When they reached the altar setting where the King lounged on a comfortable-looking, oversized chair, Dree almost stumbled when she was supposed to curtsy. The sight that caught her eye wasn’t what she was prepared to see.
Pren from Torl was on display to the side of the King. Her arms and legs were tied to poles, her body stretched naked for all to see. Her feet didn’t touch the ground, and her arms were pulled taut, her body extended in the shape of an X. Pren had been whipped, the red lashes streaking across her chest and pussy standing out against her creamy white skin. Her breasts and hips had been gripped hard enough that bruises shaped like handprints could be seen from where Dree stood. Her nipples had clamps on them, gold studs that glistened against the light in the large room. Her shaved pussy was red and inflamed, giving indication that she’d been fucked repeatedly by more than one person, or possibly more than one object. Pren’s hair covered her face, which was bent forward, her chin almost touching her chest, her white hair falling in strands to the top of her breasts.
From her heavy breathing, Dree could only guess she had been the focus of some form of demented entertainment right before Dree had been called. Pren was conscious and in pain. Her humiliation probably made her hide her face. Dree’s insides tightened with disgust and fear over what they had done to the woman. Although never close, she detested torture inflicted on another person simply to amuse those with more power. Her heart raced in her chest that she might be next. Her stomach turned and bile rose to her throat.
“This is the traitor in my midst?” The King’s question seized her attention.
Looking away from Pren, she focused on King Sorale. He was younger than she’d expected, and actually good-looking, in a sinister way. He sat at an angle in the chair, one leg resting over the arm. He raised an eyebrow at her, his cocky smile appearing anything but friendly.
“If you believe me a traitor, you’ve been misinformed.” Her voice sounded louder than she’d expected, surprising her when it echoed off the high ceilings.
A hush fell over the room. King Sorale straightened, narrowing his gaze on her, not speaking for a moment. She guessed his intention was to intimidate her. He was doing a damned good job, but for whatever reasons, she didn’t want him to see that.
Pren lifted her head slowly, glaring at Dree through the strands of hair that stuck to her face. Her eyes were bloodshot and one side of her mouth swollen. There was a look of hatred on her face. Dree wanted to run to her, pull her down, soothe her until the woman could fall asleep.
“Oh. Have I?” The King stood, running fingers covered with large rings over the sides of his pants, coming dangerously close to stroking his cock. “So you deny any displays of disloyalty to your King?”
Dree bit her lip. It was a trick question. And she had no idea what the charges were. Her hatred for this man grew tenfold while she watched him stroll over to where Pren hung, stretched and vulnerable, her tortured nudity a blatant reminder of what the King was capable of.
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” The truth had to be the best approach here. Quivers of panic threatened to take over. But she had to hide her fear. Remembering the guard’s words when she entered the hall, she knew if she let the King bully her she would never survive.
King Sorale picked up Bosha tails that were on a small table along the wall by Pren. Holding the thin rod, he ran coarse hairs that came from the tail of the large Bosha animal at the end of the rod across Pren’s belly. The woman’s muscles tightened, but she managed an odd little smile for the King.
“My precious little slut here tells me you are anything but an idiot. Do you mock your King?” He smiled back at Pren, but then turned a shrewd look her way.
“You are not my King.” The words were out before Dree could stop them.
A very uncomfortable silence fell heavy in the room. There was the clicking of metal and Dree turned to notice several Bortans standing nearby. Her mouth went dryer than sand. She stared at the half-men/half-machine brutes. Their race had destroyed her planet, ruined her life, and forced them into this miserable existence. One of them sneered at her, letting his gaze travel down her body. She wanted to find something to throw at him.
“How dare you look away from me when I am talking to you!” The King stamped his foot, and then took several angry steps toward her.
There was a stir behind her. Something that distracted the King. He looked past her for a brief moment, and then turned an outraged eye on her.
“Denouncing your loyalty to your King is treason, punishable by death.” His voice was low, cool, hatred dripping through it.
Dree’s heart pounded so hard against her chest she was sure the sound echoed in the room. She licked her dry lips, fighting to stop an uncontrollable amount of fear that raced through her.
“I haven’t denounced anything.” Her voice didn’t come out as strong this time. “I am not from this planet. If you are ruler of land off this world forgive me for not knowing.”
She swore someone snickered behind her. There was movement around her, as those standing along the wall stirred uneasily. Did no one speak their mind to the King? Was he such an ass that everyone simply kissed his feet to stay on his good side?
King Sorale turned very red in the face. Once again she watched him look past her. More than anything she wanted to turn around and see what he looked at, but knew he would surely take the Bosha tails to her if her attention strayed one more time. The marks on Pren’s body showed he was more than willing to use the leather stringed whip.
He pointed a shaking finger at her. “You try to convince the merchants who do business with the castle to carry my slaves away.”
“I do not.” Her self-defense was ignored.
“You are trying to raise unrest among the slaves so they will revolt and want to leave the castle.”
“That’s not true.” She didn’t even associate with his slaves. Most of them wouldn’t give her the time of day.
Her temper began taking over her fear. Never had she heard such bullshit come out of the mouth of someone in such high authority. No wonder his kingdom was so miserable.
“And…” King Sorale raised his finger above his head, extending his arm, pointing at the ceiling. He looked around as if to make sure he had everyone’s attention. “And you are in allegiance with the House of Torin as a spy in my castle.” He shouted the last words. “You wear the Torin clothing to show your loyalty.”
Hushed whispers sounded throughout the court. King Sorale looked rather pleased with himself, rocking up on his toes while he looked around the room.
Dree could feel so many eyes upon her, their gazes burning through her clothing. She wanted to disappear underneath the carpet on the floor, or turn and run as fast as she could. These people had stood around and watched him torture Pren. Now they would stand like complete idiots while the King degraded her. None of them cared about anyone. These people were heartless, just like their King.
Dree straightened. She doubted anything she said would wipe that smirk off the King’s face. “I have met Marc of Torin, once. He helped me when I needed help.”
Just mentioning his name out loud sent a warm rush through her.
Again there was rustling behind her. The King’s expression changed for the briefest of moments before his cocky sneer returned. Dree wished she could have focused on it longer. Did she see worry? Fear?
He looked at the guards standing on either side of them nodding and smiling while he pointed at her, as if he sought their reassurance.
“Her confession. She admits being a spy.”
“I do not!” Again she cried out before giving her words any thought. “I don’t even know where the House of Torin is. I don’t know anything about this planet.” She threw her hands up in the air, exasperated. If he was going to kill her, she might as well say her piece first. “What I do know is that you have no compassion for strangers. My people have been treated worse than your slaves.”
This time t
he King didn’t look around the room. He focused on her, looking at her as if he wanted to figure something out. A cold chill seemed to settle around her. Behind the King, Pren appeared to have passed out, her body limp against her restraints with her head leaning forward against her chest.
One of the Bortan clinked to the side of her, his shuffling while he stood causing the metal in his body to scrape against each other. The sound almost made her heart explode. She jumped in spite of herself, her heart moving to her throat where it lodged painfully.
Memories of Bortan guards chasing them, catching some of the females, flooded through her like poison. She remembered hiding, waiting while the Bortan fucked the females that they caught. Closing her eyes, she did her best to forget the horrible memories of those metal cocks, twisted and surgically altered, while they stroked themselves and bragged about their size and abilities. She had witnessed the others being raped, tortured, fucked in every way possible by these half-men, half-machine beings.
“No compassion?” The King spit out the words, bringing her back from her disturbing memories. “I allow you to stay at my castle instead of throwing you out onto the streets. What trade do you possess? What skills do you have?” The King laughed, taking in her appearance as if it disgusted him. “You are ungrateful and lack respect.”
Waving his hand in the air he turned around, returning to his throne. “Strip and bind her. Our little troublemaker will learn respect today.”
“No. Please.” Dree took a step backwards but to no avail.
Two guards gripped her arms before she could move backwards. Murmurs and shuffling sounded behind her but she could only guess if the people watching were disturbed, or excited for another show.
The guards pulled on her clothing, the clothing Marc of Torin had given her. They made no attempt to take them off properly, but ripped them from her body. In moments she was naked, shivers rushing through her, her body trembling more from fear than being suddenly cold. Tears burned at her eyes. So many years of training helped her keep a straight face, not allowing these lame excuses for men to gain any perverse enjoyment from her fear.
She didn’t fight them when they led her to the side of the throne. Bars similar to the ones Pren was tied to were pushed forward by too-thin slave boys. She made a sweep of the crowd when the guards turned her so her back was to the poles. Too many eyes stared at her, sending goose bumps crawling over her skin.
The guards stretched her arms pressing her wrists against the cold stick of metal. The leather straps cut into her wrists, binding her, holding her in place, stretched out and on display. Her vision blurred and she blinked, hating the hot moisture that trickled down her cheeks.
“I’m not a sex slave. Why are you doing this to me?” she cried out, suddenly inclined to struggle against her captors.
She twisted, pulling her arms toward her. It only succeeded in causing her arms to hurt more when they were yanked harder, and then the leather straps bound against her skin, digging in painfully.
The King turned from his throne and instead moved to stand in front of Pren. Dree could barely see him run his hand down the front of Pren’s body through her blurred vision.
“After this one told me of the activities you conducted against your King, she begged me to do this to her.” He turned around. “She will make a wonderful sex slave. You on the other hand…”
Dree couldn’t fight the guards when they gripped her legs, stretching them apart, her inner thigh muscles screaming from the angle they forced upon her.
“I doubt you will be as much fun.”
Pren was the reason she’d been called to the King. She’d been betrayed. Anger stopped her tears. A burning pain started deep in her gut, filling her with rage over how her own kind had treated her. Pren knew she tried to find them a better life. The woman knew Dree only wanted the best for all of them.
She bit her lip, straining against the leather ties that held her feet and hands secure.
“All I’m guilty of is trying to find a better life for my people.” She no longer cared about all of the onlookers watching. Too many years of being watched while she was with her Master made it easy to ignore the crowd.
“Maybe your people like it here.” The King moved toward her, his stroll lazy like a cat’s.
Now standing close enough that she could feel his breath against her skin, she could see the cold evil that swam deep in his pale blue eyes.
She shook her head, mentally willing him away from her. The King raised his hand to brush one of his brown curls to the side of his forehead. His fingernails were well manicured, and large rings were on every finger. Her skin crawled in repulsion to his nearness. Exposed and vulnerable, there was little to do to maintain her dignity. She was now at his mercy. Obviously speaking her mind hadn’t helped her either, although she doubted at this point holding her tongue would do any good. The King had planned out this event before summoning her. She realized now her actions and words were moot. All of this was premeditated.
And she saw no way of getting out of her situation.
The King leaned forward and she thought he would kiss her. Even though she had fucked men in the past who hadn’t appealed to her, for some reason her body was repulsed by the King. His icy gaze sent chills through her, making her skin crawl. She looked away, not wanting his mouth on her, anywhere.
“Who do you stare at?” The King’s hushed whisper never would have been heard if he hadn’t been mere inches from her face.
His expression reflected worry, something she hadn’t expected. Was there someone in the crowd he assumed she would be watching? Looking again, she scanned the long room, but one of the guards who’d bound her stepped in the way.
“Anyone but you, Your Majesty.”
Maybe enough months had passed that she had told herself she was no longer a slave. She had started thinking for herself, making her own decisions. And there was no turning back.
“No one in that audience will dare to help you in my court.” His cocky expression had returned, a puny runt acting like a bully with his guards surrounding him to protect him.
Instead of kissing her, the King ran his tongue up her cheek, licking her. Dree’s stomach turned. She balled her fists, the leather straps rubbing hard against her wrists. His shirt barely brushed against her nipples, hardening them, and sending nervous tingling energy rushing through her.
Her master had tied her before. She had been spread open like she was now, exposed and vulnerable. Her pussy would throb in anticipation, drip with cum while she begged in her mind to be touched, ravished, enjoyed.
But now here, in the presence of King Sorale, the cool air in the room wrapping around her pussy lips only succeeded in keeping her dry. Never had she been more turned off by a man’s actions as she was now.
“Beg me to touch you.” His face was so close to hers that she couldn’t focus on him.
“Never,” she whispered, her stomach filling with bile.
He moved an inch or so to the side, allowing his actions to be seen by everyone in the room. His hand wrapped around her neck, her muscles clenching while she stared at him. Her life was in his hands and the terror that gripped her made it hard to breathe.
King Sorale let his hand slide from her neck, brushing over her breasts. His gaze followed his actions while she watched him, her breathing coming in gasps.
“You are a sex slave from Torl on Poltar,” he uttered, his focus on the lower part of her body. “Don’t pretend to be something you are not.”
“I’m no longer a slave.” Her mouth was so dry she could hardly speak. She sucked in a staggered gasp when he cupped her cunt.
The King pressed his fingers into the tender folds of her pussy, forcing the skin to part. It burned when he forced his entrance, stabbing her with his fingers, penetrating her.
“Maybe you weren’t a very good sex slave,” he sneered, his knuckles pressing against her unshaved skin while his fingers worked deeper inside her.
She clo
sed her eyes, images of Torl in all its glory circling through her mind. Her master’s guests used to request her personally. She had taken pride in her skills. But this was a secret the King would never know.
“And maybe you aren’t a very good King.” She spoke through gritted teeth.
King Sorale pulled his fingers free of her tight hole and then slapped her pussy. The heat of humiliation burned her skin, almost breaking a cold sweat out over her body.
The King took a step backwards. “It appears my last attempt at allowing you to show your loyalty has failed.”
He produced the Bosha tails, gripping the black rod in one hand while he let the long leather threads stream over his other hand.
Dree opened her eyes. The King raised the whip and brought it down. The leather tails slapped her skin, sliding over her front. Fire burned through her from the infliction. She clenched her teeth together, refusing to cry out, knowing how often that turned the person on who did the whipping.
“Certainly you have better entertainment than this.” One of the Bortan spoke up, his metallic-sounding voice startling Dree.
The King turned around, a pleasant smile appearing on his face. “She is rather boring, isn’t she? Maybe if we place her out for a public fucking it would amuse our honored guests.”
“Possibly if she were fucked enough she would learn to enjoy it.” The Bortan eyed her, while his companions snickered their approval of his comment.
Dree’s heart pounded so fiercely against her ribs that the pain almost surmounted the sting from the leather tails.
The King turned toward his throne, clapping his hands once. Immediately the guards stepped forward and the King waved a hand at her dismissively.
“The slut claims she acts on behalf of the common people. Take her out to the streets and present her as a gift to the people she fights for.”
Sex Slaves 2: Waiting For Yesterday Page 6
