Chapter 33 Venim
I have made a tactical error. A grave one.
Over the past days, I have been sending the recovered concubines back to Mount Bolguz accompanied by pairs of my men.
I have personally selected these escorts based on their likelihood to control their urges around the females.
I started with the geldings and those species who do not reproduce sexually.
Next, I sent those who are not currently in their season.
After that, I sent the ones with the most self-discipline, then the second most, and so on.
The rabble I’m now left with are the worst of the worst. More than one of them is branded with the glyph of rape, and the others may as well be. I do not know how long I will be able to control them.
I must take measures to protect the human female.
Extreme measures.
I stride with her flung across my shoulder, following the contour of the steep escarpment that abuts our camp.
Ahead of us, a natural outgrowth of stone diverges from the rocky hillside like a thumb extending from a giant hand of stone.
That will provide just enough cover to hide us from the eyes of the other inmates, and it is far enough from the camp to mask the human female’s inevitable cries.
She will not enjoy what I’m about to do to her, but it is for her own good. She may blame me for it if she wishes. I do not care.
The human wiggles and writhes atop my pauldron as I carry her around to the other side of the natural stone wall. She kicks her little legs like a petulant child. I tighten my grip on her thighs, pushing my gauntlet deeper into the space between them. She yips in surprise.
“Hush,” I tell her. “Do you wish to bring every inmate in camp running over here to watch?”
The warning softens her voice, but it does not dull her curiosity. “Watch what?” she whispers. “What are you going to do to me?”
I let the question hang.
The truth of the matter is this: I would never let the other men watch. Never. Her body is for my eyes alone. I suppose I will have to show them something after it’s all over, enough to prove that the deed has been done, but at least she won’t be naked when that happens. Not completely.
Once we are out of sight, I lift the human off my shoulder and set her down on her own two feet again. Then I shove her backward, pinning her in place against the stone wall. It requires but a fraction of my strength.
“You will not attempt to run.”
It is not a command; it is a simple statement of fact. She’s already tried the mine tunnel, and she’s seen how that turned out. As for the surrounding wasteland, a soft little human such as herself wouldn’t last one day out there. She is trapped and she knows it, and I am her only hope of survival.
I bring my face in close with her own. As close as her breathing mask will allow. When I speak, my words fog the glass.
“You will learn to obey me.”
Her face is bloodless with fear, but hot defiance still burns behind her eyes. That was not quite the reaction I had been hoping for, but something in me likes it. My member stirs.
I release her body and take a few steps back, placing enough distance between the two of us that I may observe her in full.
The once pristine suit is now soiled with ashes and dirt, but I don’t care too much about that.
It isn’t the color that intrigues me, it’s the shape.
The succulent roundness of her anatomy. The wide curvature of her hips.
I know from handling her how yielding her flesh can be.
I can only imagine how good it would feel to breed her.
It is a struggle to keep my voice level.
“I told you before that if you tried to escape, you would not be the one to get punished. Instead, your friends would be the ones to bear the brunt of my wr—”
“They’re not my friends!” she blurts.
I cannot help but smile. The ruse is not a particularly clever one, and her acting is absolutely atrocious, but the intention is admirable.
“Not your friends,” I chuckle softly. “I suppose that’s why you refused to leave the Hassaith behind in the tunnels? Or why your scent is all over the Grangorian’s skin.”
I utter the last with a quick darting of my tongue. The female shudders. Her eyes are full of fear and hate.
Those are emotions I can work with.
“You defied me, human, and now someone must pay. But I’m feeling generous today, so I will give you a choice. Either you can receive the punishment yourself, or I can—”
“Myself!” she answers before I even have a chance to finish.
Not her friends indeed.
Oh well, what the little human lacks in cleverness, she more than makes up for in courage. One would be hard-pressed to find an inmate on Ul who would take me up on such an offer. Then again, most of the inmates are aware of my reputation. She, very obviously, is not.
“So be it,” I tell her. “Take off your clothes.”
Eyes widen behind a panel of dirty glass.
Lashes flutter, and the fires of defiance recede into other, more vulnerable emotions.
This was not what she had in mind when I said the word punish.
She presses back against the wall, as if hoping her body will be absorbed into the stones. She is so soft, it nearly works.
“W-what?” she stammers.
“Your clothes,” I repeat. “Take them off.”
Eyes moisten. Lips tremble.
“Please don’t do this.”
“I assure you, female, I am not going to breed you. I do, however, need you naked. Now, you can either remove your clothes for me like a good little human, or I can remove them for you. Your choice.”
That is a half truth. There are two parts to what I have in mind for her, and only the second requires her to be nude, but I cannot wait that long. I need to see her. Now.
With a sigh of resignation, the human raises her hands and starts to remove her breathing mask. I stop her with a hiss.
“Not the mask. That stays on.”
She gives me a puzzled look.
“I am going to be giving you orders,” I explain. “I need you to understand them.” I gesture to her bodysuit. “The rest can go.”
Her face pinks, but she complies. She pinches the tab of her zipper and lowers it, and a blade-shaped expanse of skin appears in its wake. My member swells in response.
“Keep going,” I growl, rolling a finger.
The human sloughs herself out of the suit like a Znthian shedding her skin.
But there are no Znthian females built quite like her, so small and so soft.
Her breasts swing free, generous and pink-tipped.
My fingers itch at the sight of them. My lips burn.
She pushes the fabric down her body, past her hips, past her thighs.
She bends to take her boots off, teetering first on one foot, then the other.
When she’s finished, she raises herself to full height again, steeling herself against my gaze.
My eyes lower to the little thatch of fur nestled between her legs. It is the same golden hue as her mane. My cock leaps at the sight of it, slamming itself against my codpiece like an animal trying to break from its cage.
“Good,” I murmur.
The word is hardly adequate, but it is the best I can do at the moment. All the blood seems to have migrated from my cranium to the more southerly parts of my anatomy. It is a genuine struggle to maintain control.
And it is only going to get harder.
“Turn around,” I command.
“What?”
“Turn. Around.”
She turns toward the stone wall, but her eyes stay locked with mine.
“Now bend over.”
“Wha—”
“BEND!”
She stares at me a moment longer, her eyes dancing between defiance and fear.
Then, very slowly, she braces her hands against the rock wall and bends herself at the hips, placing her bare bottom on full display, positioning it to receive the punishment that is coming.
For a long moment, I simply stand there, drinking in the perfection of those two succulent mounds and the deep, enticing cleft between.
Then, in one quick and practiced motion, I draw my glazeblade from its sheath.