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

  She liked his eyes. She liked that he was happy.

  Fuck it. A bunch of tattoos, a sexy judge, and butt plug all together held her in some kind of erotic captivity. Life didn’t get much stranger than this.

  * * *

  Galen returned to work in a better frame of mind than when he had left it. Fortunately, for Zara, he’d not been in the courtroom when Bisma had contacted him and therefore he’d been able to deal with the matter as quickly as possible.

  Bisma’s obvious indignation at Zara’s behavior had spurred him into action. A little backchat during the tattooing might have been tolerable, but swearing at his servant was not. He’d stormed into his house and Bisma had handed him the strap and plug. There would no excuses, no holding back because Zara was human. Entering her room, her expression was everything he expected to see—shock followed by contriteness.

  The strapping had not elicited any change in her tattoos. He hadn’t expected it to, given it was intended to stun her into submission. It also swiftly abated his anger. She bore the punishment better than he’d anticipated and with a level of meekness that mitigated the necessity for any further penalties. Five with the strap had been sufficient.

  What had pleased him most was her response afterwards, when he tended to her sore ass and prepared her for the plug. The coloration of the secret tattoos had again shown him she was not adverse to stern commands when combined with sensual touching.

  Back at his office desk, he tried, and failed, to concentrate. The human shouldn’t have this power over him, he fretted. The tattoo was supposed to be a tool to guide him. Its advantages might become dangerous to him if he wasn’t careful and especially if she realized its potential beyond signaling her arousal. If he didn’t keep in control of situations, things could spiral into a different abyss, one that he wasn’t prepared to enter without advice. He knew whom he had to contact—Governor Marco, the only other Vendu with intimate knowledge of human females.

  He wrote the message, carefully wording it. The importance of protecting his status meant he must not reveal anything that would put his position in jeopardy. What he was querying was potentially treasonous because humans were supposed to be the inferior race. Galen suspected there was a reason why the Vendu were drawn to these aliens and their ways. On every other world they’d conquered, the population had been enslaved and the planets taken as colonies. Earth had suffered a different fate—a partial conquest and a standoff lasting decades during which neither side were prepared to either negotiate peace or bring resolution through absolute war. There was no budging on this policy by the imperial government, and yet they’d left the Earthlings alone. Until… he reread the contents of his message and sent it to Marco. Until now.

  At home he dined alone in his chamber. The longer she had to wait, the better. Bisma had reported she was quiet and contemplative. He believed that was the effect of the plugging. It often calmed the mind of a submissive.

  He changed out of his formal attire and wore loose clothing that ensured he remained covered from neck to ankle. She hadn’t earned the right to see him bare.

  She was kneeling by the bed. The need for the position of first offering was no longer necessary. He’d seen her assets, just as Brynt had done on his first night with Astra. The difference was that Brynt had plundered every one of Astra’s holes that same night, while Galen had chosen to wait and give Zara time to adjust to her punishment.

  It appeared the Vendu assumption that human females were incapable of submitting fully for the pleasure of another was wrong. Zara was more than capable and she had become aroused during the insertion of the plug and the brief spanking he administered afterwards. Her capitulation was a good sign his plans were working. He would continue to punish her ass as often as he pleased if that was what it took to tame her.

  He stood over the diminutive Zara. “I’m pleased, Zara. Pleased you have obeyed me. Kneel on the bed.”

  She moved slowly, nervously glancing at her body. It should come as no surprise that the tattoos were visible. They’d sprung to life the moment he walked into the room. Following her over to the bed, he pushed her down onto all fours. The position enabled him to admire the end of the glass bulb nestling between her gorgeous ass cheeks. The swollen head of his cock pressed against his pants, forcing the fabric to tent.

  He fingered the plump folds of her sex. Wet folds. She emitted a tiny mewl when he probed the entrance to her uncharted pussy and when he combined that exploration with a twist of the plug in her asshole, she squealed and burrowed her face into the pillow. He worked the two together, teasing her with the occasional slap of his hand against her rump or upper thigh.

  “You want to come, don’t you?” The evidence was visible—the tattoos couldn’t lie.

  “Yes, sir,” she whimpered, jiggling her ass.

  He pulled on the plug, withdrawing it to the tip, then plunging it back in. She easily accommodated the plug. She was ready for the next size, and probably the one after that—her training was progressing well. In a matter of days, he would be in her ass, fucking it hard.

  “Good girls get rewards. Are you a good girl?” he asked sweetly.

  “Yes, sir,” she claimed with pride.

  It wasn’t the correct response. Time for a lesson in yielding control.

  He smacked her ass hard and she jolted, lifting her head off the pillow. “I am good,” she countered. “I’ve worn that thing all day for you.”

  “Do you get to decide if you’re good or not?” He knelt behind her and continued to tease her slit and asshole as she squirmed. The tattoos were black and appeared raised, she was so close, so near to completion.

  “No, sir,” she said swiftly. He rocked his hips against her bottom and she moaned. His hardness protruded and she’d felt it.

  He grinned. “No, you don’t. So are you a good girl?”

  “If it… pleases you… sir,” she panted. “I will try to be good for you.”

  A better answer. “It pleases me to play with you and watch you come. It pleases me if you come when I command it.” He released his erection, freeing it from its constraints. The head of his cock rested on one of the faint stripes he’d laid across her ass earlier.

  “I can’t,” she stammered. “I can’t wait…”

  He fisted his shaft and pumped it hard. He kept stroking its length, drawing the erection out until his balls tightened. With one hand buried deep in her hair, drawing her head up so he could see her face, and the other working his cock, he readied himself to come.

  “This is what pleases me,” he said. He spurted liquid over the tattoo. The white cum splattered over the tattoos.

  Her face reddened while her body began to shake. She’d lost it. It wasn’t necessary to touch her ass or tickle her clitoris; all he’d needed to do was come on her.

  “Now!” he commanded.

  The red appeared first, then the orange and finally, a golden yellow spiraled across her back, filling the lines of patterns. The heart shapes, which had been inked among the vines, stood out boldly—she was on fire.

  He didn’t let her rest. Pumping the plug back and forth, he fucked her for the duration of her splendid orgasm while underneath he vigorously rubbed her clitoris. She thumped the bed with her fists and arched her back. It pained her, he could tell by the way her face screwed up, but she was also in a state of bliss, too. She would learn to master the combination of the two—pain and pleasure together—until her orgasms were unbearably divine.

  Her wobbly knees were collapsing. As she slumped forward, he carefully removed the plug. She lay flat on the bed, her eyes shut and her limbs splayed out in a perfect display of capitulation.

  When he returned from using the bathroom, she appeared asleep. He chuckled softly to himself. She needed more stamina if he was to fuck her properly. He’d only come once and was more than capable of achieving multiple orgasms in quick succession, unlike human males.

  He tucked his cock out of sight. Taming its hardness was challe
nging. When he covered her body with the blanket, she murmured something. He couldn’t catch the words. On the floor, next to the bed, was the peculiar stuffed creature she liked to hold. He picked it up.

  “You want this?”

  “Yes, please.” Her droopy eyelids opened a fraction.

  “Letting it sleep on the floor is hardly friendly,” he joked.

  “He’s an escape artist,” she said.

  He handed it to her and she dragged it underneath the blanket.

  “Mm, well, don’t get any ideas to do the same. If you continue to be a good girl, you can have free access to the rest of the house, barring my private rooms.”

  She opened her eyes wide. “Oh, thank you, sir.” The delight in her charming face was evocative. And infectious.

  He backed away from her, feeling the temptation to ravish her rise in his loins.

  What the fuck is going on with me?

  He should have her chained to the bed and in position, ready to be fucked. Astra had been used several times a day and spanked daily. The princess had submitted to all manner of depraved acts at Brynt’s behest. Why wasn’t he treating Zara to the rituals of the ordeal, ensuring she suffered as Astra had done? He couldn’t fathom what Zara had done to him.

  He needed a reply to the question he’d sent and soon.

  Chapter Seven

  Zara shifted on the seat. The plug was bearable. A larger one than yesterday, and the day before that. Each new morning brought a progression of sizes. Galen had been right, Bisma was very considerate with inserting them, but unlike Galen, the nurse conducted the procedure as a technician would—clinical and detached.

  During the day, Zara wrestled with conflicting emotions: remove it and be punished, tolerate it and she would be rewarded. She liked Galen’s rewards. They were mutually beneficial. The day ended with him visiting her room and playing his orgasm control games. For three nights she fell asleep in a state of serene bliss and Galen left the room with a satisfactory smile on his face.

  She’d learned to think before answering his questions and not rely on impulsive answers. She had to demonstrate her submission in words as well as actions. The best policy she discovered was begging. Beg for the orgasm, for his cock in her mouth, and if she was lucky he granted her wishes, although only after a prolonged period of sensual teasing.

  The tattoos definitely worked in his favor. The chemistry in them was as strong as the chemistry between her and Galen. It was pointless denying her lust. It shamed her to think how easily she’d become his plaything. All it took was a few sternly delivered words, a tweak of a nipple, and the twist of the plug in her ass and she was his to command. She hated herself, hated what she’d become, but strangely, she couldn’t translate those feelings onto Galen. The judge was doing exactly what he promised when he’d sentenced her. Regardless of what the original Ordeal of Astra involved, Zara’s punishment was rudimentary—submit and obey. Not exactly tough, unless you’re a human with a strong streak of independence.

  Astra must have been a resilient princess, the kind of woman Zara might have admired if she’d met her. However, she was also a Vendu female and bred to submit when commanded. What Brynt had done to her must have been truly degrading to register as a punishment. Zara didn’t want to think about it. Galen had adapted the ordeal to suit his needs and Zara’s human limits. She couldn’t possibly be Astra. If he wanted to humiliate Zara, Galen only had to trace his finger along the line of her tattoos. They betrayed her feelings every damn time he walked into the room.

  How could she be so weak!

  She drummed her fingers on the console and tried to focus on the sequence of equations. While Galen worked, Zara studied. He’d granted her access to his study and the computer console embedded in his desk. Each morning, after the butt plug was inserted, she dressed and made her way through the expansive house to this one room.

  Bisma had escorted her the first time and observed Zara tapping on the console and bringing up her notes. Everything had been transferred across as she requested. She’d even managed to regain access to the university’s research database where articles from across the Vendu Empire were shared. Galen had allowed it, but nothing else. No messaging, no emails. No contact with the human world.

  Gradually, Bisma had lost interest in watching Zara read and make notes. She would leave Zara alone for longer spells and Zara took advantage of these periods. The risk was great. If Galen requested the log files from the university, it would prove Zara was searching for information outside her area of expertise. The risk was worth it.

  Currently, she’d tracked down a potential contact. One person in the Vendu Empire who might have the answers.

  The drumming of her fingers became more frantic. She needed a quick break. She dashed to her room and the adjoining bathroom. After the brief interlude, she returned at a slower pace to the study. She froze on the threshold. Leaning over the console was Bisma. She was reading the last report Zara had accessed. She’d forgotten to swipe it away out of sight.

  “This has nothing to do with controlling the weather. Or the environment. It is a medical account. Why are you accessing this?” Bisma demanded, straightening her shoulders into a rigid pose.

  Zara panicked.

  What to do?

  Lie—if she could? Or tell Bisma the truth? She still barely knew the woman and their interactions weren’t friendly, although they had improved since Galen had used his strap.

  “Explain yourself,” Bisma said impatiently. “Are you a spy? Is that your true mission? Spying on the great Vendu Empire is a serious offense.” She folded her arms across her chest and glared.

  Zara hid her face behind her trembling fingers and wept. The stress of carrying her secret week after week was too much. It was okay for her father simply to say go and find a cure for her sister, but to actually do it was another matter. Time was against her and if she was brought up on espionage charges, it would be the final straw. Her sister would die and Zara would end up in a terrible prison where beatings happened regularly.

  She slipped onto her knees and sobbed.

  Bisma clucked her tongue. “What is this about, Zara?” Her tone had softened and she’d moved to stand over Zara.

  “I… can’t… tell you,” Zara stuttered. “It’s nothing to do with spying, I promise.”

  “Then why keep it a secret?” Bisma crouched and pried away Zara’s hands.

  She blinked the tears back. “I’m supposed to only work on climate and weather systems. That is all I’m allowed to do as part of the student exchange program. It’s very strict. I can’t risk being thrown off it. That’s why I agreed to this ordeal thing. If they saw me being punished, the people in charge, they would recall me.”

  “I don’t understand. You were looking at medical files.” Bisma dragged Zara to her feet.

  “They’re only research documents. But your world is so much more advanced than ours. You can cure things we can’t.”

  Bisma led Zara to a chair. “Sit. Zara, who is it you’re trying to cure?”

  Tears welled up in her eyes. “My sister, April. She’s dying.” Her shoulders hunched. “She’s younger than me and nobody can help her. It’s a rare condition.” She sniffed. Bisma handed her a handkerchief and she blew her nose. “When I was accepted on to the exchange program, Dad said I should try to find anything that might help her.”

  “So you’re not interested in weather systems?” Bisma asked.

  “Oh, I am. Really, that’s my area of expertise. I do want to learn more. But my parents saw this as an opportunity. If the Vendu had a cure or a treatment, something to help April, it would make such a difference. So, I’ve been searching the university databases for weeks, whenever I get the opportunity. And today, I think I found something.”

  “A cure?”

  Zara shrugged. She wasn’t a doctor. The medical terminology was too complicated and the Vendu anatomy was slightly different to humans. “I looked for similar symptoms and found this one d
octor who has been researching a disease just like April’s. He’s trialing a drug which uses mind control. I don’t get how it works though. It’s too complicated.”

  “I see.” Bisma puffed out her lips. “Do you know where this doctor is?”

  “He’s not on Earth, but Halos. If I could contact him, I would. But, it’s useless. The judge hasn’t given me access to any messaging system. I can’t even contact my parents to find out how April is or tell them what I’ve found out.” The tears cascaded down her cheeks. “I don’t want to fail them. I’m in enough trouble as it is with the drinking.”

  Bisma sat on the seat next to her and took Zara’s hand in hers. She squeezed it. “Is the drinking your way of coping with stress?”

  Zara nodded. She hid it well back at home in New Phoenix. The party princess was really not a princess. The reason she got drunk was to forget. Just for a few hours she could be selfish, have fun, and forget about her dying sister. In the mornings, when she woke hungover, she’d remember what she’d done the night before and feel awful. She deserved to be whipped.

  Bisma sighed. “Why, silly girl, have you not told me before? I’m a nurse. An imperial nurse with plenty of contacts.”

  “You would help me?” Zara gaped. “You’re not going to tell Galen?”

  “You’ve tricked him. I guess your keenness to study is more to do with helping your sister than the climate?”

  “Yes, miss,” Zara said sheepishly. “It does help to pass the time, too.”

  “He won’t like this deceit.”

  “Would he send me back to be whipped? Would he have me deported?”

  Bisma frowned. “I don’t know. He is his own master.”

  “I noticed,” Zara grinned and Bisma laughed for a couple of seconds. She wasn’t really an ice queen, Zara began to realize.