Creations 4: Caging the Beast (2 page)

One of the guards behind him muttered, “Stupid
drun
. Should know by now only two things will settle the beast.”

Zachem inwardly agreed. After feeling the effects the new slave had on his senses, he wanted a fuck, not a fight. He rubbed his crotch, not at all ashamed of his needs. He’d been Created for sex. To serve his Creator, Handler, or whoever paid the highest price for his indenture. For years he’d done his best to obey. And then he’d just snapped. No longer content to endure, he’d killed anyone and everyone that stood between him and what he wanted.

Freedom.

In the pursuit of his goals, he’d killed his Handler and his Creator, two godless bastards bent on wringing every last drop of life from him that they could. He’d destroyed the small laboratory where he’d been Created, a tiny rock in the Asteroid Belt between the sun and the Outer Rim.

Just his luck to be captured by slavers on his way out of the fucking Vrail System for good. Autonomy, so close, only to be ripped away by the promise of acceptance. He damned well knew better. Cursing at his naïveté, he tugged on the collar around his neck, reviled by the feel of yet another yoke on his hard-won independence. The world suddenly turned red, a definite indicator he needed to satisfy himself before he lost all control.

He growled a warning. “I need. Hurry.”

The guards around him swore and raced to find him suitable donors. He stalked into his private den, a paltry room not much bigger than his confines in the laboratory where he’d been Created. At least in this place, he had a large pallet lined with furs, a table and two chairs, and an attached lavatory to fulfil his basic needs. Gifts because ‘the beast’ brought in more currency to the slavers’ fighting business than any other slave had in all the years The Pit had been in existence.

Zachem paced, trying to tamp down his aggression. He studied the cobbled walls and floor with grim satisfaction, glad that at least his prison afforded a semblance of privacy.

With the door closed, he had complete isolation from the rest of the world. Granted, his jailers could open the door at any moment, but most of them feared him. The few that didn’t kept him happy per the slave master’s orders, and thus left him alone unless they needed him to fight.

Two females and one male suddenly stumbled into his room before the door slammed shut behind them. He needed to release, but he wanted it especially rough tonight and didn’t think the females could handle him. He usually favoured men and wondered why they kept sending him female slaves. In hopes that he’d impregnate one, perhaps? What they didn’t know worked in his favour. Zachem controlled the release of his reproductive glands and never spurted the fluid that would make his seed fertile. He had no intention of bringing another of his kind into the world. Not here and not now.

The females stank of fear, the male of drugs and the need to rut. Perfect.

“I won’t hurt you,” he growled, unable to help the harshness of his voice. The females looked at one another then back at him. When he made no move to approach them, they slowly eased out of their clothing.

“We are pleasurers. We come to soothe the beast.” The tall blonde bowed her head.

The shorter brunette with her had ample breasts, but she didn’t arouse him. Nor did her taller companion. Even the large Ragga they’d sent him did little to pique his interest, but it didn’t matter. With the new slave still on his mind, Zachem motioned the trio closer.

He dealt with the women first. “I like to watch. You two, pleasure each other. You,” he paused to point at the male, “come to me.”

All three of them stared, unmoving.

“What?” he snapped.

The Ragga answered in a raspy voice. “We were unsure of what to expect. Some rumours have you devouring your companions, the ones that are never seen again. Others talk of your appetites and the pleasures to be had in this cell.” Zachem grunted and removed his loincloth. He had no idea what any of the others in The Pit thought. Nor did he particularly care. He worked hard not to harm those who were thrown unwillingly into his cell. He left the beatings and killings to Master Furon, that heartless asshole.

The women took his suggestion and began touching and kissing one another. The sight of soft flesh being caressed and stroked worked his need, because he couldn’t give them what they gave each other, no matter how much he might want to. Softness was not a part of Zachem, nor, he feared, would it ever be.

“Ragga, on your knees,” he ordered.

While the male approached, the brunette spread her thighs wider and moaned, her gaze on the male lowering to his knees. The blonde woman sucked on the brunette’s clit and speared her with a finger, then two. He knew because the brunette told him everything the other did in throaty whispers.

Growing harder and needing surcease, Zachem put his cock between the male’s lips. He didn’t care how much experience the Ragga had in dick play, but to his grateful surprise, the male didn’t have a problem handling him.

With firm suction, the Ragga teased the head of his shaft and licked him from base to tip. He played with Zachem’s tight balls, rolling the hardening sac in his rough palm.

“Harder.” Zachem shoved deeper into the male’s throat.

Pleased when the Ragga gagged yet accepted the rough treatment, Zachem began to fuck his mouth. Lust released the firm hold on his pheromones, and his attractant spread throughout the room.

The brunette came and clenched the other woman’s head to her pussy. After grinding against her face, she traded positions with her partner and began eating the other woman in earnest. The male at his feet stiffened and moaned, his hand busy over his own cock.

The smell of cum filled his small cell, and Zachem exploded with a sigh of relief. The blonde cried out as well, a feeling of mutual pleasure and peace saturating the small space.

But after a moment, Zachem’s hunger pulsed anew.

“Get to your feet, against the wall on that stool,” he growled to the Ragga, all the while keeping his gaze on the women mewing with pleasure. They moved to his pallet and continued to lick and play with each other. Such slender fingers gliding over slick flesh, over skin that didn’t change colour or glow. Too easy. Too soft. But so pretty to watch.

Zachem pushed the male against the rock wall and inhaled, pleased at the faint scent of fear wafting from his body. He couldn’t help it. The beast he’d been named always came out to play when his needs hit. With large hands he gripped the man’s ass and used a blunt finger to prod his anus. Thrusting his finger deeper, Zachem grunted his satisfaction when his partner moaned and pushed back over his knuckle.

“That’s good, Ragga. Real good,” he said on a breath, eagerly fantasising about the new slave, a black haired male with green eyes. About how tight and ripe he’d feel around Zachem’s cock…

He glanced over his shoulder at the women. “You there, with the brown hair. Come here,” he rasped and left the man. When the woman neared him, he took her in his arms, pulled her off her feet and impaled her over his cock. Sliding inside her tight sheath felt like bliss. But he forced himself to go slow and not cause harm, releasing his scent as she rode him.

“Stars, yes.
Yes
,” she cried out as she gushed all over him, lubing him nice and wet.

He withdrew from her and nudged her back towards the bed, where her friend caught and held her. Then Zachem turned back to the male, who waited impatiently against the wall. His eyes were glassy, his cock full and as he pumped through his hand and watched Zachem’s every step.

“Please,” he gasped, overcome with lust.

Zachem didn’t want to hear him, didn’t want to see the man in front of him, not when his thoughts strayed to the new slave who looked and smelled so different from all the others. So right.

Instead, he reached the male. Angling forward, Zachem grasped his slick erection and pushed it between the Ragga’s snug cheeks and deeper, cramming his cock into a tight passage. He thrust hard and fast, imagining the feel of the hardy male he intended to conquer inside the fighting ring and out—the new slave with the obvious strength and size to take him on, who possessed slitted pupils that reminded him of the guard
thrells
in The Pit one minute, and normal, green eyes that blazed with hunger and an otherworldly knowledge the next. Alien eyes. Foreign eyes. The oddity made the newcomer as much a beast as Zachem.

Feeling a kinship he’d always been lacking, Zachem could no longer contain himself and came hard into warmth, imagining the new slave’s acceptance of his touch. Zachem would come in his mouth, in his ass, all over his damned body. He groaned and came again, filling the Ragga with enough seed to make a thorough mess. But it wasn’t enough, and it wasn’t right coming in this man. Not when the new slave belonged
to him
.

Soon
, he thought. But not soon enough.

It took Tarn two days to fully recover. He didn’t want to rush the healing and make his guards suspicious. Besides, while he waited, he did some investigating. On the third night since his bout with the beast, Tarn teleported out of his cell into the bathing area that rarely saw any use.

Quickly shifting into the shape of a
threll
, Tarn took on the six-legs, dark, course fur, fangs and claws of the canine. Unfortunately, he couldn’t completely pass as normal even in this form. He stood two heads taller than the largest
threll
guarding the slave pits.

Still, in the darkness no one would notice. He hoped. He couldn’t just teleport all over the station. He needed a working knowledge of The Pit to map the place. Then he’d ‘port to retrieve the crystal and make his escape.

Trotting into the main corridor leading to the slave pens, he followed his nose.

Hundreds of slaves slept in the dark caverns of the Compa Caves. The natural rock prison contained those sold or taken against their will to serve Master Furon. Though the System tolerated the existence of slavery, Tarn found it distasteful. He had no intention of letting The Pit survive after he found what he’d been sent to retrieve. He just had to find the Dorvian crystal for Drekk and return before Rafe’s deadline.

Rafe of Mardu, a peacemaker and Drekk’s boss, needed the crystal returned. It meant something to some backwards delegation from a far off world. Tarn hadn’t caught much more about the mission than that Drekk had a conflict about the job. Boredom also factored in his decision to help the peacemakers, but truth be told, Tarn had come to care for Drekk and his giant mate. Drekk was the last living piece of Tarn’s brother, and as such, demanded looking after.

Snarling at the necessity of being here to do such, Tarn trotted past the pens until he reached another section veering off towards the guard berthing. He mentally calmed the guard
thrells
gearing for an attack and surveyed the area before moving on.

All in all, his reconnaissance proved fruitful. Three dozen guards slept in the lower level. Above the pens, another thirty or so stood watch. The weapons cache he’d been tempted to breech remained unlocked on the upper level.
Arrogant when they should be careful.

He shook his head and trotted back towards his temporary cell, where they would keep him until he proved his worth. No matter what ‘the beast’ deemed, Master Furon warned that Tarn would only be as useful as his stamina in the ring.

As if thoughts had conjured him, the beast’s scent suddenly exploded on Tarn’s senses, triggered a confusing lust and a need to follow the trail back to the male. Annoyed yet intrigued, Tarn followed the powerful lure past the majority of the slave pens. Running over the narrow, cold stone path, he found a corridor off to the side. A
threll
and two guards stood watch. Unlike the other slack security in The Pit, the two giant watchmen stood at the ready.

Tarn growled under his breath. He didn’t like teleporting into areas he didn’t know, but the urge to follow that scent overwhelmed him. Before the
threll
by the guards’ side could sense his presence, he teleported into the secure room.

There, in the centre of a monstrously large pallet, lay the beast.

Tarn sat and closed his eyes. He opened his mouth and used the
threll’s
enhanced olfactory glands to taste the male so close.
Stars and planets beyond.
Tarn’s cock hardened, and his instinct to fuck intensified. He couldn’t help growling, eyeing the male like a piece of tasty meat.

He salivated and rose to his feet. Stepping closer and closer, he moved to the edge of the bed. Just in time to watch the beast wake and roll to meet him. They stayed there, eye to eye, for a breathless moment.

“Damn,” the beast murmured, and his breath washed over Tarn.

Hunger hammered at him, the need for blood and seed and sex growing uncontrollable.

“Easy,
threll
. I don’t know how you got in here, but you need to get out before they find you.”

Instead of the fear Tarn expected to see, he instead saw curiosity. The beast’s aura flashed with gold, a wash of pleasure that made no sense. The silver haired man studied him with narrowed red eyes.

“You’re huge. And wild. I can smell it on you. You don’t belong here.”
Neither do you.
Tarn cocked his head, intrigued at the calming influence the beast’s words had on his libido. Still hard, he could now at least listen to the captivating male. But when the beast sat up, he tensed and growled.

The beast immediately stopped. “Easy. I’m not going to hurt you. Here.” He held out a hand.

Tarn sniffed then licked the beast’s fingers. The taste of him sent Tarn into a euphoric meltdown. He wagged his spiked tail,
thumping
over the hard ground. He licked the beast again.

Quiet laughter met his raspy tongue, and he gave a sigh as unfamiliar contentment stole through him.

“Well, well. All you needed was a little affection, hmm?” The beast shocked him anew by scratching behind his ears. All four of them. The touch felt otherworldly. Too right to be real.

Tarn scooted closer and rested his head on the beast’s lap. Good Night, but the male’s firm flesh felt good against him. He wiggled his head under the beast’s hand and huffed a request for more.