Nyssa's Guardian

by Reese Gabriel

  Oh, stars, he was toying with her. Didn’t he have anything else in his repertoire? Couldn’t he deal with her on any other level besides Domination and submission?

  “Theron, I’m as submitted to you as a woman can be. No more, please?”

  “You don’t know the meaning of the word, Nyssa. You give only what you want. You’re a strong and a brave woman. But you live too much for your own immediate desires. And that quality will not serve you well.”

  Rebellion stirred, as it always did where Theron was concerned. “Damn it,” she whimpered. “Why can’t you let anything be? You over think everything. You make everything too fucking hard. Can’t you go with your instincts…follow your heart?”

  And tell me you love me the way I think I love you…

  He withdrew nearly all the way, leaving her with only the very tip of his smooth, impervious shaft. “On the contrary, you’re the one who makes it hard. You fight what your own body wants. You don’t listen to you instincts. Tell me right now what you need, Nyssa, at this instant.”

  She clenched her fists and pussy both. She tingled and throbbed and ached all over. He was playing one of his mind games with her. Damn the bastard for fucking with her head. Even being overstuffed was better than this. “I need your cock,” she conceded, knowing he would never relent.

  “How do you need it?”

  “However you choose, Theron.” As if she had a choice in how she answered. The funny thing was, she liked the sound of the surrender on her lips.

  Theron seized his victory. “Very well. I choose to fill you until you lose conscious control of your mind. I choose to push you past pleasure and pain to something else entirely. I choose to break you.”

  “Then do it…break me, Theron.”

  Theron bore down. His shaft burned inside her. She felt cock all throughout her insides. She was wickedly skewered, internally branded. The blood pounded in her ears as he kept on increasing. Stars, she was really absorbing him, she was taking the fullness of a primale shaft. The rush was like gas bubbles to the brain, pure intoxication. Never had she felt so female, her every breath a measure of male pleasure. He rocked her, easing in and out, exploding her again and again. Fireworks, shooting higher and higher. No end, not until he decided, and if he wanted, he could keep her in this state forever. Orgasming perpetually. She cried and screamed and wept and transcended all at once. She stared down at her body from above. She felt everywhere at once. In him, with him.

  Theron did not climax. “Now you will give your ass to me,” he declared, pulling himself out. “You will yield without question. You will take my seed there.”

  The words poured out of her mouth, luxuriantly animalistic and lust-filled. “Oh, yes…do that.”

  Theron used her own liquids to lubricate the canal. Nyssa was open and ready, more so than she had expected. Perhaps it was the anal plug she had been wearing that had loosened her up. Theron wasted no time. Using his finger, he did reconnaissance. She sought to relax, darkly savoring her slavish position. For a reward, he gave her an immediate but loving attack—the plunging home of his engorged, pussy-soaked cock.

  She spasmed at once, as though he was taking the other, more familiar hole. “That’s it, use me, Theron…use me…like an obedient.”

  “Beg.” He punished her with another spank to her twitching posterior. “Beg like an obedient.”

  “Yes…yes…Master!” She let her imagination run wild. What would it be like if she truly belonged to him? If he had the right to take her however and wherever he wanted because her body was his property? “Please use my body, Master… Please come in my ass.”

  “Oh, Nyssa…” He pushed deeper and deeper still. They seemed to be on the same wavelength. “If you were mine…I would chain you and cherish you. I would make you my secret slave, free to the world, worshipped by all…kneeling only for me.”

  “Only…for you,” she gasped, following the fantasy, so pretty and hot and good. “Kneeling for your hand and your cock and your crop.”

  She knew, though, that this would never be enough for him. He would have to have a woman a hundred percent of the time. She would have to be his slave day and night, before the whole world.

  “My lovely, savage pet.” He stroked her hair.

  “Your pet…only yours.” Oh, yes, it was simple, at least like this, in the throes of passion. All she had to do was stretch, and take his cock, and feel the wicked burning itch and wait.

  Theron’s cock thickened and lengthened and he went in further, though not nearly as large as when he was in her pussy. He was respecting her body’s limits, showing that while he would take her with every bit of his primale desire, he would never truly force or hurt her. This knowledge made her vulnerable to the man’s charms in a whole new, potentially far more dangerous way.

  At the same time he was inside her anal canal, he masturbated her with his fingertips on her clit. The world vanished in silent explosion. She lost all sense of time and space. She was naught but a naked, surrendered obedient, like any other, save she had this man, the most phenomenal primale of them all.

  She heard him groaning aloud. It was a special sound, one she had come to recognize as signaling that he was just about to come. She’d know it anywhere, out of a crowd of a million orgasming males, and she did not think she would ever hear it enough times. As long as he was making the sound in and with her, that is.

  Not with another. That was something she couldn’t abide, not at this point anyway.

  This was it. His palms pushed on her enflamed ass as he bent over her. His muscular chest was pressed against her back. His teeth bit down into her neck possessively, not painfully. He was letting her have it. The final surge. The payload. The overabundant rush of thick white emission out of the tip of his cock that made him primale. With each thrust he released a fresh burst. So much of it, like he hadn’t come in months or years.

  Theron’s ejaculation triggered other responses. An explosion of warmth spread throughout both their bodies. With his every thrust in her tight little channel, she had come again for him, and that had only increased as he moved to his own climax. Locked together like supernovas, lighting the whole of the universe for one fleeting instant.

  At last his body settled down upon her. Their bodies sorting out heartbeats, trading back pulses, separating out where one was supposed to end and other begin. She didn’t want it to end, because she knew the questions that would be there. Not to mention the newfound difficulties between them because of the rules they were supposed to be following. It would be far too much of a truism for either to say it shouldn’t have happened. Obviously it had. Was it so wrong to just enjoy the glow a while longer?

  She could see he was restless, though. “Let’s get cleaned up,” he said. “And get you ready for the show.”

  Nyssa walked with him, dreamlike. The cleansing beams of the waterless shower washed over her, awakening and filling her nerve endings. He stood behind her in the small shower stall, helping her clean her body. She leaned back against him. It was a scene of incredible tenderness and intimacy. Nyssa did not wish to spoil it with words. There was no context for their affection, no future or past, so why bother? It simply had to be what it was.

  It wouldn’t take much to initiate more sex-making. She sensed his cock could be ready at any point, but he was holding himself back.

  The cleansing beams felt like heaven. Warm and pink, pervading her senses all the way to her core. Nyssa closed her eyes, imagining them in some alien landscape, or in each other’s arms on a beach, perhaps on a gentle, sandy slope, a light breeze in their hair.

  It was a silly fantasy. Immature. Impossible. Theron would never entertain such ideas. He was thinking about work. Or reviewing military strategy manuals. Wasn’t he?

  He took her hand, helping her out of the sanitizing cylinder. She was grateful, because she was still feeling a little woozy. Theron scooped her up into his arms. His face held no expression. What did this action mean to him? For the
millionth time she wished she could understand the primale mind. Was it a bittersweet experience for him as it was for her, knowing that while he could hold her so well and satisfy her passions, he was not meant to be her lifemate. The one who would be with her through thick and thin to the end.

  Pushing the thought from her mind, she concentrated on the present experience of pampering. From Theron—the strongest, most infuriating, dominating, and exhilarating man on the face of the planet.

  Some time after this—maybe a minute, maybe a week—he called for an objectifier and a dressing machine.

  “No, don’t go.” She touched his arm as he moved to leave her alone. “Stay and watch me. Inspire me.”

  Theron stood, his eyes drinking her in as she went to work, creating by verbal cue the magic of her first outfit of the night, the one she would open the show with. She tried a dozen things, each time looking for his reaction, the subtle motions of his eyebrows, the licking of his lips…and especially the stirring in his cock.

  While she might have millions watching her tonight, she cared only for the opinion of one. For his sake she would weave this one particular look, and a whole show to go with it.

  At last, she found the perfect ensemble. Something to match every bit of what she still felt…still tingling and loved, cock-filled and so very feminine. At once the virgin and the whore, the good girl…and the bad.

  “You like this one?” she asked softly, knowing that he did.

  “Yes,” replied Theron, “more than anything.”

  Her heart soared, knowing that such things were not said lightly by primales.

  “Does it hurt much?” He asked about her behind as she moved to the door in her new creation.

  She smiled slyly. “A little.” She kissed his cheek.

  Was it her imagination…or was that the mighty Guardian blushing?

  Chapter Eleven

  Theron had never known that a female could look so incredible—fem or otherwise. As beautiful as Nyssa had looked that morning, she had been a mere waif in rags compared to now. Granted, he had good reason to be biased, having just partaken in incredible, mind-blowing sex with her, but he was not the only one to see the change in her. Nyssa’s show was only two songs old and already some of the old-timers standing in the wings where saying it was Nyssa’s best performance ever. She was outshining the very layzite beams themselves, pulsing flashes of red and orange, their energies timed to the rhythm of Nyssa’s angelic voice, which even now was carrying across every populated world.

  He knew that he could die at this moment and feel fulfilled.

  The chosen stage was the perfect backdrop for her, with its shimmering light falls and popping gem glows. Nyssa had ordered up a last-minute volcano. The illusion of liquid surrounded her, inviting the eye to drink in her perfect, near naked form. The sequined top was in the latest fashion with thin shoulder straps, the material hanging just to the middle of her nipples. Her belly had been temporarily tattooed with a pair of dragons, one above the other. Around her waist she wore a simple silver rope to which were attached strips of glowing cloth. Depending on her motions, one could almost catch a glimpse between her legs at her honeyed pussy, but not quite. The same was true of her luscious ass cheeks.

  The strips were red and black, like the dragons and the sequined top, which provided a good camouflage, should anyone get too close a look at the crimson color of her ass.

  She was playing the dual part of virgin sacrifice and wanton fire goddess. A strip of cloth was wrapped about her head and she had changed her hair color to black. The songs, the dance, all of it she had contrived in half an interval before the show.

  The producer had nearly had heart failure. Personally, Theron was tickled. Nyssa was indeed a woman without fear, without hesitation. She did not compromise, did not back down. And she was so damned sexy to boot. He could take her all over again, right on that stage, with her bare feet, bangled ankles and half-bared breasts. He knew the taste of those nipples she was showing off. He knew how to make that ass dance for real.

  By the Code—was he ever going to be rid of this hard-on? Sex-making was supposed to relieve pressure, not add to it. Only with his intended mate did a primale ever experience this sort of torture. The only solution was to seal the bond…and then go wild. It was a standing joke among Guardians that after the mating ritual they needed at least a week with their new partner to get the built-up sex-making urges out of their systems. It wasn’t unusual for a newly mated obedient to be taken six, seven times a day for the first few months, if not longer.

  In Theron’s case, those urges were now getting out of control. He would have to learn to accept masturbation on a regular basis, or else make do with hired women. He could never dishonor an obedient by laying claim to her, with Nyssa’s image so indelibly imprinted in his mind. The poor woman would forever be trying to live up to something that no one woman could.

  Who could equal perfection, after all? Not that Theron was blind—he knew the woman’s faults, and he had pity on any mems involved with her in the future. Especially any who might seek a long- or short-term contract with her for exclusive affections. Nyssa would chew them up and spit them out. Her diminutive size and seeming innocence were but a front for a most willful heart. He knew her sensitive side, too, though. He knew the pain she kept hidden.

  How wrong he had been initially judging her by virtue of her profession. She wasn’t like the other stars on the hologrid. Not like Senya who once upon a time had teased and nearly seduced him while seeking his warrior’s heart as a prize in a pathetic game she played with her indolent friends.

  Had not a battle intervened, forcing him away for a time from her influence, he might well have lost his wits. As it was, upon his return, his mind had cleared. Enough to see through her, and to follow her one dark night to the apartment of a holo director twice her age.

  His illusion of her shattered, along with every bit of respect he’d had for that entire medium of entertainment. Personally, he found the Narthians less distasteful, for they made no attempts to disguise their harmful intent. Theron had kept the emotional scar buried deep, though Nyssa had nearly uncovered it once.

  She was clever when it came to sniffing out what made him tick. Another reason to be sure to never mate with her. He would never get away with a damned thing.

  But it would be one hell of a ride, wouldn’t it?

  He had to smile at that. Unfortunately, this was followed by tugging on his heartstrings. Another strange new experience he was having from this particular mission. Every time he thought of Nyssa, he felt this kind of melancholy, knowing she would belong to others and never to him.

  Nyssa was starting a new song and the crowd was going wild. A sold-out house, and thousands more watching in packed hovers and floaters. She was sure to get calls for lots of encores. Theron hoped it wouldn’t go on too long. He thought that afterwards, they could talk…

  Nyssa’s voice rose to a delicious high note as she began her love ballad. Was it his imagination, or was she smiling extra hard each time her eyes panned in his direction? His heart fluttered, more like a fem schoolgirl than a hardened warrior.

  No wonder it was said a strong man should beware of love, it could make a man weak and bring him to his knees. That body of hers gyrating, the luscious curves, the very definition of femininity, the eyes shaded deep green tonight, the shining skein of black hair, darker than the Caves of Soron at the bottom of the Doom World.

  Nyssa…his heart called…my Nyssa. How close he had already come to confessing his true feelings. Back in the dressing room, in the shower, her body pressed against his with such innocent sweetness. There was no way she could have known what that would do to his blood. It had been a gesture of self-offering, one of seeking to lean on his power. He had nearly sealed his union with her right there.

  Kneeling before her with that towel, touching every place on her body—that had nearly led to his confession of love, to his pledge. To protect and possess her,
her every breath, her very soul. Forever.

  Nyssa…the only home his soul had ever known.

  Theron caught the microscopic glint out of the corner of his eye. A shard of light. Foreign. Unfriendly. Targeting. Homing in on the stage. Damn it—he’d fallen asleep at the wheel.

  Instinct kicked in now, autonomic functioning hyper-powered by accelerated brainpower and lightning-quick reflexes. If he were too late…he would never live with himself…

  Time slowed to clicks, frame by frame. He pushed aside the clueless security men like rag dolls—momentarily stunning them but they would recover. He would have to leap, try and push her out of the way. The weapon had already been fired. An energy beam, ultra-sophisticated, probably keyed in to Nyssa’s heartbeat or maybe even her genetic coding. The thing would pass like butter, harmless, through anyone or anything else. And it wouldn’t stop, until it got to her.

  Nyssa couldn’t tell, she didn’t know. Neither did the rocking crowd, singing along with her happy hit. “Love you now,” she sang. “Love you then. Love you why and love you when.” His ears caught the sound of the assassin’s weapon. And also his breathing and his pulse.

  Later he would track him down. And tear him limb from limb.

  Nyssa screamed. Everything converged—an implosion center stage, her voice emanating from the microphone, Theron’s flying tackle, trying to move her out of harm’s way. The death ray coming too close still, way, way too close. He was too late. His mind sorted the sizzles and cracks. He grabbed her and held her in his arms as they went down together. By the universe, let her be all right, please.

  With a thud he landed, his shoulder absorbing the impact of the collision. A fraction of a second later, time speeded back up to normal and the sensations all came rushing in. Pandemonium. With his super-auditory functions Theron could hear the assassin curse, way back in the audience, a hundred rows or more. He was slipping his gun back under his long coat. He was not going to risk a second shot. He was calling it a night. Theron tried to visually follow his trail as he ran, the man’s scent and breath emanations both, but there were too many people in the way.