Page 6 of Trained as His Mate

He smiled, and she thought she heard him say, “Good,” before moving to the center of the platform and speaking so that everyone could hear.

Looking sideways at her, he gestured to an aide. “Turn the subject so our guests might have a clear view of her,” he said.

She gasped as the aide swiveled the platform, turning her until her splayed legs were facing in the direction of High Mother and the entourage. A wave of humiliation crashed over her as she saw a crooked smile form on High Mother’s lips.

Torian held out a hand. “The cleansing instrument, if you please,” he said quietly.

She glanced nervously to the side as the indicated aide shuffled to one of the tables. He picked up a long and narrow syringe, to which was attached a silicone tube and marched it over to Torian, saluting as he handed him the implement.

Torian held it up against the light and tapped it a few times with his fingers before walking between her legs and setting it a few lengths from her bottom. Holding his hands behind his back, he turned to face the entourage. He took a few steps toward them, the women rearranging themselves in their seats and glancing nervously at each other. “Kind and gentle women,” he intoned. “It is my understanding that your celebrations of the Ripenings here on the station were… somewhat… of a drunken, festive occasion.”

A chorus of gasps and giggles sounded from the assembled women until High Mother quieted them with a hiss.

Torian, his expression somewhat grim, turned to one side and strode three paces before turning back to face them again. “As I have mentioned, his Excellency would prefer to treat this rite of passage as a more clinical endeavor. Certainly, this young maiden,” he said, waving a hand toward Quaia, “must have the opportunity to mark her coming of age. A memory to anchor her, should a suitable mate decide to take her for his own. A ceremony to mark the end of one journey and the beginning of another. I invite you now to witness her cleansing. Rest assured that the rest of her induction into her sexual awakening will be thorough and intimate. That, however, you will not be invited to witness.”

High Mother scoffed and shook her head before falling into a lengthy muttered rambling.

“After the cleansing has been completed I will retire to my ship with the woman Sangsen and complete the rest of her training myself. In private. You are free to celebrate as you wish. My stay will not be long, and I will have her back in your care in far less time than the old tradition required.”

Quaia’s belly squeezed at what he’d said. Though she was exposed, bared fully to the audience in front of her, that did not quell the excitement that began to bubble deep within her. She searched for its source in her mind and came up nearly empty. Before Torian had set foot in the great chamber, this had been nothing more than an exercise in patience and grit. Now, thinking of retiring to the Andomocles under his care was causing her skin to prickle and her heart to skip.

She stared at him as he paced back and forth. Powerful. Handsome, too, yes. She couldn’t ignore that fact. He exuded that commanding calm of a strong leader and a no-nonsense air that made him even more appealing.

Her thighs stiffened as he stepped between her legs, her body’s instinct kicking in to protect her softest parts both from his touch as well as his gaze. She no longer cared about High Mother, or Sistra, or Brac, or what any of them thought of her. Her sole concern was Torian. Torian who made her weak at the knees with just a glance. Torian who seemed unmoved by her bared body. Torian whom, suddenly, she felt a deep need to impress.

He lifted the syringe with its long-pointed tip and tapped it with a finger again. He lowered it between her legs, then looked up and stared deep into her eyes. “If you relax it will be easier,” he said.

Her body trembled as she felt the back of his hand brush against the inside of her thigh. She gasped when she felt the tip of the implement press against her bottom. As he slid it slowly in, she wasn’t able to suppress the mewl that escaped her lips.

There was nothing new about this, she told herself. This was the way it was always done, and from what Torian had said, this was the final public humiliation to be endured. She would remain stoic about it just like she planned, and get out of here as fast as she could once it was all over.

She could not have expected that when the warm liquid began to fill her, her exposed pussy would weep moisture the way that it did, and quiver with excitement. As the liquid in her ass began to expand in her dirtiest cavity, the full sensation only made it worse for her. Though she tried not to look at the faces in front of her—she had planned for this, and trained herself to look at the space just above their heads—she still caught glimpses of them. They watched with smug sneers, obvious titillation, and clear enjoyment. It was obvious they could see for themselves how her body was responding.

Whatever, she thought. It was this, and then on to private humiliation with Torian—her stomach flopped—and she was out of here.

She set her face into a stony, disaffected glare, and endured the remainder of the treatment.

CHAPTER 3

The Andomocles was surprisingly well kept. She remembered it as a somewhat decrepit solar sailer, barely washed with some broken parts unrepaired, much as the Mouth of Heaven was now.

She’d been allowed to don her body-veil—a translucent, full-body garment that, if you asked her, revealed more than it hid by just calling attention to her—after the procedure. She walked through the halls with the memory of the humiliating experience fresh in her mind, twisting in her gut, wrenching her in several different directions.

Somehow Torian walking by her side dampened her shame. None of the soldiers or crew they passed paid her any attention, or so it seemed. Even after walking through nearly the entire ship practically naked, she was almost at ease by the time they arrived at their destination.

She even felt somewhat flattered when, upon opening the hatch to his quarters, he bowed slightly and waved her in ahead of him. Sure, he might have just given her an enema in front of everyone—that was his duty. But in private, he was being decently respectful.

Perhaps chivalry wasn’t totally, completely dead among the Vokl, as it was in human males.

She stepped into the spacious compartment and walked a dozen steps further, until she was standing at its center. Now she had no idea at all what to do. This was all off script. She turned when the hatch hissed shut behind her and watched Torian walk across to a large metallic desk in front of the wide porthole looking out toward the dark void.

He pulled his gloves out of his chest pocket and set them on the desk. Slowly, he undid the buttons of his tunic, before shrugging it off and hanging it on a coat hook over the chair.

She watched him, paralyzed like a complete idiot, not even sure what to do with her hands. When he tugged open his shirt cuffs and rolled them up his forearms, exposing more of the dark fur that covered his skin, the gesture felt almost familiar to her. Ordinary. Or was it terrifying? What was Torian about to do that he needed to roll his shirt sleeves up with such… masculine precision?

When this was done, he leaned against the desk and looked at her.

Once his gaze was directed at her, she thrust her chest out a little further and her back arched slightly. It was as if some part of her were intent on presenting her best shape to him. He seemed unfazed by this—in fact, he seemed to not even notice—and a small resentment grew inside her. Not because he wasn’t looking, but because she felt a bit wounded by his disinterest.

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