CodenameAutumn

by Aubrey Ross

  Codename Autumn

  Aubrey Ross

  Undercover Embassy, Book One

  In a future where women have few choices, Autumn fears she’ll never again know the pleasure of a man’s touch. Then General Ra’jen Noirte rescues her from a whipping gone wrong. The sexy alien captivates her, reawaking dormant desires. On the surface he radiates deadly aggression, but Autumn has glimpsed his tormented soul. Though he commands the occupation army, she suspects they have similar goals.

  Ra’jen returns from combat to find a woman bound, abused and abandoned. His healing touch soon turns to hunger as she stirs beneath his hands. With milk-white skin and flame-red hair, Autumn tempts him to abandon his responsibilities and indulge long-neglected needs. Every kiss, every caress distracts from his mission, and the fate of Earth depends on his success. More than love is on the line as they form an uneasy alliance and fight their mutual enemies.

  Codename Autumn

  Aubrey Ross

  Chapter One

  Naked except for a black lace thong, Autumn knelt on a mirror-topped table with her wrists bound in leather cuffs and suspended above her head. A blood-red scarf had been slipped between her teeth. It crossed at the back of her head, and then covered her mouth completely. She stared straight ahead, focusing past the leering stares and lust-hardened expressions of the soldiers crowded into the briefing room. None of these men were allowed to touch her. She was a whipping girl, part of the entertainment, yet not available for sexual interaction.

  “Isn’t she beautiful, gentlemen?” Rebecca purred. The short, braided strands of her velvet whip whooshed as she brought it down in a dramatic arc, barely missing her thigh. “Her skin is perfect and so white. It’s almost a shame to mark her.” She laughed, the sound light and playful. “Almost.”

  Even knowing the blow was coming didn’t prepare Autumn for the sting. Rebecca slapped the strands against Autumn’s tight belly and she inhaled, clenching her teeth against the gag. Bright red marks lined her fair skin as heat spread through her abdomen, collecting between her thighs. Training to become a pleasure ambassador had been intensive and long. Autumn had discovered many unexpected facts about her body. One of the most surprising had been her affinity for pain.

  “It’s all so sad for poor Autumn,” Rebecca went on. “I do anything I want, I misbehave constantly, and she receives my punishment.” She whipped one of Autumn’s breasts and then the other, spreading the heat and anticipation. The older woman’s control kept the strokes sharp enough to draw blood to the surface without breaking the skin.

  Autumn’s nipples peaked as her body processed the stimulation. Rebecca grabbed the edge of the wheeled table and carefully turned it around. The cables securing Autumn’s arms twisted, drawing them even higher.

  “And look at this ass.” Rebecca squeezed one cheek, her long nails dragging across the smooth skin as she pulled her hand away. “Have you ever seen an ass more in need of spanking?” She slapped Autumn hard with her open hand and waited for her skin to react. “A perfect handprint. Very good, Autumn. You’re the best whipping girl I’ve ever had.”

  Muffled chuckles peppered the room but Autumn tuned out her surroundings. A large mirror had been set up near the wall, allowing the men to see her front while Rebecca worked on her back. Rebecca spanked Autumn’s other cheek, making it appear as if bloody hands had squeezed her ass. It was all orchestrated, a practiced routine they had perfected in training.

  Rebecca ran the whip handle up the inside of Autumn’s thigh and rubbed it against the scrap of lace covering her folds. “She’s wet, boys. Shall I see if I can make her come?”

  “I can make her come,” one of the soldiers bragged. “Let me touch her, and she’ll be dripping in a minute or less.”

  Rebecca’s laugh was low and sensual this time. “She’s dripping now.” She slipped her fingers inside Autumn’s panties and gathered some cream. “See?”

  “Rip off the thong,” someone else suggested. “Let her juices pool on top of the table.”

  Staring into the mirror, Autumn tried to catch Rebecca’s gaze. They weren’t supposed to deviate from the routine. It was designed to excite while keeping Autumn objectified, unattainable.

  “Sorry, boys. The thong’s there to remind you that she’s not cleared for fucking.”

  Autumn’s relieved sigh was premature. Rebecca swung the whip with punishing force, blanketing the small of her back with needling pain. Autumn gasped and arched, but the next lash was even harder. The whip was made of velvet, for God’s sake! How was Rebecca making it hurt so badly?

  Unlike the teasing strokes Rebecca had delivered to her breasts, these lashes seared and burned. Autumn twisted, writhing helplessly, her screams muffled by the gag. Tears blurred her vision then anger flared through her shock.

  She demanded that Rebecca stop, but her words were garbled by the material between her teeth. Why was Rebecca doing this? They were supposed to be a team. The whip connected again and again, the surrounding noise escalating with each swing. Cheers and whistles, and the occasional gasp as blood trailed down Autumn’s back. Shame crept through her anger. Did they believe she deserved this pain? Why was no one questioning Rebecca’s viciousness?

  “She’s had enough.” A deep voice cut through the others and the next lash never came.

  Autumn shifted her weight and fire rolled from her shoulders to the bend of her knees. Tears escaped the corners of her eyes, and she moaned.

  “Poor, precious Autumn,” Rebecca whispered bitterly. “Are you still too good to fuck?” She threw the whip onto the tabletop and stepped away. “Come on, boys. That always makes me horny. Who wants to go first?”

  Three of the soldiers rushed forward. Autumn watched them in the mirror through a haze of pain. One of the men reached for the whip but Rebecca stopped him. “No one touches her but me.”

  Autumn whimpered at the belated mercy. He stepped back but remained near the table, staring up at Autumn as he rubbed the bulge in the front of his pants.

  There were five pleasure ambassadors scattered about the room, but there were eleven men. Autumn grasped the cables connected to her wrist cuffs, suddenly wishing she were not bound. Even with two embassy guards overseeing the action, they were outnumbered.

  The trainers had assured Autumn abuse was not tolerated. The embassies were the only game in town, so no one in the Protectorate wanted to be blacklisted.

  The Protectorate. Autumn shuddered. They were the occupying army, the henchmen for the mysterious Gathosians who now controlled Earth. In a few short months the Protectorate had reduced Earth to a subjugated mining colony. They struck North America first, subduing the “superpower” as an example to the rest of the world.

  The first designer virus targeted those not strong enough to work. The second wiped out most of the female population. The third killed anyone who had not yet gone through puberty. The Gathosians wanted their workforce unencumbered by sentimental distractions, and they weren’t interested in longevity. Once the oceans had been stripped of their salt, the Gathosians would move on to another planet.

  The women and children unlucky enough to survive the pandemics were rounded up and taken to training camps, while the devastated men were forced to deal with the bodies.

  Hundreds of millions of bodies.

  Allowing her physical pain to burn through the memories, Autumn returned to the present and her heart sank to the pit of her stomach. This situation wasn’t much better than the devastation she’d been remembering.

  Laborer or whore. Those were the choices left for human females. Or breeder, the most degrading choice of all. Even if she’d chosen to subject herself to the back-breaking work and toxic environment of the sodium refineries, she would have been fighting off the unw
anted advances of her coworkers. Rape had become so common it was no longer considered a crime. Females were so rare it was unthinkable to go anywhere without protection. The human concepts of morality and fidelity had been eroded by this new reality.

  Rebecca’s rhythmic cries drew Autumn’s attention to her tormentor. The first soldier had bent her over the conference table. Autumn gritted her teeth and looked away from Rebecca, but everywhere she looked it was more of the same. She had no idea why the “fuck-fest” had been arranged for these soldiers. Had they performed unusually well, or had they simply been in the field for an unusually long period of time? The briefing room wasn’t large, so no one bothered with modesty.

  And Autumn found it all repulsive.

  Was this really her fate? Not every party requested a whipping girl, so eventually she would have to allow members of the Protectorate access to her body. Her blood ran cold at the thought. Could she really shut down her mind and become a passive vessel for the monsters that had ravaged her world?

  Autumn closed her eyes, tension knotting her stomach. It was all so mechanical, so impersonal, so…meaningless. How did the ambassadors stand it night after night?

  “You’ve never done it. Have you?” Soldier Three faced her again, dark eyes gleaming with desire. “You’re always the whipping girl. No one ever gets to fuck you.”

  She glared at him, saved from replying by the gag covering her mouth.

  “She’s new.” Rebecca panted. “And she’s the trainer’s pet. Whatever Autumn wants, Autumn gets.”

  Soldier Two pulled Rebecca away from the table and urged her to her knees. “Come on, Bret. You can have her mouth.”

  Bret’s dark gaze swept over Autumn with obvious longing, then he skirted the table and joined his friends.

  The double doors on the far side of the room burst open and a red-faced soldier shouted, “Get them out of here! Noirte just set down.”

  The men righted their uniforms as the ambassadors frantically gathered discarded clothing. Autumn yanked on the cuffs and cried out behind the gag, trying to draw anyone’s attention.

  Rebecca looked at her and smiled, a cruel bowing of her painted lips, and then she ran for the nearest exit.

  Panic seized Autumn as the room emptied. She tried to stand, but the table started to roll, and she sank back to her knees. Fuck! They’d deserted her here to face… She hadn’t recognized the name, but the person was obviously a superior and obviously feared.

  Trembling with dread and frustration, Autumn watched the open doorway in the mirror. A man strode into the room, his sleek armor gleaming with subtle iridescence. Silver and blue, with a touch of mauve. Was armor supposed to be beautiful? A matching helmet dangled from one fist, and she lifted her gaze to his face.

  His skin was pale, almost ashen, with the faintest hint of blue. With a high forehead and slashing cheekbones, his features were so fiercely elegant he didn’t seem real. His hair was pulled back from his face and tucked down inside his armor, the strands combining silver, blue and black.

  Their gazes locked in the mirror and awareness arced between them, tangible and tingly. None of the Protectorate were human, though most were humanoid. This man looked particularly alien. His eyes were large and slanted, and they shimmered. The color was impossible to define. It changed from blue to gray to silver, like smoke trapped inside his irises. His expression, however, required no speculation. He was furious.

  “Are your injuries as bad as they look?”

  Concern for her was the last thing she’d expected from him. She started to shake her head, but her muscles were tight, and the slightest movement sent a fresh wave of fire across her back. She gained nothing by lying, so she nodded instead.

  Careful not to touch her, he reached up and released the hook which secured her cuffs to the cables. The cuffs were still locked together, restraining her hands. She swayed as she lowered her arms, instinctively reaching for something solid. He extended his arm, and she grasped the cool alloy armor, keeping it away from her tender skin. With his other hand he untied the gag and unwound the scarf from around her head. She sighed and licked her lips, amazed there was any moisture left in her mouth.

  “Who did this to you?” His autocratic tone brooked no refusal.

  “My partner got a little carried away.”

  “A little?” He fingered the strands of the whip where it rested between her knees. “There is something hard embedded in each strand. Was the whip meant to be this damaging?”

  “No. The one we practiced with was just velvet.” She’d had no idea Rebecca was so resentful. “Would you please unlace the cuffs so I can get down?” He moved directly in front of her as he opened the cuffs. His fingers were long and deft, his nearness disconcerting. “Are you their commanding officer?”

  The corner of his mouth quirked and he looked up from his task. “You don’t know who I am?”

  “This is my first assignment. I mean no disrespect.”

  His features relaxed while his gaze darkened to smoldering charcoal. “Your first night out of training and one of your fellow ambassadors beats the shit out of you? Does she not play well with others, or was she jealous of your role?”

  He held the cuffs as she lifted her hands free. Then she rubbed her wrists, unable to contain a blissful sigh. “I didn’t realize she was upset about the arrangement.”

  “Which was?” He offered his arm and steadied the table while she climbed down.

  “I volunteered to be the whipping girl, so I wouldn’t have to…” Her legs wobbled and he guided her hands to his chest, then he lowered his arms and stood still, offering support without touching her further. He was taller than she’d realized, and bigger. How much of his shape was armor and how much man?

  “Was enduring this pain really better than giving pleasure to my men?”

  He’d inadvertently answered her question. Obviously he was their commanding officer. “Yes. I’m not sure I was cut out for this line of work.” She offered no more explanation.

  “Can you walk?”

  Turning to the side, she steadied herself against him and took a small step. He moved with her, his hand cradling her elbow. Her second step made her back throb, and her third sent the room spinning around her.

  “I think I…” She turned toward him and rested her forehead against his chest as she fought back a sudden wave of nausea.

  “The worst of the damage is on your back, so I can’t pick you up. If you wrap your arms and legs around me, can you hold yourself up?”

  “The table rolls. Maybe we should use that.”

  “Let’s try this first.” His voice took on a sensual undertone that made her look into his eyes.

  “Where are you taking me?” He’d been kind and courteous, had barely glanced at her breasts. Was he more interested in her physically than she’d realized?

  “To my quarters. It’s much closer than the infirmary.” His expression was bland, but she hadn’t imagined the sexy deepening in his tone.

  She hurt too badly to argue. If she had to give in eventually, why not start at the top? The flippant thought didn’t soothe her anxiety, but the throbbing in her back made it irrelevant.

  He went down on one knee and motioned her forward. She hesitantly straddled his bent leg and crept closer. When her nipples grazed his chest plate, she wrapped her arms around his neck and carefully sat down. The coolness of his armor soothed the enflamed skin on her breasts and bottom, and a dark, spicy scent filled her nose. Was she smelling his shampoo or the man himself? Unable to hold the distracting thought in her pain-muddled mind, she took a deep breath and wrapped her legs around his waist.

  “Ready?” She gave a shaky nod and he stood. The position was as close to tolerable as they’d found, and he moved immediately toward the doorway. He gingerly cupped her ass, his hands lightly supporting. “What’s your name?”

  “Autumn. And yours?”

  He chuckled, his stride lengthening. “General Ra’jen Noirte, but you can call
me ‘Sir’.”

  Chapter Two

  Ra’jen felt the girl tense against him. At least she recognized his name. If she hadn’t been wounded, he would have released her and sent her back to the embassy. But vicious welts crisscrossed her slender back, the skin broken and oozing. He was relieved one of his men hadn’t done this to her, though the fact didn’t diminish her obvious pain.

  “So you run this base, or do you have several under your command?”

  Okay, maybe she hadn’t recognized his name. Silly fledgling. He leaned in, allowing her hair to brush against his cheek. “I command them all,” he whispered. He supported her with one hand while he scanned open the door to his quarters. His movement triggered the lights and the door locked behind him. Crossing the small living area, he went into the adjoining bedroom. “Do you need to kneel or can you sit? The bed is relatively soft.”

  “Just set me down and I’ll figure it out.” Her voice was tight and unsteady, her delicate features revealing her discomfort. He carefully eased her onto the bed and stepped back as she let go. As soon as her entire weight rested on her ass she groaned. “I think I’ll stand.” She pushed to her feet, but her legs wobbled beneath her.

  “I’m going to touch you, so don’t panic. I won’t hurt you.” Why was he explaining himself to an ambassador? He never explained himself to anyone. People obeyed his directives without question or complaint. So what was different about this girl? No, she wasn’t a girl. Vulnerable and helpless, yes, but she was definitely a woman.

  He grasped the back of her neck with one hand, ensuring she didn’t jerk away. She pressed her calves against the side of the bed and locked her knees. Her body still swayed, but it was the best they could do in her present condition. He curved his fingers over her shoulder and slid his hand slowly downward, pushing energy into her body as he went. He wasn’t familiar enough with her physiology to actually mend the damage. Instead, he inundated her cells with energy, accelerating their ability to recover. Her skin warmed beneath his palm and she shifted restlessly.