Chosen by the High Judge (Under Alien Law Book 2) Read online

  What now? She’d nothing to do. Nothing to read or watch. Trees obscured the view from the window. She was tired, but probably wouldn’t be able to sleep.

  Bisma briefly disappeared into the bathroom. When she returned she was holding something in her hand. “I shall apply a salve to your bottom. Lower your pants.”

  “Now…” Zara stuttered.

  “Yes. Now.” Bisma was a nurse and the last thing Zara needed to do was make her an enemy. Quite the contrary, she needed a friend. Also, she suspected if she disobeyed, Bisma would report it to the judge and then… she could guess what would happen next.

  She turned and lowered her pants to just below the buttocks.

  “My, my. Those cheeks are rosy, aren’t they,” Bisma quipped.

  Zara’s other cheeks were probably rosy too. Embarrassment always made her face blush.

  The salve was cold and soothing. Zara felt the rise of goosebumps. Perhaps having the old nurse look after her would have some benefits.

  Bisma covered her ass with the cream. “Bend over, come on, girl. Let me rub it in.”

  Zara had to let go of the waistband so she could lean forward and rest her hands on the bed. As she did, she spotted something attached to the metal rails of the headboard. Chains.

  She sprang up, knocking Bisma’s hands away.

  “How dare you!” Bisma boomed.

  “Those. Things.” Zara pointed at the chains.

  “Yes. The restraining cuffs to bind you.”

  “When I sleep?” Zara was horrified to think she might be tied to the bed at night. She liked to move about in her sleep.

  “No, no. For when the judge fucks you.” Bisma said it so matter-of-factly, without even a trace of disgust. How much did she know about this ordeal?

  Zara froze and her pants slipped down her thighs to her knees. She didn’t care. There were worse things than having a red bottom on display.

  “I’ve never…” How to explain her virginity to an alien who probably had lost hers years ago in circumstances very different to how humans chose to lose their innocence. Bisma might not even remember, such was the insignificance of the event.

  “Then you’ll learn. It is part of the ordeal. Astra was bound each time Brynt used her. It was a symbolic part of the punishment. In giving herself to him, she had to prove she was submissive to the core of her being.”

  “But, I’m not submissive to the core of my being,” Zara railed. “I’m a human. I’m not like Astra.”

  “Then why consent to the ordeal?”

  Bisma didn’t understand. How could she? Whipped in public or spanked in private, those had been her options. With the ordeal, she would have to submit to some sex. That was okay if he was gentle with her the first time, after that, she might be surprised—sex with an alien might be exciting, according to the rumors. But, not chained to a bed. How could that be fun? The realization of what she’d signed up for was dawning on Zara and the feeling it created wasn’t pleasant. She was in over her head and with no way out.

  “I… thought it would be… easier,” Zara stammered. Easier! She was a convict under the jurisdiction of a judge. How could anything he chose be easy? He was supposed to be punishing her. This room wasn’t a holiday home. Bisma wasn’t a kindly matron. The only reason Bisma was in the room was that Galen had promised to honor some degree of Zara’s humanity. It hardly amounted to much.

  Bisma shook her head, clucking her tongue again. “The Ordeal of Astra is one of the toughest of the ancient ordeals. The Vendu venerate Astra. Her sacrifice not only saved her life, but also ensured a peace that lasted a millennium. She was courageous. Dignified. She and Brynt—” Her buzzer interrupted her speech.

  The communicator, a small device she had in her pocket, flashed up a message. “He’s coming home early.”

  “Now?” All those things she’d brushed aside—nudity and sex—flooded back in an instance. She’d assumed he would have no time to pursue her on a regular basis.

  “In an hour. This is not good.”

  “Damn right,” muttered Zara.

  “No, silly girl. I’ve not prepared you sufficiently. You’ll need to be shaved and cleansed.” Bisma clapped her hands. “Off with those clothes. Off, off!” She disappeared into the bathroom and Zara heard water gushing out of the shower.

  The door wasn’t locked. She could run out and perhaps even get as far as the main gate, and if that was open, she could bolt. The judge would dispatch huntsmen, special warriors tasked with finding absconded criminals or rebels who refused to accept they had a truce with the humans. When a Vendu citizen turned evil, which didn’t seem to happen often, they were considered highly dangerous. For a huntsman, a rogue Vendu was a worthy prey. She didn’t stand a chance going up against a huntsman.

  She stared at the chains. Her fate lay in that room, and his house, and nowhere else. She kicked off her pants and pulled the prison-issued shirt over her head and laid it neatly on the chair, then followed Bisma into the bathroom and shut the door.

  Half an hour later, she emerged. She been washed thoroughly, shaved everywhere—in places Zara never bothered to shave—and her skin oiled with something that left her smooth and glowing. Zara clucked and tut-tutted as she poked and prodded Zara into different positions: bent over, lying on her back with her knees bent to her nose then legs splayed. For most of the time, Zara kept her eyes shut and let the nurse do as she pleased to prepare her. She stopped short of inserting things inside her, which at least was a blessing.

  “On the bed, please.” Bisma gave her a gentle nudge from behind.

  The mattress was firm, but not harsh. Zara lay on her back and pressed her thighs tight together.

  “Arms above your head,” ordered Bisma.

  Slowly, she stretched her hands toward the cold posts of the headboard. The cuffs went around her wrists. Made of leather or some similar thickened fabric, they didn’t chafe or hurt. However, the metal chains clinked as she lifted her hands to inspect her bindings. The chains allowed her to reach down as far as her waist, but no further. They weren’t as restrictive as she thought.

  “Now, this is the position you assume in accordance with rites of Astra. She was most particular in her writings about what she did. Part your legs, bring your heels to your bottom so your knees are out of the way and that way you will be open and ready.”

  Zara scrambled up to the top of the bed and bundled herself into a ball. Absolutely not. “No! I shan’t. I can’t.”

  Bisma planted her hands on her hips. “This disobedience will earn you a severe punishment.”

  “I obey Galen, not you.” Tears splashed down her cheeks, the shock finally sinking in.

  Bisma sighed. “If necessary, you will have to be bound further if you refuse to comply. Please, Zara, this resistance will not benefit you. You are a prisoner, not a guest. This is not negotiable.”

  “He wouldn’t dare force himself on me,” Zara declared, shooting an angry glare at Bisma. “He said he wouldn’t.”

  “Regardless how the judge intends to fuck you, this is about acceptance. By assuming this position, you acknowledge he is your master.”

  “By flaunting my… you know… at him? That’s disgraceful.”

  Bisma lifted her eyes briefly to the ceiling before rolling them back at Zara. “No. You will present your gift with pride.”

  “My gift!” Zara attempted a chuckle and failed. It stuck in her throat. “I’m not a gift.”

  “Clearly not,” responded Bisma icily. “You are a naughty girl. I’m sure he will tell you that with you over his knee.”

  Zara gaped in disbelief. How dare she call her naughty! “Is it that simple to you? Spread my legs and obey?”

  “Yes.”

  Zara sought a solution, something that would salvage her dignity. “I will lie down, but I won’t part my legs.”

  Bisma closed her eyes, her beauty marred by a display of displeasure. “Then, you will bear the consequences.”

  Zara slid down t
he bed, keeping her legs clamped together and she turned her head away from Bisma.

  “This is your last chance to—”

  The door opened. Standing on the threshold was Galen dressed in his formal clothes. His face was cast in the shadow of the doorframe. He filled the hole with his broad shoulders and towered over Bisma.

  “I’ve tried, my lord,” Bisma said quickly. “But she is stubborn and refuses to assume the correct position: the first offering.”

  “So I can see,” he murmured. “Please leave us, Bisma.”

  “If you need me…” Bisma and Galen exchanged positions, “I shall be merely a summons away.”

  “Thank you. I’m sure we’ll be fine, won’t we, Zara?”

  Zara shrank back into the bed as the door closed behind Bisma.

  “Please, don’t hurt me,” she pleaded.

  “I’ve no intention of hurting you.” Galen removed his jacket and draped it over the back of the chair. “But, if you wish to avoid a spanking, I suggest you part your legs and show me your pussy. Do so now, Zara, or I will turn you over and spank your bottom until it is red hot.”

  He’d kept a distance from the bed. It enabled her to see him in his entirety, from the thick layer of hair on his head, down his straight nose and strong jawline to his square shoulders and narrow hips. His thighs, God, she’d felt them as she’d lain across his lap. Thick and hard. Packed with muscles. But what caught her eye was the bulge in his pants. He was eager for her.

  She remembered the taste of his cock. She’d liked it, especially how the smooth head filled her mouth and how he thrust it along the groove of her tongue. He’d not gone deep. Would he this time? And where? Was her virginity about to be taken? She was starting to feel horny as hell. A dark fantasy was forming in the recesses of her mind.

  Taken and claimed—such evocative words should repel, not tantalize. Yet, given how the fluttering sensations in her belly were drifting south, she wasn’t afraid of him. She decided to give him what he asked for.

  Slowly, she unfolded and swung her knees apart. As Bisma had told to do, she drew up her feet until they reached her bottom. Her knees shook as they spread, unsupported and outward.

  “Good girl,” he said, folding his arms across his chest. “Calm yourself. Breathe deeply and then that shaking will stop.”

  She inhaled and released a slow exhale. It helped. Her legs no longer felt like jelly fresh out of the mold.

  “Now I’m going to inspect you, Zara. You have something unique and I wish to behold it. Touch it. You know what that is?”

  She nodded. “My clit,” she whispered.

  Vendu women had no external clitoris. She closed her eyes and held her breath.

  “No, Zara. You will watch me with your eyes open. You’ll come to appreciate seeing me because you won’t always be given that privilege.”

  Her eyes sprang open. Not see him? When and for what purpose? She swallowed a hard lump in her throat and watched him kneel by the side of the bed.

  He reached between her legs with finger and thumb and touched each side of her folds. With a surprising gentleness he drew them apart and exposed her pussy.

  “You’re wet,” he said softly, leaning toward her.

  Wet! She couldn’t be. How could she be that aroused?

  “Just a little,” he clarified. “We can work on that.”

  He slid his fingers toward the apex of her mound and stroked down, so he could feel the new smoothness created by Bisma’s careful shaving. She inhaled sharply. Such a tender, almost sweet touch. Butterflies stormed in her belly.

  “Now, this,” he said. The tip of his finger lifted aside the clitoral hood. A zap of pleasure shot out from where he was touching.

  “Remarkable. So sensitive. So responsive.” He leaned closer again and blew on it.

  The cool air bloomed over her clit and she jerked, not with displeasure, but sheer delight. The wisp of his breath electrified her. She wanted him to do it again. And again.

  He chuckled. “This I will come to know well, starting today. I promised you a reward, did I not, Zara? A reward for sucking my cock like a good prisoner. I want to you to appreciate I can be a kind master if you obey me.” He circled her nub with his finger, round and round, and each time he completed a circle, he blew on her clit.

  Zara’s legs were wobbling once more. She couldn’t help it. “Oh, sir,” she panted.

  His head was now between her thighs and he looped his arms around them, preventing them from knocking together. His grip was firm and she could do nothing to stop him holding them apart.

  The tip of his tongue replaced his finger and he fluttered it over her clitoris. Just like his warm breath, his tongue was moist and delicate. Zara squirmed and twisted her hips. It wasn’t right to like this. It couldn’t be right. Galen was an alien, a member of a brutish warrior race, and yet, he was about to send her spiraling into an orgasm.

  She gripped the chains and clung onto them as he exercised not only his tongue, but his lips and the entirety of his mouth. He continued to target her fragile clit, then he lashed her slit with his tongue before dipping into her pussy. When he sucked on her nub, she gasped.

  Galen rested the upper half of his body on the bed. Somehow, he managed to position himself between her legs, hooked them over his shoulders and held her there with his arms. She saw the way his head bobbed as he teased her. Occasionally, he stretched out his hand and touched her breasts. The extra touch, especially when he rolled his fingertips over her hard nipples, was a divine accompaniment to his oral pleasuring. He waxed and waned with his efforts, drawing out her arousal. However, he was relentless in his pursuit of her orgasm. Any minute, she would succumb to it.

  “I need to come… I have to…” She held her breath. Words failed her as her climax spasmed uncontrollably.

  He sucked her through it, refusing to let it ease away gently. For a few seconds he was harsh, ensuring his mouth remained clamped onto her clitoris while his tongue tormented it with repetitive dabs and prods. Throughout, the little organ transmitted the most glorious signals across every inch of her body. It had to be the best orgasm she’d ever had. That was worth the indignity of sucking his cock on the floor of his office. It might even cover the cost of a spanking.

  “Yes,” she sighed as the last ebb of the orgasm drifted away.

  “Yes,” he concurred with a firm voice. “Now, it is my turn.”

  She stiffened. The delightful orgasm was gone in a flash and in its place was dread. What was he going to do to her?

  She knocked her knees together and twisted her lower half onto its side.

  Galen took her ankles and flipped her over onto her belly. The chains rattled as he adjusted them around her wrists.

  He placed his large palms over her ass cheeks and squeezed. She winced.

  “These have a good glow to them. A well-tempered ass is an obedient one.” He pried the cheeks apart and ran his thumbs down her furrow.

  “No, please, don’t take me there,” she squealed. Her virginity meant more than her pussy. He’d promised her he would be kind.

  He released her buttocks. “No. Not yet. But soon. You’ll need better preparation. Your first lesson is in patience. I’ve allowed you an orgasm. That is all you may take today.”

  She peered over his shoulder. He’d retrieved something from his jacket pocket: a blindfold!

  “Please don’t gag me.” Zara could tolerate being in the dark, but to be silenced was too much.

  “Don’t worry. I like to hear your voice. Your sweet human accent. The words you will say while I fuck you. Those things will please me.” He slipped the blindfold over her eyes and she was cast into a thick blackness. “As for setting eyes on me. You will earn the right.”

  Lying there, she listened to him undress. Little sounds that were made louder by the silence of the room. The only other noise was her breathless pants. She couldn’t hear him breathe.

  “I’m going to chain your ankles to the bottom of the bed.
You’ve nothing to fear. I’m not going to penetrate you. However, my cock wants to get to know your body. The traditional account of Astra’s ordeal states that on her first night with Brynt, he touched her fully and explored every morsel of her being. I shall do this and as I do, my cock will exercise itself between your ass cheeks.”

  He bound her ankles with cuffs. She didn’t know where he’d found them and she supposed it didn’t matter. She was completely vulnerable to his demands. The bed creaked as he added his weight to it. He maneuvered his body over hers, bridging her without touching, then he lowered himself. The first moment of contact had to be the tip of his erection. The bulb bounced along her spine as he dragged it down. It tickled and she couldn’t help giggling. Why couldn’t she control her stupid reaction? She was helpless. Could she trust the judge or was she about to find out he was more of a criminal than she was?

  She should feel ridiculous, used, and degraded. However, it was part of her punishment to be humiliated in private, rather than in public. Nerves were getting the better of her, making her giggle. Another fleshy tip, this time she reckoned it was his nose. He nuzzled her hair and kissed the nape of her neck, then round to her exposed throat. Small pecks interspersed with nudges of his nose. Meanwhile, his hands glided down her arms, shoulders, and sides until they reached her waist. He hitched her bottom up higher and slid another pillow beneath her hips.

  He must be sitting astride her, using his knees to take his weight. With her buttocks in his grasp, he opened her up. The head of his cock slotted between them and she held her breath. Would he dare to push his way into her virgin hole? She wriggled in protest and her lack of faith was greeted with a firm slap on her ass.

  “Ow!” she hollered.

  “Keep still,” he growled.

  He kneaded her sore ass until she whimpered with the discomfort. It was effective as a small act of discipline and forced her to strengthen her resolve and lie still.