Zandian Masters

Chapter 2-4

Zander cupped her chin. His touch was surprisingly gentle but still strong and sure. He brushed her tears with his thumb then rubbed it together with his forefingers, as if mystified by the substance. “I don’t like when you cry.”

She didn’t know what he meant by that. Was it an order to stop crying? She swiped at her tears with the back of her hand. Thankfully, he hadn’t reattached her cuffs after she’d eaten. She gulped in her breath and held it, trying to stop the tears from flowing. “I’m sorry, my lord.”

His fingers wove into her hair. “We eat once a week in Zandian time, which on Ocretia is about ten planet rotations.”

She stilled, surprised to hear him answer the question he had scolded her for asking.

“The rest of the time, we get our energy from light. The solar rays are different here on Ocretia than they were on Zandia, so we use a crystal amplifier for light baths once a week or more.”

She didn’t often have visions. Usually the curse came as claircognition, not clairvoyance. But, in that moment, she had a flash of the most beautiful rainbow light bathing her skin, making ecstatic ripples of joy shimmer all around her. Gooseflesh stood on her skin.

She swallowed. “Thank you,” she whispered hoarsely.

“You’re still thirsty,” he said. “There’s a fluid tube in your cage. You may go and drink from it.”

A fluid tube. In her cage.

She wasn’t sure she would ever warm up to being kept in a cage like an animal, but there was something oddly comforting about having her own space within this terrifying new reality. When she started to stand, he lifted her with a hand under one arm.

His superior strength made her knees weak. He could hurt her. Far worse than he had. He certainly had shown restraint. Why did that turn her on?

She crawled into her cage and located the tube. The liquid inside tasted sweet and fruity. Delicious. She drank her fill and then crawled back out, settling once more at her master’s feet. He didn’t acknowledge her, but the tension between them had eased.

She watched him work, listened to his conversations, watched his messages. His large hands moved with elegant grace as he traced holograms, stretching them, shrinking them, sliding to the next one. The same large hands that had paddled her raw.

She longed for him to touch her. There. There it was. The unacceptable truth. He had slapped her face and s*****d her a*s. He had cupped her chin and gripped her nape. He’d held her arms. But she was his s*x slave. His breeder. Shouldn’t he be interested in touching her breasts? Her p***y? When would he do so?

A tap sounded at the door.

“Enter.”

Daneth came in, followed by two servants carrying various objects. The first one brought a piece of furniture—some kind of bench. The second one carried...oh veck. They were instruments of t*****e. Things to beat her with. Frightening, cone-shaped objects. Various tubes of gels and ointments.

veckDaneth began explaining them all to Zander, who watched her face as she absorbed it. She tried to keep it blank, but probably didn’t succeed. Her ears burned. Her bottom, which had stopped throbbing, tingled. A loud rushing sound in her ears made their voices sound far away.

“Slave, come here,” Daneth said.

Zander spoke. “Lamira.” It sounded like a correction—to Daneth—and it made something in her chest flutter. Not slave. Lamira.

slaveShe rewarded the consideration with obedience, stepping forward, even though she knew what would happen. The doctor, or scientist, or whatever he was, pushed her down over the bench, snapping her wrists and ankles to the legs. She lay n***d, with her a*s lifted and spread, offered up for punishment.

“It can also be used for the breeding, you see,” Daneth explained, tapping her s*x with two fingers.

She wriggled away.

“Oh, this should also be useful during penetration. It may prevent tearing from your larger size.” Daneth roughly smeared something cold and liquid across her folds.

She tightened both holes, straining against her bonds.

“Leave us.” Zander’s voice sounded even deeper than usual.

“Yes, my lord.” She imagined Daneth bowing and backing toward the door.

Her legs trembled on the bench. This was it. He was going to shove his enormous Zandian c**k in her virgin hole now. Her hands turned cold and clammy. She gripped the legs of the padded bench so hard her knuckles turned white.

It occurred to her to beg—to plead with the prince, who might not be such a terrible being, to postpone their copulation. But her lips wouldn’t work, tongue didn’t move. She remained silent in the horrible position, offered up to him like the slave she was.

Zander probed her entrance with his finger, rubbing the slick substance around her entrance. He pushed his finger inside.

Her foot jerked, and she sucked in her breath across bared teeth.

“Does that hurt?”

She didn’t answer him. No. It didn’t hurt, but she didn’t want to tell him that. She wanted him to stop, to put her back in the odious cage and leave her alone.

He slapped the back of her thigh, and she yelped. “I asked you a question.”

“I don’t like it,” she said sullenly.

A long silence stretched while he screwed his huge finger inside her. It met her virginal resistance and he paused, going slowly, investigating her interior walls. Her belly fluttered. Heat flooded her s*x, flushed out across her skin. Her p***y swelled under his touch, the lubricant spreading with a more pleasing sensation now.

“Your genes, of all those recorded in the Ocreatic galaxy, are predicted to mesh best with mine. I don’t know why—it doesn’t make sense to me how a human could bear the best offspring for me, but that’s what the program says. So neither of us has to like it...but we are going to do it.” There was a steely dominance to the dictate.

areIt made something pulse deep inside her. She experienced an opening, a yawning of her s****l organs, as if they accepted his words at face value and wanted to oblige.

She didn’t want to oblige, however. This shouldn’t be happening to her. She wasn’t meant for breeding.

She“I know you’re small and I’m large. I will do my best not to hurt you.”

“No.” It sounded stronger than she felt. In her mind, it was a whimper. She knew the inevitability of her fate, here.

He slapped one cheek, hard. “You don’t tell me no.” He shifted behind her, the rustle of clothing signaling his disrobing. He rubbed the head of his c**k against her entrance.

She twisted to catch a glimpse of it, but, from her position, saw nothing but the chiseled muscles of his bare torso, his strength and power almost shocking. No, it was his s*x that shocked her. He pushed it in, wedging the huge organ into her tight channel.

“Oh, oh! No, no no,” she moaned, her teeth clenched.

“Hush, human.”

“Lamira. My name is Lamira, you overgrown alien ape. You think you can—uhn—” she broke off as he bumped her a*s with his loins, driving deeper, right up against her resistance. “You think you’re so superior, you can afford to buy any slave you want—oh, oh veck!” He broke her hymen. A brief pain flashed when it tore and then he was deep, filling her with his enormous c**k. “No, no, no more.”

uhnveckHe reached around and covered her mouth with his hand, moving in and out of her. His breath rasped behind her, rough and labored.

She bit his finger as hard as she could—hard enough to draw blood.

“Veck!” He yanked out of her.

VeckShe thought she’d feel relief, but her body experienced his loss as a disappointment, even though it had been far too much.

He cursed again and then she had a split second of warning from the whistle through the air before something hard and thin struck her across the a*s—across both cheeks.

She screamed and looked over her shoulder. He held a wooden stick of some kind, about a half-meter long and five centimeters wide. The whapping sound it made when striking her flesh sounded nearly as loud as her screams. He beat her with it—ten times in rapid succession.

She wailed as if he were killing her. Veck, he might kill her. There was anger and force behind his strokes. Not that she blamed him. She’d certainly inflicted her own damage.

VeckFortunately, the wooden implement wasn’t that thick. It didn’t pack a wallop like a heavy wooden paddle. She’d been beaten with one of those once at the agrifarm and didn’t want to repeat the experience.

He went still behind her.

She continued to wail, with no semblance of pride now.

“Stop the noise.”

She tensed, waiting to see what happened next. Her a*s throbbed, the welts he’d laid stinging like a million pinpricks. Her bottom twitched of its own accord. Her s*x pulsed, hot and swollen. Moisture seeped from her slit. It must be his fluids—had he finished?

Vaguely, she was disappointed.

No, flesh slapped audibly behind her, but he wasn’t touching her. Was he...servicing himself?

~.~

It couldn’t have gone worse. He was going to ream Daneth for this idiotic plan. He pumped his c**k in his fist, but he’d lost all interest in copulation after the human’s ridiculous wails. Daneth must have made a mistake—Zandians and humans were not sexually compatible. He may have been initially aroused at the sight of her bound and presented for his taking, but not anymore.

He closed his eyes and willed himself to a finish. He would reach the point of c****x then enter her one more time to deposit his seed. He didn’t want to endure any more of her cries than necessary to get this finished.

There. Almost there. He gripped her hips and pushed back inside. She grew even wetter than before, more welcoming. Her muscles gripped his c**k.

Stars...yes. He shot his load, finishing deep inside her. As soon as it was over, he pulled out and released her from the bonds. The wailing had quieted down to a mewling, panting cacophony.

yes“Get in your cage.” He was utterly disgusted with her. With himself, too. He should have researched this himself, instead of relying on Daneth’s knowledge. Perhaps there was something he could have done to prepare the delicate human for a Zandian intrusion.

He turned his back on her, listening as she pushed herself to her feet and crawled into the elevated cage.

“Lock cage,” he murmured. “Lights off.” With a sigh, he climbed onto his sleep disk and lay on his back with his fingers interlaced behind his head.

Her breathing still sounded ragged, long terraced inhales she held and then let out with a burst. The scent of her tears hit him. Were they fresh? Or from the s******g he’d given her?

He didn’t think he’d paddled her too hard. The slender wooden implement had packed more of a wallop than his hand, but it was too light to have left anything more than surface bruising.

She sniffed. Yes, she was crying.

He hated the way her tears made him feel—agitated. Cranky.

Veck, he hated all the feelings the foolish little human invoked. He preferred not to feel, in general. Zandians weren’t emotional like humans. He couldn’t have her disrupting his life so much.