After she ended the call and entered the bedroom to lie down, Gayle discovered her belongings had already been transferred.

“I wonder why I’m so blasé about all of this,” she said, rifling through the closet that now held her ‘old’ clothing plus several more dresses and skin suits in fabrics she recognized from the tailoring session.

“You’re not stupid,” Ithann said. “And only a stupid female would be hysterical.”

She turned. “Oh, really? I’m perfect for you, you know. For some reason, your incredibly abrasive attitude doesn’t bother me.”

He folded his arms, haughty. “My mother is the diplomat. I am the youngest son, I speak my mind.”

“Hmm. You mention your mother a lot.” She sat down on the edge of the bed, leaning back on her arms. “Are you a mama’s boy?”

His arms unfolded as he stepped forward and leaned down, face in hers. “Strip, female, and get on your knees—then we’ll see if I am a mama’s boy.”

She laughed in his face. “There’s an order to things, Ithy baby. First, I read the paperwork you forged my name on. Then, if nothing pisses me off, we can talk about you going down on me.”

“You speak as if that’s a punishment,” he purred. “I want to taste you. I want to hear you scream my name.”

She inhaled, licking her lips, and averted her face. Veggies first, dessert later. “Papers, Ithann.”

He brought her a tablet, a thin piece of glasslike material that when accessed lit up, a display darkening so she could no longer see through it to her hand beneath. Gayle spent several minutes skimming through the documents, highlighting certain clauses, cross-referencing, and re-reading. All told, it was a good two hours before she had a firm grasp of her situation.

Ithann looked up when she entered the living room. He lounged on the couch, a large screen holo-console in front of him, several windows open that darkened at his verbal command. He studied her stony expression, eyes impassive.

Gayle stared at him. “You said we were married.”

“We are married.”

“What I read is… is…” words failed her.

“A form of marriage.”

How could he sound so reasonable? Gayle scowled. “I’m a sex slave.”

Ithann returned her scowl. “An honored concubine until you produce a child, and then you are automatically—”

“You own me. If I don’t satisfy you sexually, the contract is null and void and I get to go to… to…”

“A training camp for pleasure providers.” He examined his fingernails. “I don’t think that will happen. I’m almost certain you’re a natural.”

She threw the tablet at his head. He ducked, surging to his feet and charging her. Gayle shifted immediately into a defensive stance, teeth bared, and met his attack.

Bring it on.

The fight was quick and dirty. He pinned her to the floor, glaring, the cloth of her dress ripped halfway up her thigh.

“If you ever throw anything at me again,” he snarled, “I’ll put you over my lap and spank you until your ass is red.”

She squirmed beneath him. “But I’d like that, so it wouldn’t be punishment.”

His voice lowered, menacing. “When I spank you, Gayle, you won’t like it.” But as he spoke, his hand slid down her body, pulling away the dress where it had torn, and cupped her mound. She hissed, pressing into his hand, opening her legs to cradle him.

“Are we done with the foreplay?” she asked.

“I thought you were angry. I thought you decided you were a sex slave.” His eyes mocked her as his fingers delved in her curls, teasing her clit.

“There’s no point in anger—I’m practical.” Gayle’s hips pushed up, her teeth biting into her own lip when a strong finger slipped inside her. “Either I please you, or I get to be a professional whore.”

His head lowered, incisors lengthening, his lips nipping at where she’d bitten down. “It’s an honorable occupation.”

Her heart sped up, body tensing from anticipation. “And,” he continued, “it would give me a hobby.”

“Hobby?” she gasped as his fingers ground inside her.

“All those males I’d get to kill. It would be almost an obligation—for the honor of Doshen House.”

Gayle moaned. He knew how to use his mouth, his hands, his teeth, his tongue. He knew how to strum her body as if he were a master musician and she the instrument. He made her sing.

“Maybe—I should—go to the pleasure house, then.”

His response was to rise to his knees, take the cloth of her dress between his hands, and rip it in a long seam down her body. Gayle froze, eyes snared. He stared her down, as if to tell her that when he began killing, he wouldn’t just stop with the males.

“I think, Abigail, that you should do you very best to please me,” he said in a conversational tone, confirming her suspicion. “I think I could kill you if you ever touched another man. I might regret it afterwards.”

Was she sick that his words turned her on? Rocketed her desire to the nth degree? Was there anything sexier than a strong man who would kill to keep her?

“You could hurt me?” she asked.

“I’ll never hurt you. Unless you beg me to. And, Gayle—” Ithann covered her now naked body. He’d discarded his own shirt as well and his hair fell over his shoulders into her face. “—I would die for you, too. Life and death—this is the consequence of bonding a warrior.” His mouth curved. “I’ll make it worth the risk.”

She lost track of time while he played with her body, reducing her to near tears and pleas to finish her off. His cock was hard and swollen, grinding into her stomach. His face cruel when he looked at her. At one point, her nails scored tracks along his back and she swore at him.

Ithann grabbed her wrists and pinned them to the carpet. “No, Gayle—I get to control the pace. I owe you for weeks of waiting.” He paused, thoughtful. “Do you have a safe word?”

“What?”

“A safe word,” he repeated, patient. “I have all these images running through my mind of what I want to do with you—you probably need a safe word.”

“Oh, God.” She swallowed, tried to think. “Um… tofu.”

“Tofu.”

“Tofu.”

“Very well.”

He rose, pulling her into his arms, and entered the bedroom, tossing her on the bed. “Don’t move.” He walked to a wall panel and pressed. A drawer slot slid open and he examined the contents.

Gayle closed her legs, splayed open from when he’d tossed her. He turned, eyes pinning her.

“I told you not to move. Infraction number one.”

He approached the bed, two delicate chains dangling from his hands, a drape of black cloth over his wrists. She’d never noticed how elegant his wrists were. Strong, well-shaped, smooth from hair.

Ithann snapped his fingers in front of her face. “Don’t go into a daze now,” he said. “I’ve barely even touched you.”

Was he insane? Nearly an hour of torture on the living room floor, sending her out of her mind, her clit and pussy clenching with need? And he’d barely even touched her.

Ithann climbed on the bed and bent over her, blowing on the stiff peaks of her nipples. Then he took one of the chains, a tiny clamp attached to the end, and placed it over one dark nub. Held her eyes as he increased the pressure of the clamp. Her chest jerked and she gritted her teeth. She was so sensitive, every nerve ending in her skin raw.

“These are weighted,” he said. “I’m going to fuck you from behind, so while my cock is inside you, these chains will hang from your tits and make you mad.” He paused. “They vibrate.”

Ithann clamped the other bit of torture jewelry on the opposite nipple, then pulled her into a sitting position. “Get on your knees and turn around.”

She obeyed. Ithann slapped her ass, a sharp sting. “Too slow. Move faster when I give you an order. Put your hands on the wall, here.”

Gayle obeyed speedily. When her palms rested flat on the wall where he’d indicated, he wrapped the bits of black cloth around her wrist, touching the ends to the wall. The ends were… sucked into a slot, tightening until she was restrained. He caressed a hand down her back and buttocks, then slipped between her thighs and pinched her clit.

“Remember the word if you can’t handle me,” he said.

Fighting words, and he knew it, the bastard. The clamps vibrated, the sensation throwing her back into the sensual agony that had begun to cool.

“I could clamp your clit?”

She shook her head vigorously. He sighed. “Next time.”

His hands spanned her waist, then swept up to cup the undersides of her breasts. His chest was hot, hard against her back, skin silken smooth, muscles flexing. His cock wedged in the valley of her ass as if it had found itself a home and he ground his pelvis against her, gasping in her ear. He shifted, and the head of him nudged her entrance, pressed inside just a centimeter. Enough for her to bite her lip. Even that preliminary bit of him stretched her entrance. As slick as she was, she wasn’t certain he would fit without pain or tearing. She was certain her hymen wasn’t intact anymore. Pretty certain.

“No more waiting,” he said. “How do you want this? Slow or—”

“Just do it,” she ground out.

He plunged in, breaching her entrance to the hilt. Gayle arched her back and screamed. Pain was minimal, despite her virginal status. But the shock of entry for the first time. She slumped, the ribbons around her wrists tightening.

Ithann cursed behind her, a string of foul words in his native tongue. “You didn’t tell me you were a virgin.”

“You didn’t fucking ask if I was a virgin, you blue alien savage. That hurt.”

His hand tangled in her hair. “What were your words?” His voice went up several octaves. “‘I might like that, Ithy baby, so it wouldn’t be a punishment.’” Ithann snorted, tone dropping back to a deep growl. “Maybe you shouldn’t talk shit, baby.”

She turned her head to glare at him, ass grinding back against him. He was lodged inside her, driving her crazy. She needed him to move.

He just raised a brow, his lengthened incisors peeking out from his lips. “And this changes nothing. I’m still going to fuck you raw.”

“All talk and no game, Ithy baby.”

He growled, slid out of her, and plunged in again, squeezing her breasts. “See, that’s what I meant about you talking shit.”

Gayle’s chest hugged the wall, the clamps pressed into her skin. How would one feel on her clit? The delicious torment, the vibration while he fucked her.

“Fuck,” he swore, stokes long and hard. “This pussy is so tight. Take all of me, baby.”

What choice was there? He worked his monster-sized cock inside her, her body stretching to accommodate him, juices slicking his passage. Her back arched, ass pushing back against him, an involuntary grind, thighs parting even further. He talked dirty, a string of obscenities with every staccato thrust into her body. Gayle could only gasp, moan from the sharp pain and accompanying pleasure.

“Ithann, slower, you’re so big. Slower.”

“Am I hurting you?” His voice deep, dark in her ear. The devil at play, a sensual torment promising her hours of pleasure, but only if she accepted the pain. “Scream if I’m hurting you, enja Bdakhun. Daddy’s spoiled little princess, but you’re mine now. To do with as I please, whenever I please. Scream.”

Another thrust. She screamed. “Yes! Yes, you’re hurting me.” It hurt so good, she’d never felt so alive. She wanted more, but didn’t know if she could take more. Not yet. Had she thought herself strong? Maybe she was, outside of this bedroom. But in here, she was a toy for her warrior. He handled her with ease, mastered her body, her mind. Her heart.

“Then hurting is good, Abigail.”

He pulled the ribbons out of the wall, releasing her wrists, and flipped her onto her back, throwing her legs over his shudders and ramming home. Gayle’s fingers clawed into the sheet, head shaking back and forth, teeth almost biting through her lip.

“Say the word if you want me to stop,” he growled.

Fuck if she would say the word.

His hand yanked her hair, bringing tears to her eyes. “Say the word!”

She swore at him. “You can’t make me.”

Ithann smiled, fangs glistening, deep, dark pleasure hot in his eyes. And then he struck, teeth embedding into her neck. This time the bite was different. Each suckle sent a shockwave through her body. He angled his hips, his massive head grinding against her spot. Her vision darkened, breath spotty from the pleasure. She might faint, and he probably wouldn’t even notice, would use her, abuse her, fuck her body, and yank her back into wakefulness with the force of her cumming.

Her voice was too hoarse for screaming when her climax crested. He pulled out of her, pumping seed onto her heaving, sweat-slicked chest. The creamy white cum coated her body and his hand rubbed it into her skin, branding her.

Her legs slid off his shoulders. So sore. Trembling.

“My God,” she breathed.

He ran a cum-slick finger through her slit, and probed her asshole. “Oh, that was just the beginning, Gayle. Your pussy isn’t the only orifice I can fuck.”

And he did. All night long.