Oh, that little brat, looking up at Damien with those hopeful doe eyes. With a grunt that somehow only made the boy smile in response, Damien hauled Carter over to his side.
He ran his hand down the corset and swatted that pretty ass once as he moved them toward the door. “Maybe, if you’re a very good boy.”
And somehow he knew that Carter would be a very good boy, and that Damien wouldn’t be able to resist finding a way to see him again. He was already thinking of the new ways they could play. In particular he wondered how long the corset piercing would last and if he could convince Carter to do another one for him later. There would be no limit to what he might do with the boy, and he’d never have to worry about going too far. If he did, he was sure his boy would let him know.
Also available from Pride Publishing:
Alien Slave Masters: The Untamed Pet
Samantha Cayto
Excerpt
Chapter One
Mac woke up with a start. Foggy with sleep, he had trouble remembering where he was. A transport ship, not Narith’s quarters, although his master sat beside him, engrossed in something he was reading on the built-in tablet for his seat. The remnants of Mac’s dream remained swimming around his head, and the effect was easy to see if one looked. He quickly placed his hands on his lap to hide his semi-hard cock. The soft, clingy clothing he wore certainly wouldn’t do the trick. He smiled a little to himself, thinking of how much his life had changed. He hadn’t gotten hard that first night with Narith, but things were different now. He was different now.
It wasn’t only that he looked different with his longer hair, braided away from his face, and his harder body. He thought of himself by a different name, the one Narith had given him. Gone was Stuart McKay, the shy, quiet boy who’d always hung on the periphery of everyone else’s fun. He’d been replaced by Mac, Narith’s beloved pet and a guy who didn’t simply endure being fucked but participated in it—wildly and enthusiastically. He’d become bolder, too, in his dealings with the other boys. Whereas before he’d deferred to them and had gone along to get along, these days he’d started asserting himself. He spoke up and even argued when the occasion demanded it.
He couldn’t resist pressing his hands onto his still-burgeoning erection. After spending much of his adolescence tamping down his sexuality for lack of an outlet other than his own hand, Narith’s excellent tutelage had turned him into something of a sexual monster. It had been too long, while in this last leg of transit, since he and his master had had an opportunity for any kind of sexual release. His action caused a spike of pleasure to shoot up his groin. Suppressing a moan, he shifted his weight in response.
“Don’t fidget,” Narith ordered under his breath, without looking up from his tablet.
Mac instantly stilled, his body and mind well-trained already to do as this male commanded. He’d taken to his role as a pet easily, naturally. He’d long recognized his submissive nature and despaired of ever finding the kind of alpha male that he longed for. With a colony as small as Seven, he would have been lucky to find another man at all compatible with him, let alone one who embodied the dominating persona he’d envisioned. Once he’d realized he needn’t fear the Travian, he’d been able to accept the creature’s mastery.
He’d also fallen hopelessly in love with Narith.
Those feelings alone made Mac want to obey and not cause trouble. The transport officer had just about shit his pants with outrage when Narith had insisted that Mac sit with him on the flight and not be tied up somewhere in the cargo hold. So Mac was trying his best to blend into the background. The difficulty lay in the length of the journey and the weird way Travians had of remaining preternaturally still—at least by human standards—during the flight. Even if they moved, they did so with an economy of motion that Mac had no hope of emulating. His human ‘fidgeting’ seemed to annoy them as well, for some reason, earning him quick glares from the other passengers.
He didn’t want to cause Narith any more stress. The poor guy was already grieving at the loss of his mate’s first pregnancy. He didn’t say it, of course, or really show it in a way someone who knew him less well would notice. Mac did. He’d come to know the Travian better than he’d ever known anyone, other than his parents. The expressions he wore and the set of his broad shoulders spoke volumes to Mac. And the closer they got to Travia Prime, the tenser the young officer became. Mac desperately wanted to help him. If for no other reason, he didn’t want the guy to regret his decision to bring Mac with him, as opposed to giving him over to another of the ship’s officers. Mac was under no illusion that the alien returned Mac’s level of affection. The only reason for bringing his pet was to find comfort or distraction. If Mac turned into an inconvenience, Narith might send him back to Kell or hand him over to someone else on the planet. Mac didn’t think he could stand either of those possibilities.
So, here he sat, being the good boy that he always promised to be. And he’d proved to be a great distraction in the earlier parts of their journey, if he said so himself. Fucking worked wonders for the both of them, he knew. He’d gladly allowed Narith to use his body as much as he wanted. They’d also fucked nonstop during Narith’s last off-duty shift before leaving the ship. Mac understood, finally, about the scent marking, and he even reveled in the idea that he smelled like his master, even if he couldn’t detect it himself. He loved how all of these Travian soldiers around them knew that he belonged to Narith, even beyond the collar and leash that he wore.
Something changed suddenly in the way the craft moved. Narith put his tablet away. “We are entering the atmosphere of Travia Prime.” He gave a Mac a tight smile. “This will get a bit rough.”
So saying, he reached over and clasped Mac’s hand, just as the ship’s trajectory became steeper and they picked up speed. Everything shimmied and shook alarmingly. Mac tightened his fingers around the larger hand. He’d never landed on a planet awake before. The colonists had all been in suspended animation for their journey until they’d touched down on their New World. To his inexperienced self, it was hard to tell at the moment if they were landing or crashing. He figured the former only because no one was screaming. Or maybe Travians would go calmly to their deaths. What the hell did he really know about the species?
But, no. With a thud and a bump and a grinding of something, they stopped moving. Mac let out a sigh of relief and shyly smiled over at his master. Narith didn’t return the look. He merely let go of Mac’s hand and stood up. They had no luggage, Narith needing to bring nothing and Mac having nothing to bring. The clothes he wore were the first since his capture, and they were intended to avoid offending females, not that he’d seen many. His clothes never seemed to require any cleaning, and Narith had assured him that once they reached their destination, others would be manufactured for him instantly anyway.
Their journey had been a long one, filled with interesting sights. It had taken them through four space stations, the first one housing Joel, giving Mac some time to catch up with the guy. He’d been afraid at first that Joel would sneer and berate him for his obvious obedience and affection for Narith. Mac had sometimes thought that Joel had come out of the womb with a ‘fuck you’ on his lips. He’d been surprised to find a relaxed and happy Joel, seemingly at peace with his life, perhaps for the first time ever. Mac still couldn’t believe that the tough-seeming kid had settled into being the pet of the station’s commander. The stations themselves had been eye-opening, filled with wondrous sights, including Travian females and other creatures. He and Narith had stayed mostly in the military parts of each station, however, giving Mac little opportunity to interact with Travian females.
That was about to change in a major way. Narith guided Mac by his leash, leading him out of the smallish shuttle and into the gigantic spaceport. Mac had thought he’d be inured to their large buildings because of the stations. He’d been wrong. Those spheres spinning in space were nothing compared to what they had dirtside. The place was huge, the ceiling bar
ely visible to Mac’s eyes, and it was teeming with Travians. Here the military mixed with the civilian, giving Mac his first real, prolonged experience with females in large numbers—and even children.
He’d known from what Wid and Joel had said—and from his own limited travels—that Travian females were like peacocks to the males’ peahens, a complete reversal of Earth birds’ plumage. Yet, how else could one think of it, the way the females adorned themselves in a riot of intricate color, while the males who weren’t in uniform wore simple monotone clothing, much like his dark gray tunic and pants. His feet were bare, though, in stark contrast to everyone else. Despite Mac’s rather timid protests to the contrary, Narith had remained firm on the matter. Apparently footwear—or lack thereof, of all things—set Mac apart as a pet and nothing more. His poor feet slapped against the cold floor with each step he took.
“Stay close to me, Mac,” Narith said with an uncharacteristic tug of the leash that caused the collar to tighten uncomfortably.
Mac did as he was told to ease the choking and, frankly, because it made him feel safer to be tight against his master’s side. He didn’t like the stares he got, the downright leers of some males. As far as he could tell, he was the only non-Travian in sight—maybe within the whole spaceport. Narith had informed him that there would be other pets on the home world, just not other humans. Keeping subspecies as domesticated playthings was a common practice of Travians. Mac had tried not to bristle at the idea that he was a subspecies. Instead, he’d listened intently to Narith’s instructions on what to expect when they arrived at Narith’s home—his mate’s home, actually, as Travian males didn’t have homes of their own. They lived with mothers, then mates, or maybe with sisters or other female relatives. Or, barring any of that, they could live in military barracks.
Mac had found the concept strange and a bit fascinating, yet he hadn’t asked more than the necessary questions. He didn’t want to embarrass Narith, and that had to remain his main focus. The poor guy was too preoccupied not only with the loss of the much-anticipated first child of his mate, but also with the chilling fact that the female had already taken a second mate to conceive again. Although his master hadn’t confided in him, Mac knew the young male had been devastated by the news. Still reeling from one blow, he’d had to deal with another. He’d gone so far as to explain to Mac that Narith’s position as a mate of a high-born female was in jeopardy. He had to get back to her quickly to reconnect and strengthen their bond, even though it could damage his career to leave such an important post mid-deployment.
They entered some kind of moving enclosed sidewalk and were crammed into a corner away from the other passengers. Their efforts to be unobtrusive proved pointless. It seemed as if every pair of Travian eyes rested upon them. Mac wanted to cower and cling to Narith’s arm. Then he remembered that while Stuart would have done so, Mac had more balls. He straightened up and held his gaze steady, if unfocused. He didn’t intend to challenge anyone, just convey an air of pride. They were all likely looking at a human for the first time. It was important that they came away with the sense that humans were confident and brave, even if Mac’s insides were quivering.
This next leg of the journey seemed interminable. As long as he’d lived with Travians, Mac still couldn’t quite figure out Travian time. He just knew they had more stamina than he did, standing when he would have killed for a place to sit and staying alert when his eyelids drooped. Finally, the conveyance came to a stop. The females disembarked first, followed by the males. Narith allowed the others to leave before he guided Mac out. They headed toward an area in which Travians in twos and threes climbed into big, clear bubbles with seats and electronics. They turned out to be yet another mode of transportation, this one more private, and it became airborne.
Mac did grab hold of his master’s arm when the thing lifted straight up in the air. Narith laughed—the first time he’d done so in forever, it seemed—and he glanced over at Mac. “You’re perfectly safe, pet. This craft is self-operational and preprogrammed. We’ll be home soon, not to worry.”
But Mac did worry. Not about the flight. Having spent so much time in space, he wasn’t afraid of a little terrestrial flying. Much. No, his angst focused on what would happen when they reached their destination. He wasn’t convinced that Narith’s mate would be as sanguine about having a human pet in her home and in her mate’s bed as Narith seemed to think she would be. He wondered—not for the first time—if she’d make him sleep outside or something. He knew his master would be powerless to stop it. In this society, women ruled. Besides, even without the cultural differences of their species, Mac had lived for a while now in the single-sexed environment of a military ship. He worried he’d do something to offend a female of any type. He’d have to watch his every step, and knowing that was enough to make him very nervous.
He decided to shift his focus for the time being onto his surroundings, trying to adapt to flying through the air with a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view of the world below them. Once his stomach settled and his brain accepted the fact that they weren’t going to plummet a few hundred meters to their deaths, he actually enjoyed what he could see. This was only the second alien world he’d even been on, and it blew away Seven, that was for sure. Where Seven was a bland planet that grudgingly allowed things to grow, Travia Prime was a lush, colorful haven. It reminded him of make-believe places in his childhood stories, with rolling hills interrupted by thick forests of strange trees.
Or maybe they weren’t trees. How could he know? Having chosen to work in the hydroponic gardens back on Seven, Mac’s early interest in plants had grown, as it were, into a passion. He desperately wanted to ask Narith a million questions about what he saw as they raced along. He dared not. The alien’s face was frozen now in a grim expression, and he held his body so rigid, Mac worried it might crack into a million pieces if he so much as tapped on one shoulder. So he sat quietly and took in everything he could, storing away his questions for a better time.
God, he hoped there would be a better time.
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About the Author
Samantha Cayto is a Boston-area native who practices as a business lawyer by day while writing erotic romance at night—the steamier the better. She likes to push the envelope when it comes to writing about passion and is delighted other women agree that guy-on-guy sex is the hottest ever.
She lives a typical suburban life with her husband, three kids and four dogs. Her children don't understand why they can't read what she writes, but her husband is always willing to lend her a hand—and anything else—when she needs to choreograph a scene.
Email: [email protected]
Samantha loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at http://www.pride-publishing.com.
Also by Samantha Cayto
One Night in a Dungeon
Man Candy
Alien Slave Masters: The Captain’s Pet
Alien Slave Masters: The Rebellious Pet
Alien Slave Masters: The Untamed Pet
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