Bride of the Trogarians (3 page)

At the head of the pass they saw the cause of the curiosity. Trogarian younglings were crowding around a transport shuttle. The sea of younglings now parted as the two chieftains rode up and dismounted.

Two guards had exited the hovering vehicle.

“Trouble?” Zios was the same height as the Traoian guard, but much broader. And where the guards were clean-shaven and wearing uniforms, the brothers were bearded and bare-chested save for their tribal markings.

“No,” the guard said. “Senators Clim and Balord, and Acclimation Center Master of House Malo Yvin, send condolences on the loss of your mate. And in appreciation for your watchfulness of the pass, they present you with a human female.”

The brothers looked at one another. “Hu-man?” Utak said the word slowly.

“Yes. They have been utilized as slaves and mates for Traoians for several moon phases now, and our leaders would like to offer you one as a gift.”

One guard turned then and pushed a button. The opaque cylinder covering the back of the shuttle lowered and the brothers stared at the small female sitting in a curled position on the floor.

“We’ve no need for a youngling.”

“She’s not a youngling. She’s just small.” The guard reached for the female, who was bound by some restrictive gel to where she sat. He took hold of her; another push of a button released the grip of the gel and he pulled her out.

“See?” The guard held her at arm’s length. “A mature female’s body. And fertile. These humans have birthed Traoian young.”

Zios stepped forward and looked down at the female. Her eyes were the first things he noticed; he’d seen the same feral rage in the eyes of the beast he’d just killed. He dropped his gaze to her body, and could see that she did indeed have a full form. He looked over at Utak, and could again tell they were sharing the same thought. He nodded to his brother, who reached a hand into the neckline of the torn gown she wore and ripped it from her.

The female tried to turn away, but the guards wouldn’t let her. Zios walked around, inspecting this strange, smooth human. He remembered now that they were from Earth, a planet he’d heard mentioned was struggling. He’d heard their inhabitants were soft and weak. This one was indeed soft. He reached out, his rough knuckles sliding down her bare arm. She kicked at him when he did this, and his reaction was swift. Zios drew back his arm, and the crack of his huge hand across her bottom resounded through the open air along with the peal of her sharp cry.

The human fell forward from the impact, and would have landed face down were it not for the guards who still held her. Zios watched as the image of his hand emerged dark pink on her pale skin. The defiant look was still in her eyes when he walked back around to face her. She was staring out through a veil of silver hair, her bottom lip caught between her teeth as she tried not to cry.

Utak reached out, lifted the tresses over her right shoulder, and took a firm breast in his hand. He tested the soft weight of it in his hand before pinching the nipple. The human winced, but remained defiant in her expression. Utak moved his hand lower, over the slight swell of her belly to the mound of her pussy. It was bare and smooth. He’d never seen one like that, without hair. He parted the pussy lips, gazing at the inner folds, the same dark pink as her nipples. Smooth and soft. But there was strength in this little female, and the Breeding Time was almost at hand. The planting had begun back home. A baby rooted in the womb before the end of the season would grow through winter and be born in the safety of spring’s warmth, should the life spark be granted quickly. If they did not take her now, they would miss their chance to welcome a son of Trogar in this cycle.

Zios reached out and took hold of the human, who tensed at his touch.

“Tell your leaders the chieftains of Trogar accept their gift, and send thanks.”

The guards nodded as they handed the little female over. One of the guards offered the human female a mean smile that made Zios feel angry, even though he didn’t understand why.

As the guards departed on their vehicle, the other Trogarians who’d been observing the exchange pressed in. Zios looked down at the girl. He’d expected her to shrink away from this crowd of strangers who were so different from her. But she stood boldly facing them.

“Move aside! Move aside!” The crowd parted again. The Crone was lurching forward, her long straggly hair fanned away from her face by the light wind, the staff with the sacred rock held tight in her gnarled hand. Her breasts, loose and unbound beneath her tunic, swayed as she walked. She stopped in front of the brothers and stared directly at the human.

“I saw her,” she said, looking first at Utak and then at Zios. The night Mara’s body went up to the All that Is, in the flames I saw this being.”

Zios felt the hair on his neck stand up. “Will she give us sons?”

The Crone was silent for a moment. “Yes.” Her tone was flat. “And more.”

“I’ll give you nothing!” The human had spoken, and at the same moment jerked her arm so rapidly that she broke free from Zios’ grasp. In the same instant, she leaned down and deftly snatched the blade from the sheath on his leg.

“Stay back!” she cried, wildly stabbing at the air.

The brothers looked at one another. The Trogarians were staring as if in shock. It was nearly unheard of for a female to exhibit even mild rebellion. Raising a weapon was unprecedented. But Zios realized she didn’t yet know their ways. He also realized it was time for her to learn them.

He rushed her, his foot flying out to knock the human’s from beneath her. Utak was at his side to grasp her hands. It took only a little pressure applied to her wrist to break her grip on the weapon. He picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. Her warm hip was pressed against his bearded cheek. He inhaled, his sensitive nose catching her scent. She’d been pampered at one time. The scent of oils still clung to her skin. It mingled with the musky scent of her pussy, and the tang of fear sweat.

The others fell away as the brothers headed with her into their large tent. Utak laid her on her back, straddling her as he grasped her legs and pulled them apart. She was screaming now, beating her hands against the back of Utak’s legs, demanding to be let go. But the brothers ignored her. Zios moved in front of her, looking down at her defiant face. A wave of pity gripped him. She was frightened, and no doubt felt helpless and resentful after being handed over to strangers. Part of him wanted to hold this little human, to comfort her. But that would have to come later. They were in a harsh land here, living a harsh life. Females were precious and few, and obedience to protective males was as vital to their survival as food. For her own sake, the brothers could not allow her to escape punishment for what she’d done. Zios nodded to his brother, who pulled her legs together and back, fully exposing her bottom.

It was a fine bottom, firm and smooth. And in this position, with her legs trapped and pulled back, he could just see the curve of muscle beneath the padding of her soft buttocks. He felt his cock stir beneath his leather kilt. Zios looked over at Utak, who was looking down. He could feel his brother’s thoughts, and knew that he, too, found the human pleasing.

Zios moved to the side and knelt down to one knee, doubling the supple strip of leather he held in his hands. She was looking at him, her eyes fearful now. She wriggled ineffectively as he raised the strap, sensing what was coming.

The human screamed, louder even than she had outside. That was the only sound that filled the tent for long minutes thereafter, aside from the sound of leather striking her helpless flesh. Her cries changed from screams to incoherent wails and babbling pleas as the leather raised a mass of puffy welts concentrated in the area where her buttocks met her thighs.

“You will obey,” Zios said. He was midway through the punishment when he spoke to Iris, his voice rising above her cries. He put his hand to her bottom when he spoke, feeling the heat rising off the skin. He moved his hand lower, the rough palm just grazing the pouch of her pussy. Did he imagine it, or was there heat there? He had not time to ponder it. The little one needed a harsh lesson.

He raised the strap again, laying a new layer of red welts over the raised whitish ones erupting on the surface of her punished bottom. He thought of Mara, who had been similarly punished, but only once. Afterwards she’d been sweetly compliant. Would this little human be the same? Part of him hoped so, but part of him hoped she’d keep enough fire to at least earn a trip over his knee. It was no secret that the Trogarian males were almost as aroused by the punishing a female as they were by sex. Dominance triggered something primal in them. But a good Trogarian knew not to overdo it for his own satisfaction. A female should only be punished to her limits. And Zios realized now that this little human was reaching hers.

She was writhing in pain, her cries increasing with each gyration when he finally stopped and knelt down.

“You are female. You never strike a male. You obey.”

She looked up at him, her mouth open in a bawl. He glanced down at her firm breasts, the pale round globes tipped by their ruddy pink nipples, and lower to the narrow waist and full hips. He needed to remind himself again that the sobbing female who’d just had the defiance spanked from her was not a youngling. She was so very small, so easily broken. Would such a small thing be able to handle him and Utak? Would she be able to handle their cocks thrusting in and out of her?

Of course she would. The Crone had foreseen it, and the Crone was never wrong. But Zios knew they could not breed her until she accepted her role as a Trogarian mate. And that would require training of her mind and body. Mara had known, and understood. Zios’ heart twisted in his chest. He could not think of her now. She was with the All that Is, and this human was the mate in the here and now. They would teach her. She would learn. She would have no choice.

Chapter Three

The technology of TraoX39 had been the stuff of science fiction movies—flying shuttles, biodomes, holoscreens, infoboards. Iris had been fitted with an internal chip no bigger than a grain of sand that allowed her brain to immediately process any language in any known galaxy into her own, so that the speaker—in her mind—spoke perfect English. Likewise, it translated everything she said into the language of whoever had spoken to her. Like most new arrivals, her features had been somewhat augmented by the matrons through use of a wand that smoothed skin, removed blemishes, and denuded hair at the blink of an eye.

That technology extended to implements used in the ‘training’ that were never mentioned by the government agents who’d promised her and Nora transport to the distant planet would assure them a better life as the wife of a Traoian.

There were benign-looking cords that heated and welted the skin of her bottom on impact, internal probes that stretched and stung her bottom hole. And for added humiliation, sometimes the punishments were—as the matrons put it—‘primitive.’ Those involved Iris being thrown over the lap of one of the huge caretakers, her bare bottom on display as it was spanked red in front of the other girls.

But none of those indignities matched the pain of the punishment she’d just gotten from the huge Trogarians who’d taken possession of her as one might a piece of property or livestock. The pain from the strapping had been concentrated on the portion of her bottom pressed into the wooden chair, its rough surface abrading the tender welts each time she made the slightest move. The chair was too small for the men, and she suspected that it was currently being used for exactly its intended purpose.

She tried to sit still, and found this nearly as unbearable. Left alone, she was now forced to endure not just the physical pain, but also the emotional agony of her predicament. How could she have been so reckless? Or so naïve in her idealism. On Earth, she’d taken stands—for herself and others. And for Nora, especially for Nora. They’d been friends since school. Her desire to protect Nora had been the only reason she’d applied for refugee status to TraoX39. She couldn’t imagine her small, innocent friend alone in a strange world without her protection.

She’d had no doubt that Nora would be happy with a mate. The brochures depicted the Traoians as handsome enough, but Iris always had the uneasy feeling that the full truth of the deal was being glossed over, and decided that if an advocate was needed, she would be the one to take a stand. So on the way to the planet, as Nora pored over handouts on Traoian culture and fluffy articles on how to best please a Traoian male (a real
Cosmo
article if there ever was one, Iris thought), Iris waded through the fine print and legalese of brochures, memorizing methods for legal redress should something go wrong.

Fortunately, Nora had fallen in love, and the handsome Traoian who’d bid for her had won. But the man who’d bid for Iris was haughty, arrogant, and cruel. At the viewing, he’d assessed each woman as he’d passed by as if she were a piece of meat, leaving some in tears. When he’d reached Iris, he’d smiled and bragged to his two male companions of all the ways he’d use her.

“You will be mine,” he said, and when she did not smile, he told her she’d pay for embarrassing him on their first night together. She’d lodged a grievance with the matron, objecting to Sprang’s even bidding on her, and citing the Standard Intergalactic Policy on the Rights and Responsibilities of and to Refugees, Page 73, Paragraph 4. But her minder had only laughed. “You can discuss it with Master of House, Malo Yvin,” the matron had said.

The stand she’d taken by running away on the Claiming Day was for all human women in a similar situation. At least, that’s what she told herself. Now she realized her attempts to control her own destiny had left her truly alone. When she’d been hauled to the shuttle that would take her to the outpost, Iris had been forced to face a gauntlet of her peers. The faces that had always greeted her kindly were now distraught and angry. They spit at Iris as she was dragged past. One reached out and pulled her hair, calling her a selfish bitch and asking if she was happy to have ruined their lives. But it was at the end of the line where things went from worse to awful.