He pulled away, and I let his semi-erect shaft slip from my mouth, but he did not release me. In fact, he pulled me closer to his body until my face was pressed against the damp warmth of his groin. He adjusted his pants and then cupped the side of my head in his hard palm. I rested there between his powerful thighs, feeling oddly safe and content. He continued to stroke my hair, tracing the angles of my face, almost as though he were seeing me through the rough tips of his fingers. When they trailed over my lips, I opened my mouth, and the callused pads slid over my teeth. I closed my lips over his fingers and sucked, and then released him.
U’shma didn’t call me back up, so I carefully adjusted my position, smiling when the stranger clasped my braid, not allowing me to move far. Once I was sitting comfortably between his legs, I rested my head against his thigh, letting my eyes slip closed. The conversation between the two was scant, and as hours passed, it grew terse, nearly angry.
Money changed hands, and then changed hands again. I heard my owner curse, and then later, laugh in delight. As he’d originally won me in a game of chance, it occurred to me to pay attention. My fate might be in play there above my head.
“His paperwork for this hand.”
U’shma’s laughter was harsh and angry. He was clearly down by many points. “No, I think not. Perhaps… a visit until I retire for the evening. That gives you two, perhaps three hours.”
“No. If not his papers, his service until I depart.”
They continued in this vein for several minutes, during which my hopes rose and fell with every offer and counteroffer. At some point the flask of wine was passed to me under the table; I drank gladly, letting the wine lull me into a slumberous haze. For the first time in my brief memory, I felt confident in allowing another to take control of my safety. I didn’t sleep, not quite.
“Pasha… wake up!”
A sharp kick from U’shma’s pointed shoe jerked me awake. I clumsily adjusted the veil and headscarf and stiffly crawled out from under the table. Truly, I had no clue of my age; I was not old, but surely too old to fall asleep under a table. The stranger looked strained yet pleased. U’shma looked pissed. But it’s difficult not to look pissed when the Maker gives you a damp, blue-gray snout where your nose should be.
“You will go with him tonight. He has you until this time tomorrow.”
I looked from one to the other. Hope warred with apprehension. I knew I could run this time, but hell, they’d just catch me within hours. The cuffs on my wrists held all the information law enforcement needed to spot me and send me back to my rightful owner.
Perhaps the stranger had some amazing tech skills and could release me…. I glanced at his battle-scarred hands and revised that hope. Perhaps he knew someone with amazing tech skills….
U’shma pushed away from the table, his stocky body clumsy with anger. He’d come out hoping for a profitable, pleasant evening and walked away empty-handed. By tomorrow the gambling itch would become a screaming rash on his brain. His addiction was a wicked thing. I bit my lip and considered my options. I glanced up at the pirate.
“I’ve got a room upstairs.”
Hmm. Big spender. Most men on layover here just took a cube and shared the communal toilet. That’s pretty much why the place smelled so bad. There was a waiting list for the single public shower.
He stood, and I stepped up to follow, hanging back the obligatory step or two. I spared a glance for U’shma; in spite of his anger, he’d already turned away and was hovering near a busy gaming table. Undoubtedly his thoughts were with the next con he could run.
The stranger seemed like the type who liked his weapon hand clear, so once there was room, I gave him space. He didn’t like it.
“Up in front of me. I can’t guard you if I can’t see you.”
Now that caught my attention. I turned in surprise, looking at that stony visage. A whore preceding a client? I shrugged, turned, and led the way, pausing at the base of the stair.
“Third floor, turn right.”
His voice was deep and gravelly. I liked it. The sound made my insides a bit shivery. I tripped and went down onto my knees.
“Stupid fucking robes.” I’d gathered them up, but the ends got away and tangled between my feet. I don’t know how women and clerics did it on a daily basis.
“You’ll have them off soon enough.”
Now more of me went shivery. It was taboo to reveal the face of your whore, but still, the rest of my body could be naked. I’d never been in a position to ask about that little bit of etiquette, but I suspected some whores weren’t really out for money. Some people got their rocks off pretending to be something they weren’t. Hell, according to U’shma, the local council head had sucked more dick than I would in my lifetime.
Well, that was my hope. I really didn’t want to suck dick all my life.
Chapter Two
THE ROOM was surprisingly quiet and blessedly cool. The window was slightly ajar, and I stood looking out over the busy streets. At first I wondered why he’d leave the window open, until I looked outside. No one would climb this high to enter the window of a sleazy lodging.
“The veil has to stay on, but everything else can come off.” I began my memorized spiel, just in case he didn’t know the rules. “Unless he gave you the remote for the chastity ring, I prefer not to penetrate you, and I am unable to climax. I’m current on my health certs; if you aren’t, then I ask that you use appropriate protection. I can provide you with your choice of shields.”
I slowly lifted the headscarf off, closed my eyes, and relished the sensation of cool air on my scalp and neck. I turned, checking for the effect of the slow striptease.
He stood by the door, his body taut with expectation.
“Just get that stuff off. I don’t like seeing you in it.”
Fine. I struggled out of the gauzy robes, leaving only a pair of high-waisted pants that were held up by a sash; the legs tapered and were tied at the ankles. Under it all, I wore decorative fabric slippers. My cock was beginning to wake up again, and I willed it down. With the chastity ring, erections were uncomfortable, to say the least.
“Where’d that scar come from?”
I glanced down at the white mark on my ribs. Truly, I don’t think I’d ever noticed it before. I frowned and shrugged. “I guess it’s always been there.”
He looked a bit disappointed. He probably got off on comparing battle scars. Or perhaps he thought it odd that I had no memory of such a vicious wound.
Standing awkwardly, I waited for him to move, to command me, but the man stood gazing, a fierce frown on his face.
“Do you know me?”
“No, sir. Er… master.” I guessed he might be the sort who’d like that kind of thing. I was wrong. The word brought an even darker expression to his face.
He circled me like a giant panther as I stood obediently in the middle of the floor. Oddly, he didn’t frighten me in spite of the angry face and rough hands. Even the cache of weapons piled on the table didn’t intimidate me that badly. I spotted a golden kilij; my hands itched to grasp the hilt of the curved scimitar, to dance the blade under the harsh lights of the room.
Then I had to wonder: How in hell did I know that thing was called a kilij? That isn’t in the vocabulary of the common whore.
Guess I must be an uncommon whore.
He completed his inspection of my body and ended up in front of me, just feet away. My urge was to drop to my knees and wrap my fists around that lovely cock of his. Yet something in his bearing held me back. Something that stirred in the back of my brain told me to hush… to be still.
He looked deeply into my eyes, and the expression on his face caused something to loosen inside my gut. I wanted to cry, to hide my face in shame. Instead I stood still and quiet, awaiting his instructions.
“Get rid of the veil.” His voice was faint and strained.
“Ahh… local statutes….”
“Take off that fucking veil!” His tone was a low, ang
ry growl.
Fine. If he wanted it that much, I’d take the veil off. I had nothing to hide. I fumbled with the tie at the back of my head, but he didn’t want to wait. A big hand reached out and jerked, taking a few strands of hair with it. I suppressed a curse.
He stood as though fixated, and I suppose there was cause. While slaves don’t own mirrors, the temptation to sneak a peek now and again was always present. At one time I’d believed that learning my face would trigger my memories. It hadn’t, but I knew my face was handsome enough. High cheekbones crested slightly hollow cheeks. The nose was straight. The lips were wide and bowed, neither too full nor too thin. My eyes were large and gray, surrounded by deep brown lashes and brows, which were at odds with the coppery hair that was braided away from my face. A strong chin was graced with a slight cleft.
I could be objective enough to know that I was as beautiful as a man can be without looking effeminate. That knowledge meant nothing.
He stared, and defensively, I held my head a little higher. I tilted my chin up and tried to find the tattered remnants of my lost pride. His eye went wide; his face went pale.
When the pirate abruptly dropped to his knees, I was more than surprised—I was stunned. When he clasped my limp hand, pressing it to his forehead, I became alarmed.
But when he cried, taking great, sobbing breaths, I could do one thing and one thing only.
I dropped to my knees and took the huge warrior into my arms, doing my best to offer him comfort. And I hadn’t a clue what was wrong.
“I failed you.”
His voice was forlorn and despondent. Ashamed. His hands hung at his sides as I wrapped my arms around his body. Tears slid from his intact eye, trickling down his cheek to settle on my bare shoulder. He outweighed me by many pounds, and I held on tighter to keep from going over.
Okay, so I groped him.
Not to disrespect the man or anything, but he was a complete stranger, if you discount the fact that I’d just given him a blowjob. But still, I didn’t even know his name, yet here he was, leaning into my body and crying on my shoulder.
It seemed like the perfect opportunity.
He sobbed; I stroked his back, dropping my hand to his muscular ass. He let out a grief-stricken moan, and I wiggled in a bit closer.
“I am so sorry.”
I really didn’t know what to say to that. If this man was responsible for my current life status… well, not good. Not good at all. But still… this man was a rock-hard badass, and he was so overwhelmed by emotion, by guilt, that he was falling apart in my arms.
And he knew me. Not Pasha the whore, but me.
“What was your primary responsibility… to me?” That just sounded weird.
“To keep you alive.”
A bodyguard, perhaps? That led to some interesting possibilities.
“Look at me.”
He resisted, and I leaned back, pulling away from him. Slowly he raised his head and looked at my face. Not into my eyes, though. My current status bothered him immensely.
“I am alive.”
He began to gather his composure and recover his dignity. However, he didn’t move from my arms. He seemed unconvinced by my simple argument.
“Do you hear me? I am alive and relatively well. I’m not certain who you are, but whatever happened, my life has been spared.”
We were still on our knees facing each other, and my cock was painfully happy with the contact. His cock was quite happy too, which rather impressed me. Emotional angst usually doesn’t serve well as an aphrodisiac. That’s the lovely thing about men; there’s no guesswork involved when it comes to arousal.
Once again he bowed his head, slowly lowering it to my shoulder. His arms came up and wrapped me in a loose embrace. It was a touch that brought so many sensations. It was intimate and arousing, but ultimately, that embrace made me feel safe. Hopeful.
And strange as the entire situation might seem, that embrace was familiar. It was like returning home from a long, long journey. Succumbing to temptation, I slowly lowered my head to his shoulder, letting the smallest part of my burden rest on him.
Just a little, because the burden was mine. His burden was mine as well. In fact, it was my calling to bear the burdens of many. It was my birthright. Odd that I should know that, but that knowledge brought a sense of calm to my heart.
That was why living in the relative ease of U’shma’s ownership chafed so badly. There were occasional humiliations, but really, no man should be without those moments of reality, those experiences that tell him he is only a mortal and not a god. I sighed and let him pull me closer.
“What is your name?”
A harsh breath escaped his body. His grief literally encompassed me. I felt bad that I even needed to ask the question.
“Griffin. Captain Griffin Hawke of the Royal Guard of Astrum.”
He was still and quiet, allowing me to process that information. Allowing me to formulate the next question.
“And who am I?”
Was I friend to this man? Lover? Peer? He straightened a bit, gathering his dignity once again. He was removing himself from me both physically and emotionally. I braced, waiting for the answer.
“You are Helios Dayspring.”
“Helios.”
Sun. Hope. I whispered the name, but it fell from my lips like something foreign and strange. Looking up at him, I saw hopeful expectation fade from his expression.
“You are… were… a prince of our people. You were one of our spiritual leaders.” He must have seen the disbelief on my face, because he laughed abruptly.
“That look on your face…. That hasn’t changed.” He smiled then, a sad smile that settled oddly on his scarred visage. “Indeed, Sire. You were—and are—the hope of our people.”
There was so much to ask, and yet I didn’t know enough to formulate a single intelligent question. My brain was still engaged with my new name. Helios Dayspring. I didn’t want to face the idea that I was part of a greater whole. That I was no longer alone upset the odd balance of my life. It was overwhelming enough to have an identity, though it consisted only of a name.
How absolutely precious those two words were.
My knees were beginning to ache on the hard floor, but I didn’t move. Countless hours of training had gone into my ability to remain on my knees; I could stay there as long as it took. Eventually he reached out and rested his hands on my shoulders, then slid them down my arms to settle on the slave bands around my wrists. His big hands were surprisingly gentle.
“He gave me a remote…. Will it remove these?” The bands seemed to offend him greatly. More than the veil, even.
“No.” I swallowed hard, and for the first time in my memory, shame settled briefly on my shoulders. I pushed it down and rose stiffly to my feet. My muscles ached from holding the position. “That remote is to the slave ring I wear on my penis.” His eyes flicked down to the front of my pants. “And I would greatly appreciate it if you would remove the damned thing!”
That brought a reluctant laugh.
I reached to untie the sash at my waist, but his hands moved mine away, and Griffin gently loosened my trousers, then lowered them to the floor. He fished the small device from a pocket and tripped the tiny switch. Abruptly the device loosened and dropped from my flesh.
I braced myself for the inevitable rush of pain that accompanied the blood flow to my manly bits. It hit and I gasped, my knees growing weak.
“Fuck.” He glared down at my wilted shaft, lips white with fury.
“That’s pretty much what it’s supposed to prevent.”
Unable to stop myself, I reached down and rubbed the sore skin at the base of my cock and balls. The ring wasn’t a toy, but rather a control mechanism. It was legally required equipment for all male whores. Goodness knows they didn’t want us out running wild and having uncompensated sex.
Stiffly I retrieved my trousers and began to refasten the wide sash. Unable to look at me, Griffin crossed to the wea
pons cache and began polishing the blade of a saber.
There had been many moments of humiliation in my life, but this was undoubtedly the worst. Losing the cock ring was blissfully sweet, but there was still shame in being as helpless as a child. I took a deep breath and tried to remember what it felt like to have some dignity.
“I don’t want to hear everything right now, just the basics. Please.” My fingers were stiff and clumsy on the fabric. I had to focus on breathing in and out; the enormity of the moment threatened to shatter the last threads of my self-control. I wanted to cry even as laughter bubbled up my throat.
He turned and propped his ass on the edge of the table, muscular arms crossed over his chest. Gone was the formality he’d shown earlier. Clearly I wasn’t deserving of such respect. My throat went tight as the shame surged over me once again.
“God, Lio, I don’t know where to start.”
Oh, not contempt. He’d relaxed into familiarity. He knew me well, it seemed. Something tight inside my heart went soft. Instinctively I knew this man would not lie to me. Tears burned my eyes, and I blinked them away. I felt positively giddy with emotion.
“You were third in line to the throne of our kingdom, Astrum. We live… lived on a planet known as Arash. Your Uncle Johan was king, and your cousin Batte was the heir presumptive. His brother Bahar was the spare. After time in the army, you were recruited by the Sun Priests to serve.”
“A priest? I was a priest?”
He grinned then, seeing my chagrin. “It is not a puritanical sect. You were quite happy being a warrior-priest. Your wife….”
I let my eyes drop closed. A wife. Someone was waiting for me. I swallowed hard, feeling nausea rise.
“I’m sorry this is painful, Helios.” His voice was surprisingly gentle.
An Uncommon Whore Page 2
