Nine
Rhea followed Orol into the sunrise gathering. He was dressed in his leather chest and ass coverings, fully armed. She wore the skimpy gold outfit, her ass and breasts barely concealed, and she was on a chain. Again. It was attached to her collar, anchored to his waistband.
She felt self-conscious yet appeared to be overdressed. The female by the door enthusiastically sucking a male’s cock wore body paint, streaks of red and black decorating her full breasts. Another female bent over, clinging to a wall, had ribbons around her ankles. A male was fucking her from behind while three other males waited to take their turn.
The females wore restraints around their wrists and ankles but no collar, signaling they were slaves but didn’t belong to one Master. Even if they hadn’t been wearing the hardware, Rhea would have known their status from their total submission.
It would be challenging to match their level of servitude. Already, the urge to yank on her chain bubbled inside her. But for Paloma, Rhea would try.
Orol had been correct. There were very few free females. One was wearing the leather coverings of a fighter, battle axes strapped to her hips. Two other females wore the long coats, fabric chest and ass coverings of the wealthiest patrons, beings invited to this gathering. Male slaves kneeled at their feet, objects to be displayed and used as Rhea was.
As her sister was. She shook, anxious, worried. Paloma would be here, closely guarded yet exhibited, a prize to be offered to the winning fighter.
Orol would have to kill his friend to earn that title…unless Rhea figured out another plan. That was part of her mission at the gathering—uncover information that might prevent that final fight.
Orol greeted males. They chattered with him, talking about odds and bets, probing her newly acquired Master’s brain, looking for information about him, intelligence that might predict the outcomes of his fights.
The males didn’t speak with Rhea. They merely gazed at her breasts and hips with open lust. Their reactions buoyed her confidence. They didn’t question her role as Orol’s sexual plaything.
Rhea kept her head bowed, gazing around them through her eyelashes. There was an appallingly large number of fighters. She evaluated each warrior, looking for weaknesses.
One long-haired barbarian favored his left leg. A blue-skinned giant squinted at a display in the distance. A six-armed male couldn’t figure out how to operate the nourishment bar dispenser.
Orol moved through the chamber and she trailed him. Males looked at her but didn’t touch her. Her Master’s actions in the tunnel had stopped that abuse.
He could have allowed her to be grabbed. Her life hadn’t been in jeopardy. It wouldn’t have interfered with his mission to bring her back alive.
Yet he’d defended her, killed for her.
Rhea found that extremely sexy. No one had ever cared that much about her.
Orol located Scales. His friend lounged on a huge multi-ass seat, his arms stretched out, his legs parted. Two females rubbed their naked bodies over the scaled male, touching him, stroking him.
The females looked at Orol as he sat. Their eyebrows arched in inquiry. He shook his head and pointed to a spot on the floor by his booted feet. Rhea kneeled. The females glanced at her. They wrinkled their noses and returned their attention to Scales.
“They prefer your cock.” The male’s grin was genuine. He didn’t appear to care about the females’ preferences.
“It looks like his cock will be taken care of.” A newcomer sat on the other side of Orol.
The style and shade of his chest covering, ass coverings, and boots matched Orol’s. Only the newcomer’s long coat, signaling him as a credit-rich patron, differentiated their outfits.
Rhea’s gaze, hidden under her eyelashes, lifted. The newcomer had brown hair also, striped with black, but the stripes were wider than Orol’s, appeared…manufactured.
The similarities were too numerous to be coincidence. The male wanted to look like her temporary Master for some unknown reason.
“She’s a nice tight piece.” The newcomer studied Rhea with jaded green eyes. Those were different than Orol’s, the coolness in their depths sending a shiver down her spine. “I understand why you don’t want to share her.”
“Novac.” Orol dipped his head. Her Master didn’t like the male. Rhea saw that in his eyes.
“I never thought I’d see the two of you in the same battle.” Novac beckoned to a female slave. “The oddsmakers are having a meltdown, Wings.” He spread his legs and the female lowered between them. “One moment, you are favored. One moment, your scaled friend is.”
“You are here to evaluate whom to bet on.” Orol moved his booted feet apart and motioned to Rhea.
She gulped. He wanted her to pleasure him in public. She wiggled closer to him, having no choice but to obey his command.
“Am I so transparent?” Novac lifted his hips as his slave pulled his ass coverings lower.
“Yes.” Scales already had his ass coverings at his feet. The two naked females alternated sucking his purple-scaled cock.
Novac’s laughter faded as his slave took him into her mouth. “Stop torturing your slave, Wings. Give her permission to suck that big cock of yours.”
Oral’s gaze slid to him. “You’d like that.”
“I would.” The male’s smile didn’t reach his flat, dead eyes. “I like watching you fight and watching you fuck. That gives me joy.”
“I wouldn’t want to deprive you of any joy.” Orol’s tone was wry. “Pleasure me, slave. With your mouth and with your hands.”
If they were alone, she’d tell him to sit on a gun muzzle and pull the trigger. But they weren’t alone and they were playing roles. The males around him were being pleasured by their slaves. She was his slave. It was expected that she’d pleasure him.
It secretly thrilled her, not that she would ever admit that to him.
“Thank you, Master.” She skimmed her fingers around his waistband, teasing him, and slowly unfastened his ass coverings. His cock was hard, pressed against the leather, and it sprang forward as she freed him.
“That’s a lot of cock for such a tiny female.” Novac eyed Orol’s shaft, feigning a hunger Rhea authentically felt. He was playing a game with her Master, a deep, twisted game she doubted she’d like.
“My slave can handle me.” Orol shifted, allowing her to tug his ass coverings downward. “She’s well trained.”
He didn’t know how well trained she was. She’d never sucked his cock. Rhea hoped she didn’t disappoint him or their audience. Her fingers shook as she stroked him.
“I could teach her a few things.” Novac winked.
Scales snorted.
Rhea bent her head. A bead of pre-cum had formed on Orol’s tip. She flicked her tongue over him. He tasted like male, like desire, bubbled on her tongue, down her throat. She dipped into his slit, looking for more of his essence.
“You must taste delicious, Wings.” Novac’s laugh was edged with envy. “Your slave’s face is euphoric.”
“You’ll never taste me, Novac.” Orol rested one of his hands on top of her head, as though he couldn’t resist touching her.
Scales laughed.
“I’m a wealthy male, Wings.” Anger sparked in Novac’s eyes, the male resenting the public rejection. “And every being can be bought.”
“I can’t be bought.” Orol’s jaw jutted.
Rhea doubted that would stop Novac from trying. The male clearly didn’t hear “no” very often. She circled Orol’s rim with her tongue, laved his shaft, wetting him, making his skin glisten.
Scales changed the subject to past fights. Novac bragged about the bets he’d won. Orol and his friend talked about battle techniques.
The males chattered, females positioned between their legs. Other beings watched them.
Rhea sank down on her newfound Master, taking more and more and more of him into her mouth. He rumbled, the sound encouraging her.
His tip tapped the back of her throat and she paused.
“Your slave can handle you, my ass.” Novac rolled his eyes.
Having believed herself to be a female males didn’t want, she’d taught herself a few tricks, hoping to make up for that deficiency. Rhea tilted her head back and took the remaining length, sealing her lips around his base.
The crowd around them cheered.
“She’s made for me.” Orol expressed his admiration, his hands twisting in her hair.
“Fuck.” Novac stared at her. “Your slave stuffed all of your big cock into that tiny mouth of hers. How is that possible?”
“You lucky bastard.” Scales slapped Orol’s shoulder as though he was responsible for Rhea’s feat.
She withdrew, sliding her lips over her Master’s shaft. It was a struggle to keep her eyes lowered, to not show her triumph.
“I want her,” Novac declared. “Name your price.”
“Concentrate on your own slave.” Orol curled his fingers over Rhea’s scalp, tightening his hold on her.
Novac’s eyes grew hard. She thought he might strike Orol.
Instead, the male thrust deep into his slave’s mouth. Caught by surprise, the female gagged, her eyes watering. He did it again and again, venting his anger on her.
The female had to take the abuse. She was a slave, had no rights.
Orol could treat her the same way. Rhea bobbed up and down on him. She, a female who never trusted anyone, was putting her wellbeing, her life, in the hands of her winged male.
That should frighten her. It didn’t. He’d already shown he’d protect her. His mission was to keep her and her sister alive. And Rhea liked a bit of pain with her pleasure.
She glided her lips along his cock, licking as she moved. Orol drew her down on him, coaxing her to increase her pace. The muscles in his legs flexed, became unrelenting as metal against her.
Scales found release first, flames filling the air as he bellowed with satisfaction. Novac punished his slave when he came, shoving his cock deep and holding her down while she struggled. The female’s face had turned an alarming shade of red before he let her go.
That slave didn’t linger as Scales’ slaves had. Her breathing ragged, she hastily fastened Novac’s ass coverings and hurried away from him to pleasure another, hopefully kinder, male.
Rhea had only one male to please, to focus on. She worked Orol’s cock, her lips humming, her jaw aching. Beings wandered around them. Scales drank. Novac critiqued his previous fights.
Her world faded to just her and her male. His warmth engulfed her. His taste coated her tongue. He tugged on her hair, the tinges of pain arousing her.
She licked and sucked him. He held her to him and drove upward, fucking her mouth with a thrilling savagery, not taking her deeper than she could handle but not allowing her to retreat.
The crowd chanted in time to his thrusts. Novac exchanged bets with Scales on how long Orol would last. His balls tightened. His shaft swelled.
She looked at him through her eyelash shield. His jaw was clenched, his face twisted.
He needed release and she would give it to him. She inhaled him, taking him deep, and slapped her tongue against his shaft.
His roar shook the containers of liquid on a nearby horizontal support. Hot cum splattered against her battered throat. She swallowed and screamed around his cock, the fiercest pleasure surging through her.
Voices dimmed and loudened. The floor tilted under her knees. She sucked and sucked some more, draining every drop, every bit of bliss from his body.
He slumped on the multi-ass chair. “Good slave.” He petted her hair, smoothing it.
Trembling with delight, Rhea cleaned him with her tongue, and then laid her head on his shaking thighs. She’d passed this test, had been rewarded for her efforts, her body quivering with ecstasy.
“I must have her.” Novac’s voice broke the connection between them.
“When I tire of my slave, you can have her. For a price.” Orol’s tone was cold.
When he tired of her? Rhea hid her annoyance under an expression of serenity. Fuck him. She fastened his ass coverings and kneeled before him. They wouldn’t be together long enough for him to tire of her. “Thank you, Master.”
The males talked for a while. Orol stood. She did also. He prowled around the chamber. When he stopped, he’d point to the floor and she’d kneel.
They didn’t see her sister. Rhea knew she was in the chamber. She heard talk of the curvaceous blonde prize. It was as though Orol was intentionally keeping them separate.
Some of the beings left. The crowds thinned.
Rhea was at the end of her patience, struggling to conceal her growing frustration when Orol finally led her to the center of the chamber. She couldn’t see past his body, his height and the breadth of his shoulders blocking her view, but from the murmurs, the turned faces, she knew they approached her sister, the prize, as she was referred to.
“What did you say?” Orol turned and glared at her.
She hadn’t said anything. He had enhanced hearing. He would know that. Rhea stared at her feet, her mind spinning. He must be revising the plan. “I’m sorry, Master.” She played along.
“You should be sorry, slave.” He stalked forward once more, tugging on her chain. “I won’t tolerate disrespect.”
She mumbled another apology, hurrying to keep pace with him.
He stopped abruptly. She smacked into his wings, his feathers soft against her face.
“Slave,” he roared. “Did you touch your Master without his permission?”
Her heart pounded, her body responding to his dominant tone, not realizing it was an act. “I’m sorry, Master.”
“Displease me again and you will be replaced.” Orol yanked on her chain, pulling her forward. “Look at this slave.”
Rhea looked and her heart twisted painfully. Her sister, her innocent, trusting, baby sister sat naked in a glass container, her body displayed for every being in the chamber to gawk at. Her lips moved as though she was talking to herself. Her blue eyes were open and glassy.
She was so small, so alone.
Rhea’s distress over Paloma’s situation escalated, clawing up her spine, pushing her to act. She couldn’t wait until the rounds of fighting were over to rescue her sister, couldn’t leave her there. She had to save her now.
“Look at her.” Orol grabbed a fistful of Rhea’s hair, his clasp on her painful. “Look closely.”
The bastard was deliberately torturing her. Rhea, complying out of anger, looked closer.
Her sister’s skin glowed. Her curls hung down her back, not a snarl in the tendrils. Her fingernails were clean. She showed no sign of weight loss. There was a small smile on her beautiful face.
Physically, Paloma looked better than she had since they’d left their home planet.
Rhea breathed in, counted to five, breathed out, breathed in, counted to five, breathed out. Her shoulders lowered. The emotion clouding her brain dissipated.
Her sister might not be free, might not be lucid, but she was safe.
Rhea could wait to rescue her.
Orol released her hair. “If you don’t behave, she will be my favorite.”
“I’m sorry, Master.” Her regret was genuine. She was sorry she hadn’t protected her sister, sorry her sister had to endure this, sorry she couldn’t liberate Paloma immediately.
Now that Rhea’s logic had returned, she realized that feat was impossible. Her sister was restrained in a clear container. Armed guards were stationed around the display. Monitoring devices hung from the ceiling.
And she wasn’t the only being viewing her sister.
A Palavian fighter stood far to their right, daggers in his four hands. Three humans chattered to him. He ignored them, his gaze fixed on Paloma. The male wanted to kill her sister. Rhea saw that in his eyes.
Other males wanted to fuck her, fuck her little sister, a female with barely sixteen solar cycles. One male was so aroused; a slave sucked his cock. Another male shamelessly stroked himself through his ass coverings.
They were looking at Paloma like that. Rhea’s stomach rolled.
She couldn’t allow that. This was her sister, the being she’d raised since birth. Rhea’s eyes stung with unshed tears. She leaned toward Paloma. Orol hooked his arm around her waist, drawing her back.
“Those tears won’t work on me, slave.” He cuffed her ass, hard, the pain clearing her head. “You brought this on yourself.” Orol swatted her again, the burn felt through her flimsy ass coverings.
“A prize like that will cause trouble with the other slaves, Fighter Wings.” The male known as the Host stood beside Orol. “She’s beautiful…and spirited.” There was no emotion in his voice. “The males who sold her to us said she believes she’ll be rescued. A sister will come for her.”
Shit. Rhea became still. They’d been found out.
“We are not concerned.” The Host waved one of his hands. “Our guards are competent. The container is projectile-proof. Breaking into it would activate the response system. It is programmed to blow the area around the container into the next sector. If this clever sister of hers managed to circumvent those controls, the moment our prize steps out of the chamber, the collar she is wearing will slice her beautiful head off. Attempting to remove it would result in the same extremely painful death.”
Rhea gazed at her sister through lowered lashes. There were too many precautions. She couldn’t risk Paloma’s life with a rescue attempt.
“The only being she’ll leave this chamber with is the winning fighter.” The Host presented the conclusion Rhea had already reached. “It doesn’t matter to us what that fighter does with his prize. Your scaly friend, we imagine, would kill her. The Palavian seeks, we suspect, to do that same thing.”
That couldn’t happen. Those two fighters couldn’t win.
“We asked your scaly friend to wait to sign up for the battles. No fighters would volunteer if they knew he was a contender.” The Host curled his fingers and studied his immaculately clean fingernails. “For this battle, two fighters signed up after he did—you and the Palavian.” He nodded his head at the other male. “That intrigues us.” His smile held no humor. “We like being intrigued. It is a nouvelle experience for us.”
Orol caressed her stomach, didn’t say anything. Rhea, being a slave, couldn’t voice any of the questions and concerns she had.
“As long as you follow the rules, we won’t interfere with whatever game you’re playing,” the Host shared. The knot inside Rhea’s body unraveled. They wouldn’t be evicted from the premises. “Take your slave back to your chambers. The melee will be starting in half a planet rotation. You’ll want to be rested for that, Fighter Wings.”
The male disappeared back into the crowd.
“Fraggin’ hole.” Orol expressed Rhea’s thoughts. “You’ve caused enough trouble for me this planet rotation.” He grasped her by the waist and hefted her over his right shoulder. She gasped as her stomach smacked against his hard form. “We’re returning to the chambers where I’ll discipline you in private.” He spanked her ass, the sound of flesh hitting fabric-covered skin ringing out.
Rhea took one last look at her sister as he carried her away.
Be strong, Paloma, she tried to communicate with her eyes. I’ll rescue you.