Bride of the Trogarians (8 page)

“It is none of their concern.”

“Why?” Iris felt her self-preservation flee as her sense of social justice flared. “So we’ll remain ignorant? So we’ll be left defenseless if these things attack?”

“Silence!” he said, and the warning in his voice was evident, but she ignored it.

“How do you know we females couldn’t help?”

“Enough!”

“No,” she said. “It is ridiculous to keep your women in the dark! And I’m not about to willingly lay with any male who thinks I’m too stupid to know what’s going on.”

Zios’ face turned dark.

“It has nothing to do with that.” His voice grew quiet. “It is simply our way. We protect our females. They are too important to our race to be worried with matters of war.”

Iris crossed her arms. “That’s the same excuse men on my planet used for years.”

Zios reached out for her. “You forget your place. Even if you do not like it, that place exists.”

“And you forget that your way doesn’t include taking an unwilling woman, and I am no longer willing.” Iris glared at him.

Zios nodded, then silently reached out and pulled her to his bed, which was a low cushion. He laid her down on her back, and when he reached for a length of leather strap lying to the side, Iris tried to rise. But he quickly bound her hands, securing them to a tent post. Iris continued her ineffective struggles as he next secured her ankles, drawing them apart and securing them in a manner that spread her legs wide open. She was now lying trussed and open before him, her pussy on full display. She glanced down to where he was kneeling between her legs. She could see the bulge of his cock through his kilt. He was hard as a rock, seeking her through the thin leather skirt that separated them.

She glared at him through helpless, angry tears. “I knew you were false,” she taunted. “You said you would not force yourself on a helpless woman, but you tie me up.”

“You are wrong. I will not put myself inside you until you are begging me,” he said. “You are tied in such a manner not for pleasure, but for punishment.” Zios picked up another piece of leather now, this one supple and about eight inches long. By the time Iris realized his intent, it was too late. There was a flick of his wrist, and a snap as the tip of the little strap struck the top of her pubic mound. She jerked from the sting, crying out.

“No… don’t!” She wriggled. His eyes were fixed on her pussy. He flicked the strap again; this time it fell on the left lip of her labia. It felt like liquid fire suffusing her entire pubis when a corresponding blow landed on the opposite side.

“Aiiiieeeeeyyyy!” She was writhing to escape what she now realized was worse than any spanking, and more humiliating, even than the plug-and-clamp correction she’d first received. Zios was taking his time, aiming for the silken petals of her inner labia now, striking just hard enough to deepen the sting to an unbearable heat that was both painful but also…

No!

Despite the pain, there was a different kind of heat building now, and each descent of the strap made wet slapping sounds. He was hitting her more lightly now, the punishment going from corrective to teasing. Her inner passage clenched despite the pain, or because of it. The face that looked down at her had adopted a knowing look.

“
Don’t!
” She’d meant to sound firm, but the word came out as a soft plea. And when he did stop, it was almost worse because Iris found herself writhing before him, her exposed, drenched pussy open and… dear God…
hungry
for, for
what
?

Zios seemed to know, and when he leaned down to fasten his mouth to her smoldering, stinging, slick labia, the sound of her feral cry of passion filled the tent. She came instantly, rocking her hips against his face. Zios’ mouth had latched onto her clit, was suckling it, and the force of her orgasm in this trussed position caused her legs to spasm and cramp. She was a conflicting mess of sensations—pulsing pleasure and stinging pain and deep hurt and swirling passion. Waves of sexual ecstasy carried her through the physical storm, settling her on the other side just as the huge head lifted from between her legs. Zios’ eyes were glazed with lust; his face was glazed with her arousal.

He rose to his knees. His cock was in his hand. It was thick, with a huge ruddy head and veins networking down its length. It was big, so much better than a human’s cock. And she could tell it was—as Utak warned her—more substantial, and would likely stretch her more than his.

But she wanted it. God, she wanted it. Her pussy clenched. Iris scrunched her eyes tight, trying to stop the want, trying to ignore the growing emptiness. Her body had never craved anything like she craved the invasion of this alien male’s thrust into her body, had never longed for anything as she longed for the stretch she knew she’d feel if he pushed his way into the pussy spread open before him.

“Please.” Her tone was as wanton as her attempts to push her hips toward him.

“You want me to couple with you?”

“Please.” She said it again, this time through gritted teeth.

Zios smiled, and in the back of her mind, Iris realized she’d lost. But as he pushed the flared head of his cock against her pussy, as he rubbed it teasingly up and down, she felt the victor. Even trussed, she had power, for he wanted her as much as she wanted him. He was just more controlled. But still, Iris could see the need on his face as he pushed slowly inside her, the entry every bit as painfully delicious as she anticipated.

She wished she could widen her legs, but her position made it impossible. Zios seemed to realize this, for he reached back and drew the knife from the strap on his leg to cut through the leather which bound her. Once freed, those legs instantly wrapped around him, and to Iris’ surprise, she thrust up, driving him inside her. The Trogarian was not expecting this. Now his eyes widened, and he moaned, looking down at her in surprise. And Iris knew her face was now not one of helplessness, but one of a determined female who sensed her own subtle power as she began to move up and down on his shaft from her position beneath him. She smoothly pivoted her hips, the sting of the punishment magnified by the stretch of her punished labia even as his cock rubbed a hidden inner spot, driving her wild.

The knife cut through the straps holding her arms now. She hugged Zios to her, and he rolled onto his back, grasping her waist and sliding her up and down on his shaft. Iris felt a sense of frustration as he took control, even with her on top, and she saw something of playfulness in his eyes.

Iris clamped her thighs as tight as she could, and although she knew she could not trap him, not really, he stopped moving, as if humoring her.

Then he pulled her off his cock, put her on all fours, and rammed into her from behind. She cried out, but gripped the furs beneath her, holding fast, softening her hips, going with the escalating feeling of pleasure that pushed her to a third and final orgasm.

This one coincided with his, and she felt hot bursts of seed pulse into her, bathing the neck of her womb, then seeping out from around his softening cock. It ran down the inside of her thighs, making her feel marked, owned. How could this excite her, she wondered. But it did. Zios and Utak had both touched something on a core level within her, something primal.

He pulled her down with him as he rolled on his side, and at that moment she forgot her pride, forgot how he’d forbidden her from listening to the males. At that moment, all she could think about was being a female in the arms of her dominant mate, and how, soon, Utak would join in their lovemaking.

Chapter Seven

Their encounter left Iris exhausted. When she awoke, both Zios and his brother were gone. But Lija was there, with a plate of food that included berries, some sort of boiled grass, meat, and a bowl of sweet grubs for dessert. This time, Iris ate everything.

“Your appetite is better,” Lija said. “But coupling stirs the blood, increases the strength and the need for food.” She pointed to the dried seed on Iris’ thighs, and Iris blushed at the directness. When she finished, Lija told her the female Trogarians were all going down to the spring to bathe, and that she would be coming with them.

It was the first time she’d ventured out alone with those who would now be her peers, and this made her more nervous in some ways than the company of the brothers. The other females stared more directly now that she was outside the chieftains’ protective company. Iris wondered if they were jealous, for surely a Trogarian woman would aspire to marry the most prestigious male. But as she looked around she noticed that not all the females were Trogarian, and among the females heading to the springs were those of other races, including a voluptuous woman with almond eyes, emerald green skin, and a tail that flicked as she walked. A child trailed behind her, a boy that was obviously full Trogarian.

Lija reached out and touched her arm. “That is Sinta. She was the lone survivor saved in a raid on her village. We raised her, and when she became an adult was given to Antok and Gladin for a mate. That is their son, Kirn.”

“Was he born here?” Iris glanced back at the encampment, trying to imagine giving birth in this wild place, here at the foot of these huge mountains.

“No. He was conceived on a moon, Xdor. And the All that Is did not impart the life spark until we all went back to Trogar. He was born there, and now is here.”

They’d reached the springs now. Shed clothing lay piled on the bank. Females were splashing each other playfully in the steamy water. Those with children played close to the edge.

“So… the pregnancy doesn’t grow at the moment of conception?”

“It plants, and takes if it is a good match. You will know when it happens. But the life spark comes when it is ready. It may be moments after, or much longer. The All that Is must be trusted to know when the child will be born.”

Iris stepped into the water with Lija, who took her hands and pulled her into the deep. As they were treading water, Iris looked at the servant. She was pretty, with olive skin, long dark hair fixed in a coiled braid, and large, catlike eyes.

“Utak and Zios… their mate died,” she said.

Lija’s serene smile disappeared. Her face took on a pained look. “Yes. The All that Is reclaimed her and the son of Trogar. It was hard. The spark was slow in coming. There was much rejoicing when Mara began to swell. The Crone did not see her death, but then the Pathmakers are not identified. We do not know they are Pathmakers until they die.”

“Pathmakers?” Iris shook her head, puzzled.

“The burning grief of their loss purifies the path for something new, something bigger. Mara was the Pathmaker for you. The protection your mates feel will be increased tenfold in the wake of this loss. The child you carry will be important.”

Iris felt sorry for this Lija, so simple, so certain of a superstition that justified the loss of a friend she obviously loved. She changed the subject.

“Do you have mates?”

“I did,” she said. “But they honored me by falling in battle. I was given the choice to mate again, as I had not quickened with life. Or I could choose to serve. I chose service. Now I can help raise your child!” She twirled Iris in the water. Iris was about to ask her how she could go on amid such a loss, and why she chose servitude to another union, but before she could a horn sounded, the blast so loud it seemed to resound off the rock faces above them.

“We must go!” Lija was tugging at Iris’ arm, pulling her rapidly to shore. Other women darted past, moving like bronze dolphins through the water. The ones on shore scooped up crying children, abandoning their clothes as they sprinted back toward the encampment.

“It’s the War Horn!” Lija helped Iris from the water. “We must get back to the encampment.”

Iris rushed to keep up. The women running around her were obviously afraid, but not panicky. Three huge Trogarian males on large gyrands galloped toward the women, turning to flank them as they moved toward the safety of the tents. In the distance, Iris could hear what sounded like thunder and looked over to see the mounted army of Trogarians rushing into the pass. There were screams and shouts and the sound of metal on metal.

Fear coiled in her stomach, and uncoiled like a vine that spread through her body. Zios and Utak would have led the way; she knew this instinctively. And she was surprised at the fear she felt for their safety.

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Once in the tent, Iris began to pace. The distant sounds of battle were unlike anything she’d ever heard. Only when she accepted a cup of water from Lija did she realize her hands were shaking.

“No,” the servant said, draping a fur over Iris’ nakedness. “But Zios and Utak have been in many battles. And when Trogarians return from battle, they celebrate by claiming their mate. This is a good sign. Your first time will be a Battle Union. Your son will be a warrior. It is good, no?”

Iris stood, suddenly impatient with silly superstitions. A deafening roar filled the air, and Lija explained that it was a death cry of one of the gyrands. “His rider will weep as he butchers the flesh from its carcass. And he will eat of only his creature’s meat to absorb his strength as he trains another mount.”

Iris put her hands over her ears. Outside, the wind had begun to howl, adding to the surreal hellscape she was imagining. She thought of the tapestry on the wall, and had a terrifying thought. What if the Odh—whoever they were—prevailed? She thought to ask Lija, but the servant was busy sewing and humming, likely comforted by whatever stupid prophecy she believed would guide a day that seemed to go on forever.

But it did not. The sounds diminished, and hours later, the sound of the returning riders filled the camp. Iris did not ask permission as she burst from the tent, her eyes desperately seeking the two brothers. Her heart was hammering as she rushed in between the gyrands, despite Lija’s calls for her to return. In the ongoing glow of dawn, she searched each face.

“Little human!” She felt herself scooped up, but could not see who’d taken hold of her since her back was to the mounted rider who’d grabbed her. The gyrand was steered away from the other riders and he dropped to the ground, planting Iris on her feet and spinning her around.