Mastered for Their Use (Ventori Masters Book 5) Page 7

  “Spread your legs and lower your head. Rest your forehead on your folded arms.”

  He wasn’t forcing her into position, nor was he tying her down. She was doing this to herself, presenting her ass for punishment and displaying her pussy. What the hell was wrong with her?

  Even as the question echoed in her mind, she opened her legs and lowered her head. Her folds parted and currents of air teased her slit. Would they never fuck her?

  “More. Show me that sweet little asshole.”

  She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. They all loved to tease her other opening. There was no part of her body they didn’t explore, and would one day—hopefully soon—penetrate. Very slowly, she moved her legs even farther apart and arched her back. Her ass cheeks gradually parted, displaying her puckered hole for his inspection.

  His hand touched her upturned ass, squeezing gently. “Urrya better fuck you soon. I’m tired of waiting.” His fingers slid lower, then pressed into her slit, sliding easily on the liquid they encountered. “You’re already soaking wet. This will be even easier than I thought.” He pushed into her aching core with one of his fingers, while his thumb gently rubbed her clit.

  She gritted her teeth, determined to resist him. “You’re breaking the rules,” she ground out. “You’re only supposed to use pain.”

  His hand lifted and he said, “You’re right. I apologize. Your pussy is so very lovely, it’s hard to resist.” He cleared his throat, then asked in a clear, authoritative voice, “Did you lie to me, Erin?”

  Would it do any good to deny it? They both knew she wanted this as badly as he wanted to do it. “Yes.” Her voice shook and tears flooded her eyes, so she squeezed them shut.

  “Did you know what I’d do if you lied to me?” Azra was echoing Oseth’s claim, that the males always made sure the females understood what was happening and why.

  “Yes. I knew and I lied anyway.”

  “Then do you agree that I should punish you?”

  This was so unfair. He was basically making her ask for the spanking or whatever he had in mind. “I understand your position, but I think you should let me off with a warning.”

  “Is that right?”

  She heard an odd shuffling and glanced over her shoulder. He was pulling off his gloves, which reached halfway up his forearms. Did he want his hands bare so he could spank her, or was he going to spank her with the gloves?

  He swung one of the gloves, fingers down, connecting with her ass with surprising force. She gasped and whipped her head back around, not wanting to add to her punishment by breaking the position he’d requested. The second slap lit up her other cheek, but the sting had yet to fade from the first side. This hurt worse than the spanking she’d endured in the first dream. And still, her body warmed and clenched, processing the pain as arousal.

  She tried to breathe through each smack, dispersing the pain as she slowly exhaled. It worked for the first few rotations, but soon the pain compounded, escalating faster than she could absorb it. She cried out sharply and helplessly tensed up. The next slap tore a scream from her throat.

  “Stop! Please, stop. I’m sorry. I’ll never lie again.”

  He trailed the glove across her burning cheeks, soothing her with the coolness, yet irritating the already tender skin. “You aren’t just lying to me. You’re lying to yourself.” He swung the glove upward between her legs, the contact half-stinging slap, half-caress.

  Clawing at the bedding, she helplessly fought against the orgasm barreling toward her. “Please. Please...” The word sounded almost mournful as he spanked her pussy again and again. Each slap grew harder until one sharp burst of pain forced the orgasm from her quaking body. She cried out in frustration and fear as strong, rippling spasms gripped her core and pulsed throughout her body.

  She collapsed on her stomach, sobbing into the bedding. Only masochists came while someone was hurting them. She didn’t want to be a masochist. “I hate you,” she whispered as he joined her on the bed, pulling her onto his lap and cradling her trembling body in his arms. His chest plate was cold against her breasts, but she welcomed the discomfort, anything that would shift her focus from the shameful aftershocks throbbing between her thighs.

  “You need pain, my love. It is dishonest to pretend that you don’t.”

  My love? How could he possibly love her if all he wanted was to hurt her?

  He tilted her head back until she looked into her eyes. “I won’t deny wanting to hurt you. I need to inflict pain just as much as you need to suffer. But I want so much more than just hurting you.”

  Her eyes widened and fear lanced through her mind. She hadn’t spoken the question out loud. “You’re in my mind.” She shoved against him, struggling until he released her. “Get out of my head!” The scene swelled, then contracted, and his image wavered. A dream. This was all a dream. “Wake up. I want to wake up!”

  He shook his head as pain flashed in his dark eyes. He raised both hands, as if in surrender, and the vision released.

  Erin sprang up in bed, in her bed, in the mansion. There was no way that was only an ordinary dream. Azra had clearly controlled everything that happened. Then was he responsible for the first vision too? Did she want to be involved with someone who could control visions and read minds? Well, the mind reading had been part of the vision, so maybe he couldn’t do that in reality. Still...

  The detail was irrelevant. He’d manipulated her mind, made her see and feel what he wanted her to experience. And it had been damn effective. Her pussy was still throbbing and her core ached for the fullness of a cock. What should she do? She crossed her arms over her chest, feeling restless and agitated. Did the other two realize what Azra was doing to her? If this was all Azra, then maybe she could still bond with Urrya and Oseth.

  She shook her head. They’d followed Azra to his home dimension when he’d been banished from Protectorate-controlled space. There was no way they’d break up their pod to claim a female. And she didn’t really want them to. Of the three, Azra was the one who intrigued her most. He was mysterious and she loved unraveling mysteries. She wanted to get to know him, maybe penetrate his hard exterior and help heal the pain she saw in his eyes. But this was inexcusable. She might surrender control of her body, but she would die before she surrendered control of her mind!

  If this joining was going to have any chance at all, she needed to lay down some ground rules for all three of them and insist that they abide by them.

  * * *

  Protectorate Headquarters, the sector once known as Texas, Earth

  Restlessly shifting on his chair at the oblong conference table, Urrya waited for the meeting to begin. Bron—or Chancellor Bronsen Savator to the majority of the Protectorate—had summoned the High Command to headquarters, which meant something was wrong or at least vitally important. Every member of the advisory council, known as ministers, had better things to do than sit in a meeting for hours.

  Urrya wasn’t technically a minister. He was representing the Brokvata today because LeAuntiez was otherwise occupied. Meaning he was home fucking his newly bonded mate, which was also where Urrya desperately wanted to be. Erin’s image refused to leave his mind. He’d thought of little else since leaving Tavor the day before. He couldn’t wait to begin courting her, to show her that her fears were unfounded and they would never harm or abuse her. It was a Ventori Defender’s duty to protect females, to provide for them and do everything in their power to make the female happy.

  And Erin wasn’t just a female. She was a potential mate, which made their joining even more important. Genetically compatible females literally had the power to save or damn the Ventori people. Without a massive introduction of hybrid offspring, the Ventori would cease to exist. Thanks to Skarilian ruthlessness, there were no Ventori females left alive.

  The stakes couldn’t be higher, and Urrya had never felt so ill equipped to face a challenge. Lust was very much a part of what he was feeling, but his need went so much deeper. He want
ed to share his life with her, learn everything there was to know about her, and offer himself in return. He wanted to blend body, mind, and spirit until they became almost symbiotic. But none of that could happen unless she learned to trust him, to trust them. Pods were a package deal. She would either accept all three of them or move on to her next alternative.

  How in the name of all that’s holy could they prevent her from running away? Erin was human, and so damn young. She would expect romance and tenderness. Oseth could keep his approach gentle, but Urrya was direct and aggressive. He didn’t even want to think about how she’d react to what Azra needed from her.

  It might seem backward to humans, but a Ventori courtship began by testing sexual compatibility. Fucking was as vital to the Ventori as physical hunger or intellectual stimulation. If a female didn’t enjoy the carnal attentions of her pod, the bonding would never work.

  Touching Erin in the guided dream only made Urrya ravenous for the real thing. He wanted her naked and squirming beneath him as he feasted on her soft, wet pussy. Hopefully she’d gasp and cry out as he drove her to orgasm after orgasm. Then he’d carefully fuck her tight virgin core, a privilege that belonged to him because he was pod leader. But how could he even begin if she was terrified of ‘aliens’?

  Bron strode into the conference room, drawing Urrya’s attention away from his troubled thoughts. The Ventori were all tall and muscular. Their natural coloring was dark hair streaked with red and pale gray skin. Ventori eyes were also dark, but thin lines of red marbled their irises. The affluent frequently personalized their appearance, setting them apart from the masses. Bron’s hair was streaked with vivid green, as were his eyes. He moved to the head of the table and sat, shoulders squared, back straight. Every move he made reflected a lifetime spent in the military.

  “I’ll make this quick. I know how much you like meetings.” His smile flashed so fast, Urrya almost missed it.

  Only three of the seats were actually occupied. The rest were filled with life-size holographic images. Still, everyone looked at the chancellor attentively, waiting for him to explain why they’d been summoned.

  “Thanks to Kellan Styre, we finally have the name of the rebel leader.” Kellan had been Bron’s first officer for years, but Kellan now commanded the Elizian, the newest and fastest ship in the Ventori fleet. “As some of you know, the rebels hit the Elizian a week or so ago. They knew how to bypass security and exactly what to target, so Kellan was convinced it was an inside job. He set a trap and the spy stepped right into it, giving Kellan an opportunity to interrogate him.”

  “Is the spy still alive?” Sintar Orellian asked, the hint of a smile lifting one corner of his mouth. He was the newly appointed governor of Camp Accord and close friends with Bron and LeAuntiez.

  Urrya didn’t know the governor well, but he knew Kellan, and the governor’s concern was justified. Kellan Styre could be one ruthless bastard when crossed.

  “Barely,” Bron admitted, “but the spy is the means to an end. We want the spymaster.”

  “You said you have a name,” Governor Orellian prompted.

  Bron activated the holo-display in the center of the table. A large image of a Yashonty warrior formed, rotating slowly so everyone could see him from all angles. His black skin had a blueish sheen, yet his eyes were pale lavender, so intense they nearly glowed. A bony-looking ridge curved around the back of his head, running from temple to temple. Below the ridge he had shiny white hair, while above his scalp was smooth. White geometric markings decorated each prominent cheekbone and the top of his head. Urrya shivered. His past interaction with the Yashonty had been disastrous.

  “The image is a few years old, but this is General Ramnyth Dulvet. The Skarilians attacked Yashontara about two years ago. The Yashonty sustained heavy casualties, but managed to evacuate a good portion of their population before things got really ugly.” Bron looked at Urrya and said, “You’ve run up against the Yashonty in the past. What else can you tell us about them?”

  “They’re mean as hell beasts and always out for blood. Luckily it’s Skarilian blood. But they live by a strict code of honor. Any wrong requires retribution, and retribution must be proportional to the wrong.”

  “The Skarilians killed millions of Yashonty,” Bron noted. “That’s one hells of a debt.”

  Urrya nodded. “Half of their military went with the evacuation to protect and maintain order. The other half is combing the galaxies searching for the Skarilians. Each male volunteered their life, and are more than willing to die for what they consider a sacred quest, obliterating the Skarilians.”

  “Their goals are the same as ours,” Minister Norin pointed out. “Why aren’t we working with them rather than considering them enemies?”

  The minister had asked the question to the table at large, but Urrya answered, “LeAuntiez tried to negotiate an alliance before he met Bro—Chancellor Savator. They’re not interested in anything but destruction and they won’t stop until every last Skarilian is dead.”

  “That’s the same approach the Skarilians take. Why shouldn’t we all respond in kind?” Norin’s cheeks flushed charcoal-gray and the purple lines in his eyes began to glow.

  “Genocide is never the answer,” Bron stressed. “Even if I could tolerate the concept, there is another important distinction. Neither the Yashonty nor the Skarilians care who gets in their way. They consider collateral damage irrelevant and anyone that stands between them and their goals becomes their enemy. The Protectorate will not be that merciless. We will not become the very evil we’re fighting.”

  “It still doesn’t feel right to attack those who were victimized by the animals that destroyed our entire world,” Norin persisted. “They’re victims just like us. If you’re not willing to help them, at least leave them alone.”

  “I understand your position and that’s why I’ve turned a blind eye to their activities until now. My position changed when they recruited Minister Zapt and started attacking our ships and stealing our supplies.” Bron’s jaw clenched and his eyes flashed. Clearly he was still infuriated by the traitor they’d recently exposed. If the Yashonty could turn someone on the High Command, there was no telling how many of their spies still existed within the Protectorate. “They started this fight and I’m not backing down.”

  Norin just shook his head, obviously disagreeing with the chancellor’s attitude.

  “What do you need from us?” Governor Orellian asked, subtly guiding the meeting back on track.

  “Recon. Kellan has given us a place to start, but that’s all we have right now. I need anything and everything we can learn about the Yashonty in general and Ramnyth Dulvet in particular. His men like to call him Ram, so watch for that word in correspondence. We have to find a way of motivating the Yashonty to shift their focus back to the Skarilians.”

  A chorus of “Understood” and “Yes, sir” circled the table, then Bron dismissed everyone.

  Urrya stood and was heading for the door when Bron called, “Urrya, a word.”

  Turning back toward the chancellor, Urrya clasped his hands behind his back and waited for Bron to speak.

  “Relax,” Bron chuckled. “You’re not in trouble. I was just wondering if Oseth is all right. LeAuntiez mentioned a knee injury.”

  “Oseth is fine.” His knee had twisted during a recent mission. LeAuntiez wing-slapped him across the room, keeping Oseth from being shot. But Oseth landed awkwardly and twisted his knee. The move more than likely saved his life, so no one was upset about the injury. “It took two days of complaining and several sessions with a multi-med, but he’s fully recovered.”

  “Glad to hear it.” Bron scratched his jaw and shook his head. “Why are you still here? I gave you three days to convince the witch doctor to return Erin to Earth. I thought you’d need every available hour. Was I wrong?”

  Bron’s insistence on referring to Azra as a ‘witch doctor’ was irritating to say the least. Still, the chancellor’s question was understandable. �
�Bringing Erin out of the healing trance significantly drained Azra’s power. He barely formed the portal I used yesterday. I’m hoping to return later this afternoon.” Actually, it had been the guided dream combined with the portals that exhausted his podmate, but Bron didn’t need to know about that.

  “Well, my mate won’t relax completely until she sees Erin for herself. Kyla is very protective of Erin.”

  “I understand that, sir.”

  Bron crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze narrowing. “Has your pod begun courting her?”

  “I haven’t touched her, but I can’t speak for Oseth and Azra. She was still pretty weak when I left, so it’s unlikely things have progressed very far.”

  “You’re pod leader,” Bron pointed out. “Unless Azra disregards all of our customs, things couldn’t have progressed very far.”

  Under ordinary circumstances that would have been true, but Azra’s ability to guide dreams opened up all sorts of possibilities. However, given Bron’s dislike of Azra, that was the last thing Urrya would admit. “Do you disapprove of the match, sir, or just Azra’s involvement in it?” A hint of challenge crept into his tone. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t up to Bron. But Urrya was curious. LeAuntiez and Bron had claimed Erin’s best friend. Was Kyla responsible for Bron’s concern, or was it simply his ongoing feud with Azra?

  “I’m not the one you need to convince. According to Kyla, it’s going to take a lot of work to win Erin’s trust. Are all your podmates willing to take the time and put in the effort? It won’t be easy.”

  Another slam on Azra. Rather than starting a pointless argument, Urrya just said, “I’ll let you know in thirty days.”

  Bron tensed, his sharp gaze turning stormy. “Only if you bring Erin here in person, so we can determine for ourselves that she’s unharmed.”