The Alien's Captive (10 page)

Bron stepped back, again seeking to hide his emotions as Senator Primus walked over to stand between Phaedra’s spread legs. He wasn’t expecting the sudden surge of anger and possessiveness he felt as his handsome, dark-haired opponent placed his hands on Phaedra’s knees and began to run them up and down her thighs.

“Well, you are a pretty thing,” Senator Primus was saying. “And how happy we all are to finally see you. Had you been mine, you’d have been broken sooner. But it’s been my experience that you Earth pets respond to authority, and not every Traoian male has it.” He glanced over at Bron as the crowd murmured. “But you’ll respond to me, won’t you?”

Bron struggled harder to keep his composure as the senator grinned, moving his hand down to Phaedra’s clit. Was she as nervous as he was? He’d never felt so conflicted, and was seized by a sudden anger at himself for how his plan was exposing her to the touch of someone she hated. And he could see it in her eyes as she lay there—defiance, but something more. There was an anger that matched his own, and it should have pleased him. But instead it made him want to go snatch her away, to apologize.

Of course, he could not do this. And Bron felt as helpless as his pet as the senator’s fingers found her clit. All eyes, including those of the general, were now on the red bar. Bron’s heart was in his throat.

“Does that feel good, little wild human?” The general’s elegant finger circled and stroked. But Phaedra said nothing, and did not move. The crowd began to murmur. A few laughs could be heard, along with taunts from the high seats, as the bar remained static on the screen.

“Fighting me, are you?” The senator’s voice took on an angry tone as he glanced at Bron. “You should have let Otto train her, general! She’s so defiant, she holds back. Willful little beast…”

At that moment, Phaedra looked at Bron, and relief and pride filled his heart. Her look had gone from one of hurt and fear to one of knowing resolve. Now she fixed her eyes on the senator, not with a glare but with one of boredom. The crowd roared as the screens showed a tight shot of her expression. The laughter and taunts increased.

“Your time is almost up, senator,” the announcer said smoothly. The senator’s hand was moving feverishly now, his face red with anger at Phaedra’s lack of reaction.

“He’s made her frigid!” he cried petulantly. “Or else he’s drugged her!”

“Nonsense,” the announcer said, gesturing to the screen. “Were that the case, it would show on the screens. They track all the vitals, blood chemistry… you know that.”

“There has to be some mistake.” He was rubbing her hard now, Bron noted, too hard. As the tone sounded, the senator raised his hand. “Disobedient little…” But then he cried out as Bron grabbed him.

“Don’t strike her,” he said. “She is mine. Strike her, and I strike you.” This brought a collective gasp from the crowd, and the eyes staring into Bron’s now showed a hatred deeper than he’d ever seen from any battlefield opponent.

“I believe it’s my turn,” Bron said, and turned to walk over to Dakara. Her long, tanned legs were spread, as was her labia. The shield covering her clit had been removed to reveal an already erect nub poking from beneath its fleshy hood. Just Bron’s nearness was already having an effect on the senator’s dark-haired beauty, even though she was clearly trying not to show it. She squirmed as Bron smiled down at her.

“Calm, little human,” he said. “I’m not going to hurt you.” His voice was deep, gentle, but commanding. Again, the roar of the crowd fell to a hush as the large general stood between the legs of his opponent’s slave. “There, there,” he said. “Such a good pet you are.”

“The bar! Look at the bar!” A cry arose from the crowd and Bron glanced over. The bar was already halfway filled, and he’d not even touched the senator’s pet, who was now whimpering with shame and fear as she glanced over at her owner. The senator’s expression was thunderous.

“Control yourself!” he growled, and the crowd began to jeer.

Had it been any other man, Bron would have felt pity for the humiliation he was about to inflict with just a touch. He dropped his hand, his eyes locked on Dakara’s. There was hunger in her gaze, even though she was struggling to hide it. As he lowered his hand, her hips rose to meet it. His finger came to rest atop her Venus mound, and she arched her back even further, lost to her desire to have the Traoian general touch her. He moved his finger down; her clit was hard, her musky scent evident as he began to lazily rub the eager bud of flesh, his fingers grazing the slippery folds on each practiced pass.

“Aaaaaaahhhh!” Her cries filled the air as red filled the bar. The senator’s slave released in a gush of wetness that coated his hand.

Bron did not linger. To the cheers of the crowd, he stepped back as an attendant ran forward with a washbowl. He looked over at the senator as he cleansed Dakara’s arousal from his hands. The crowd was laughing and applauding.

“But what of your pet?” the announcer asked, obviously wanting to escalate the drama. “Is there something to be said, general, of your opponent’s charge that she is frigid?”

Bron smiled confidently and walked over to Phaedra. She was angry; he could tell. When he’d touched Dakara, he’d seen her look away, her mouth tight and grim. She’d been jealous, just as he’d been. It made him aroused to know that she wanted him. His cockstand was evident, he knew, through the fabric of the kilt-like skirt he wore. But he didn’t care. The audience saw him as virile now; he’d reclaimed his image, and was about to destroy the senator’s.

“Yes,” he said. “I believe that my pet deserves release.”

The crowd fell quiet again as Bron looked down at his auburn-haired waif. Gone was the look of bored defiance; the hovering screens now showed a look of need. The camera panned down to also show hard, erect nipples, and a sheen of slickness on the folds of her spread pussy.

“I’m going to touch you, little pet,” Bron said. “And as soon as I do, you are going to release harder than you ever did in training. Do you understand?”

She nodded, and the crowd strained forward, eyes on them, eyes on the screens. Bron reached out two fingers, touched the top of her mons and then dragged them lower, grazing Phaedra’s clit. “Release,” he said.

She screamed as the red bar filled. The crowd went wild, and the ground of the arena shook with their stomping feet. Even the normally composed elite class in the lower levels was cheering as Bron raised his little one to her feet and set her on the ground. Without being told, Phaedra immediately dropped and fluidly moved through the nine positions with such grace that Bron wanted to scoop her into his arms with pride.

But his attention was diverted by a flurry of activity to the side. The senator had hauled his pet off the table and had ordered her into a display position that had her bare bottom hiked up in the air, her legs spread. The crowd now yelled in protest as Senator Primus raised a loop he’d pulled from within his robes and brought it down hard across his human’s buttocks. Dakara wailed mournfully as the implement—this one designed to leave impressive welts—marked her skin.

“Shame! Shame! Shame! Shame!” the crowd cried, but their condemnation only made the senator strike his pet harder.

“Help her?” It was the first time Bron’s pet had spoken since they’d entered the ring, and Bron knew he could not deny her anything. Giving her hand a squeeze, he left her side and rushed over, pulling the implement from the senator’s raised hand and shoving him aside. And there, the senator and slave lay on the floor of the arena, both beaten and humiliated.

“Bron the Compassionate! Bron the Masterful!” The first cries from the top were faint, but voices joined together and the volume of the praise grew and swelled until one collective affirmation filled the arena. It was to this sound that the general left, his pet proudly following behind him.

Chapter Eleven

Had she displeased him?

Bron was quiet as they headed back from the arena, and his silence filled Phaedra with apprehension. He’d been similarly taciturn the day they’d returned from the arena after she’d angered him by speaking out. He’d punished her severely that day. Would he punish her again?

Phaedra’s mind spun as she replayed events at the arena. She’d been sickened when she realized that Senator Primus would be touching her. Although he was nearly as handsome a Traoian as Bron, his demeanor repulsed her. It had not been at all difficult to keep her passion restrained as the senator’s arrogant face had loomed above her as his hand unsuccessfully worked the bud of her womanhood.

That Bron had turned her over to this man to fondle was unexpectedly painful, but even more painful had been seeing the general touching Dakara. Phaedra winced now and closed her eyes against the memory. It was silly to feel this way. Yes, she’d heard the cheers. Yes, she knew that what she’d done in the arena had greatly impacted the political landscape. But at the end of the day, she was still a slave—disposable, expendable, nothing.

“Leave us!”

At Bron’s command, all attendants scattered when he entered the house with his pet. Phaedra’s heart was pounding so hard that she fancied for a moment he could hear it. Bron was not touching her, but she had been trained to follow unless otherwise instructed, and now she struggled to keep up with him, her small, bare feet padding on the polished floor as she jogged after him.

He led her to his private bedchamber, and as the door automatically slid shut behind them, Bron rounded on Phaedra, his expression so fearsome that she began backpedaling away from him.

“Do you have any idea how it felt?” he asked as he advanced on her, his huge fists clenching and unclenching. “Do you have any idea, little pet, how my blood boiled with rage when I saw him touching you?”

She didn’t know what to say at first; when she found her voice, she gave the most reasonable answer she could summon.

“You act as if I had a say in it!” she objected, pointing toward the door. “I had no choice in what happened out there!”

He lunged for her, grabbed her, pulled her to him so roughly that she cried out in fear. “I am aware of this. I am aware that all that happened was by design, by my design. And it was effective. But make no mistake. You are
mine
!” He gave her a little shake. “Do you understand?”

She nodded, terrified by the ferocity of his words, which she barely had time to process before she felt a jerk and a snap as the elaborate harness that surrounded and framed her breasts was ripped free, followed by her tiny skirt. She was naked now as he lifted her, tossing her over his shoulder for the short walk to his bed. He threw her there unceremoniously and stepped back, stripping off his ceremonial chest plate and kilt and boots as she watched.

He was glorious naked, but fearsome, his cock impossibly large. A hundred times Phaedra had dreamed of how he would take her, those fantasies so often involving gentleness and care. But he was going to ravish her; she knew this now, and her pussy clenched with need even as her stomach clenched in fear.

Bron grabbed Phaedra’s feet, jerked her to the end of the bed, lifted her legs and dived between them, his rough beard scratching the inside of her thighs. He wasn’t just pleasuring her; he was feeding on her, his mouth demanding, insistent, the strokes of his tongues and nibbling of his teeth bordering on the painful. His hands were squeezing her bottom so tightly that she arched her back to escape the grasp, which only served to drive her pussy against his demanding mouth.

He did not tell her when to come, but she knew despite the control he’d taught her she could not stop herself under this delicious, unexpected assault. She cried out, thrusting against his mouth as he stabbed her clit with his tongue, his large fingers thrusting in and out as her inner walls clenched down on them.

That tongue trailed up her body as he slid it over her, his mouth stopping to capture the tip of a painfully hard nipple. His teeth worried the tip before he suckled hard on one and then the other, his huge hands everywhere, roaming her body as if to map the peaks and curves and valleys of her svelte form.

Phaedra was adrift in carnal pleasure, overwhelmed by it, by him. She could feel his cock against her leg, hard, throbbing and warmer than that of a human man. He pressed it against her and she felt a surge of fear; GilAman had assured Bron she could take him, but she was so small.

Bron raised himself, flipped her over, pulled her roughly to her knees. She panicked, tried to pull away, but he grasped her hair and spanked her ass until she was in tears, and she knew she had no say in what was happening. He would have her, but she knew in spite of her apprehension, she wanted it as bad as he did.

He was squeezing her punished cheeks, spreading them, his finger plunging into her pussy and then circling her bottom hole. She moaned, her voice tremulous. Then she gasped as the head of his huge cock pushed against her pussy. Bron was guiding the head up and down across her slick folds, teasing her. She nearly came from the touch of it against her engorged clit.

She wanted to beg him to fuck her, but she didn’t have to. He pushed into her without further preamble, and the pressure, the stretch, the invasion was so intense that for a moment, Phaedra didn’t breathe. She’d never felt so full, so blissfully
possessed.
She was a tool of pleasure, a sex slave; this sort of thing should not have excited her. But she was beyond excited, and when Bron began to move, his mighty shaft working slowly as she adjusted to the stretch, the pleasure pulse in her core was unlike any sensation she’d ever experienced.

“You’re mine,” he growled.

“Yes, yes, yes, master…”
Master?
The word came automatically and rapturously from her mouth. And as he began to pound her, his huge cock driving in and out like a piston in her slick channel, one word played over and over in time to his thrusts:
His, His, His, His, His.

She cried her release over and over, screamed her pleasure until her throat was hoarse and her pussy sore. When he came, the force of it drove her into the mattress. His seed was hot and copious as it bathed her womb and the walls of her pussy, spilling out from around his shaft to run down her legs. When he finally withdrew, she closed her legs, reveling in the tenderness of her pussy and cum-slick inner thighs. She was sore all over, but also tingly from the wanton pleasure.