Whimsy (3 page)

 
She sat
down in shock. Her face burned with embarrassment. How
could
the rest of them
sit here and listen to what should have been a private
moment? When it was over, the guards went in to extract her. One of the guards
carried her gown in his fist. Another held Miss C15. She was naked and
unconscious, covered in a fine sheen of sweat and her thighs were wet.
 

 
Editha
stood. “More,” growled a deep voice from inside the
room. Whimsy cringed.
Editha’s
gaze passed over her
for a second and then moved on to the silver blonde. Whimsy was suddenly
fiercely happy that this woman hated her. At the same time, she felt like a coward.
But what could she do to stop what was happening? What could she even do to
save herself?

 
She
closed her eyes. Tears rolled down her cheeks as the sounds of the blonde’s
pleasure began. She covered her ears, but she could still hear the moans. They
were sick and perverted to sit here and listen to this. All too soon the guards
went in to remove the woman. She too was naked and unconscious, her thighs damp
with her dew. Her body tensed as she heard the cry, “More.”

 
“No,” she
whispered as they came for her. She shook her head wildly. “I won’t do this.
You cannot make me! I won’t, do you hear me? I am the daughter of––“

   
Editha’s
slap stopped her cold. She’d never been struck
before. Whimsy held her cheek in surprise.

 
“Stop
this behavior this instant. You will not deny him. Do this and you will be
released afterwards. Continue to resist and I will make you regret it every day
for the remainder of your life.”

 
Whimsy
swallowed. She didn’t have much choice. She was damned no matter the outcome.
There was no one to appeal to.
Chaldor
seemed nice,
sympathetic even, but he had picked her for this particular duty. Telling them
she was a princess now would hardly be believable. She nodded to show her
acquiescence.

 
The cuffs
were removed and she allowed them to lead her forward. The doors were closed
and locked behind her.

Chapter Three

 
The room
was dark. Whimsy stood with her back to the door. The opposing wall was covered
in dark burgundy drapes. The only lightning was provided by candles placed at
regular intervals around the room. It was warm, so very warm. She frowned at
the unusual sensation. It was as though waves of heat rolled over her
body.
 

 
She
stepped forward cautiously, squinting into the darkness. Candles were lit at
the far corners of the room, but due to the size of the room, they proved
inadequate lighting. She spotted the massive bed with its rumpled sheets
trailing the floor almost immediately and looked away.
 

 
Whimsy
swallowed. She pressed a hand to her belly to quell the funny sensations the
heat was causing. The sensation seemed to be increasing. There was also an
unusual scent permeating the air. It was rich, thick and somehow disorienting.
She felt drowsy and drugged. Whimsy shook her head. What was it? Was it a drug?
Is that how he had gotten the two other women to submit without a fight?
 

 
She took
another hesitant step forward. A sloshing sound drew her attention to the
right. In the shadows, almost tucked away in an alcove was a bathing pool. It
was large and circular in shape. The water was dark. A large man stood in the
middle of the pool.
 
A very large man
with a fierce scowl, Whimsy mentally amended.
 

 
He soaped
his body with slow precise movements. He was spectacularly built, tall and
muscular. She’d never seen a man so large before. Yet, he was perfectly
proportioned. His skin was a warm honeyed tone and his features were beautiful
and sensual. Black hair fell from a center part in a thick wavy curtain to his
strong shoulders. His dark eyes finally lifted to hers. They narrowed. His long
fingers wrapped around his turgid shaft and a hiss escaped his lips. His eyes
never left hers as he pumped his hand up and down his thick length. He was well
endowed in this area, Whimsy noted.

 
The
clenching in her belly increased. Whimsy moaned. She turned and fled for the
door. She knew it was locked. That wouldn’t stop her from trying to leave. She
struggled with the knob, hoping the lock was weaker than it appeared. What she
was going to do once she got on the other side, she never found out.
 

 
Giant wet
hands slammed on either side of her head. She gave a small cry and whirled to
face him. She hadn’t heard him move. He towered over her. This close, she could
see that his eyes were a deep blue, the color of the night sky. He pressed in
closer until her gown clung to his moist skin and then closer still until her
back was flush against the door. The feel of his cock against her belly caused
more of the curious clenching there.
 
She
inserted her hands between their bodies, pushing against his chest. His body
was slick and he was strong. She couldn’t budge him an inch.
 

 
He did
nothing for the moment, merely smelled her neck, his lips hovering over her
skin. Whimsy closed her eyes. An uncontrollable trembling seized her limbs. The
heat was stronger now, as was the fragrance. It seemed to spread from him,
pounding over her in waves. The feelings he was effortlessly evoking in her
were more frightening than the physical threat he posed.
 

 
“Delicious,”
he finally voiced his verdict. His voice was sinfully deep, and thick with
emotion. He tipped her chin back and kissed her. The touch was light and
undemanding. Whimsy turned her head but he only followed. He tugged on her
bottom lip with his teeth before running his tongue over it. With small
pressure from his thumb, he opened her mouth for his further perusal.
 

 
Whimsy
moaned at his taste. Her nipples instantly hardened and her pussy flooded.
 
He slanted his mouth over hers. With the
deeper kiss, her blood roared in her ears. She kissed him back helplessly.

 
He
trailed kisses down her neck, homing in on a sensitive spot beneath her ear
that had her gasping.  “I-I won’t . . .,” she whispered, “allow you to
take me . . . oh, don’t do that,” she ended in a shocked gasp as he thrust
himself against her.

 
“Why not?
You want me.”

 
“I
don’t!”

 
He smiled
against her neck. “Then why are you encouraging me?”

 
Whimsy
dropped her hands to her sides. Without realizing it, she’d been stroking
his shoulders and back. “I’m sorry.”

 
“No need
to be sorry. I liked it.  Damn, but you are sweet.” He licked her.
“Are you this sweet all over?” He ran his hands up her back and crushed
her breasts to his chest.  She whimpered at the contact.

 
“I won’t
let you take me on the same bed, on the same sheets that you took those other
women.”

 
He
laughed softly. “Like dessert, you want to be served on a different plate than
the main course?” He nuzzled her ear. “Perhaps you even deserve it. The bedding
can be replaced. I cannot wait the length of time it would take to replace the
bed.”

 
Whimsy
could have kicked herself. What was she thinking? She couldn’t let him take her
at all. But her body had other ideas. It was ready, willing, and all too eager
to be taken.  She didn’t know desire this strong could exist. Saying
no to him was sapping her strength. Each of his touches, his kisses, weakened
her resolve.

 
He took
her hand in his and led her to the bed. He removed a robe from the tangled
sheets, slid it on and belted it. His erection was obvious beneath the silk. He
was large. Whimsy looked away despite the fact that she had already seen him,
and felt him pressed intimately against her body. 

 
He picked
her up as though she weighed nothing and carried her to the doors, knocking in
a series of quick raps. “Bring fresh bedding,” he ordered once the doors
opened.

 
He took
her to a bench in a corner of the room and sat upon it, holding her in his
lap. 
Editha
oversaw the changes made by a bevy
of servant girls. The changes were made in short order, but Whimsy could see
the girls beginning to sweat from the warmth of the room. 
Editha
, who alone seemed to be unaffected by the heat, cast
a warning glance at her before exiting.

 
 
All the while, he held her close, and Whimsy
studied their linked fingers. His were thick and bronzed. Hers were slender and
brown, only a shade darker than his skin.  Once the changes were complete
and they were alone, he dropped his forehead to hers with a
groan. “Dessert, you know not what this gift to you has cost me.”

 
She could
guess. His erection was hot and hard against her hip. She could feel his
heat through the silk of his robe and through her gown. She closed her eyes.
Myrna, she couldn’t do this! This man was a stranger to her. And if she did
this, her life would be forever changed. She would be a social outcast amongst
her people, despite her royal parentage.

 
She slid
off his lap. “We need to talk.”

 
He stood
and removed his robe. “I need you.”

 
Whimsy
trembled and took a cautious step backwards. His body was hard and all male. He
was as tall as one of the
Gogath
but thicker of
muscle. She’d never seen anyone built like him. He was a warrior. The men of
her colony were thinkers. They solved conflicts with words, not fists. This far
into colonial space, the men were probably little more than barbarians. His
heat, his want, radiated from every pore. She could
feel
his want. It was beating at her persistently. Her eyes widened
as he opened and closed his fists in an effort to control himself. The
corresponding flexing of muscle held her momentarily spellbound.
 

 
He
advanced. She retreated.

 
Whimsy
wet her lips. “Listen, you’ve already had two women tonight. You need to learn
the difference between need and sheer gluttony.” She glanced behind her. She
was not so stupid as to back up and fall conveniently into his bed. But the
only other option was running. She was shoeless, but in a gown. Whereas his
limbs were unimpeded and decidedly longer, the flowing gown was sure to trip
her. How long could she escape him? Long enough to convince him not to attempt
bedding her?

 
His hand
shot out. She jumped back but not before he’d achieved his goal. Her gown
sprang open, parting to reveal her body to his gaze. He growled. She realized
that the smart thing to do would probably be to fling the gown aside and run,
but modesty wouldn’t let her. She struggled to pull the edges together.
 

 
“So
beautiful,” he groaned, touching her cheek and then burying his hand into the
shining waves of her hair. His hand moved lower, stroking her neck and then her
collarbone. He used the backs of his fingers to trace the black edge of the
gown down to the swell of her breast.

 
This man
was dangerous. She wanted him to touch her, had to resist the urge to lean into
his touch. That thought scared her enough that she moved out of arm’s reach. He
smiled and followed, this time overtaking her. He pulled her flush against his
body, so shocking her that she released the edges of her gown. Skin to skin,
she shivered. His deep groan only made it feel better. He rubbed his chest
against hers, widening the gaping edges of material and teasing her nipples at
the same time. His cock burned her belly like an iron brand.
 

 
He backed
her up until the backs of her thighs hit the bed, then lifted her and crawled
on after her. Whimsy wet her lips. Myrna, his heat was making it impossible to
concentrate. She scooted away from him, careful to keep her legs tightly
closed. He watched her, his eyes flickering over her body.
 
He made no attempt to hide the hunger in his
gaze.
 

 
She
rolled, thinking to escape on the other side of the bed. He caught her foot and
effortlessly pulled her back. He kept at it until she was spread before him. He
tugged her into a seated position and removed the remnants of her gown. Whimsy
was beginning to feel like he was toying with her, letting her glimpse freedom
only to snatch it away. She was his prey. He arranged her body to his liking,
draping her legs over his so that she was open to him. He ran warm hands over
her arms, her back, her buttocks and her thighs. She bit her lip to hold back a
moan. He smiled and kissed the corner of her mouth. He ran his tongue over her
lips, pressing it to the seam until she opened to him.