Chapter 1 #2
Idiot. He thought to gain an advantage by seeing Rone’s opening gambit and reacting accordingly.
Rone could already see the extra pieces moving their way down the male’s sleeve.
Really, Arpell’s cheating was amateurish compared to others—compared to Rone’s.
The male was too full of himself to even realize Rone had maneuvered his extra pieces where he needed them while they’d talked.
Winning would be easy. He just had to make it look hard.
“No!”
Frey tried not to quiver at the angry sound of his master’s voice.
He didn’t have to lift his head to see what had happened, either.
He knew. His master had gambled him away.
The vicious creature who prided himself on cheating others so well and often had met his match and lost. There was no suppressing the violent shudder that overtook Frey’s body as he absorbed the awful truth that, as bad as his life had been, it had just become infinitely worse.
He’d glimpsed the Travian who’d just won him and had seen a depth of hell in that moment that had surpassed all others.
Not since his ship had been boarded and its crew slaughtered right in front of his eyes had he been gripped by such mind-numbing terror.
“You have lost.” That low voice held more menace than any loud one would.
“We’ll play another round.”
“I think not. You have nothing left to gamble with, and, in any event, I grow weary of the game. I’ll take my winnings now.”
For a few tense seconds, there was silence.
Frey didn’t dare look up, but he wondered if there would be a fight.
What happened when one cheater lost to another?
He had no doubt that the other alien had, in fact, cheated.
How else could he have won? Finally, Arpell, whom Frey had always thought of as Jabba the Hut in an effort to find some humor in his predicament, tugged angrily on Frey’s leash.
Choking against the sudden tightness, he tried to move quickly to his feet to ease the strain.
The Travian gave him no consideration, as usual, and yanked so hard that he sent Frey stumbling into his new master.
Where Arpell had carried soft, doughy flesh over muscle, this new alien was like a wall of rock.
Frey couldn’t help but cry out when he hit that unyielding tower.
He cringed, expecting a blow. None came.
Instead, a large hand grabbed his shoulder and steadied him.
The grip was firm, yet not as painful as it could have been.
Frey forced himself to remain still, not to shy away.
Resisting would only earn him a beating, and he’d had plenty of those.
Besides, he wasn’t sure he would survive one meted out by this creature.
Taller and broader than Arpell, with a coldness far more frightening than anything else Frey had encountered, his new master looked like death on two legs.
In the early days of his capture, when Arpell had brutalized and humiliated him, Frey had prayed for death.
He’d fought hard, too, every step of the way.
Eventually, though, he’d realized that resistance only led to unimaginable pain that wouldn’t be alleviated by something as merciful as death.
And he’d decided that he wasn’t ready to die.
He could withstand the dehumanizing life as an alien’s pet and fuck toy.
If he held on, there might be a way to get back home.
Maybe he’d fooled himself with pointless hope.
If he had, this new alien master would be the one to kill any dreams he had of a better future.
For now, he’d be a good boy, give him no reason to hurt. No more than necessary, of course.
“Thank you for a most entertaining evening.” That cool, clipped tone held a note of derision, even to Frey’s human ears. Did the guy want to goad Arpell into violence?
If so, Arpell turned out to be brighter than Frey imagined.
He didn’t react, simply handed over Frey’s leash and stomped away.
The crowd of Travian males parted for him.
In all the places Arpell had dragged Frey, no one seemed to be the cream of Travian society.
Although what did Frey know, other than that they were a ruthless species that occupied New World Colony Seven?
If the rumors were true, Frey wasn’t the only human boy to have been forced into sexual slavery, either.
As far as Frey could tell, the entire species was populated by murderous thieves.
Which brought him to his current master.
With more timidity that he would have wished for in himself, he glanced at the creature from under his lashes.
It was like looking at a mile of grim, all-black leather, with nothing soft or colorful to break it up.
Other than the monkeyish pet with the purple hair.
That creature stood almost casually on the end of another leash hooked into the master’s belt.
It peered around the master’s massive legs and grinned at Frey.
At least it appeared to be grinning. Was that even possible?
Frey hadn’t seen much of other aliens besides Travians and nothing so almost-cute.
“Come.” The command, sharp and curt, reclaimed Frey’s attention.
He dutifully fell into step behind his new master as they wove through the crowd of onlookers.
One of the males dared to grab Frey’s ass when he passed by.
That was nothing new. It happened all the time.
He was an oddity on these stations, he knew.
Arpell had seemed to enjoy the attention and had even lent Frey out to business associates from time to time.
That’s how Frey knew for sure that not a Travian alive would treat him with anything other than brutality.
This time, however, things unfolded differently.
As if he had eyes in the back of his head, Frey’s new master stopped, turned and growled at the offender.
He actually bared his teeth, scaring Frey so badly that he couldn’t hold back a whimper.
He hated showing such fear, yet he was beaten down, hurting and starving, as always.
But the master’s ire wasn’t directed at him, so really he was being a baby.
It was the male who’d groped him that was in trouble.
The guy’s eyes went wide then he turned to push his way through the crowd to get away.
With that show of force, everyone else found something new to take their attention, dispersing rapidly.
No one bothered them further on their journey into the sleeping quarters.
Where Arpell had always taken meager accommodations, this master had more means—or at least a taste for a bit of luxury.
He led Frey into a large chamber with a bed that promised far more room than Frey was used to.
That was assuming he wasn’t kicked onto the floor when the creature finished fucking him.
Then again, he might just shove his dick in Frey and keep it there for the rest of the night.
It would be painful, but at least Frey would be warm and lying on something relatively soft.
His master surprised him by immediately taking the leash and the choke collar it was attached to off Frey.
Once again, he couldn’t hold back his reaction to the sudden and looming hands.
He flinched and shied away before remembering to be still.
Be good. The alien didn’t seem to notice the reaction or care.
He merely did the same for the other pet and tossed everything onto a table.
Then, walking farther into the room, he started removing his clothing.
“Seek your bed, Preen. We’ve accomplished all we can for now.”
It took a moment to understand that the master spoke to the monkeyish creature.
It had a name, apparently, and the master was inclined to use it.
That alone was something new. Arpell had always called Frey ‘boy,’ ‘pet,’ or ‘slut.’ He’d never bothered to learn Frey’s name.
Preen let out a series of chattering sounds that stumped the translator that had been forced inside Frey’s head soon after capture.
Weird. Frey had just assumed it could allow any being to communicate with any other.
Obviously not, although just as obviously, the master somehow understood what Preen had said.
The Travian held up his hand. “I know. It can’t be helped.” He eyed Frey briefly, making Frey want to hunch in on himself and become invisible. “Just go to your own room, please. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
With a final screech, Preen scampered toward a door at the far side of the room, then through it.
Even weirder. The other pet had a room of its own?
And did Frey hear his master right? Did he say ‘please’ to the pet?
Maybe Preen wasn’t a pet at all, but if that were the case, why the leash?
Nothing made sense to him anymore, and given how hungry and thirsty he was, maybe he was starting to hallucinate.
“Take off your clothes.”