Chapter 3 #3
The things Arpell and the other aliens had done to him hadn’t counted, either, as any kind of sexual experience.
Rape wasn’t sex. It was violence and torture.
Before Rone had taken Frey’s dick in hand, teasing an erection and cum out of it, Frey would have believed that his experience as a slave had killed any interest Frey might have had in sexual pleasure.
But, this new master had proven to truly control Frey and his body in a way that Arpell had never done.
Frey hadn’t made up his mind about what he thought about it.
He was by turns embarrassed, irked at his own weakness and intrigued enough to want to experience it again.
He didn’t know which emotions to embrace.
And, what had driven Rone to do it anyway?
Once would have been just curiosity. Frey knew that his pubic hair was a novelty to the Travians.
He hadn’t been surprised when Rone had started playing with it.
But, the alien hadn’t needed to continue with his petting and certainly needn’t have stroked Frey to a climax.
Maybe the guy had only intended to see if a human cock reacted like a Travian’s.
If that had been the case, then why bother to repeat the process twice more throughout the time they lay in bed together?
Rone’s dick had never left Frey’s body, no matter what position he put them both in.
The creature had come more times that Frey had been able to count, mostly because Frey had repeatedly fallen asleep.
Yet, on two occasions, he’d woken to being jerked off by Rone, even though the male had clearly not needed any participation from Frey other than to lie there and take the fucking.
None of it made any sense, nor did the way his master quietly urged him to eat and drink his fill, as if the Travian truly cared about Frey’s health.
His slightly aching head hurt even more as he turned the day’s events over and over in his mind.
He needed to let it go. Even with Rone keeping him close, this station held lots of menace, and it didn’t do to lose track of one’s surroundings.
Frey hugged the wall of the corridor as best he could, while Preen waddled on their master’s other side.
The creature had remained scarce throughout the marathon of fucking, but Frey could swear it gave Frey the once-over when they’d finally congregated to eat in Rone’s room.
His fellow pet seemed to genuinely be worried about Frey, and Frey was oddly touched by the concern, if it were truly there.
Truth be told, he was not only warming up to his companion, he was also worried about it, too.
He marveled at the way Preen appeared fearless in the face of so many creatures bigger and stronger than it.
He worried that one wrong step and Preen would become a big lavender stain on the cold, metal floor.
While Frey couldn’t be sure, he thought they ended up right where they’d been earlier.
The dim, seedy watering hole certainly looked the same, although really he’d given up trying to map out the various stations Arpell had dragged him to and through.
It hardly mattered in any event. Rone bypassed the areas where Travians sat on the floor playing games, and he went to sit on a drinking bench instead.
As before, Preen hopped up beside the master and squatted placidly.
Frey knelt beside Rone’s thick legs without being told.
He knew the drill by now, and, without the need to braid his hair, there was no reason for him to kneel between those tree trunks encased in leather.
Frey shook his head slightly, still feeling weird about his new hairdo.
He knew he looked kind of girly, tried to work up resentment over that, then let it go.
In the larger scheme of things, his masculine pride didn’t even rate.
Rone ordered himself a drink then lounged back against the wall behind him.
He paid Frey no mind, not offering him any of his drink, not that Frey would have expected him to.
If he did show such consideration again, it would likely be in the context of Frey giving his master another public blow job.
Frey sincerely hoped that wouldn’t happen, and, besides, he didn’t want to drink anything that would impair his thoughts, even mildly.
In this dangerous environment, he needed his wits about him, not that anyone else seemed to be paying them any mind.
He wondered, not for the first time, exactly what a male like Rone was doing in such a backwater place.
Sure, based on the conversation with the lizard man, Rone appeared to want to join in some questionable commerce.
It had been the same with Arpell, yet where being an arms runner seemed the obvious job for that miserable creature, somehow Rone held himself like someone above it all.
Fanciful thinking on Frey’s part. All Travians were bastards without an ounce of empathy for others. At least, he’d thought that was the case. Rone was throwing everything out of whack.
“Hail, mighty sire. Looking for company?”
Frey glanced up at the interloper with the silky tongue who’d sidled up to Rone.
The boy, and it was a boy, not a man, stood with one hip cocked, dressed in even more provocative clothing than Frey was.
Lots of pale Travian skin showed where the tight, red tunic didn’t come near to meeting the clingy and equally red pants.
The boy’s hair was braided away from his face, much like Frey’s was, although the style was more elaborate and the ribbon woven throughout was more like a thin, red string.
If all of that weren’t enough to catch a male’s attention, the kid had what looked like kohl rimming his big, expressive eyes.
He gave Rone a look loaded with innuendo and invitation.
Frey had no idea who this guy was, but he hated him on sight.
The depth and suddenness of his feelings for the Travian surprised and alarmed him.
What the fuck? What possible difference could it make to him?
This boy was obviously looking to hook up with Rone, a possibility that should make Frey very happy.
If Rone had someone else’s ass to ream, he’d leave Frey’s poor sore one alone.
Frey should be rooting for this kid to score, not scowling at him in irritation.
Rone didn’t seem tempted, however. He downed a lazy swallow of his drink before answering. “Go away. I’m not looking for a fuck boy. As you can see, I have a pet for that very purpose.”
The Travian boy didn’t seem fazed by the rebuff.
Instead of slinking off, he perched on the bench opposite Rone and leaned back on his hands.
“It’s pretty to look at, I’ll give you that.
I bet it’s too delicate, though. You probably have to be careful not to rip it in two when you fuck it.
You need someone sturdy, like me. I’m Kath, by the way.
I can take a pounding all night long and suck you down to your root when you’ve worn yourself out.
And,” he added with a swirl of his tongue around his pouty lips, “I’m very reasonably priced. ”
Frey wanted to smack the steamy look Kath gave Rone right off the kid’s face.
Appalled at his response, Frey made himself look away, down, anywhere but at the slut lounging across from him.
In all of his forced travels within the Travian Empire, he’d never seen anyone like this before.
He’d assumed the reason why Arpell had kept him alive as a fuck toy was because Travian society didn’t give him any other outlet.
If the translator forced inside his head was doing its job right, then obviously the concept of prostitution existed in this world.
That meant Frey had simply become a whore for free.
For some reason that idea pissed him off more than being forced into sexual slavery.
His body was every bit as valuable as this obvious pretty piece.
Okay, now he was just being mental about it.
He’d been training as a pilot, not a whore.
There was no reason to compare himself with this boy and certainly no reason to resent him—or feel jealous.
God, being a Travian captive must be melting his mind to mush.
Getting his rocks off for the first time in forever hardly warranted viewing his imprisonment and abuse as anything other than just that.
Kath might have the luxury of picking his sex partners, but Frey didn’t.
He was stuck with Rone as his master, leading him around by a leash and owning his ass whether Frey wanted him to or not. Let Kath find his own guy.
Shit! He was doing it again. Frey still couldn’t help scooting a little closer to Rone and leaning a bit into the muscular thigh beside him.
He was staking a claim or reinforcing in Rone that he had a boy already.
His nimble mind came up with a quick and acceptable explanation for his bizarre behavior.
If Rone found that he liked the Travian boy’s company better than Frey’s, he might sell Frey to someone horrible, like Arpell.
Yes, that was it. Frey’s jealousy was really a manifestation of his fear of further misery.
Satisfied that he hadn’t completely lost his sanity, Frey relaxed a bit.
And, if that meant resting more fully against his master, then so be it.