Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80439 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80439 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
“Here we go, sweet captive girl. Your first dose of your new owner’s seed.”
Drako comes inside of me, keeping me firmly in place as he fills me up.
I pant and gasp and moan and come along with him. There’s no choice. I have to do what he wants, and what my own body wants. That traitorous flesh of mine is almost as much trouble as the brain who gets excited at the prospect of this kind of use.
We only just met, and I can feel the heat of his cum in my bare pussy. This is not a romantic thing. There is no pretense of love. This is a breeding and a using, pure and simple.
“Very good girl. I don’t think you’re going to be that hard to train after all,” the stranger who just filled my pussy up says. “You weren’t handled properly in that soft, decadent society you come from. But I know how to deal with you.”
He pulls out of my pussy, collects some of his seed and my arousal on two fingers, and grips the back of my neck with his other hand, while offering those fingers to my mouth.
“Clean them,” he says simply.
I shake my head.
“I like it when you resist,” he smirks dangerously. “Now, open your mouth, or I’m going to fuck it with my cock. This is the easy version.”
I obey him, because I do not want the consequence he is naming. I part my lips a little, and he slides his fingers into my mouth. I taste myself, a little. But mostly, I taste him. I have never tasted a man’s cum before. I’ve never let anyone do anything this crude.
“Good,” he says. “Now you know the taste of your bond to me. Now you understand.”
He stands back and looks at me up and down.
“You are going to need more appropriate clothing,” he says. “Not black and red, though. You don’t have the temperament for that. Something blue, like those pretty, watery eyes. Something pastel. A little skirt easily raised for use. But you need leggings in this environment, and warmth. So you can keep that uniform. It’s a good reminder where you came from.”
It’s a good reminder that I am from the ship. Why does he care about that?
Wait.
I hadn’t put two and two together yet.
“Why did we crash?”
He looks at me, and a slow smile spreads over his face.
“Well, dear. When a vessel doesn’t have shielding, and it slides through our territory like it owns the place, sometimes we take it down. Now, to be fair, most vessels are more resilient. I am not sure what yours was made of. Cardboard, perhaps, given the way the front fell off.”
“You killed nearly a thousand people.”
“Sweet thing, I have killed ten times that a hundred times over.”
I am not the greatest at math, but that is a lot of zeroes.
“You’re a monster,” I say, my pussy still throbbing from the ravaging he gave me, and leaking his seed.
“Yes. Probably,” he replies, sounding almost bored of the notion. “But it is less important what I am, and far more important what you are.”
“What am I?”
Drako looks down at me with gleaming eyes, a gaze lit with triumph. “You’re a captive,” he says. “And that means you’ve no rights besides those I choose to give you, and I choose to give you none.”
I’m going to fucking kill him.
The glow of the orgasm has well and truly faded, and all that is left behind is loathing for someone who believes he can actually hold me captive.
Me.
Who never submits, never gives in. Me, the daughter of a founder. Me. The one who fled to the country and then to the stars to avoid this precise captivity?
“Come,” he says. “And stay at my feet at all times. If you are more than three paces from me, you will be beaten.”
He does not ask me my opinion on that order, and I do not give it because I am looking to escape, not to be thrashed.
As Drako and I leave the medicine shanty, he is accosted by one of his many underlings, a man with a scruffy beard and what looks like a healed axe wound in the middle of his face.
“We finished combing the crash site. We thought we’d have prisoners to execute, Jarl. But we’ve got nothing besides that scrap of a girl. Hardly a worthy sacrifice.”
“Collect the bodies, put them on a pyre, and burn them,” Drako orders. “Send their souls to whatever weak hell they deserve. We’ll feast and celebrate our victory. Another territory spared their wicked expansion.”
A cheer goes up from those nearby, and hasty preparations are made for what is obviously going to be a victory feast combined with what I can only describe as a sacrifice, because that’s what they called it.