Bride of the Trogarians (5 page)

Tears ran down her face. She could feel them hitting the tops of her legs, which were already feeling strain from her position. Her thigh muscles twitched beneath her skin.

Zios brought over the wooden slab. He knelt, picked up a hunk of oily meat, and held it to Iris’ lips.

“Eat.”

She was too afraid to disobey, too afraid to show any passive resistance to these huge male warriors who overwhelmed her so easily. She opened her mouth, keeping her eyes lowered as she accepted the food. She expected to gag, but whatever kind of meat it was, it did not taste bad. It tasted like a combination of fish and steak, and was far more tender than she expected. As she chewed, Iris realized how hungry she was, and she was grateful to turn her focus away from her throbbing nipples, stretched labia, and filled bottom to the pleasurable sensation of eating. Bread followed the meat. It was thicker and chewier, its rich nutty flavor far better than she’d expected. In between feeding her bites of food, Zios put a flask to her mouth, allowing her to drink water from the spout.

Soon enough, she felt her hunger satisfied. But despite her predicament, the hunger between her legs was still softly persistent. Utak and Zios abandoned her without a word after she’d been fed, leaving her alone with only her sensations for company. The pain in her crudely clamped nipples had receded to a dull, throbbing ache tinged with numbness. Her bottom still burned, and the feeling of fullness persisted inside her back passage. No matter how she positioned herself, she was aware of the appendage wedged inside her. Her labia, spread as they were, left her clit exposed. It throbbed, and with each pulse a corresponding pulse of need spawned inside her, pushing out just enough unbidden arousal to cause a trickle down her thigh.

She whimpered and tried to lie down, but the leash Utak attached to the post before leaving was too short. Iris wondered how long they would leave her like this, but she knew the answer already: as long as they wanted.

Chapter Four

The brothers had given word for the tent to be watched in their absence. Leaving her hands unbound was another test—one to gauge whether this little human was capable of learning. If she was an intelligent being with any sense of self-preservation, she would know better than to worsen her plight. When no report came of her attempts to escape, Utak and Zios nodded to one another, satisfied that she was, at least, trainable.

They were overseeing the butchering of the beast they’d killed. A pile of spines now lay to the side, ready to be made into blades and cutlery. Only the stumps were left and the skin underneath had been peeled away to reveal the oily meat that had turned out to be an unsavory but edible staple among the soldiers.

It had been the tenderer meat of a smaller beast that Zios had fed to the little human. Utak thought of how she’d parted her mouth to accept the morsel as his brother fed her, remembering how her pink lips had parted, the lower one trembling from fear or need or both. He imagined that pink mouth closing around his cock, imagined pushing it into the back of her warm throat, imagined her eyes looking up at him in obedient adoration.

“Utak!” Zios was nudging him. “We’re here to butcher, not to daydream.” He smiled. “Although I do not have to ask what’s on your mind.”

Utak smiled almost sheepishly. “She has a fire about her. I like it.”

“So do I.” Zios returned his grin before lopping through the tendons joining one massive hip to the dead animal’s thigh. A growl from behind him got his attention. Two garls—hunchback canines with long limber legs and narrow snouts—paced back and forth behind the brothers, hoping for scraps. Zios tossed them a string of tendon and then watched as one retrieved it and took off, trailed by its pack members. He jerked his head toward the creatures. “But like the garls, she must learn her place. She is female. She is beta. Just as the alphas in the pack teach obedience to the female they would protect, so must we.”

“So who will teach her first?” Utak asked, and thought he saw his brother tense.

“I am the eldest,” Zios said.

Utak nodded. Zios was pulling on the beast’s leg. He reached out, slicing the rest of the tendon away from the bone. The leg broke free. He watched as his brother hefted it on top of the dismembered hulk of the dead animal.

“Yes,” Utak said. “But you were the first to have Mara. And by rights…”

“I know the rights.” Zios cut him off. “If a mate dies, the second shall become the first when a new mate is taken.”

Zios smiled, and Utak took relief. He’d always looked up to his older brother. Their mother joked that they could not have been any closer if they’d shared a womb, but they had not. Zios was two harvest times older.

They were the first of six sons, and never any question that the eldest two would be chosen to pair for life, the Marriage of the Brothers it was called, later to become a plural marriage with the taking of a mate.

Mara’s death had been a brutal blow to both of them, and Utak had been reluctant to broach the issue of rights. But the woman in the tent needed her training continued, and the next step would be to affirm their dominance by claiming her—first separately and then together. Nothing could be done for Mara now; she was part of the All that Is, and he was certain her spirit would want what all Trogarian spirits wanted—the continuation of their people.

The human in the tent would need to be bred if they were to have the six sons every Trogarian male desired.

“You should go see to her,” Zios said. The beast was now butchered, and the female Trogarians were coming with handcarts to retrieve the meat. He looked at his brother. “But you should clean yourself. Take her to the springs. The waters will relax her.”

Utak nodded. It was good advice. He turned, walking past the approaching women, trying to keep the eagerness from his steps as he exited the ravine. When he reached the tent, he noticed a group of younglings had gathered and were trying to peek into the tent before giggling and running away. He understood their curiosity; they’d never seen a human before. But it was still unacceptable. Utak grabbed a youngling male—the eldest of the group—by the neck.

“Ssst!” he said, giving the youngling a shake. The youngling cried out and the others, seeing their obvious ringleader so chastened, scattered away, squealing. Giving the youngling a box on the ears, Utak sent him after the others.

Utak entered the tent to find the human had managed to move behind a column. When he walked over to him, she looked up at him in fear.

“There were children,” she said. “I heard them laughing so I moved where they couldn’t see me. I wasn’t trying to get away.”

She was afraid enough to explain. Good. The punishment had made an impact. Utak reached down, removed the leash from the post and gave a tug. She rose to standing, quavered on her legs, and then found them. When she was steady, he looked her up and down. His cock stirred.

“You were told to stay. You obeyed. Now you will be rewarded.” He removed the leash from the back ring. “You will come with me now.”

He did not remove the harness. That would be her second reward. He began to walk. He looked back. She seemed hesitant to follow. Utak inclined his head, indicating that she should move forward. She did, walking slowly from the tent after him. Utak noticed that she dropped her hands to cover her pussy, that she dropped her eyes. She would eventually learn that the Trogarians were comfortable with their nakedness, and that she had nothing to be ashamed of. But he also knew that her soft pink skin, the same shade as the pearls found in the giant clams they hauled from the salty marshes on Trogar, was unusual to his people, who were bronzed from the suns.

He glanced back. She was following him. He stayed four paces ahead, silently teaching her the correct distance to walk behind her mates. She was surprisingly surefooted, especially given the constraints of the harness. He heard her inhale sharply as she followed him up on the rocks, the bend in her back pulling on her breasts, pulling on the phallus still tucked in her bottom.

The spring was nestled within a circle of rocks, the deep bluish purple of the water reflecting the pink of a sky in protracted dawn. Steam rose from the water like mist. Utak turned. The little human was standing there, staring at the pool, the steam, the reddish rocks that rose around it, and above them, the brilliantly colored sky accented with stars and the three crescent moons.

He walked over.

“You followed without running. Your second reward will be freedom from the harness.”

He freed her nipples first, and she cried out as the blood rushed back to her now unconstrained peaks. Her arms flew to her chest as she hugged herself. She was shaking, and he could tell she was trying not to cry. He let her compose herself.

“Turn,” he said, and she did. The straps that had been attached to her nipples hung down now. He reached out and pushed her forward until she was touching her toes. He pulled on the ring of the phallus. She whimpered and then hissed with pain as he pulled it out. He removed the rest of the harness, tossed it all aside.

He kept his eyes on her as he removed the leather strap that ran from his left hip over his right shoulder to fasten above his right hip. Next came his knife belt, then the leather kilt it was attached to. He pulled his knife from the band on his leg, but left the band in place.

Utak moved toward the human, picking her up in one swift motion. She trembled in his arms like a small wild thing. He walked with her into the water, the steam enveloping them in a cloud. He lowered her down, supporting her. The water was already over her head. She bobbed up and down, clinging to him. His cock bobbed up and down, longing for her.

“What name were you given?” he asked.

She was quiet for a moment before answering. “Iris.”

“I-ris…” He repeated it.

“It is a flower,” she said. “On Earth.” She pointed to a patch of blue blossoms blooming at the water’s edge. “Like those.”

Utak looked over, then back at her. He grunted, nodded. “This is a good name. The flowers please my eyes. You please my eyes.”

Her face was smeared with grime, he realized. He lifted a large wet hand and gently rubbed water onto her cheek. He cupped water in his hand, dribbling it over her face, watching as the dirt washed away.

“Why did they give you to us? The truth.”

“Because I would not go to the Traoian who wanted me,” she said. “He is a merchant. His name is Ingus Sprang. We were told when we came here we would have husbands…” When Utak shot her an uncomprehending look, she clarified. “Um… mates? It’s what we call our mates on Earth. We were told we would be able to choose. But we weren’t. Sprang is rich and powerful. He bid on me. Paid money. I had no say, but I did not want to be property.” She laughed then. “But I suppose this is no different. My punishment for rejecting him was to be sent here, to be your property instead of his.”

“You are not property,” Utak said. “You are a mate.”

“I have no freedom to choose,” she said. “I am property. I’m no more than a slave.”

“Slaves are sold. Worked. Beaten. You are not a slave.”

“You beat me already,” she said.

“We corrected you. It is the responsibility of the Trogarian male to correct his mate. It is how he protects her. How he cherishes her. He trains her, to keep her safe. She is The Door Through Which He Walks Into The Future.”

Her brow furrowed. She looked confused, this Iris. This flower. He lowered his hand to her pelvis. “Here,” he said. “She delivers his sons, and they go on, carrying who he is after he is gone.”

“Ah… on Earth we call that a legacy.”

“Legacy.” He pulled her to him. She was slick and warm and softer than anything he’d ever touched. His hands moved to mold themselves to her bottom. Her legs instinctively went around him in the deep water. She was looking into his eyes. He could see she was afraid, could see that she knew what was about to happen, and her inevitable helplessness in the face of it.

“I will fit,” he said. “And I will go slow. You must trust me, little one.”

She wanted to trust; he could see that in her eyes, too. He would be slow, gentle. This was her first time. He would master her, but with gentleness. His hands slid up and down her body. He smiled at her, murmuring soothing words. He could feel her tense, then soften, and tense again. He continued moving his hands over her, sliding his rough palms across the silky smooth skin. He squeezed her buttocks and felt her press against him. Her nipples were hard against his chest now. Good.

He slid a hand between their bodies, searching for a breast, cupped it, moved his mouth to her shoulder, nipped at the skin. There was a little gasp. Her legs were still around him, and he could feel the soft mound of her pussy pressed against his hard abdomen. He could feel heat from it. His cock bobbed at this sign of her burgeoning arousal. He raised a breast, lowered his head, nipped at a nipple, laved it with his tongue. A little moan now, and she was wriggling.

He continued his manual exploration of her body, the hills and valleys of softness, her terrain such a contrast to his. He slipped his hand beneath her, a finger finding her inner passage slick and pliant. He dipped the finger in and out, in and out, smiling to himself as her hips began to move up and down in time with his probing digit.

Her eyes were closed now, and he could tell that this was not a conscious motion on her part, but the sweet, almost innocent reaction of a female naturally riding the waves of her own desire, letting them carry her where they may.

It was time.

He reached down, remembering how her eyes had widened for a moment when he’d pulled his kilt off to expose his cock. He had to push one of her legs away from the other to widen her passage, to open her pussy so it could accommodate the probing head. He thrust his hips forward, feeling the tip slide in just a bit. She was slick, hot. He knew. He knew even before he was fully inside of her that her body would answer his mastery with softness. He gave a small thrust. She squealed a little and closed her eyes. He gave another. The head was in. His cock throbbed. She wriggled in his grasp. She was panicking; his size, the threat of it, was scaring her. She’d begun to struggle.