by Meg Harris
It went on for long moments. It felt incredible, but her body was beginning to ache, desperate for release. And then, at last, the tip of his tongue slipped lightly over her clitoris.
She cried out with the pleasure, aching for the fulfillment she knew his mouth could provide her. But then he went back to swirling circles, and she sobbed in disappointment. She knew she was wetter than she had ever been in her life, and she knew that the scent of her arousal must be driving him half mad. And yet he was determined to turn the tables on her, to gain the upper hand.
And the Gods help her, he was succeeding.
He delicately stroked her clitoris again, and her hips jerked wildly. That one touch brought her so close to a climax that she gave a strangled scream. “Yes,” she sobbed. “There.”
“You want me to lick you there,” he whispered. “Over and over again.”
“Yes.”
He lifted his head and grinned. It was an insolent grin, and it infuriated her. “Say please.”
As if the Leader of the most powerful Empire in history would ever beg for sexual fulfillment. She made an inarticulate snarling sound and started to jerk upright. She could always find fulfillment elsewhere.
Apparently realizing he’d gone a little too far, he lowered his head again. “All right,” he said softly. “I’ll give you what you want.”
His tongue began to stroke back and forth over her swollen clit in slow, easy sweeps, and she fell back against the bed, crying out with pleasure. His tongue moved faster and faster, bringing her closer and closer to ecstasy, until finally rapture burst through her like a supernova.
She felt the walls of her vagina quaking and shuddering, felt her womb contract in violent tremors, as she surrendered to a stunning orgasm—the longest, most intense orgasm she’d ever experienced. He refused to let her pull away, continued the relentless assault, his tongue caressing her insistently, while she cried out and sobbed and begged for mercy, while her whole body quivered, racked with incredible pleasure.
At last he lifted his mouth, and she fell back against the coarse sheet of the cot, gasping for breath.
When she had recovered, she sat up and saw him sitting there, watching her expectantly. His jade eyes glowed with heat, and his erection was back in full force. It curved up toward his abdomen, so long and hard that it nearly touched his navel.
“You want me,” she whispered.
“Gods, yes,” he said harshly.
The admission pleased her. It didn’t really surprise her, since he’d been practically swimming in her pheromones, but the honest acknowledgement of his desire showed they were making progress.
“You want to have intercourse with me,” she said.
“I want to fuck you.”
She was mildly surprised by the crude word. Zytellians were blunt and honest when it came to sexuality, but she’d always understood Terrans were a bit on the prudish side. Evidently they weren’t quite as prudish as she’d been led to believe.
“I see,” she said.
“I know…I shouldn’t give in,” he rasped, sounding as if the words were being ripped out of him. “I know it’s wrong, but I want to fuck you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my lifetime. You’re so wet, and you smell so damn good. I can’t fight you anymore.”
She nodded, stood up and stepped back from the bed. “Lie down,” she told him, and pushed the button that would retract the chains into the wall. They exerted steady pressure until he had to lie back on the bed, his hands and feet pulled away from his body, or risk having a limb dislocated. Shortly he lay in the exact same position he’d been in when she came into the cell, unable to move, totally helpless. Totally at her mercy.
She walked back and sat down on the edge of the cot. His gaze followed her expectantly. “I will fuck you,” she whispered. “I’ll fuck you until you scream for mercy.”
Barrak’s eyes went dark with lust, and she saw his cock give an eager, hungry jolt. She went on.
“But today you defied me. You tried to make me beg for release. That is something men are not ever permitted to do among the Zytellians. Another woman might have you flogged for the offense, but I am not a harsh mistress, and I realize you are not yet accustomed to our ways. I will simply leave you alone for the rest of the day and night to consider your offense.”
Wide-eyed, he stared at her, looking almost panicked. “You can’t leave me like this,” he said hoarsely.
“Yes, I can. And I will. Unlike yesterday, today I won’t permit you to ease your ache. But tomorrow morning, if you’re good, I will fuck you. And you will discover the greatest pleasure you’ve ever known.”
She turned, gathered up her clothes, and left the room, smiling as she heard his moan of anguish behind her.
Chapter Five
Gods, he couldn’t bear it. For over an hour Barrak had lain here, his hugely swollen cock throbbing. He couldn’t help remembering the way she’d licked him all over, then taken him into her mouth, the way her venom had flooded over him when he thrust between her lips, the way she’d so relentlessly sucked him.
The way he’d exploded.
The more he thought about it, the more he ached.
The bitch. He hated her. And yet, the irony was that if she came back into the cell, he’d do anything for her, kneel at her feet and please her, agree to be intimate with her in an instant.
Intimate was the wrong term. Sex wasn’t the same as intimacy, he reminded himself. That was why he’d used that unusually crude word, to remind himself that she was only manipulating him physically. There was no affection between them and never would be.
And yet, when she’d sobbed and cried out as he brought her to orgasm, he’d felt downright tender toward her.
Damn it. He was a fool.
His mouth and chin had been liberally soaked in her juices, and he could smell her pheromones so clearly she might as well be in the room with him. He knew he would be in a state of arousal for the rest of the day, and possibly the night as well. Gods, he’d give anything to have his hands free. He remembered the way he’d eased his need yesterday and shuddered with an intense longing for release.
But he couldn’t move. He was so tightly chained that he couldn’t even roll over slightly and rub himself against the mattress to relieve his ache.
All he could do was lie there, grit his teeth, and imagine fucking her tomorrow.
And that scared the hell out of him. She’d said, You will discover the greatest pleasure you’ve ever known. Coming from another woman, he might have thought that was vanity talking. But from a Zytellian, it was the simple truth. Everyone knew what they did to a man when they had sex with him.
Tomorrow he’d experience the greatest pleasure a man could know. And he’d be her slave for the rest of his life.
Part of him was frightened.
Part of him longed for morning.
* * * * *
That afternoon Tiryl sat on the bridge in her command chair, watching the quiet efficiency of her crew. They were all consummate professionals, strong, competent women. Observing them as they went about their duties, she wondered how other worlds could possibly consider men capable of doing women’s work. Men were such flighty, fragile creatures.
An unbidden thought stirred in her mind. Barrak isn’t fragile.
She shrugged the idea away. He might be physically powerful, but he was as fragile as any other man, emotionally speaking. Despite his struggles to defy her, he really longed to be dominated and controlled, just like all men did. It was obvious from his reactions.
And tomorrow she would tame him.
The thought aroused her, yet at the same time she was aware of a vague feeling of melancholy. As a child, she’d visited Zytellia’s moon with her parents and captured a varik pup. Varik were wild, savage, doglike creatures that hunted in packs. The pup had grown up to be friendly, sweet, and a delightful companion.
And yet somehow he’d never seemed as beautiful to her as the varik that ran free and wi
ld in the forests of Zytellia’s moon.
For the first time she realized that when she tamed her wild, beautiful prince, much of what made him beautiful would be lost. His face and figure might remain lovely, but his spirit would be broken. He would be much like the other men she had possessed—fragile, weak, and eager to please. More like a pup than a full-grown varik.
But the alternative was to free him, and that she could not do. It was impossible. It was unacceptable for a man to believe he was a woman’s equal. His ridiculous belief system must be corrected.
At any rate, she couldn’t bring herself to let him go.
“Leader,” said a voice.
Realizing that she’d been mentally adrift, Tiryl jerked her head up and looked at the woman who’d spoken. Jaya, her communications officer, was waiting for her to respond.
“What is it?” she asked.
“There is a ship on an intercept course at high speed, Leader.”
Tiryl’s brows drew together as she studied the graphic on the front screen. The ship was a long distance away, but it was definitely heading toward them. She knew of no ships authorized to pass through this sector.
“Identify the ship.”
The woman’s hands moved over her console, then her shoulders relaxed slightly. “It is the Starburst, Leader.”
Tiryl contemplated this information. The Starburst was the ship she’d dispatched to put down the uprising on Yawta III. She had given them orders to return to Zytellia when their mission was accomplished. The fact that they were headed toward the flagship at high speed did not bode well. It suggested that something had gone wrong on Yawta III, and that the Starburst was in need of reinforcements.
“When will they reach us?”
Jaya hesitated only a moment. “Approximately forty-four hours, Leader.”
Two days. If something had gone badly wrong on Yawta III, they couldn’t afford to wait two full days. “Alter heading,” she ordered the woman at the conn. “Set an intercept course for the Starburst. Top speed.”
Her subordinate nodded. “We should meet them at 8.05 tomorrow.”
Mid-morning. That meant she would have to change her encounter with Barrak to very early in the day.
She discovered that idea pleased her.
* * * * *
In the morning, Barrak was permitted to get up, have a drink of water, and use the head, although his hands were manacled tightly behind him so that he was unable to relieve any other needs he had. He was then marched out of the cell and down a corridor. A door irised, and he was escorted into sumptuous quarters that made his own quarters on his ship look shabby by comparison.
The bitch was waiting for him, clad in her black military uniform.
He was a bit surprised that she resided in such luxury. He had assumed she was a person of no real importance, assigned to such irrelevant pursuits as breaking men. Glancing around, he began to question that assumption. Either she was a person of some importance, or the Zytellian military lived in ridiculously extravagant quarters.
A fragrant smell of food rose from a steaming container on a table near the bed. Suddenly realizing he’d had nothing to eat in the past two days other than some thin, unpleasant-tasting gruel, he cast them a longing look. But the bitch did not appear to notice.
“Take him into the shower,” she said.
His two guards—both armed with rather nasty-looking weapons—escorted him toward a door. It irised, and he found himself in a bathroom that was so incredibly opulent it didn’t seem to belong on a spacecraft. The huge shower, large enough to accommodate ten people, was made of a green stone-like material, shot through with gold and white veins.
He stood and waited while the guards left the room. A few moments later she entered, stark naked, her burnished golden hair falling around her shoulders, and instantly he was aware of her scent. It was odd—the guards hadn’t affected him this strongly. In fact he’d barely noticed they were female. Perhaps her pheromones were more powerful, or perhaps he’d simply learned to associate her smell with pleasure over the course of the past two days.
Either way, his erection, which had finally eased, instantly leaped to attention.
She stood in front of him, giving him a glorious view of her large, round breasts and her crinkled rose-pink nipples. “You need a shower,” she said. “I prefer my men to be clean.”
The thought of standing under hot water with her was enough to kick up his erection another notch. “On my own ship,” he retorted, “I bathe every day. I have not been permitted that luxury here.”
“An oversight which I plan to remedy.”
She stepped past him, apparently unconcerned for her well-being, and turned a knob. Hot water gushed from the green stone in what looked like a natural waterfall.
This was his last chance to escape before she marked him. It was unfortunate his hands were confined so tightly behind his back. It left him effectively defenseless against her.
Not, he thought grimly, that he had a lot of defenses against her anyway.
But he might be able to knock her over with his shoulder, kick her, and render her unconscious. He was reluctant to hurt her, but it seemed like his only chance at freedom.
He watched as she stepped into the water and let it stream over her, wetting her golden hair and moistening her soft, pale skin. Steam began to swirl through the room.
“Come here,” she said.
Her body glistened like opalescent ivory, luring him, and all rational thought fled. The vague hope of freedom vanished from his mind. All he could seem to think of was moisture and heat and steam. As if drawn irresistibly, he stepped toward her.
He stepped under the waterfall and let it run over his skin. It felt good. He had been beginning to feel rather itchy and uncomfortable, and had been uncomfortably conscious of his own sweaty odor. The water was lightly scented, and there was something very sensual about standing beneath a hot torrent of water when he had been deprived of any civilized comforts for two days.
She picked up a bar of what he supposed was soap from a shelf and squeezed it between her hands, producing a large quantity of lather. At her command, he stepped out of the cascading water, and she began to run her hands over his arms, rubbing in the lather.
Her slick hands were heaven against his skin, soft and smooth, and he tilted back his head and let himself enjoy it. Her compelling fragrance floated to him, noticeable even through the scented water, and her scent, combined with the feel of her gentle hands, made him dizzy. Slowly she stroked her soapy hands over his shoulders, then down his back. And then she walked around him and began to slide her hands down his chest.
He gasped, a sudden sharp intake of breath, and she smiled as she caressed his pectorals, moving her hands in circles around his nipples, teasing, coming close but not touching. His nipples hardened, aching, yearning for her touch, but she continued to rub around them, just missing them. A low moan of frustration escaped him.
And then, slowly, she let her thumbs stroke across his nipples, and he jerked with shock at how sensitive they were, at how good it felt to be touched there.
“You like that,” she observed.
He shut his eyes and nodded, and she did it again. Pleasure shot through his nipples and straight to his groin, and he uttered a primitive sound of aching need.
She continued to stroke his nipples for a few more moments, until he was all but sobbing with pleasure, then she moved behind him and began to soap his ass and his legs. And then she put her arms around him slowly and ran her soapy, wet hands down his abdomen, toward his stiff, aching cock.
He held his breath, frozen in anticipation.
“Say please,” she said.
He couldn’t resist her, even to save his soul. He couldn’t resist the pleasure she offered.
No man could.
“Please,” he whispered harshly.
Steam rose in billows around them as her hands slid down and encircled him. Wet and soapy, they felt unbelievably good aga
inst him. He’d fantasized about her all afternoon and most of the night, but his fevered imagination hadn’t envisioned anything quite like this. She touched him intimately, one hand slowly caressing his penis, the other fondling his balls, until he trembled all over, desperately craving the release she’d denied him yesterday.
“Turn around,” she ordered.
He obediently did as she commanded, but to his surprise she moved with him, staying behind him. One slender hand pushed his erection down slightly, away from his belly and into the torrent of cascading, tumbling water. As her other hand continued to stroke his scrotum, the hot water gushed across his cock in a steady, relentless stream.
He came instantly, in a scorching, powerful surge of ecstasy that all but sent him to his knees.
The force of his orgasm was mind-numbing, and he barely had any memory of the rest of the shower, of her rinsing him off and urging him out of the shower. She dried him off, then led him into her spacious, sumptuous quarters, toward the table that held the steaming, fragrant container. He stood silent and unmoving, trying to ignore the smell of well-prepared food.
“You need to eat,” she said.
“I am not hungry,” he answered, but his stomach immediately gave a loud growl that belied his words. She chuckled.
“A man your size needs to keep up his strength. Here.” She opened one of the containers, dipped out a whitish substance on her fingers, and brought it to his mouth.
Being fed from her fingers, like a dog nibbling morsels from its owner’s hand, was deeply mortifying, but he didn’t perceive a lot of options. He did need to eat, and although this looked disgusting, it smelled better than the revolting gruel he’d been offered previously. He opened his mouth and licked the substance from her fingers.
It was good, very good, reminding him of a mixture of honey and wild rice. In fact, it tasted as sweet as she did.
“It is called ra’mol,” she said, bringing another bite of it to his lips. “Among my people, it is considered an aphrodisiac. I think you can guess why.”
