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

  “What do you need from this doctor?”

  “Collaboration. I would plead with him to speak to April’s doctors. Why is it that the Vendu share information about the environment, terraforming and those things, but not medicine? If we are so alike, why don’t they help us?”

  Bisma rose to her feet. “That is beyond my knowledge. However, let me think about this. I can’t promise I won’t go to the judge. It depends on many things.”

  Zara clasped her hands together. “Please, Bisma. Please help me. Us.”

  “I’ll see.” She glanced about the room as if to remember something. “There is another matter we must deal with first. I came to tell you that tonight the judge wishes to claim you. We have preparations to make.”

  Tonight! Zara stiffened. The plug, which she’d managed to ignore, made its presence felt as she clenched around it. She wasn’t ready, surely?

  “Come. Give me the name of the doctor, then shut the console down. Wipe all trace of your searches.” Bisma spoke with urgency. The clock was ticking not only for April, but the day itself was moving on swiftly. Today was the day Zara would lose her virginity.

  * * *

  “It’s no use, Bisma, I’m not ready,” Zara said despondently. Her reflection in the mirror showed no trace of the tattoo. “My skin, look! There is nothing. I’m trying and it’s not working.”

  Bisma clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth and continued to brush Zara’s hair. “Do you fear him?”

  “No.”

  “Then, it will happen.” Bisma spoke with the certainty Zara lacked.

  “It won’t.”

  “If you don’t fear him, what do you fear?” Bisma laid the brush on the table.

  Zara pointed at the bed. “That I’ll disappoint him.”

  Bisma’s eyebrows furrowed. “You are his. He’ll claim you and do so with great passion. What you fear is unfounded.”

  “But… I’ve no idea how to please him.”

  Bisma laughed. “Zara, you will please him easily. Now lie on the bed.”

  “I don’t think I can do this, Bisma. My tattoo is telling me—”

  “Telling you? Silly girl. The tattoo tells him, not you. You should have some faith. He’ll see you and you will know.”

  Zara wished she had Bisma’s confidence. She lay on the bed and stretched her arms above her head. Bisma bound her.

  “Spread your legs,” Bisma said in her ear.

  “Do I have to?”

  “You’ll be spanked if you don’t.”

  A warning for a punishment she didn’t want. Inch by inch, she separated her legs. Still her skin wasn’t changing. She tried to focus on Galen, on his stern voice and wicked smile, but this time, nothing seemed to work. Tears filled her eyes. She wanted to curl up into a ball.

  Bisma clucked her tongue again. An ominous sound of disappointment. What would Galen do when he saw she’d let him down?

  The door opened. He’d arrived. He wore the uniform of his office and the blackness enhanced his massive figure, especially the breadth of his shoulders, which narrowed to his hips, then out again with his bulky thighs. Those thighs would have to fit between her legs, surely? Oh. My. God. She wasn’t going to do it. She couldn’t. She needed every drop of courage she could muster. The trembling intensified and wave after wave of nervous flutters flew around her body in a swarm that triggered the warming buzz of the tattoo and its emerging colors.

  Bisma leaned down. “Remember what I told you to say?” she murmured.

  “Sir. Lord… please… take me,” Zara stuttered. She closed her eyes.

  “Leave us, Bisma,” he ordered.

  The door closed. They were alone. A storm of fiery butterflies stampeded inside her belly. But, the flutters of excitement weren’t reaching where she needed them to go.

  “Yes, keep your eyes shut,” Galen said. “I’ve a surprise for you, my Zara.”

  She breathed rapidly, desperately trying to tame her overactive nerves.

  She heard movement, a rustling. However, he wasn’t touching her or the bed.

  “Now, open your eyes.”

  She obeyed and blinked once, then twice.

  Galen was naked. He stood at the bottom of the bed, legs astride and arms folded across his chest. His hair was swept back off his face, revealing his square forehead and dark eyebrows. Below the solid jawline was his sturdy neck and broad shoulders. From the neck down, he was inked with a splendid tattoo that accentuated the outline of his sinews and ribs. It extended down one arm and one leg, halting at his ankle. For a second she thought she saw a dragon, or some similar creature. But, then it was a wolf or a maybe a lion. These creatures all had something in common; they were ferocious, hungry beasts.

  Zara snatched a breath and swallowed hard. He’d a beast of an erection too. Engorged to the tip, it seemed longer, thicker than ever. She’d touched it before with her lips, sucked and licked it, she’d felt it along her spine and between her ass cheeks, but it was the first time she’d seen his cock with the full backdrop of his body.

  Fuck, he’s a splendid specimen!

  But, how the hell was that going to fit inside her? She tensed, lost the momentum of her arousal, and pulled on her chains.

  “Sir, please be gentle with me.” She glanced at her body—the colors that she had seen a few seconds ago weren’t there. Instead of enriching her skin, the tattoos were fading. “Sir, I…” She felt terrible. She wasn’t aroused as she should be and it bugged her more than she imagined it would. A solitary tear trickled down her face.

  Galen pressed his lips into a frown, dropped his arms, and moved toward the bed with purpose.

  Zara closed her eyes again. She started to tremble. A knot of anxiety filled her stomach as she felt him breathe over her. If this was her fate, she hoped it was over quickly. Galen was not human. He was an alien. A warrior. A barbarian.

  * * *

  The moment he saw the solitary tear, Galen knew he had to act swiftly. Her tattoos had faded. They’d spiked glorious for a few seconds after she’d seen him naked, then gone again. Something wasn’t right. She should be drawing up her knees, parting her legs, and arching her back.

  Except, this was a human creature. A virgin with little experience and he must appear to her as a beast waiting to ravish her. A Vendu female would find such an awakening exciting, if challenging. Zara hadn’t the heart of a submissive, not yet. She was learning, but he’d overestimated her readiness. He could spank her into a deeper state of submission, bind her legs wide apart, all things that might inflame a Vendu woman into a state of wantonness, but he doubted they would work for Zara.

  Leaning over her, he unlocked her bindings and released her wrists. She gasped, her eyes springing wide open as he scooped her up into his arms. Holding her tight against his chest, he kicked the door open, marched out down the corridors to his chamber.

  “Galen—” she exclaimed.

  “Hush, little human.” He silenced her with a stare.

  He laid her on his bed. “We’ll start again. What say you, Zara Webb? I shall still demand your obedience and I shall punish you if you are naughty. You are still mine. However, it was a mistake to think you would simply bend to my desires and surrender your virginity. I see that now. This joining of our bodies, it shall meet both our needs. Do you trust me?”

  She nodded.

  “Say it.”

  “I trust you, Galen.”

  “Then.” He brushed his palm against one of her nipples. A ring appeared around it. “Let me lead. This night you shall not be bound for my pleasure. This night I shall take you as I promised I would. I keep my promises.”

  He lowered his mouth over her trembling lips and kissed them lightly. She opened her mouth for him to dip his tongue between her teeth, but no further. It was a prelude to what was to come. His mouth became his weapon for foreplay and slowly, he linked his actions to his fingers. While he kissed her, they mapped out every contour of her body with leisurely caresses.

&
nbsp; Her tattoos awoke, bringing to the surface a rainbow of dark colors as she gasped and moaned. When he parted her legs and fluttered his tongue over her delicate clitoris, she held her breasts and squeezed her nipples. He would let her play this time. Allow the act of self-pleasuring. But only this time. They enjoyed a duet of his mouth and her roving hands until the tattoos were black as ebony.

  He slid his body up hers, grazing her nipples with his chest until they were face to face. Her half-open eyes registered him with a flash of brightness. His cock was there, nudging at her entrance. Each poke separated her lips wider as he prepared her.

  “You’re wet, so fucking wet,” he murmured. He kissed her lips, her cheeks and forehead, reassuring her with his mouth, while below, he probed, testing her readiness.

  Zara panted, “Yes. I feel it.”

  She would. She was saturated to the point he was sliding up and down her slit—her fertile sex open and needy. The state of her arousal excited his cock into a pillar of rock hardness. He’d not felt this stiff before. If he’d taken her in her room as he planned, he would have missed out on this feeling. Even the ache in his balls was energizing. He continued to glide the head of his erection between her slippery folds. What a fantastic sensation and it oiled his cock, too.

  She drew her knees up higher and wide apart, tilting her pelvis to accommodate his rocking hips. He’d not asked her, but she’d done it instinctively. Around her head, her blonde hair flowed out in the shape of a fan with her flushed face at its epicenter. The blush of hot blood extended down her neck and filled the background of her tattoo. Black on pink, almost crimson. She wanted to come. He didn’t need a tattoo to tell him she was close and he’d yet to spear her, claim her.

  It was his desire too, to see her come. First, he had to take her, make her his beyond any doubt. Damn the ordeal, the rituals, for this night they did not matter. No chains, no pleading for mercy, no battery of thrusts to knock down her door. Instead, he leaned into her, opening her up.

  Her eyes sprang open wide. Was she about to deny him with words? The tattoos told him a different story, but words, especially hers, could change those colors, diminish their intensity.

  “Take me,” she said hoarsely. “Take me, Galen.”

  “I shall, Zara.” He swung forward with his hips and pushed aside any resistance. With one fluid movement, he’d erased her virginity. It was gone.

  Chapter Eight

  Passion. She’d not expected an exhibition of passion among the pain and pleasure. There was pain, yes; it was the proof of her innocence. He was huge and the girth of his cock, thickened and unyielding, speared her with one thrust. She called out and grabbed his arms, clinging to his biceps as they bulged. He held that position, hands planted on either side of her head, back straight and hips between her colorful thighs. She gazed up at him. His face was a state of bliss, eyes half closed, mouth ajar. He was savoring her, like a dish of sweetness.

  She inhaled deeply, focused on his impressive masculinity, which formed a bridge over her body, and pushed aside the discomfort.

  Wait, just wait. It will go.

  She was right, the pinch eased and she started to stretch. He inched deeper. Each tiny progression of his cock caused a spark of electric energy that centered around her clit. There was friction, she felt it, but it wasn’t hindering his progress because she aided it with her own natural lubrication. Now, her virginity was gone. Destroyed. She was glad. She’d no regrets, no harboring of doubts. Having an alien, a Vendu warrior take it, was a worthy accolade. She might even boast about it to her friends. They would be envious.

  She smiled softly, and briefly, because he was still inside her and he seemed, heavens above, to be growing bigger!

  Maybe it was seconds, but it seemed like minutes while he held her there with his nose burrowed into her hair. He exhaled deeply. Then, he eased back and withdrew.

  “There,” he said softly. “Now, let me explore you fully.”

  A fresh rise of adrenaline flooded her belly and created a storm of flutters there. The energy pumping around her body continued to direct its flow to her pussy, giving her the mettle she needed. She mustn’t lose her confidence.

  Her lips trembled and he brushed his mouth over them. “Sh. You’re doing good, Zara. I’m not going to punish your pussy. This isn’t about your punishment.”

  Words of comfort, reassurance that his purpose was honorable and not judgmental. She needed to hear them and they gave her a resurgence of trust. She hooked her ankles around his waist and nodded.

  He thrust again, this time deeper. Again, the pinch, the stab, but it quickly translated into a different sensation. Rather like when he blew on her clitoris, it excited nerve endings she’d never known she had.

  “Oh, my,” she groaned.

  He grinned. “Again?”

  “Yes, please.”

  He withdrew almost fully, then thrust again. The formula repeated itself.

  She tucked her arms around his shoulders, dug in her fingernails and allowed him the joy of fucking her for the first time. He started to use the full length of his rod, stroking her insides with it until the bulb hit harder. A new sensation of pain among the pleasure. The two seemed to feed off each other, as long as the former wasn’t unbearable, and it wasn’t. It was perfectly in tune with her emotional state.

  He thrust, paused, withdrew, and repeated. On and on. He kept the pace the same, neither leisurely nor fast. He didn’t pound or pummel, but neither did he tease her with unsatisfactory dips. The weight of his body was lifted high above her. Galen demonstrated his strength by letting her see his stomach muscles flex, his shoulders and elbows rise and fall while never allowing her to be crushed. As for her feeble body, she managed to keep her wobbly legs in position, but as the minutes multiplied, she began to struggle.

  “I… my…” she gasped, unable to articulate anything sensible.

  “Come for me,” he rasped.

  Come! She was excited, dazzled by his generosity, but an orgasm wasn’t there, not when she battled to keep position.

  He paused, and looked down from where he’d been gazing to a distant point in the room. Her tattoos were dark, but had lost the blackness of deep saturation.

  “My legs,” she said apologetically. She didn’t want him to stop.

  He withdrew, and with a few swift movements, she found herself astride him, and his cock upright before her.

  “Ride it. You may use it to help you come. This way I can watch you.” He supported her waist as she rose above the head of his cock.

  She had an idea, something that she knew would bring her closer to completion. “Please, may I suck it first?”

  He grinned. “Sure.”

  She shuffled down between his legs and knelt. Lowering her mouth over his glans, she licked, then coiled her tongue around it. The pre-cum tasted good. She took a deep breath, opened her mouth wide—it had to be as wide as she could open—and swallowed what she could. It was more than what she thought possible. Somehow, her brain had disconnected her gag reflex. Drawing in her cheeks, she sucked. She felt the ripple of his veins swell as she held her breath.

  Hold it, hold it! She released his cock and flung her head back, gasping for air to combat the dizziness.

  “Again, for me,” he growled.

  The urgency in his voice was back. He’d not used it since they entered his room, now she longed to hear it drum in her ears. A demanding tone, one that she must obey or face the consequences. He promised not to punish her with his body, but in its place, she craved the words he spoke when he showed his dominance, his control over her. She realized, being his submissive was a necessity. When he commanded her, she lusted for more of him. Without that dominance, she would wither and fail.

  She swept her hair out of her face, so he could see her face and lips. She deliberately hesitated—her mouth stopping short of touching his smooth glans.

  “Zara,” he said softly. His face was set in stone, unwavering. She couldn’t take her e
yes of it. “Do as you’re told.”

  There it was again—her heartbeats thrumming in her throat, the spike of excitement, trepidation, but not fear. She maintained the pause, milking it, knowing it would force him to respond, to take action and intervene, and he did. He grasped her tempting locks of hair, bundled them into a knot and dragged her head down onto his cock.

  “Suck,” he commanded.

  She did, greedily, as if she’d never fed on it before. When she spluttered and coughed, he allowed her up for air. Then down again, and again. Over and over. He maintained the rhythm, directing her with his voice and hands, until suddenly he jerked his hips upward. He produced a low rumble in his throat as he came. The spurt of liquid filled her mouth and slid down her throat.

  He released her hair and smoothed the tangles with a few rakes of his fingers. “Good girl,” he sighed.

  She slumped across him, her jaw aching. However, he wasn’t done. Far from it. His cock twitched between them. Still hard, fully erect. A Vendu man could fuck and fuck, hour upon hour, spilling two or three times before spent. Zara would have to rustle up her extra energy to match his stamina.

  “Ride me,” he said, once more grasping her waist.

  She sat astride once more, angled her pelvis, and held his shaft with one hand. The span of her hand was wrapped around it, reminding her of its girth, its power. He pulled her down as she impaled herself. It required perseverance, the same courage she’d found when he claimed her virginity. He kept her steady, ensured she was perfectly aligned to him. Her pussy opened up, allowing him to lift his hips up and penetrate deeper. When he hit her belly, she cried out.

  Galen’s face hardened. The bliss of his orgasm had given way once more to a display of determination and desire. She fed off it, finding it strangely satisfying to know she was the reason he was alive with this unearthly passion he’d bought from his alien world.

  “I said ride it,” he commanded.

  She bounced up and down, her hands flat on his firm belly where the dragon tattoo snorted fiery flames. How was this possible? An hour ago, she was tied to a bed, fretting about how she’d cope with his mammoth cock, and here she was stretched around it and sopping wet, humping him with no dignity and a crazy need to come in the midst of all the discomfort.