew?
And the worst part was he knew he’d continue to beg if she touched him again.
“So,” she said, turning for the door and gathering up her discarded clothing, “it’s up to you. You can ease the ache you feel, but I’ll be watching every minute of it.” She glanced over her shoulder and stared deliberately at his swollen, throbbing erection. “Believe me, I’d like to see you come.”
Still naked, she strode from the cell.
When the door closed, the magnetic seal of his manacles snapped open. With a gasp of relief, he let his hands drop and leaned back against the wall.
Gods, he’d never been this aroused in his life. This hard. His penis was excruciatingly rigid, and his aching balls were drawn up tightly against his body. The scent of her, exotic and alluring, still lingered in the cell, and he had the uncomfortable certainty his arousal wouldn’t ease until the scent dissipated. That could take hours.
In the meantime, he’d have to distract himself.
He stood up and walked across the cell, seeing nothing but blank gray metal walls. He didn’t like being confined, accustomed as he was to the spacious rooms of his parents’ enormous stone-walled castle, accustomed as he was to Terra’s wide-open spaces. He had spent almost every day of his youth exploring the vast forests and broad meadows of his parents’ realm, and being imprisoned in such a small space made him feel restless and edgy, like a wolf in a cage.
He spent a few moments trying to force the door open, but it was obviously magnetically sealed, and all his strength couldn’t budge it. He glared up at the cameras and thought about trying to disable them, but they were out of reach, and there was no movable furniture he could stand on.
Unfortunately, there wasn’t much here to distract him from the sweet fragrance that lingered in the cell.
And all he could think of was his throbbing, insistent erection.
He couldn’t help himself.
Slowly, he reached for his cock.
Chapter Two
Tiryl, Leader of the Zytellians, lounged back in the comfortably upholstered chair, grinning with mingled amusement and anticipation as she watched the image of the Terran on the monitor. She’d focused the camera on the Terran so she could have a close-up view, and then she’d sent the security guard out of the room to ensure a private show.
This was the part of retraining she loved best…watching a man struggle against his impulses, struggle to convince himself he was able to control his body’s reactions, until at last he surrendered and accepted his proper role as an inferior.
Prince Barrak, as he called himself—soon enough he’d learn there were no princes among the Zyte
llians—was a striking man. Entirely too good-looking to be wasted on anything other than sex. His ebony hair fell past his shoulders in a barbarically long mane, his eyes were a beautiful dark green, and his face was a vision of stark masculine beauty. He had incredibly broad, muscled shoulders, the muscles on his chest and abdomen bulged as if they’d been carved by a sculptor, and his hips were narrow.
As he stalked restlessly across the small cell she noticed his ass was tight and solid. And there was the incredible view from the other direction…
She chuckled softly as he lost the battle with himself and his hand moved toward his erection. They all lost the battle eventually, and when she was the retrainer, they usually succumbed almost immediately. Among a species noted for strong pheromones, hers were more powerful than most, which made her all but irresistible to men, and left most males totally out of control of their own actions. And if the pheromones didn’t force them to lose control, there was always the venom.
It didn’t surprise her that Barrak had lost control of himself so quickly. He had been highly aroused by her pheromones, and then she had teased him mercilessly. In fact, his cock had jerked so hard that she’d been concerned she’d pushed him too far, that he was going to come before she planned to allow it. But her timing had been perfect. She’d left him right on the verge of orgasm.
It had been difficult resisting the impulse to touch him a third time. The thought of his erection pulsing in her hand, his scalding seed spurting over her abdomen and breasts, made an ache build between her legs. Idly, she moved her hand down to assuage the ache while she watched the monitor.
The Terran man stood with his legs braced apart, his head tilted back. He slowly wrapped his fingers around his long, hard flesh and stood without moving, evidently in no hurry to finish. Tiryl watched, intrigued. Most men she’d known, when so desperately aroused, would simply grasp themselves and pump rapidly until they exploded.
This man, on the other hand, seemed to enjoy teasing himself.
His thumb slowly began to stroke across the delicate tip of his penis, in a slow, gentle rhythm. Tiryl realized he was remembering her finger caressing him, and a rush of heat and warmth gathered between her legs. Her nipples hardened to the point of pain, and venom gushed into her mouth. The venom had no effect on her, but the sweet taste served as a reminder of her arousal.
Barrak’s thumb continued to sweep back and forth through the moisture that glistened on the broad, dark red head of his cock, and now, very slowly, he began to move his hand up and down his shaft. Tiryl watched, awestruck by the size of his erection, astounded by his impressive self-control. Her hand moved quickly against her own slick flesh, and she was aware of her own breath coming in shallow, panting gasps.
Gods, she was going to come before he was.
And that, she realized belatedly, was why he was doing this. Humiliation often helped break a man of his arrogance, so she’d let him know she would be watching, since most men preferred to masturbate in private—particularly Terrans, who were noted for being prudish. He hadn’t been able to stop himself, but he was trying to retain the upper hand in the situation by drawing her into his pleasure, make her gasp and twitch and moan as much as he did.
And she couldn’t resist the pleasure any more than he could.
His hand slid down toward his dense, dark curls and cupped his balls, which had pulled up taut against his body, gently squeezing and toying with them, then caressing the sensitive place just beneath them. She saw his teeth grit together, his eyes clench shut, as he fought against the climax that he so desperately wanted.
She put her feet up on the desk and slid a finger inside herself, thrusting hard, imagining his cock inside her body. It seemed like such a waste for him to bring himself to orgasm. A waste of a good erection, she thought whimsically. But she knew she’d get to use his body eventually, in any fashion she chose. The thought of him plunging into her, over and over again, made her shudder.
At last he let one finger slide lightly up the underside of his quivering penis, all the way from the base to the head, and began to trace gentle, teasing circles around the tip. She watched the monitor, spellbound, as his cock pulsed in a relentless, pounding rhythm. So close. So very close…
It won’t be long now. It can’t be.
She realized she was delaying her own pleasure to share in his. Which was ridiculous. She was a woman, after all. Men existed solely for her pleasure, and she had never in her life failed to take advantage of that fact.
And yet she couldn’t bring herself to climax without him.
She withdrew her finger and began to tease her clitoris, lightly, the way he was touching his own body. It felt good. No, it felt wonderful. She’d never denied herself this way, never made herself wait for a climax. Certainly no man would have dared deny her. Her hand slid back and forth over the hard ridge of her clit, and she avidly watched as he continued to fondle the broad head of his cock.
He was so sensitive there. So incredibly sensitive. How could he possibly continue to resist?
And then he wrapped his fingers around himself, and she knew his resistance was at an end. Her finger moved rapidly against her clitoris as he pumped hard and fast, and she cried out as a fierce, wild climax exploded within her. She could feel the powerful contractions deep within her body, all the way to her womb, could feel the venom flooding her mouth in a warm stream. The walls of her vagina squeezed in a relentless, shuddering rhythm as warm moisture trickled between her thighs.
At the same moment she heard him groaning and sobbing with agonized pleasure, and she watched avidly as his whole body trembled in the throes of an overpowering release. His cock twitched and spasmed, and spurt after spurt of cum exploded from him in a violent cataclysm, while his hand continued to pump frantically and his sobbing moans rose in pitch to a wild-beast cry of ecstasy.
His orgasm seemed to last forever, and when it was over she saw him collapse weakly to the bed, then roll over and bury his face in the pillow, obviously humiliated by what he’d done.
Despite the warm afterglow that permeated her body, Tiryl sighed and got to her feet, knowing that she had a great many more important things to accomplish today. But she was pleased by the diversion.
She always enjoyed watching a man surrender, yet somehow this had been a uniquely satisfying experience. Tomorrow she’d teach him still more.
She couldn’t wait.
* * * * *
When Tiryl returned to the bridge of the Dominant, clad once again in her stark black jumpsuit, she noted with pleasure the quiet hum of activity that always pervaded the bridge of her flagship. Her people were all highly trained, competent professionals.
And they all feared her. That bothered her not in the least, as she considered fear to be a highly motivating force, when properly utilized. It was ironic that she had dedicated her life to her people, and yet she had not a single friend among them. And yet that was the lot of a Leader.
She caught a couple of quick sideways glances, indicative of nervousness, as she strode to her seat. Raised high in the center of the circular space, it bore a distinct and deliberate resemblance to a throne. Tiryl preferred her people to remember who was in charge.
“Report,” she said briskly.
Her second-in-command, Als, turned and walked toward her. “There seems to be a difficulty on Yawta III, Leader.”
Tiryl frowned. She didn’t care for “difficulties” cropping up in her well-run, orderly realm. Yet they were inevitable in such an enormous, far-flung Empire. “Can you be more specific?”
Als swallowed nervously, making Tiryl suspect that the problem was more than a mere “difficulty”. Her suspicions were confirmed when Als said, “Perhaps if you listen to the recording…”
Yawta III had sent a distress signal, then. “Very well,” Tiryl said impatiently, glancing at Jaya, her communications officer. “Replay the recording.”
Jaya nodded. Her hands brushed lightly over the console, and a disembodied
female voice began to speak.
“This is Yawta III, requesting emergency assistance. The men of this planet have rebelled against their proper status. We require help to put down the rebellion.”
The terse message cut off there. Tiryl sat for a moment, lost in thought, then rose to her feet and descended from her chair.
“Als, Jaya, in the conference room.”
She strode to the large, rectangular room just off the bridge, the two women following in her wake. Once inside, she turned and faced them.
“Was that the full extent of the message?”
She thought she saw Jaya’s cheeks flush slightly, but the woman nodded.
“How many Zytellians are on Yawta III?”
Als answered promptly. Doubtless she had looked up the full history of the planet when the message had been received. She was a detail-oriented woman who loved to do research. “Approximately ten thousand, Leader.”
“And how many Yawtans?”
“Thirty million, Leader.”
Tiryl mulled that over. As she recalled, the Yawtans were a small, reptilian race, generally much smaller and weaker than Zytellians. They also were more primitive, and their weaponry was fairly unimpressive. Yet ten thousand Zytellians could not be expected to stand against a horde of thirty million.
“Sending reinforcements seems to be the only sensible solution,” she said. “What ships are nearby?”
Als answered, once again not bothering to consult her hand computer. Obviously she’d looked the information up earlier. “The Starburst is the nearest to Yawta III, Leader.”
“Then dispatch them at once.”
Als nodded and turned. “Als,” Tiryl said, keeping her voice deliberately soft. “One other thing.”
Als turned back to her.
“When something of importance happens, I expect to be notified at once. Do you understand me?”
Als swallowed again. “You were…you were off duty, Leader. I knew you would return to the bridge in twenty ghon or so. I thought—”
“You were wrong,” Tiryl said in a deadly soft voice. “You will notify me of any uprising that occurs anywhere in my Empire immediately. Is that quite clear?”
