by Amanda Milo
“If that’s a dig at me, I don’t care,” Bash informs him.
I tweak the tip of his ear, and it flicks against my hand.
Bash smiles, all lazy, satisfied teeth. “But I’m grateful to you for doing this, and your earlier request for time off is officially approved.”
Cyden whips his head around in surprise—and then his eyes slam shut as he abruptly faces away again. “Thank you!”
Bash has gone still, clearly sensing that Cyden saw me. I flick his shoulder to regain his attention.
“Don’t flick me,” he warns.
“I told you a long time ago that you owed me one, pipe down.”
Bash’s ears pop in different directions. “Is that a variation of ‘shut down?’” He jerks a fistful of my dress up to ogle the merchandise. Almost reverently, his hand slides down my bared stomach until his fingers curl as far as they can go over the lip of the belt, tightly trying to fit between my belly and the metal that has me trapped for him and him alone.
He can’t fit. Not enough to touch me.
Loving the dark thrill on his face, I smirk. “It’s ‘shut up,’ remember?”
Bash’s pupils are huge as he slowly tugs the lock securing my belt’s front. “Right now, I don’t care.”
And with that, he lets the lock go, and it clanks as it connects with my new underwear.
I’m really doing this.
I’m wearing a chastity belt.
CHAPTER 39
ISLA
My butt feels really heavy.
“Does this chastity belt make my ass look big?” I whisper to Bash.
He throws me a nonplussed look and does not whisper. “No. Don’t be ridiculous.”
Cyden ignores us and tacks the final sketch to the wall of his workspace. “I’ll let you know when the custom belt of your design is completed.”
Bash jerks his chin in acknowledgement and takes my hand.
Cyden gestures to the belt only hidden by my dress if the material doesn’t cling to it. It clings a lot, and I’ve found Bash’s eyes glued to me like he wishes he had x-ray vision but he’s grateful to at least have this much visibility. “As for that one, I can try more buffing if you want the claw marks gone, but the grooves are fairly deep. It’s going to take time—”
“Get out,” Bash orders him.
Cyden raises his eyebrows. Without a word, long-used to his boss’s courteous demeanor, he peels off his gloves and exits the building.
Bash moves to stand directly in front of me. He has a wicked, wicked gleam in his eyes, hot enough to melt me from the inside out.
Slowly, holding my gaze the whole time, he kneels.
Yep. This is doing it for me. “I think I’m kinky,” I admit.
“Whatever you are, I want it,” Bash shares. He clutches the key to my chastity and stares at me with a new sort of hunger.
Unabashed glee breaks over my face. “Ohh, this is going to drive you crazy.”
He pins me with a look, his eyes fierce. All the while, he’s stroking my anti-promiscuity key. It’s a big amber-gold skeleton number, and he’s got it gripped between his thumb and the side of his finger. His thumb is darn near polishing it, with that slow rub he’s got going on with it.
“Should I leave you two alone?” I say, motioning to the key.
Bash looks down at my waist. At my wonderbelt-level. “I want to be alone with you.”
I throw my arm around his neck. “But,” I squish his head’s quills when I carefully lay my cheek over them, my nose bumping the inside of his horn’s base, “we’ve got to get to work.”
A speedy session of primal scent marking follows, and it almost has me changing my mind about starting work on time—but I have goals.
I cannot wait to tell my friends about everything they missed.
Bash relinquishes me with a final fondle to my iron-cupped ass just in time for the workday to start. Women are filing into the quarry, and I begin waving at all of my friends wildly.
Gracie gives me a grin, and Angie waves, Callie waves, Mandi waves, all of it good and fine, but Jonohkada is—as usual—trailing behind Gracie, and he waves at me too.
A shield drops down in front of my eyes.
It’s Bash’s hand.
“Hey,” I lightly swat at him. “You’ve got my ass covered—is it really necessary to put blinkers on me too? I have some lines that can’t be crossed.”
“Blinkers?” Bash asks, allowing me to peel his fingers up and drag his hand down. He lets me keep control of his hand only until I reach my chest level. Once his hand is at boob height, his wrist twists and his palm is suddenly cupping me. I’m going to put a kibosh on this, real soon—I just need a minute. I am soooo digging the possessive fever that’s taken over my alien.
I’ve never had any guy care so much.
Meanwhile, everyone assembling for work is watching us like stunned meerkats. Nosy ones. Angie calls, “So does this mean Bash is in a good mood… or in a killing mood?”
“He’s a Rakhii,” Gracie says, like this is an answer.
I tilt my head up to look at Bash. “I’ll talk to you later.” My plan was to have him with me when I share the good news but I don’t want him to stomp Jonohkada, so I need to shoo Bash to wherever he’s planning to break rock today. “Where will you be working?”
“Right beside you.”
“Awwww! Aren’t you sweet!” All the feels. “Wellll… how about you run along and I join you real soon? I need like fifteen minutes to have girl talk. I’ll be fast.”
“You want to delay the workday by fifteen of your Earthen time increments?” Bash asks, aghast. And while technically his voice is devoid of shouting, screaming, or roaring—I can tell he’s suddenly feeling deadly.
I’d spin to face him, but he’s still got my tit in his hands, basically. If he starts to try to knead it in front of everybody, I’ll draw the line then. I might drag him behind his throne to bang him quick before work, but by God, I will draw the line somewhere about public displays. I twist my neck further, really imploring him with my eyes. “We have super amazing news to share and I’m excited to tell them! Don’t you want to tell your friends?”
Bash’s hand flexes on my boob. (It’s not kneading. Don’t judge me. Shut up!) “I’d rather show them. Males are visual creatures.”
I pat him on his scaly arm. I fondle along the muscle that’s bunched up so nicely because of the way he’s holding himself tense. “I don’t think I should want to know how you plan to demonstrate. Look, the important part of this conversation is that, as your beloved cherished mate, I’m asking you to—just this one rare time for the first time ever, I might add—I’m asking you a favor so that I can proudly proclaim to all I care to know that you and me are a forever thing.”
My word choices cause Bash’s tail to wind up my leg and tease under my skirt. His tailblades clunk against the front of my belt.
I’m pretty sure it’s that sound that has him agreeing. “Very well,” he finally says. The tone of his voice has turned so easy that I’m thrown—right until he drags me up on my toes, shoves the side of his head against me, and starts scrubbing me against the planes of his face like I’m a washcloth and he’s an old fashioned washboard.
It’s like the scent marking from a minute and a half ago—but more public, and thankfully there’s less groping.
Still, catcalls and whoops erupt around us. Several of the hobs and unmated Rakhii melt further back in the crowd, taking stations as far away from Bash’s display—and strong bonding scent—as they can get.
Bash finishes by drawing his tongue up the side of my cheek. “There, my cherished mate. Go visit with your friends,” he says with a magnanimous smile.
I slap my hands on either side of his face and lick his lips.
Shouts and clapping and generally thrilled approval emanate from the peanut gallery.
“There,” I purr as I pull back. “Now you go say hi to your friends too. And hubby?” I pat him on the ass, making him
stiffen and stare down at me in stern sexual warning. “Thanks for the fifteen minutes.”
CHAPTER 40
ISLA
I skip to my gaggle of human pals. Not easy to do when a couple pounds of metal are weighing your buns down. “Guess what?”
“What?” five dutiful voices chime… well, dutifully. Laura and Crispin edge over, bringing my circle of concerned friends to seven. When Beth scurries over, it’s eight plus her pirate.
“I got abducted!” I crow. “My Rakhii totally absconded with me, it was great.”
“Yeah?” Gracie is grinning huge. “Good for you!” She frowns though as she glances over her shoulder in Bash’s direction. “Huh. Woulda thought he’d be more relaxed after you banged his brains loose.”
“Give him time,” I tell her.
“This is the weirdest thing to give congrats for, but hey, congratulations on getting abducted by an alien!” Angie cries.
“So what happened?” Mandi asks. Her gaze travels to Bash, who’s hammering the blade of a pickaxe at the quarry wall while staring straight at me. Unsafe work practices, perhaps; stalkerish, for sure—but sweet.
I clap my leg happily. “Get in there, tame that alien, you said. Well guys, we got married!”
Shocked exclamations and more congratulations for our happy mate-trimony follow my announcement.
“Have a seat,” Gracie pats the stone beside her. There’s enough room on Bash’s throne that both our rear ends can easily fit. “Tell us all about—”
My ass clunks down next to her, halting her words.
“Ow,” I laugh. “And yeah, I’ll tell you—”
“You’re gonna tell me why your butt just clanked,” Gracie says, staring under my butt like she can’t believe what she just heard. She reaches out and presses on my hip, making the dress fabric mold to my belt underneath. “What are you wearing, metal Spanx?”
“Bubashuu’s got a trust thing,” I wave my hand, “so he scared Cyden into—”
“Who is Cyden?” Callie asks.
“A hob,” Jonohkada answers from beside Gracie. “He is the blacksmith here.” His eyes are intent on me, his face held in a poorly hidden wince, the way a person looks when they know they’re about to hear about a gruesome car accident their friend endured during a super bad snowstorm.
“Oh, right, I’ve seen him around,” Callie says.
“—into fitting me with an emergency chastity belt,” I finish for everyone.
“Whaaaat!” Angie yelps.
“SERIOUSLY?” Gracie shouts. “I was kidding about the Spanx!”
“Fuck. I’m sorry,” Mandi says grimly. “That sucks.”
I shrug. “Well, you know. ‘Get in there’ you said.” I widen my eyes at Gracie. “I’m in it.”
“That was before he strapped a metal diaper on your ass,” she says hollowly.
Everyone glances below my waist.
I pretend to gasp. “HEY. Eyes up soldiers. I can’t believe you people. This is a marriage. You do what you gotta do for your partner’s peace of mind.”
“How do you go pee?” Angie asks, absolutely horrified.
“She has to wait for him to unlock her,” Mandi mutters darkly...
...In such a weird way that we’re all looking over at her.
She shrugs. “The first alien I was kept by—”
“This the one who tore up your neck?” Gracie asks, her tone almost level enough to sound nonchalant and not just quietly infuriated.
“Ye...” Mandi can’t even finish her answer. Eventually, she manages a jerky, wooden nod.
Her cat-man materializes behind her—
Jabari!
—and his squint down at Mandi becomes a glare shot towards Gracie.
Gracie sighs and turns to me. “Spill it all.”
“His name is Jabari!” I whisper excitedly.
Gracie gives me a patient look. “I know.”
“What? How come you never said?” My mouth is hanging open.
“Because he’s got some belief about ‘cleaving’ to his intended, where other women using his given name is seen as a dangerous window to straying. So don’t say his name.”
That’s it. “Hang on.” I point to Mandi’s cat. “My show’s on. Don’t be rude. Wait for a commercial.”
Gracie glances back at the still-glaring cat alien before moving her gaze back to me. One half of her mouth lifts up. “I’m getting it loud and clear that we’d best change channels.”
“Damn. Fine.” I wave my hand. “Bash had a moment, I offered to go so far as to wear a chastity belt if it’d give him peace of mind that I wasn’t going to throw my hard-earned relationship with a grumpy quarry master away when I inevitably fall madly in love with a baker’s dozen of hobs.”
Wings rustle nearby, a tell-tale sign that hobs are listening and just became interested. In this case, hopefully well-warned off. I’m not interested and if Bash finds them trying to interest me, he’s going to kick their bewinged asses or do worse. Tara’s mate’s brother (the Rakhii who strangled the thirteen hobs) comes to mind.
“Anyway, we’re married now, I’ve got a custom ankle bracelet to keep me chained to the bed, I’m wearing a metal diaper of commitment, he’s clutching the key to my desire and dragging me behind his throne to renew my commitment—or we will be. Frequently.” I smile just thinking about it. “It’s all good.” I glance around at everyone quickly, adding, “Don’t walk behind his chair unless you want a show.”
Everyone’s faces are a mix of stunned surprise and some horror.
“Are you serious about the ankle chain?” Angie gapes, glancing down at my feet.
“Stop gawking. I don’t have it on right now. Obviously, I’m not wearing it to work.” I roll my eyes.
Angie’s smile is droll. “Oh, sure. Obviously.”
I nod. “But yeah, we’re in this all the way. Bed chains and chastity. Sex off the charts. It’s all good. I can’t recommend marriage to Rakhii enough.”
My friends are slack-jawed and wide-eyed.
“Hey, don’t judge. This is how we do it. We’re making it work,” I insist.
Callie, weirdly, begins beaming. When I give her a baffled look, everyone turns to see who I’m staring at, and then we’re all staring at her. “Hey,” she says defensively, bright patches hitting her cheeks, so red they match her hair, “no need to all be looking at me like that.”
“Then don’t smile like that,” Gracie points out.
Callie snorts and tries to hide her face behind her adorable son, who she’s wearing in a baby harness on her front today. I wonder if Daddy Zadeon feels like he’s lost something. I give it five minutes before he’s here and he’s the Rakhii mauling his wife and/or stealing back their kid. “I was just thinking that finally, finally—Z won’t be the only one carrying around something as embarrassing as my underwear.”
Gracie shakes her head. “Not the same.”
“Yes it is,” Callie insists. She looks to me for backup. “It totally is.”
“My husband’s got a key on a necklace,” I point out. “Your massive killer alien wears your tiny pretty underwear on his huge arms. Hardly the same thing.”
Callie gives me big don’t-you-bullshit-me eyes. “It’s a key to your vagina. Your boss is literally carrying around the key that gives access to your personal playground. You should probably report him to Human Resources.”
“See, they don’t have that here,” I tell her. “Bash would probably kill them.”
“He’d be sure to make them cry at the very least,” Mandi pipes in.
“Can we spend a moment back at ‘personal playground?’” Angie drawls, biting her lips.
Gracie squints. “That term’s gonna stick awhile.”
“Shut down,” I tell them all. Because Bash’s version of this phrase has really grown on me. It makes me smile just to say it. “Anyway, I feel it’s important to stress that Bash may need the belt and the shackles on me now, but I’m sure he’ll feel secure soon.”
>
“What if he doesn’t?” Mandi asks, curiosity so, so plain in her wide, wide eyes.
“Then we’ll be kinky,” I answer with a shrug and a dirty smirk. “Ever wondered why Florida is the retirement capital of the US and the site of one of the world’s largest fetish conventions? It’s golden years in golden belts for a lot of people.”
She’s frozen. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
I knock my knuckles on my lap. “He needs this. I’m okay with helping him cope.”
“How is metal underwear helping anyone cope?!”
“Trust issues,” I explain. “He’s a walking treasure chest of trust issues.” I gesture to the spot below my waist. “Worries about adultery: solved.”
Angie tips her head, her nose wrinkling. “What if it chafes?”
“It sort of is.”
“It’s going to dig into your skin,” Mandi shares, expression dark and obviously knowing.
I give her an easy smile. “He’s got super-spit, so no worries. You know, the whole healing thing. Magic saliva licked everywhere you can imagine the magic applicator tonguing.”
She looks down—not at my crotch, where everyone else feels no shame about staring. She’s got more of an inward stare going. “Right. Lucky thing.”
“I definitely feel lucky. The little tongue bumps Rakhii have are a nice touch.”
Jonoh grimaces.
“I bet they are,” Gracie sing-songs.
Laura drops her butt onto a nearby rock, shifting, getting comfortable. “What tongue bumps?” Her mate, Crispin, flicks her an amused look—that she returns with a bright smile—then he goes back to murmuring to Dohrein, who he’s having his own private discussion with not far behind us. Clearly not as interesting as our discussion though. We’ve got all the eyes.
“Rakhii have pleasure nodules on their tongue,” Jonohkada pipes up, and he literally takes the opportunity to flip his tablet device around and tap until we see a close-up hologram of a Rakhii male’s tongue nodules—or so says the picture, care of Jonoh’s translation for us. “Many a Gryfala have been won over by an oral session with a prospective Rakhii,” he adds informatively.
