Virile (3 page)

Oh. Good point. Then she decided not to heed his advice. Her month of submission didn’t start until she got off the godsdamn ship.

“And your language, sub.”

Oh shit. He was in Dom mode now. She swallowed her protests and nodded meekly to practice. Could a person nod meekly? Perhaps so, because Samuel relaxed his stance and moved past her to pick up her case, pressing the edges shut and sealed. The contract crackled beneath his fingers from where it was tucked in the outside pocket, an audible reminder of what awaited.

His eyes met hers before she cast them to the floor in respect for what he had tried to do for her. “Come, Adara.”

“Stay here, Sammy. Please. I can’t bear to say goodbye at the ship.” Her plea was heartfelt, and she hoped she meant it, but somehow the idea of him seeing her off was too much, too final. She wondered if she would ever see him again, and the premonition brought stinging tears to her eyes. Why couldn’t she have fallen for him, fallen at his feet as he so obviously hoped she would do? Elliot couldn’t have wagered her if she’d been claimed by someone else.
Hindsight
.

Silence greeted her request, and then he nodded. She didn’t miss the flash of pain in his eyes before he once again became stoic.

“If I’m allowed to contact you I will. I’ll tell them you’re my family.” The tears made her voice husky.

Another nod. She could sense his riot of emotions.

“Samuel?”

“Obey and serve, Adara.”

Pressing a kiss on his cheek, up on tip toe, she tugged her case from his hand and ran down the hallway in her bare feet to where her shoes rested by the front door of his abode. For an instant she wished she’d taken a sedative—they were not only allowed on off planet trips but encouraged—but she feared arriving and not being in full control of her faculties. Toeing into her flats she took a breath, opened the door and stepped out. She didn’t dare look back.

The vehicle was waiting, and its driver climbed out to take her case and help her inside. She sank into her head and thought about nothing, practicing her new state of mind. Despite his protests to the contrary, it had been obvious to her that Sammy harbored doubts about an experienced Dom allowing her to retreat in such a manner, but she had nothing else.

Arriving at the airfield she was met by an officious woman wearing the uniform of the off planet fleet, a deep, solemn burgundy color that fit her attitude. “Traveler Waycross? Adara? Number 200395767?”

At Adara’s nod, the official checked the paperwork and led the way to a trim little ship ensconced a short distance away. Little in the sense that it looked very small beside the huge market transports, but it loomed over them as they approached. The ramp beckoned like the plank featured in the fantastical pirate vids on the profile feeds, and each step felt symbolic.
Aye, me hearty wench…walk here and say goodbye to yer old life.
She trod it glumly and met another official, also female, wearing the same dismal uniform, who gave her a
look
, followed by yet another check of her paperwork.

“You’re the woman they’re expecting on Virile.”

Great. Did everyone know she was pay-off for a gambling debt? Chattel to be bartered? She opted not to answer. The other woman leaned closer and whispered, “You’re a celebrity. They are talking about you all over the planet. The Freestars have been waiting a long time for you.”

“What do you mean?” The question tore from her. Waiting a long time?

The official shrugged, a movement that lifted her large breasts to fill the v-neck of her uniform blouse before they receded to a more decorous placement as her shoulders dropped. “I don’t rightly know. But the scuttlebutt is that you’re gonna be most welcome. I think we know what that means, honey. Those men are fine.”

Oh my gods. This woman was insinuating being fucked by three men was something to look forward to! She’d never survive what they had planned for her. Being submissive wouldn’t save her. She should have refused and let them have the family business, the estates—everything. Her brother would have survived one month in jail. The little weasel always came out on top in any situation, witness her present situation.

As her thoughts pounded, one on top of the other, rivaling the beating of her heart, she was positioned in a long, upright couch-like seat, straps wrapped firmly around her body, securing her for the delivery to three Doms, until she thought she might scream. The fabric swelled to cushion and fit her shape—she could feel it beneath every curve and angle—and then tilted to lie nearly parallel to the floor. With great effort she held it together.

“There. You might as well be comfortable and drift off, maybe get some real sleep, honey. I think you’re gonna need it.” The suggestive chuckle that accompanied the pronouncement made Adara grit her teeth.
Bitch
. Focused anger made it easier.

There were no other passengers, but a considerable amount of tied down cargo surrounded her. She squinted at the markings and some of them looked familiar, from foodstuffs to materials. But all of them were stamped Freestar. Did that mean all of this was going to the farm owned by the men who had won her? Or were they traders too? The limited amount of information she dug up on them hadn’t specified, other than it was just the three of them, no other family, at least not by the same name, on the planet.

They primarily farmed some sort of tough crop that was processed and used in all sorts of applications where metals and other materials were too heavy. It was very lucrative so they were presumably well off, but other than that she had no idea of what to expect.

The planet itself was rough and harsh, full of animals that ate people, and had pockets of old world outlaws, on the run from whatever planetary law they’d broken. No one really cared about them—if they were alive in the wilds of Virile it was probably worse than what awaited them in the prisons of their home worlds. All humanoid life apparently suffered on Virile with the exception of those in the domed city center and some of the farms built in the few areas that boasted water and flora. She assumed the Freestar pervs lived in one such area.

Thinking about the little she knew didn’t prove much of a distraction so Adara began to dream about what she would do within the family business when she inherited her share. All of her education had been geared to put her in the heart of the business when she came of age, managing the growth and production side. She could read a balance sheet at a glance, understanding the profit and loss variables easily. It hadn’t been easy to matriculate from classes filled primarily with men, but she’d done it.

She suspected the recent plateau regarding the worth of the business was related to incompetence and laziness on the part of the present managers, but Elliot was oblivious, spending the profits instead. He was a poor manager, and Adara was looking forward to increasing output and hiring more people.

The hum of the star drive engines filled her ears, and she tensed. A thin male voice emanated from somewhere to her left, announcing imminent take off, and a slight shift in where Adara felt her center was, told her they were moving. She closed her eyes and forced herself to relax, the couch cushioning her form while the straps held her in place. There was definite pressure on her body until the craft leveled out after breaking through the atmosphere, a procedure outlined in minute detail by that disembodied male voice. And then it was like resting on a soft surface with no indication as to the incredible speed with which they were travelling. Travelling to Virile where three dominant males awaited—had been waiting for a long time. For her.

What the hell did that mean? Two days weren’t long enough to practice their perversions and learn their ways, let alone sort out information she needed to cope. Had that been their intention? Were they saving her
training
for them? Shit.

The hours crawled by as she alternated between perseverating on what awaited her and trying to distract herself with plans and ideas about the business. Her grandfather and his father before him had patented the technology invented to utilize a planet’s natural energy sources, but that didn’t mean new and creative updates weren’t necessary. Hurting Elliot in creative and increasingly cruel ways before she killed him segued into the contrasting thoughts—sexual slavery, torment Elliot, improve the business. Probably it was best she had had only two days to get used the idea and one long day of travel. Better if she had none. She was making herself insane.

Mid-voyage, first officious attendant kind of floated and glided to her with a bottle in her hand. The liquid inside was obviously cold—the sides of the container were beaded with condensation. Adara was instantly ravenous and grasped the bottle in anticipation.

“Do you need the lav, honey?” Officious attendant was loosening up. Either that or she figured calling her sole passenger an endearment was allowed in space.
The final frontier. This is the voyage of Adara Waycross on her way to be fucked and topped by, count ‘em, three, yes three, farmer types. Boldly going to her sexual subjugation when sex wasn’t even where she let a whole lot of men go before.
She ignored the memory of the handsome, mysterious visage of Thorn and the lighter, contrasting images of Orion and Kellis and how her belly had fluttered in response to their overt magnetism, obvious even in those small pics. Hot and handsome didn’t mean merciful or even tolerant.

She nodded to the attendant. The lav was going to be a necessity in a short while, so she’d take the opportunity now.

“Drink the concoction first and I’ll take you.”

“What’s in it?” It didn’t hurt to be suspicious.

“Protein, vitamins, the usual. You look kind of on edge.”

“No sedative.”

“A mild muscle relaxant is all, honey. Promise. You need to relax. Tension in space travel is not your friend, and you’ll be what the oldies call jet lagged for days. Master Thorn wouldn’t be pleased.”

Adara instantly decided she wasn’t hungry or thirsty after all, not if one of her future
Masters—
she’d never give them the satisfaction by referring to them by that title—had instructed the attendant to give it to her.

“Honey, I kid you not. Drink it. I can see you’re feeling pushed, but don’t give your body more stuff to deal with.” The other woman smiled, looking totally sympathetic and trustworthy, so Adara felt herself nodding.

She sucked the cold liquid back and almost instantly felt the drug take hold. She didn’t feel any less alert, but her body seemed weightless for a bit until she forced it to mind her. After raising the seat, the attendant unclipped the straps and helped her up. Adara thought the drug should have been administered after she returned from the lav, but she felt remarkably relaxed yet in control of her movements, so maybe that was the reason for drinking it beforehand. The mirror over the basin reflected her familiar visage with no sign of being altered. Without the tension, her head settled too. Good stuff.

Comfortably ensconced again in her couch, Adara slept lightly, reaching for that place in her head. And then she heard the voice narrating their final approach and felt the craft settle with enough of an impact and pressure to make her tense all over again. Show time.

Chapter Two

The ramp unfolded with nail-biting slowness from the body of the craft. Thorn held his casual stance and kept his features inscrutable while the anticipation built to a nearly untenable level in his gut. Adara was the only passenger on this flight, so when the petite figure appeared behind the attendants who were clad in the dark red of Freestar, he knew it was her. The hit of green clothing took his attention initially, the color at odds with the sober shade of the uniforms around her, and then he saw her hair as it soaked up all the available light from the three suns floating on the horizon. Red. Deep, glowing shades of red—enchantress red. The red of iron will.

How could that be possible? Her image had shown black hair. It had to have been a trick of the light. Or perhaps a deliberate interference by the prophets to test him and his brothers. But it didn’t matter—black hair, red hair—they had already fallen.

There were presently no women on his world with red hair, and only the old tales spoke of females with such locks adorning their heads. He felt a moment of regret that he ordered her delicate cunt stripped of the rarity before the realization hit home that Adara Waycross was their true star-promised mate. The old tales foretold the Freestar legacy at the hands of a redheaded wench. It also portrayed a will of iron and issues with obedience and surrender. His cock surged full, and a shudder overtook him. They would need the full month after all, but what a battle it would be to enslave this woman’s heart. It would also be necessary to guard the information of the prophecy until Adara had surrendered to them. No outside influence was allowed—the writings were quite specific. Or she would be forfeit.

Their intended’s glorious mane shimmered as her head turned while she surveyed the port, even restrained as it was. Thorn waited until her gaze landed on him and was rewarded with a falter in her step. Strong willed she might be, but already she saw him as one who might master her.
One
of her Masters. Kellis and Orion would be over the second moon when they met her, and he debated keeping her hair color a secret until they fetched up at the farm. But best they were prepared. He lifted his profiler and captured her portrait then sent it to them, noting how Adara’s full mouth set at his action. Still, he waited until she walked the last units to him, noting the splendid voluptuousness of her figure. The attendant peeled off to afford them privacy as he’d instructed.

“Adara.”

“Yes.” Her eyes were truly the grass green the picture had captured—but without that vulnerability the image had captured. She looked him in the eye regardless of the need to tilt her head up in order to do so. He admired her banked feistiness, although there would be a time and a place for such attitude. As if she read his mind she cast her glance at the ground and remained silent. He decided to move forward as he meant to finish and placed a firm hand on her shoulder, pressing her downward.

After a very apparent inner struggle, albeit brief, she knelt at his feet, and he moved his hand to her head in a gentle caress to convey his pleasure at her gesture of submission, reveling in the silky feel. He pulled the pins and tie loose to free the thick strands and curls, watching as they fell free to tumble around her shoulders and down her back. She would feel his fingers wound through that glorious mane as she serviced his cock, the slight bite of pain at her scalp adding to her own sensations.

“You will greet us in this manner each and every time, Adara, and when we demand it.” Silence greeted his pronouncement, but he felt her protest. She had much to learn about how they expected her to communicate.

Her little nose was lightly freckled, the rest of her skin a creamy white, and her mouth full and now trembling. He didn’t want her to fear him but would demand her respect—when she wasn’t seeking his discipline—for he recognized the submissive in her if she hadn’t yet herself. Breaking through that proud veneer, for it was a veneer, brittle and unnatural, to help her become the woman she was intended to be, would be his honor. His profiler vibrated, and he checked the screen.
We are blessed. Bring her home, brother, once you have communicated how important she is to us all.

Thorn smiled and petted their woman’s head, sifting through the strands of her hair. His brothers were softer indeed and knew the first day with Adara would require a very firm hand. He would apply that hand with pleasure, and they would succor her when he took her home. Taming her would take much longer, but it was an excellent plan to start now. He lifted his palm and stepped back a pace, leaning to offer said hand to Adara. She looked at it for such a long moment he wondered if he would need to force his will on her for such a simple act, but she tentatively set her much smaller one in his and rose to her feet in one graceful move. She gave him a questioning glance.

“I am Thorn Freestar. One of your Masters. You may speak, Adara. Someone has spoken to you of protocol, but unless I say otherwise, I expect you to talk to us. This situation is new to you, and perhaps overwhelming.” He thought he heard her murmur
repellent
but was well versed in choosing his battles and this was neither the time nor place to debate comments made under one’s breath. All the same he filed the comment away on her punishment list. Given the portent of her hair, he had no doubt it would be a long list, perhaps one requiring a board displayed in the pleasure room. It would be her responsibility to update it and check off the punishments once they were administered.

His thoughts turned to the Dom who had used the brief time they’d allowed to give her some insight into the lifestyle he and his brothers lived. There was something about that Dom—Adara’s low, musical voice sounded, distracting him from his contemplation of Master Samuel. “I thought there were three of you.”

“Indeed. Orion and Kellis are at the farm. There has been increasing outlaw activity of late, and we are nearing harvest. As the eldest I came to welcome you.”

“Are we leaving soon?” The anxiety in her tone pitched it higher and dampened the musical quality.

“There are some items to be unloaded and placed in our transport. We will wait in a room I have reserved, out of the heat. I wish to answer your questions, but more importantly explain your role here and outline the rules should you question them.” In truth he hadn’t thought to need the room, had only prepared it in the event the transport had been delayed. One didn’t travel at full dark on Virile. But given the prophecy of her iron will, he needed to take some time before they left.

Her full mouth set again in a rebellious line, and her grimalkin eyes narrowed. Thorn wondered if she would like one of the feline creatures as a pet, just as he surmised that this lovely example of female had never truly been bound by rules. Well, she would follow theirs, not only for her pleasure, but also to keep her safe, and he would display the consequences of any breach of those rules as a precursor.

“Come.”

Green eyes flickered, but she didn’t resist the light pull on her hand and followed him into the shadowy recesses of the building. It might have been a relief to step from the heat, although she’d shown no antipathy towards the climate. However, it was late in the day with the suns setting, and perhaps she found the modified warmth comforting—her small hand felt cool and clammy, no doubt a result of nerves.

It was a short walk to the room. Thorn pushed the door open and gestured for Adara to precede him. She stopped just inside as the lights came up to a gentle glow, and he knew she’d seen the huge bed set against the wall opposite the door. Well, she had to know this was expected of her. Surely any woman whose males were allowed to use them as betting currency anticipated this very situation. All the same, it infuriated him on some level. What if it hadn’t been him who had won Adara? She could have been lost to men who wouldn’t appreciate her or to those who would abuse her.

Instantly he focused his thoughts. The game with her brother had happened for a reason, and she was never meant for another. She was theirs, and her red hair completed the prophecy. She need never fear that a male would barter her body again.

“Do you require sustenance, Adara? The use of the facilities?”

Her glance skittered over his face before she dropped her eyes for a second time. Excellent. It wasn’t a studied move but one that acknowledged his status. And hers. “No. I’m fine.”

“Remove your clothing, little one.”

The partial silence and total lack of movement greeting his pronouncement became oppressive. He could hear his own heart beat in his temples and feel the rush of blood through his veins. The faint pulse of the air exchanger didn’t offset the short pants of breath Adara took.

“I am not in the habit of repeating myself, Adara.” He kept his tone neutral, yet firm.

Trembling fingers plucked at the hem of her colorful top and hitched the fabric up in tiny increments, her smooth, rounded belly uncovered by her effort. Thorn didn’t think he’d seen anything so erotic, and both he and his brothers watched the females in the center’s clubs strip whenever they came to the city, before Ronnie. It gave them fodder for self pleasure. The porn on the profilers was repetitive and the action often jerky and shadowed with the interference from the sun spots. Adara clearly had no skill in seductively removing her clothing, but he was seduced nonetheless.

She succeeded in pulling the shirt over her head, revealing a bit of lace that veiled her round breasts, the creamy tops rising in a gentle slope above the pale blue bra. Thorn rethought his edict about no underwear. She really wouldn’t require any, but she looked incredibly sexy with her nipples covered so fetchingly.

“Place it on the table there.” He pointed to where he wanted her to put her shirt, hearing the rasp of lust in his voice. Adara heard it too, and she flinched. Shit. He didn’t want her afraid of him, but the recognized need to begin her training immediately pushed him hard. They had but a small window of time before leaving here. And a little fear might be a good thing, what with her temperament.

Once she had laid the article of clothing where he commanded, she slipped out of her shoes and then pushed her trousers down, revealing beautifully formed legs. She wasn’t tall by Virile standards at all, perhaps a voluptuous five foot five in her bare feet, but he was over a foot taller and more than a hundred pounds heavier. His brothers were nearly as big. They would surround her and fill her completely. She awkwardly folded the trousers on top of the shirt, nerves evident in every movement.

A matching piece of lace covered her sex, and he made no attempt to cover his arousal, noting how Adara’s eyes drifted to the front of his pants. “The rest. Now.”

Reaching behind to unfasten the bra served to push her breasts out, and he noted how her nipples had tightened. He hoped it was at least partly the result of arousal and not because of the coolness in the room. The luscious mounds fell free of the gentle restraint, and he ached to touch them, weigh their tender weight in his hands and tweak the coral buds decorating them. Pale blue veins were visible beneath the soft skin, and he longed to trace those with his tongue before setting his teeth in her.

It took a visible effort of will for the panties to come off—Adara’s teeth gritted and her jaw clenched—but then she stood in front of him with defiance written all over her.

“Present.”

His heart soared in conjunction with his cock when she fell to her knees, thighs spread wide to display her bare pussy, breasts outthrust and hands placed submissively on her thighs. Her gaze shifted from his legs to trace over the floor. He paced to her and made a close circle around her kneeling form, correcting her stance in minute ways to imprint his mastery. Her skin was silken soft beneath his callused fingertips, and she was a vision of lush curves and hollows of all that was feminine. Her narrow waist swelled into full hips and a sweet, heart-shaped ass. Her belly was rounded as a woman’s should be and her thighs pillowy and welcoming. He couldn’t wait to bury his face between them. And stripe them with his flogger.

After looking his fill, he left her in place to go and pull the chair away from the wall and set it in the middle of the open space in the room. He longed to explore her fully but would wait for his brothers to be there when all that she was would be revealed to them.

“Rise.”

She curled up from her position with innate grace, something that could be learned but was usually inherent. He knew she was no trained submissive, so she came by it naturally. Thorn had yet to decide about the issue of a safe word and in that moment thought he would wait to see if she requested one. In his heart he knew she wouldn’t need one because neither he nor his brothers would do anything she couldn’t handle or ultimately didn’t want. In truth he feared she would conspire to use it to retreat from them before they convinced her she was to be a part of their lives forever. And no safe word was going to prevent or change the lesson he must now deliver.

 
“Come to me.”

Her little feet pattered closer, those full breasts bouncing enticingly on her torso, until she stood directly in front of him. She was clearly not comfortable in her nakedness, but that would soon change because she wouldn’t be allowed clothing while on the farm. Unless she was wearing certain items Kellis had purchased for her. And maybe that underwear. He reached to put his fingers under her chin and lifted her face to lock eyes with hers.