Terran Realm Vol 1-6

by Dee, Bonnie

  The first page flipped open and the same firm handwriting greeted her. We arrive at the end of our Journey at our new home. The humans call it Eiru. Brigid touched the words and a frisson of wonder coursed through her. The Seer wrote of the end of his people’s journey, and she was beginning hers.

  A sheen of moisture glistened on her fingertips and she wiped it off. After placing the journal carefully on the desk, she went into the master bathroom. In the vanity cabinet she unearthed a box of thin latex gloves. Wouldn’t do to get any skin oils on the aged sheets. Ethan would kill her if she did. Ethan. Better not be distracted by thinking of him.

  Her hands suitably protected, she went back to her family’s history with renewed hope of finding the means to defeat Nolen. Her fingertips gingerly grasping each corner, she perused the next pages. The Seer narrated the events, retaining his anonymity.

  He recalled the group’s traverse from an area on the shores of the “great inland ocean.” Brigid made a note to check if that referred to the present day Mediterranean. Along the way, they traded for goods and some luxury items with the humans they encountered. Some members of the group had brought gemstones, precious metals and materials produced by various methods to enhance their lifestyle. Craftsmen were honored as well as those who created beauty with their words, voice or body. The Protectors were treated with respect and, when they displayed a strong ability with an Element, extra training was given to enhance the use of that Element to protect the group.

  Brigid made another note to check if that was still the case and if not, if it would pay to utilize specialized training for Protectors with strong Elemental abilities.

  She had just begun the entry in which the Seer introduced his meeting with a powerful Eiru human chief when something beyond her control jarred her concentration. A gurgle from the depths of her belly alerted her to one irrefutable fact—she was starved!

  * * * *

  “Dagda! It’s good to hear your voice. You sound quite excited. Oh, that’s great to hear. And you need my help?” Gabe pulled over a memo pad and his pen flew over the page. “Wait, wait. Slow down. Let me see if I have this straight. You have five uncut rubies, three diamonds and how many emeralds and sapphires?” His pen faltered. “Listen, I’ve contacts at banks throughout Europe and KOTE has funds available. Why don’t you hold on to the stones and I’ll wire monies into several accounts. Eileen can access them online whenever necessary.”

  “So, we were right about the Terran blood, eh? A Fire Element? Careful she doesn’t burn you! Electricity for the Cave?” Gabe burst into laughter. “Does Eileen need help to set that up? Ah, contacts of her own. Well, we’ll pay for anything she needs. A good portable generator, of course, but we may have a problem with wiring the Cave itself. The Internet? My, she is indeed a wonder! Eileen’s sure she can do the work herself? If she doesn’t mind waiting, I can get some of the Terrans in England to assist her. You don’t think she’ll wait, eh?”

  Gabe grinned and idly tapped the pen on the pad. “I think she’s on to something with her search to match Terran terms with Irish names with similar meanings. Is she going to contact Ethan’s family?”

  Gabe fell silent, listening to Dagda’s response. He pursed his lips, put the call on speaker and paced back and forth as he thought aloud about Dagda’s answer. “I see your point. Making an overt contact might actually produce a negative response and open us up to scrutiny we can’t afford. Should any of his family react to the various websites, we’ll advise them of Ethan’s involvement in the present situation. If we don’t hear from any of them, they can continue unawares with their lives.”

  He sank into the leather desk chair and leaned against the back. “You’re going to try to contact the Irish Terrans who went to ground. How? Not through the Internet, surely? Ah, I see. You’ll let me know if you have any success. Can you put Eileen on the phone? Thanks. Eileen? Dagda told me of your plan. Could you please give me the names of the websites and their links?” Gabe picked his pen up again, jotting down the various websites. “Do you need any assistance to set them up? Only money. Right. You’ve come up with a brilliant plan and I’m stunned by your enthusiasm. He is amazing, isn’t he? He was the one who suggested wiring the Cave?”

  His spirits lifting, he spun his chair like a kid on a whirl-around, as he listened to Eileen.

  “Can you speak up a bit? I can’t hear you. A surprise? Clothes for him? I have no problem if you wish to order any. And a four-wheel drive truck? Yes, I can see where you might need one. Buy what you need. I’ll have a credit account set up for you by tomorrow morning your time. I’ll give your regards to Brigid and Ethan. Eileen? Thanks for your help.”

  Gabe severed the connection and reread the data he’d written down. Plans were progressing at a fast clip. Except on his end. He knew he should take the same advice he’d given to Brigid and have patience, but his decoding was the key to all the information they needed about Nolen’s plans and where he was holed up.

  He smacked his palm against the desktop. His growing anger frightened him in more ways than he thought he could share with Brigid. He clenched his fists, slammed the desk, denting the polished surface, and stared at his hands and shuddered. He’d lost control of his Protector strength. Again.

  Last night when Brigid had come to him he had almost sent her away. He’d turned back to the screens to try to gain control of the intensity of his feelings.

  He was so damned frustrated in his fruitless search of Nolen’s files that he wanted to smash something. Anything. He sensed that he was close to the brink. When Brigid offered herself to him, he worried that he’d hurt her. No matter what she said, he feared his need to dominate her could spin out of control. But she’d held out her arms and he could never resist her, so he’d fallen upon her like a ravenous animal, taking her over and over again.

  He thought of the private cache of bondage equipment he kept locked away from her curious eyes. Brigid thought she knew how rough and hard he liked sex. If she only realized he was still holding back.

  It was difficult enough not to cross the line at the best of times, but now, when every hour with being no closer to deciphering the critical code brought them nearer to defeat, it was damn near impossible.

  He remembered pinching and twisting her nipples. Suckling and nipping them. Hard. Smacking her bottom until it glowed. Sucking the delicate skin at the juncture of her neck and shoulder until he’d left a brand.

  She’d moaned, gasped, groaned, panted, shivered and whimpered beneath his touch. Arched her delicious ass against his groin. Then she butted him off her and flipped onto her back, digging her nails into his shoulders and leaving little crescent marks. Gripping his waist with her thighs, she rode him like an Amazon. She’d come so many times, he’d lost count.

  But she’d screamed when he’d bitten and marked her neck and tears had seeped from beneath her shuttered eyes. That was when he’d finally stopped. That was when he’d grown afraid of what he could do to her. That was when he knew he’d have to keep his deepest hungers hidden. More than defeating Nolen rested on his shoulders. Saving his relationship with Brigid did also.

  A polite cough at the doorway startled him from his concentration and he swerved his chair around.

  Brigid smiled and ambled into the office. “Gabe? I’m hungry. How about you? Do you want something?”

  He hesitated. What he wanted, he couldn’t have. “Maybe later. I’ve too much to do.” He turned back to his PC, relieved that Brigid couldn’t see the raging need in his eyes.

  But unaware of the hurt in hers.

  * * * *

  Boynton, New York

  Nolen idly gazed at the woman lying next to him in his bed. Her long, straight hair partially hid the nipple clamps gracing her engorged tips. Dried blood still stained the portions of her skin that he hadn’t licked clean. The chauffeur’s blood had spurted across her smooth flesh. He’d have to remove the body before his afternoon interview with James Macalister.

&nbs
p; He reviewed the other evening when he’d used his Speaker skill to control the driver’s actions after the man returned with Lorraine’s clothing.

  Taking the lead, he’d guided them to the basement to a room dedicated to Lorraine Foley’s favorite pastime. All the most desirable bondage equipment stocked the armoire in the soundproofed chamber and the room held equipment for her more strenuous activities. When Lorraine examined the armoire’s contents, she actually squealed with joy.

  He did so love to keep his staff happy.

  After they entered the room, he released the chauffeur’s power to speak. His fearful screams echoed so loudly Nolen renewed his control of the fellow’s vocal cords.

  He lounged against the padded cushions of the chaise longue placed in a corner of the room watching the immobilized man whimper; tears streaming down his face. “Shall I direct him to follow your instructions explicitly, Lorraine?”

  Lorraine looked up from admiring a leather-fringed flogger. “Thank you. Usually my partners start out willing. I was considering different ways to have some fun before killing him. You and I will both enjoy ourselves so much more now.”

  Nolen directed his gaze to the cowering male. “You will do as you’re told by this woman and welcome whatever she does to you. Understand? Nod if you do?” A brief jerk of the man’s head displayed his compliance. “Good. He’s all yours, my dear.”

  Nolen watched as Lorraine perused items in the antique armoire purchased through one of his agents. A discreet connoisseur of the most exquisite aspects of BDSM had furnished the entire room before Nolen’s arrival. The money was obviously well spent as he watched the woman clap her hands with glee when she examined the contents.

  The female stripped, totally unaffected by the avid stares of the two men. Her waist was incredibly slender, reminding Nolen of those women of a bygone era who would inflict the tightened constraints of boned corsets to slim their waistlines.

  When Lorraine picked out the smallest sized corset of all those hanging in the closet, he realized how she’d obtained her eighteen-inch waist. She slipped on the satin, lace and steel-boned apparel and hurried over to him. “Here, tighten it for me. I doubt, even if I directed this creature, that he’d tighten it enough. I know you will.”

  He smiled. “Happy to oblige, my dear. Turn around.” When she swiveled to present the lacings to him, her bare buttocks were in reach. The luscious globes jutted in his face, the smooth skin unmarred. He questioned her as he threaded the laces through the eyelets. “Has no one spanked or flogged that pretty ass of yours?”

  She tightened her backside’s muscles. “I allow no one to do anything but fuck me. I am no one’s little girl to be placed over some grown-up’s knees and whipped!”

  Nolen took in her affronted response and wondered if perhaps at one time someone close to the vicious Ms. Foley had punished her in such a manner. He shelved his thoughts for later, when he could use her reaction for his own pleasure.

  “Tighter! If I’d wanted the thing to fall off, I’d have had him do it!”

  Nolen pinched her succulent right cheek with all his Terran strength. “You may be his Domme, but you’re not mine, bitch. Behave or I’ll kill him now and deprive you of your little game. Suck in your breath and I’ll bring you to seventeen inches!”

  Wisely, Lorraine fell silent except for the gasp as the steel stays cut into her tender flesh. Her breasts swelled over the top of the lace-trimmed cups, her elongated nipples stiff and begging to be suckled. As the last knot was tied, Nolen smacked her backside and watched with amusement as she bit her lip, curbing the cutting retort he knew she wanted to offer.

  Instead, she strolled over to the closet and pulled open one of the narrow drawers lining the massive piece of furniture. Sheer stockings in various sizes lay between tissue paper. Finding her size, she opened the deeper bottom drawer to display several rows of stiletto heels and bent over giving Nolen a tempting view of her rosy hole.

  He licked his lips in anticipation. He’d have her soon enough when the adrenaline surge of power ripped away the last vestige of civilized behavior. When the very act of violent sex would be an offering to Ba’al.

  His cock rose with eagerness.

  In a hidden panel inside the armoire were several shards from the remnants of Ba’al’s cock that he’d brought with him from Ireland. When the time was right, he’d use the immense dildos to fuck Ms. Foley until she screamed with painful delight.

  Perhaps tonight, if she was a good girl.

  “What next, Lorraine? I’m waiting for a good show.” She whirled around, the shoes in her upraised hand. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, my dear. You’ll regret it.”

  Her anger still rampant, she stalked over to the unwilling participant in their little drama and struck his cheek with the shoes with all her strength. The man screamed in silence as the heels slashed two deep grooves in his face. Blood gushed from the wounds and dripped onto the floor. Foley commanded her victim with a sneer. “Take your clothes off and hang them up neatly in the closet then lie down on the bed on your back. Quickly now!”

  Nolen assessed the female’s directions. She had regained control and casually ordered the male human about. With a smirk, he observed the man’s undisciplined reaction to the stunning female. The man’s penis stiffened, even as his breathing stuttered erratically. He stumbled over to the narrow bed and arranged his body as ordered.

  Lorraine smoothed on her stockings, buckled the straps on her heels and sashayed to the terrified man. “Want to fuck me? Want to stick that prick inside me and make me come? I’m sure you do.” When she bent over him, her tits brushed his lips. “And it’ll be the best fuck you’ll ever have … ever.” Next, she straddled him, her curls shielding her cunt. Inch by inch she slid up his body until his mouth was by her pussy. “Eat me. Now.”

  Nolen watched, as excited as the woman riding the supine man’s face. She arched her back, playing with her nipples, her moans of pleasure unfeigned while she rose and fell, her strong thighs keeping her from suffocating him if she fell onto his face. In that instant, the thought of her smothering the man with her twat tickled Nolen’s fancy. “Sink on to him. Let him die a happy, full man with your sweet cunt in his mouth.”

  She ignored him for a moment, increasing her speed as she neared her climax, and gasped out her refusal. “Not yet! There’s much more before I release him. You won’t be sorry. Let him speak. He’ll scream, you’ll see.”

  Nolen acquiesced. And the man did. Even as he brought Lorraine to her own screaming orgasm, before he begged for mercy when she told him what she was going to do; he screamed just before she pierced his jugular vein.

  Nolen viewed her bathe her breasts with the man’s blood. He watched her cry out in ecstasy. Observed her plunging up and down on the man’s softening cock, and hurried to the armoire.

  Within seconds he had one of the stone dildos in his hand. He pulled Lorraine’s unwilling, struggling body off the dying man and dragged her upstairs to his bedroom. He threw her on the bed and pinned her with a glance. “Stay there.” With one hand, he stripped off his clothes and naked, approached her. He raised the stone dildo.

  “What?”

  “For you, my dear.”

  And she screamed.

  Nolen wondered now, as he observed the satiated female, what had happened in her past to make her enjoy torture so much? He laughed under his breath. Did he really care? He pinched her slim waist. It still bore the marks from the steel corset ribs. He had taken a very sharp knife and approached her with it after he’d fucked her with the relic of Ba’al’s cock.

  She had lain on her belly, blood seeping from the delicate abrasions. He had been very careful not to injure her too badly. After all, he needed her.

  Huddled against the sheets, her pain-filled pants had been a paean to his skill. Hearing his footsteps, she turned her head and saw the gleaming weapon in his hand. Stark terror filled her eyes and she was unable to speak, unable to move.

 
Nolen recalled in exquisite detail her eyes clenching shut, her buttocks flexing anticipating the finely honed blade. When he pressed his knee next to her hip as he mounted the bed, she whimpered. He brushed her hair away from her neck and whispered in her ear. “Hush, my dear, it will all be over soon. I’ll ease your pain.”

  She gasped out a feeble plea. “Please.”

  He licked her neck and nipped it before he answered. “Of course.” Then he slit the laces open on the corset, freeing her breasts from their satin cups, and her rib cage and waist from their brutal restraint. Her shocked gasp tickled his sense of the absurd. “Did you really think I’d kill you, my dear? Now?”

  She rolled over, her hand raised to strike him. “Bastard!”

  He gripped her wrist, squeezing it until she winced. “I told you before not to try that.” He brought her hand to his mouth and licked her palm, biting hard on the fleshy mound by her thumb. “You need to learn control, my sweet little bitch. And, if you’re a good girl, I’ll teach you.” He kissed her wounded flesh. “Now, go to sleep and, if I think you deserve it, I’ll fuck you again before my next interview arrives tomorrow afternoon.” He smacked her ass, enjoying the shudder of delight that rippled through her body.

  He had slept through the remainder of the night, Lorraine’s warm, supple form lying next to his. Even when he turned her on her belly and fucked her dry, she hadn’t uttered a word.

  Now, she deserved a reward for her hard-earned lesson. He stroked her hip and flipped her onto her back. “Time for a morning treat, my dear.” He held up Ba’al’s cock, still red with her blood.

  And her screams reverberated in the room.

  Chapter Five

  Greenwich Village, New York City

  “You will take a break, Eytan. You must eat something!” Aviva shoved a platter of aromatic falafel fritters beneath the Irish Terran’s face. “Put down that harp and pick up a fritter. You didn’t have lunch yesterday or supper when you arrived home, I’d bet. And I think you had no breakfast before you knocked on my door this morning.” She tapped her foot, marking time until he responded. “Well?”