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"Come for me."
And he thrust deeply, and so did Black, and I let the wave wash over me and carry me away.
I often came so hard that it took my breath away, and stars tried to creep into the fields of my vision and block it entirely. It was terrifying, but I was always fine after it passed over me.
Pleasure gripped so fiercely this time that the stars - yellow-green, run through with dots of red and blue - covered my whole field of vision and all my muscles tensed up so much that I was paralyzed, stiff, unable to do anything but open my mouth and scream.
That was all I really remembered of the next five minutes. I felt Black inside of me, a burst of hot wetness, and then Rhys slowly fucked me until he came. But these last moments faded away into a montage of slippery skin, hard bodies, sweat, exhaustion, and pleasure.
They often did.
Sometimes, overwhelmed, I fell asleep. Or sometimes I fell into a half-slumber, where I could vaguely feel myself being held, or lifted, or Rhys’s lips on my forehead, or the steady rise and fall of my body, my cheek against his chest, as Black carried me back to my own room and my own bed.
CHAPTER2
Alena
"Get on the table for me, darlin’.”
This was Black, lips close to the ridge of my ear, his hands at my waist, gently moving me toward the table where I was punished, in a ritual, each solar week. Punishments were delivered whether I had been disobedient or not, because this was the way things were done in this clan of men with whom I was traveling.
I knew the ritual, what would happen next. It was all I could think about in the preceding hours, as I lay awake, alone in my room for the few hours that I was unattended by my captors, waiting for them to come for me. Between my legs, I could feel my liquid excitement already overflowing, already snaking down my thighs.
There was no point resisting anymore, no more point even attempting to pretend like I wanted to. Even today, punishment day; I couldn't hide the truth from them, or myself.
It still had the power to make my face burn with humiliation - the idea that I, a female citizen of ATDC, was participating in these barbaric sexual practices. But the shame only took over me when I was alone.
And that was hardly ever. Usually, I was sent to one of them for what they called "recreational time."
I climbed onto the mechanism they had fashioned for this ritual. The first time they introduced me to this practice, it had happened on a bed, and it hadn't been as stimulating that way.
I would never say this aloud - in fact, I didn't really likethinkingit in the privacy of my own head - but I preferred this new system.
I climbed onto the padded table and crawled on my hands and knees until my arms were aligned with the posts of the u-shaped metal they had affixed to the far end. Black had explained that this contraption mimicked a ritualistic artifact that most alpha males kept in their homes, for their mates.
As far as I knew, I was nobody's mate, but they were determined to keep me submissive, to reinforce my understanding of my position in their social hierarchy, which was as alien to me as the social system of actual aliens.
Every seven solar days, even if I was obedient and good, I was to be spanked in front of all of them, to remind me that I was their slave and toy, that I was subservient to them, and to stoke the fire of my submission through this public humiliation and discipline.
And then came the ritual of gratitude, even more humiliating, which I also looked forward to in the darkest parts of my mind.
I was trying to resist the instincts that seemed to bloom inside me under the guidance of these men. ATDC instructed its citizens to remain dedicated to the values of our own society, even if we came into contact with barbaric peoples, barbaric practices, and temptations in the even that our cocktail of hormone suppressors failed.
But I could never have imagined how these barbarisms would pluck a cord inside of me, ignite some sense that I was, actually, where I belonged, being the kind of person I really wanted to be, deep down inside.
I wassatisfiedby something when I was spanked into a submissive state.
I often recalled the first ritual, of my own free will, to enjoy the memory of it. To bring my body to a humming, hungry state when I was sent first thing to a man like Tor, or Scar, who did not make my pussy wet by simply being close to me, the way Black or Rhys did.
All I had to do was remember the way that Rhys, at the end of that first ritual, had pulled a damp strand of hair from my face, his fingers moving over my cheek, at the end. I lay panting on the bed, collapsed onto my chest, my bottom in the air, bare for all to see and throbbing with heat.
“There,” he had said, his fingers moving over my cheekbones. “Now she is fully submissive, ready to do anything I ask of her, no matter what it is.” His fingers moved over my lips, and he had simply stared at me as he traced the features of my face, until I stopped panting, and the tears had all receded from my eyes.
This was the most erotic thing I had ever experienced – and while I know I’m from ATDC, so that may seem like a silly statement, believe me:a lotof erotic events had taken place on this ship since my arrival. I had plenty to compare it to.
I didn’t know what number of ritual this was. I had lost track of time, and space, and days had little meaning anymore.
When my wrists aligned with the cool metal, Black stepped forward to fasten me to the poles. His cock was erect already, I could see the bulge in his pants as he passed before my eyes. He slid a finger over each wrist affectionately as he fastened me in.
