stay, both in and out of bed, once you have grown bored with him for yourself.’” Hanna knew how sensitive he had to be right then, and she took advantage of it by closing her fist slowly around him. She found herself distracted for an instant as she realized he was so thick that even her long fingers could not wrap fully closed around him. The realization made her a little bit breathless, and she had to force herself back on task. “Perhaps he had a few potential buyers come up to test the feel of the merchandise,” she speculated. “They do that often. Let them touch, stroke…feel for themselves the hardness and sensitivity of their prospective toy.”
Vejhon was rasping for breath in a combination of fury, the hyper-stimulation of drugs, and her obliterating touch. Her stroke felt like a magical relief and torture all at once against his bursting flesh. Blood of the gods be damned, he had played with sexual stims before…what man hadn’t? But never with a reaction so frenetic as what he felt under Hanna’s touch. Warm and soft, but sure and firm in a manner that did everything to make a conflagration out of already burning nerves. He hadn’t rushed to the crest of needing to orgasm so quickly in all of his life, not even when he’d been a hypersexed youth first trying to figure it all out.
It had to be the stim, he argued with himself, shaking sweat out of his eyes, the ends of his hair flicking around the crown of his head. It was stronger than those of his world. That had to be why. There was no way in hell otherwise that he would so ferociously crave what she was giving him. Yet, even as he blamed the drugs, a sinister whisper in his subconscious was trying to make him admit there was more to it than that.
“Some will even drop to their knees and take a taste of you,” she whispered in a vivid purr. She licked her dark lips absently as she rubbed her thumb over the purpled head of his erection. She probably didn’t even realize she’d done it, but watching the contrast of her blush-pink tongue licking wetly over deep violet red was like touching a flame to fumes for Vejhon. It became horrifyingly easy for him to imagine her mouth opening over his cock and the stroke of her tongue as she swallowed him down. All the while, in reality, she was flicking her thumb over him, swirling it in a deadly imitation of that very act, until he felt the hard twinge of readiness tightening his balls.
He swore nastily in her face, cursing her and his own fate. His own weakness. Still, she stroked him down his length and up again, her fingers milking pre-cum from him and slicking up the stroke she handled him with until he began to vibrate with the tremors of nerves screaming for release.
“Your seller no doubt let you be toyed with for some time to prove endurance. And then, he proudly announces that you are so fertile your ejaculate could populate a planet! Right before he injects you a second time.”
Her artful hand instantly released his penis as the opposite palm slapped against his chest and, as promised, her ring spurred another injection into his bloodstream. “Now,” she breathed, “your body is overwhelmed with the aphrodisiac you’ve been fed. It disconnects your mind from your body, removing all of your will from the equation, overriding any resistance. There is nothing you can do but feel. Feel the burning of your body, the pump of blood into your already engorged cock.” She stepped aside, making certain she did not touch him anymore. “No one has to touch you. No stroke is necessary. Nothing can stop the release that is boiling up out of your control.”
But he was clearly going to try his best, Hanna noted. His entire body was coated in sweat, a shuddering of resistance trembling through every flexed muscle he could force under his command. His efforts truly were futile, but she had known he would fight. She wanted him to fight with everything he had. This way, he would really know what might have awaited him had Najir not attended that sale.
“As you are nothing but a slave, you could be laid out and tethered just as you are now,” she mused, allowing her rousing sexuality to filter strongly into her voice now. It was the pure beauty of the man before her and the outstanding ferocity he used to fight that stirred her, though, not his helplessness and defeat. “In your present state a woman could climb on top of you and ride you until she is ready for the climax she is manipulating from you. Or better yet, if a man had liked you…” She trailed off meaningfully, her stare hard on him as he shot daggers through her heart from his eyes. The arteries on his thick neck were distended with effort, and anticipatory fluid dripped down the length of his glistening phallus. “Or perhaps you prefer men anyway,” she said with a shrug of a shoulder, even though she knew full well it was women who aroused him. He had looked at her body enough times and in enough ways since she entered the room to assure her of that. “Of course, in that case a man might ride you, or you might find yourself on your hands and knees preparing to—”
“Shut up, you sick bitch!”
He roared the insulting command just as his body burst the confines of his control. Orgasm ripped through him like razor wire, tearing him apart from pride to penis. He came so hard that his semen jetted across the floor several feet, long viscous streams at first and then harsh spitting globs as his glands tried to obey the irrational demands of the stimulant he’d been fed. Vejhon’s vocal outrage as he climaxed growled off the high ceilings of the room, and then came the inevitable low groans of agonizing pain as his cock tried to spit out fluids that were no longer available. It stood out from his body, still rock hard and jerking torturously, remnants of cum dripping from the open slit at the head.
Had he not been tied hand and foot, he would have fallen to his knees by now. None could stand up under this kind of painful bodily betrayal. Even Hanna could not remain stoic, giving herself away by biting her lip and curling her brows in sympathy. When it finally ended for him, he gasped hard for breath, pulling his head up and catching her in the compassionate expression for a second before she recovered herself. He was bleeding at every single manacle point, a testament to how he’d fought against himself. His failure, she knew, was utter humiliation for a man of his type.
It had been the same for Najir. He had been the first rare bird she had found captured, and now she had another. Najir had found another. He had looked at this man and seen himself all those years ago. Seen him as Hanna had seen Najir the day he had been auctioned off like a prized thoroughbred pet. What she had described to Jhon had been what she had seen Najir suffer through that day. Hand after hand touching and stroking him, mouth after mouth sucking at him and licking him. Some seeing how far they dared to go in public. Only, Najir had not been in stasis. He had been awake and aware as the stimulant and a dozen men and women buyers raped him of his will and control. Then the flesh peddler had injected the second stimulant and the crowd had delighted in the ferocious explosion of his ejaculation and his outcry of anger that accompanied it. Hanna knew her neighbors, her fellow nobles, and she knew that some of them thrived on that kind of pain from others…that terrible kind of suffering.
She was not one of them.
4
Najir watched through the transparent wall as Hanna quietly went about dampening a towel and cleaning the floor herself. He knew she would never allow a servant to come into that room to witness any part of what she was being forced to do. Just as he knew she wouldn’t touch Jhon just then, even to clean his body or wounds, because the stimulant that had ravaged him would make him scream if he were touched too soon.
Najir’s handler at his auction had not been so thoughtful.
The memory made the muscles between his shoulders bunch and tense and he fought off the chill it left behind. Najir knew why Hanna must take the new male through these paces, because he understood Vejhon about as well as he did himself. Oh, there were sure to be differences between them, and in truth he was hoping there were broad differences in their makeup, but the inured basics of pride and denial were very much the same. He realized that a wall of pure fury had been blocking all reason and logic in the warrior’s mind. The betrayal of his freedom would have kept him balking, deaf to all attempts to gain his trust. Hanna had been forced to inject him harshly
