Mastered for Their Use (Ventori Masters Book 5) Page 2

  “That might work,” he said quietly.

  Urrya scoffed under his breath. “And if she doesn’t accept our claim, does she then become your slave?”

  It was easy to object to sexual slavery when females continually threw themselves at one’s feet. Urrya was esthetically pleasing and highly accomplished. Sexual partners lined up eager to exchange pleasure with him. Azra was Tavorian, a ‘sorcerer,’ a ‘soulless devil,’ an energy leech that could effortlessly drain the life from his helpless victims without even touching them. What female would willingly submit to such a creature?

  Forcing away old insecurities, he squared his shoulders and looked into his podmate’s eyes. “I’ll make that decision when, and if, she rejects us,” Azra told him. “Knowing her subjugation could be the consequence of your failure should give you added incentive to succeed.”

  “Fuck you,” he snarled in a tight, conflicted tone. He looked longingly at Erin, then back at Azra. “I don’t like it, but I can live with it.” He heaved a deep frustrated sigh, then ambled over to the bed. “However, you will show me every image before you slip it into her mind.”

  “It doesn’t work that way. I use thoughts and impulses in her mind to construct the scenarios. As I said, I will guide her through dreams, maybe even manipulate them to an extent, but the visions are hers. Our link would allow you to see the dreams as they happen, but there is no way for you to preview them.”

  “I want to watch too.”

  Oseth’s excitement made him sound almost childish and Azra couldn’t help but smile. Oseth was far younger than Urrya and him. In fact, Azra had known Urrya since before the destruction of Celestia. Their mothers had been close friends, so they spent much of their formative years causing trouble on one planet or the other. They found Oseth many years later. He’d been orphaned the year before and was thieving in the streets to stay alive. They basically adopted the mouthy adolescent and seven years later Oseth joined the Protectorate.

  Azra was still deciding what he wanted to do when Urrya stated another condition. “And don’t forget the same rule applies to her as with us,” Urrya insisted. “You will never feed unless she is aware and willing. That is nonnegotiable.”

  It was times like this that tempted Azra to throw everyone out so he could live the rest of his life in peaceful solitude. He hated rules and Urrya knew it, but this female had them all tied in knots.

  “Well?” Urrya prompted, his expression still incredibly tense. “Do we have a deal?”

  It would have been so much easier to simply surround the room with a powerful psychic ward and get to work. He could have emerged a few weeks later with an eager, well-trained mate.

  The arrogant thought made him laugh inwardly. Lying to himself was pointless. He terrified females, even those who had never heard of Tavorians. They sensed his hunger, his predatory need for their energy and ran in the opposite direction. To have any hope of success in this endeavor, he desperately needed the help of his podmates. Urrya was inherently sensual, emotionally compelling, and skilled at pleasuring females. Oseth was friendly, often funny. He put females at ease, frequently becoming their confidant.

  “I will not mention the law, or take her energy without permission, but I have conditions of my own.” Before Urrya could object, Azra said, “First, you both must be absolutely silent while I guide her. This process is incredibly hard and requires enormous concentration. I will accept input, ideas for future scenarios, but not while I’m working.”

  “Agreed,” they each said in turn.

  “Second, none of us can mention the dreams for any reason. If she brings up the subject to you, you must pretend that you know nothing about it.”

  Urrya looked at Oseth and frowned. “I have no problem with that, but Oseth is the worst liar I’ve ever met.”

  “Come on,” Oseth cried. “I’m not that bad.”

  “Yes, you are,” Azra reinforced. “But this is extremely important. Hopefully, that will motivate you to improve your performance.”

  “I might suck at lying, but I’m damn good at changing the subject. I will not screw this up.”

  His determination was endearing, and his strategy was sound. Oseth was by far the best conversationalist in the pod. If anyone could find creative ways of avoiding an issue, it was Oseth.

  “When will you begin?” Urrya still seemed reluctant, which was to be expected. He’d been adamantly opposed when this conversation began.

  “The sooner I begin, the sooner she can be released from the healing thrall.”

  Without comment, Urrya walked over to the desk and grabbed the matching chair. He dragged it to the far side of the bed and sat. “You may begin.”

  * * *

  Erin floated in a tranquil haze. The searing pain in her body had faded to a barely discernable ache. She felt drained, physically and emotionally exhausted, but she couldn’t remember where she was or why she’d been so ill. Or had she been injured? There had to be a cause for her suffering. Why were her thoughts so jumbled?

  As if to answer her question, an image broke free of the muddle and formed with surprising clarity. She sat in front of a compact corner desk in a tiny room. The setting was vaguely familiar, yet she couldn’t identify the location. It was about the size of her dorm room, but college students didn’t sleep on bunkbeds. She picked up a folded piece of—it was thicker than paper, yet flexible enough to be folded in fourths. As she opened the page and activated the device, the word digi-sheet sounded in her mind.

  The strange term triggered other images: massive spaceships, floating vehicles, and semitransparent tubes holding bodies. Were the people injured, or dead?

  “Might as well get it over with,” her image muttered under her breath. “There’s no avoiding this now.”

  Her image quickly navigated through various menus until she located what she wanted. Clearly she was well acquainted with the strange technology. Was this a glimpse into the future, or simply a figment of her imagination? Her image didn’t look any older than she was now, so she opted for the second conclusion.

  A message appeared on the screen. Erin couldn’t see it, but she knew what it said.

  Attached are your top five genetically compatible pods. They are prioritized according to their scores on the compatibility matrix. Each image is accompanied by a basic bio. To explore more detailed information, simply select the pod.

  Separated from the main message was a small notation.

  All five of your pods scored well into the nineties, and less than one percentage point separates all of them. Any of these pods would make strong and honorable mates. The choice is yours.

  Even now, Erin could feel her heart pounding as she slowly scrolled through the images. All the males looked similar. Dark hair streaked with red, black lips, and slashing brows that contrasted sharply with their pale gray skin. They weren’t human. This seemed more or less like a dating app, but these males were aliens. Why would she be looking at a dating app for aliens? Trepidation made her feel jittery and anxiety threatened to suck her back into the numbing void, so she focused on the screen. Solid black marbled with red, their irises nearly spanned the entire convex surface, leaving very little white. Ventori eyes. These men were Ventori Defenders, members of the heroic, yet feared Protectorate. They’d rescued Earth from... the thought drifted away as she reached the last pod on the list. She was safe here in this one moment. The past was long gone and the future had yet to be defined.

  This pod was different from the rest, even more nonhuman. Each male was unique, yet all three had an exotic appeal. She knew the first male, or at least knew of him. His name was Urrya. He was half-brother to Commander LeAuntiez, the terrifying Celestian who led the Brokvata. And the Brokvata were the best and most ruthless members of the Protectorate. They ensured the safety of the High Command, and completed missions too dangerous for other teams to attempt. The strange titles came readily to Erin’s mind. How did she know these things? Or more important, why were the rest of her
thoughts so disjointed?

  She refocused on Urrya. Power emanated off his image. How was that even possible? His sleek black hair was pulled straight back and bound at the nape of his neck. The severe style only accented the sculpted beauty of his features. Beauty wasn’t a word she generally attributed to males, but Urrya was somehow both masculine and beautiful. There was no color marbling his eyes. No detectable pupils either, just a velvety field of black. They weren’t visible in the image, but she’d heard his Celestian blood allowed him to manifest wings. The possibility made her shiver. What would it be like to fly without a plane, to soar above the rubble that had once been Earth, free from the grief and devastation?

  She couldn’t really imagine, so she moved on. The second male, Oseth Endore, was the most colorful. Rather than the dusky gray of Ventori skin, his was pale gold, similar to, yet more yellow than a human’s. Bright orange strands threaded through his coffee-brown hair, and it flowed well past his shoulders. His features were sharp, angular, the cheekbones jutting, chin nearly pointed. And his eyes were fluorescent green. He must be at least part Ventori, the vast majority of the Protectorate were, but she had no idea what other race, or races, had contributed to his genetics. She’d never seen anyone like Oseth.

  Finally focusing on the last male, she tensed. His name was Azra Nomani, and the only word for him was dangerous. His hair was long too. Were there no barbers in outer space? The strands were gray, white, and washed-out blue, combining in a smoky color that defied definition. His eyes were very dark, yet piercing and cold. Most would be put off by his lethal impression. Everything about him screamed ‘just walk away.’ The problem was, she’d always been attracted to dangerous men. She flirted and teased, seeming to offer something she had no intention of surrendering. She enjoyed the attention, reveled in the praise and the near desperation with which males often pursued her. But there was no way Azra would allow her games. Ruthlessness was apparent in his gaze and every angle of his handsome face.

  And he was one of three she would be required to pleasure. And obey.

  In fact, all of the pods had three members. Or had one had four? The other pods were so similar the images blurred together, making it hard to tell one from another.

  New images rushed unbidden into her mind. Overtly sexual images, some soft and unfocused like echoes of fantasies, but others sharp and cutting, recollections of actual events. She saw Becky—she had no idea how she knew the woman’s name—bent over a padded table, legs spread wide, bound hands extended out in front of her. She was completely naked and her behind was bright red as if someone... had been spanking her?

  Before Erin could unravel that bizarre thought, the image grew darker, more frightening. Ventori males surrounded the table touching Becky boldly, as if they had every right to do anything they wanted with her. One stood directly behind her and pulled her red ass cheeks apart. Dear God, was he going to—he was! He positioned himself at her back entrance and slowly pushed his huge, well-lubed cock deep into her ass. Erin waited for a shrill scream, but Becky moaned and her expression was rapturous.

  That conclusion sent Erin’s sluggish mind spinning off in a different direction. She saw herself bound and helpless, arms raised overhead. Some sort of cable was attached to her wrist cuffs, ensuring that her arms remained in position. Her legs were open wide, but her ankles weren’t cuffed. She just stood there with her back slightly arched and all her secret places on display.

  Suddenly pain blossomed on her right ass cheek. She gasped then shuddered as a similar slap landed on the other side. Someone was spanking her!

  “What happens when you lie to your masters?” The voice was low yet wispy, curling around her like smoke. Immediately the image of the third man from the last pod surged back into her mind. Azra. Even his name sounded menacing. “You know I won’t repeat a question. Provide an answer or I’ll add to your punishment.”

  Erin struggled against the dream. This wasn’t her. She didn’t have a lover, much less one bold enough to ‘punish’ her. She was a princess trapped in an ivory tower, untouchable, unattainable. Alone. Though she hated the characterization, it was familiar and therefor comforting. She understood the role, what was expected of her, and how others would behave when she was around. Yet the tantalizing dream was more powerful than her rapidly fading past. It ate away at all things familiar until she stood naked and helpless, completely at the mercy of the strange smoke-like male.

  “You’re not my master,” she whispered as a rebellious thrill raced through her. “Three more days and I’m out of here!” If she was that close to escape, why was she provoking him? She knew enough about dominant males to suspect the statement would piss him off.

  A flurry of spanks followed, six on one side and then the other. Discomfort built as repeated impacts overlapped creating intensity in the same area. Heat sank deeper, curling through her core, awakening carnal desires. Why would she imagine something so twisted? This was abusive, wrong.

  “You can’t get out of this room, much less off this planet. Stop making idle threats.” Azra paused, clearly hoping she’d back down. When she said nothing, he resumed the harsh spanking.

  She tried not to tense, but the reflex was impossible to overcome entirely. His large hand nearly spanned her ass cheek and the stinging swats came fast and hard. She quickly lost track of how many times he spanked her or how long the punishment had been going on. A few seconds or half an hour, she honestly couldn’t say. Time seemed to have no meaning here. Sting gradually built to ache and then persistent throb. And despite her upbringing and the examples she’d witnessed in the past, the progression excited her, made her ache for the thick invasion of a long, hard cock. She wiggled and moaned, pressing her thighs together to combat the inescapable desire.

  Tears blurred her vision and shame washed over her, gradually easing her arousal. What kind of woman wants to be abused?

  Any man who intentionally hurts a woman is a useless coward! Her father’s voice rang loud and clear through the memory. He’d rescued his sister from a violent husband when Erin was twelve. She’d seen firsthand how toxic that sort of relationship could become. And the element of the conflict that made her father angriest was his sister’s continual defense of her abuser. Aunt Lisa made excuses and took the blame, until Erin’s father was ready to strangle her as well as her worthless husband.

  “Stop! I’m sorry. Please, stop.” A sob tore through the last phrase as the past blended with the present. She desperately needed the pain to stop because she was precariously close to coming. And only a deviant—her father’s favorite word—would have an orgasm because they were in pain.

  “Address me properly, and I’ll consider it.” His voice was cool and autocratic. She needed to see him, to understand the forces driving his aggression.

  Her image closed her eyes as if she were trying to picture him, or maybe hide from the emotional conflict twisting inside her. Most of the time Erin could sense what her other self was feeling, but right now she felt like an observer, or the director of a complicated television show. She was invested in, but not a part of, the drama.

  “Please, Sir, stop spanking me.”

  “The others might accept ‘Sir,’ but I am your master.” His fingers invaded the deep valley between her bottom cheeks. She tensed, clenching her butt muscles as hard as she could. Easily finding her anus, one of his fingers rubbed against the tightly puckered opening. “Say my name.” He punctuated the demand with a silent warning, applying pressure to her reluctant entrance.

  He didn’t want his name. He wanted his title. He wanted her to accept his mastery over her. His finger pushed inward, forcing her reluctant body open, and she thought of Becky. If Erin persisted with her stubbornness, that’s where this led. He would part her still reddened cheeks and shove his cock deep into her ass. “Master.” The word escaped with her harsh sob. “Please, don’t do that, Master.” But even as she begged him not to, her body ached for the harsh fullness, the complete dominance of
the brutal act.

  “Good girl.” Such tenderness infused the two words that Erin sobbed again. “I’m still waiting for your answer.” He pulled back slowly as if reluctant to stop touching her.

  What was the question? This was so confusing. She’d always had detailed dreams and vivid fantasies, but this felt different. She’d never been so aware in a dream before, was never so cognizant of the fact that she was dreaming. Why had she lied to them? That was the question.

  “I’m sorry I lied to you, or actually to Urrya about you. It was wrong to cause conflict among my...” She cleared her throat, refusing to speak the word. Instead, she said, “Among you two.”

  Her mind tingled, and then the sensation expanded, gradually growing more intense. Something was changing, shifting, yet she couldn’t explain what was happening or even how she knew. Urrya stepped in front of her and curved his long fingers around her chin. It was almost as if mentioning his name had drawn his image into this strange dream.

  He tilted her head back until she looked into his endlessly dark eyes. “Say it, kitten. Finish what you started to say.” It was a command, not a suggestion.

  Kitten? Commander Urrya didn’t seem like the sort to use silly pet names. Still, excitement coursed through her veins. This was so strange, so far removed from anything she’d experienced in life. How was she imagining the scene with such detail? Fragments of the public punishments she’d been required to watch, and detailed stories the other females had told flickered through her mind. For the past month, she’d been inundated with tantalizing information about submitting to a dominant male. Okay, so that’s how she was constructing this scene. Still, it felt strange, somehow off. As if... she couldn’t even define why it felt odd.

  Urrya pinched her nipple and pain zinged from her breast to her clit. She cried out sharply, then yelled, “Mates! I started to say my mates.”

  This was the fate the Ventori wanted for her. She’d be helpless and corrupt, a slave to her immoral desires as well as theirs. They wanted a plaything, a receptacle for their lust, a mindless body in which they could plant their seed and watch it grow. Breeder. Just the word made her nauseous.