by Loki Renard
“Zion...”
He moves around onto the bed, which creaks beneath our combined weight, but holds firm. He grasps my hips and he draws them up to his mouth. I find myself hanging backwards from his hands, my head and shoulders on the bed as he buries his mouth between my thighs and begins to lick at my sex.
My squeal of surprise fills the room as his hot tongue finds the petals of my pussy and works at them, licking and lapping until they swell with desire. He knows how to make my body respond. He understands it perfectly in every way. I do not know how he became such a master of the female form, but I know it allows him to control me in ways I did not know I could be controlled.
Orgasm starts to rush through me, my legs up over his shoulders, shaking against the powerful muscle as he tongues me toward a quick and dirty climax.
“Zion!” I gasp his name over and over, my hips arching toward his mouth. I am greedy for this pleasure that has been so foreign to me before now.
I am still quivering with pleasure when he pulls my legs from his neck and slides my body down toward his cock. He wastes no time pushing that big, thick thing inside me, ignoring my gasped whimpers as he plunges back inside me. My pussy is not entirely recovered from the first time he took me last night. Feeling him sear inside me again is pleasure and pain in equal measure.
“Shhh,” he comforts me as I begin to whine, pulling his cock out so he is not so deep. He holds it inside me, keeping me open with just a few inches of his hardness, making my pussy stay stretched for him.
“It hurts...”
“That’s because you were broken in late,” he says, urging his hips forward a little while his thumb drifts down to glide lightly over the bud of my clit, sending a bolt of sensation through my nethers. “I am going to have to fuck you daily, sometimes more. You need to be ready for my cock at any time.”
“Any time?” I moan the question as his thumb drifts back across my clit and his cock sinks an inch or so deeper and then slides back again.
“You will be mine to fuck, and I like to fuck,” he says. “When a man takes his mate, he no longer lies with others, so she must be open to him when he needs her.”
“You have lain with others?”
“Yes,” he laughs. “Of course.”
I feel a spark of high-octane jealousy rush through me. I do not like that idea at all. Mine, my mind says, suddenly becoming just as possessive of him as he is of me. He is inside me. He is mine. Mine only.
I let out a little growl and he thrusts inside me harder. “But now it will be you, little star girl. You will be the one my cock takes. You will be my pussy to fuck. You will be the hot hole my seed takes root in.”
He speaks roughly, leaning down over me to rumble the words against my mouth. His cock plunges in and out of me, working my sore sex with a rough animal motion that makes me wail.
He pulls out of my pussy and fists his cock in his right hand. The left one is splayed over my neck, keeping me in place. I don’t know what he is doing for a moment, and then I feel hot spurts of seed shoot out and coat my belly and breasts. He is marking me. He is coating me in his cum. He is making me smell like him, showing me that my body is his to use—and then he pushes that still cum-pulsing cock back into my pussy and fills me up there too.
He is like an animal, thrusting deep into my cunt and holding himself there, his hands rubbing over my body, smearing his cum into my belly and my tits, pinching my nipples so I buck and writhe, my pussy clenching at that cum-soaked cock.
His rumbling pants and growls begin to fade as his release is completed. I am left with a sore, creamy pussy, my skin scented with his seed. He slides free of my cunt, lies down next to me and pulls me on top of him, his big hands going to my bottom to part my cheeks and then push his cock back into my dripping sex.
I lie there against his body, still impaled, feeling his cock sheathed inside me. It was all so sudden, and yet now I feel much of the tension I felt earlier gone. I am his. He is not going to choose one of the huntresses over me. But...
“You have been with those women? You did to them what you just did to me?”
His eyes were closed, but one opens to look at me with piercing blue.
“You have many questions.”
“So you did. You fucked them. You came inside them.”
“No,” he rumbles. “I did not spill inside them. A man only spills inside his chosen mate.”
“Hm.”
He lets out a chuckle and pulls me down on his cock. He is still hard, though his lust is no longer as urgent.
“This is yours, my star girl,” he says. “You will feel this cock and only this cock.”
Chapter Eight
Zion
I wake up, expecting to find my star girl by my side. Instead I find the soft hollow in the furs where she lay. I let out a groan even as I catapult out of bed and head out the door. A mother is planting seeds in the garden nearby. She points wordlessly up the mountain without me needing to ask the question.
“Tselia!” I call for the girl using the name she told me.
I am forced to track her like an animal. She headed up into the hills, I think, following the stream. It’s a smart move because her footprints are only just barely visible in the occasional place where her foot went into the mud.
She is naked and unarmed in the wilds. I can see her bare footprints, her toe prints moving over the rock and dirt. The weather can change swiftly on the mountain, and there are predators. I keep my eyes peeled for traces of blood. That is what I fear the most.
I don’t see any blood, thank the ancestors. I do see a trail going through the bushes, broken twigs and grass that has been pushed over. I follow in her footsteps, wondering why she has gone this way. It’s almost as if she’s following a path. There’s nothing random about her wandering.
I begin to move quickly. I know where she’s going. There is an ancient site up on the ridge. I don’t know how she knows about it. I don’t know why she’s gone up there, but I know that’s where she’s gone.
I run up the mountain, moving up the rocks and the crags. It’s not an easy path. There are places where she could have fallen. With every step my anger grows.
I find her at the ridge peak. She is waiting for me. She must have heard me coming. I expect her to try to run and hide, but she stands there, arms crossed over her chest. She has an elegance that I admire, and a spirit that shines as bright as the stars she came from.
“I’ve been waiting for you,” she announces.
“Oh?”
I close the distance between us as she reaches out and touches an old piece of ancient technology. It’s one of many artifacts that litter these mountains.
“I wanted to look at the stars. And then I found this. It’s a cannon.”
“It’s old. From the ancestors.”
“It’s been fired. Recently.” She wipes black soot from inside of the barrel and shows it to me on the tip of her finger. Her silver eyes glow with accusation. “I thought I crashed. But I didn’t. I was shot down.”
* * *
Tselia
I woke up in the middle of the night. I’d been addled with the events of the past few days, but my mind finally had a chance to rest and process everything that has happened. The orgasms, the captivity, they threw me off-guard. I lost my objectivity. I lost my mind.
But when I woke up in the middle of the night, my head was suddenly clear. My body ached, but my brain was working properly for the first time in forty-eight hours. The sex hormones had been sated and I was no longer in his thrall. He was asleep. He was nothing more than a big slumbering beast who had held me captive and denied me all my wishes.
And I was angry.
I had figured it out. The moment I started to fall from orbit, I knew, but I didn’t know I knew. It all happened too fast. I was too busy trying to contain and control my descent. I didn’t have time to process the rest of what I felt and saw.
Shuttles don’t just fall out of the sky. Some
thing hit me. I was brought down. My subconscious knew that. I started walking because I had a hunch. And that hunch led me to an old weapons battery. It’s not professionally installed. It must have been pulled off the original ship and brought up here as a defense.
They must have been so scared when they first landed and found themselves here. They must have felt the same isolation I felt when I walked up here and felt the sheer alien-ness of the planet I found myself on. It looks like Earth, but it is not Earth. It is nothing like that world. It has its own secrets, its own monsters. I felt them in the dark, their eyes on me. They let me pass without harm. Perhaps they felt my anger. Perhaps they took pity. I don’t know.
What I do know is that this piece of ancient technology is still operational. And it has been fired. With accuracy. A single shot took me down at a distance of thousands of miles. There’s something about this that suddenly feels desperately, dangerously personal.
“Someone tried to kill me, Zion. Someone on this planet tried to kill me.”
His brows draw down over his eyes. He looks confused. Of course. He doesn’t know about this machinery. His weapons are meat, bone, and rock. He is a simple beast, a savage. Whoever took the shot is not.
“We thought you were a star. It is pointless to shoot at the stars.”
It’s hard to read his expression sometimes. Zion is a good name for him. He growls and glowers and he hides whatever is inside. I see his lust, but little else. He has gone cold right now, and I know he has his suspicions as to who did this.
“You were there,” I say. “You were ready for me when I came down. So were the hunters.”
“I was nearby...”
“Why?”
“Because I was,” he growls at me. “I did not do this to you.”
“No, but you know who did.”
His expression closes again.
“Who.”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s a damn lie.”
“You shouldn’t have come up here,” he says, changing the subject. “It’s dangerous.”
“Not as dangerous as being shot out of the sky thousands of miles over the earth. Not as dangerous as crash-landing on this planet, having my shuttle destroyed and buried... not as dangerous as anything you’ve done to me.”
I am furious. I thought I had made a mistake, but I didn’t. I should have been able to observe from the shuttle and return to the ship. I might even have reported it to the Patron when I returned. But someone down here wanted me dead. I am beginning to think that there is more to the exiles on Hades Exile than I first thought. These people live primitively, but they are just as scheming and nasty as the Patron’s worst enemies.
“It’s time to go back,” Zion insists.
“I’m not going back.”
“Yes, you are.”
“No, I’m not. Your people want me dead. I’m not living with them. I’m not living with you. I’m going to go dig that damn shuttle out of the ground, and I’m going back to the stars. If this old piece of junk can bring me down, I can get myself back.”
“You’re not going anywhere,” he growls. “You’re mine now.”
“I’m not yours. You’re a filthy lying animal.”
* * *
Zion
She sneers at me, her pretty lip curled with disdain and disrespect. A night of sleep has recharged her energy, and her arrogance. I will have to prove my ownership again. She forgets so quickly. Whether she was attacked or not, shot from the sky, or fell according to fate, it doesn’t change what exists between us. She is mine. I have claimed her, and I will keep claiming her until she understands what it really means.
I cross over to her, reach out and take her by a thick handful of her silver hair. Using that grip, I bring her down to her knees. She stands with such arrogance. I need her on the ground. I need to break her. If someone wants her dead, I need her by my side to keep her safe. She could have been killed a hundred times over since she slipped out of my bed. She is fortunate that the huntresses slumber late when the food stores are full.
“Let me go!”
I will not let her go. I will never let her go. She doesn’t know what it means to be claimed. She doesn’t understand. She is used to having the power of the stars at her fingertips. She once rode on comets across the sky. But I control her now.
I turn her head up to me. I make her look at me. I say nothing. She craves words, and I will not give her them. A small whimper escapes her lips and she squirms, but I do not release my grip. I do not give her any kind of respite from the pressure I am putting on her. She has not earned it.
I am doing very little to her besides holding her where she belongs. She hates it. I can see anger coursing through her. I can see her fear. She has suffered because of me, because of us. Because someone saw the girl from the stars and had to bring her to earth. It was not me. But I will protect her now, with my life. And that will mean making sure she knows never, ever to speak to me that way again.
I crouch over her. I push her back and I twist her over onto her stomach. I take her to the ground with an inexorable grip and I hold her down.
She makes angry little grunts, but she stops arguing as I push my knee between her thighs and spread her legs. I put her on display, pulling her hands behind her back, and then I hold her there again. I feel the tension in her body and I wait for her to relax. It takes several long minutes, but eventually the energy starts to fade and she softens.
“It doesn’t matter what you do to me,” she says, channeling that rebellion into those words she is so fond of. “Fuck me. I don’t care. I’m going to escape this planet. Whoever brought me down is going to pay. I am going to get back to my ship. I am going to replay the data. I am going to report this place as a hazard and I am going to throw myself on the Patron’s mercy.”
I don’t know what she’s babbling about, and it doesn’t matter. It is all bluster. She is trying to make herself feel powerful even as I show her how weak she is.
“You’re not going anywhere. You’re going to give me your cunt and beg me for my cock.”
“Fuck off.”
I slap her ass, hard. I can still see the welts from the last time I punished her. She learns slowly, this one. Her body cannot take the punishment she is earning, and at the rate she is earning it, I will have to be inventive. I will have to find other ways to discipline my captive from the stars.
The tight little hole of her bottom is winking at me, encouraging me. I reach between her legs, run my thumb along the seam of her puffy lower lips, collect the feminine dew of the desire she would shout her denial of, and I smear it against the tight little hole between her cheeks.
Her hips jolt against the ground, then lift up again to press against my thumb. Oh, she likes it. The dirtier it is, the more she is shamed, the more she drips with wet desire.
“What are you doing? You sick fucking animal!”
Oh, she’s angry. The wetter she gets, the angrier she gets. I massage her little hole, pushing my thumb against it, making her feel the potential intrusion. This is going inside her. And more. I am going to fuck this hole too. It will show her that every single part of her belongs to me.
My thumb sinks inside her. She is tight. It is not comfortable. I hear the little hiss she makes between gritted teeth. This is just a warning. I could make it hurt so much worse. Maybe I should. Her words sting my pride. She wants to make me as angry as she is. But I know how to hold my temper. I know better than to make the assumptions she does. Her shuttle came down. This battlement was fired, she says. She has no evidence of that. The soot could be old. All she knows is that her ship went down and she wants to blame somebody for it. She wants her predicament to be someone else’s fault.
I sink my thumb in further. I let it slide in and out. I twist it slowly and I slip it back and forth. I play with her. I make her feel every bit of my power, and every bit of her weakness. She is too small, too soft to be angering beasts like me.
“Speak t
o me that way again and I will punish you until you forget what forgiveness is.”
“Get your finger out of my ass,” she grunts.
“So I can put my cock in?”
“You’re disgusting.”
“You’re fighting me.” I lean down, my lips close to her ear, my finger sliding deep into her bottom. “And you’re going to lose.”
She starts to fight, but with a series of motions that do nothing but impale her ass ever deeper on my finger. I don’t have to do anything besides stay in position above her and she torments herself, making her own tight ass stretch. I would almost think she liked it if she wasn’t growling and cursing so much.
* * *
Tselia
He is hateful. I tell him that I have been sabotaged, shot out of the sky, and he tells me it doesn’t matter. He tells me that I am his anyway, and when I tell him I don’t want any part of this world, be tells me I can’t leave. I thought the Patron was controlling. I didn’t know what that word meant until Zion caught me.
He is punishing me, and I don’t know why. He is punishing me for wanting to be free, for trying to return to where I came from. He is punishing me because I know the truth.
A second finger slides into my ass. I feel that wrong hole being stretched wider and wider, being broken in just like my pussy was. He might not like what I call him, but I am right. He is a filthy animal. He thinks sex is the answer to everything. His cock has become the one constant in this world.
He doesn’t care if I’m here because I chose to be, or if that choice was ripped away from me. He doesn’t care if I want this. He doesn’t care if I even like it.
My arousal is incidental. Maybe even accidental.
The fact that my pussy is leaking wet juices isn’t because I want this. It’s because my body responds to him and then my mind follows. I observed a planet once where a plant, once ingested, would make a particular species of cat copulate itself to death.
He is that plant. I am sexually addled by him, at his whim and his mercy. And now my ass is stinging and instead of pulling away, my hips are rising up toward him, they are encouraging him.
