Demon's Captive (3 page)

Chapter Six

      Charity felt Melmanon's hold move from her waist to her arms, lifting her easily until she stood before him, braced between his powerful hands. She swayed slightly, unbalanced. She looked up, her eyes level with his ribs, or rather, where ribs should be. It was impossible to tell, since strange muscles stretched here as well.
      Her sex throbbed from his repeated taking, and her ass burned from his forced entry. Unable to stop trembling, she wondered why he had forced her to orgasm -- to humiliate or to confuse. She thought the climaxes had been to degrade her, a part of the torture he intended to inflict.
      It mattered little, because despite her exhaustion, he seemed bent on using her more. She let her head droop and flinched when she saw his erection, proof of his renewed arousal. His hands burned like brands where they gripped her upper arms. They suddenly clenched tightly, causing her to squeak as he lifted her again.
      He turned her to face the bed, standing between his legs, his knees on either side of her waist. The position brought her attention back to his erection, blood red and visibly throbbing.
      "Suck it, Charity." She felt a measure of relief at his words, because he wasn't using her sore body again to satisfy his lust. Bending at the waist, she wrapped her hands around his hot flesh and lowered her head.
      Growls erupted from him as Charity applied suction and her tongue to the most sensitive part of his cock. Her hands began a rhythm along his shaft, squeezing and stroking. She didn't question the beast's desire. Grateful, at least, that while demeaning, this was not painful. It didn't hurt, except where her mouth stretched tight around his girth. Although slightly different, he seemed sensitive in the same areas as a human man, though much hotter to the touch.
      The groans and snarls he made frightened her, but she continued, working furiously to bring him to orgasm. When his shaft began to pulsate, his words pierced her mind.       Swallow it!
      He swelled to even greater proportions, cum jettisoning from his cock, and she couldn't keep up. It ran down her chin and onto her chest. The hot flow was almost sweet on her tongue as she lapped and swallowed. To appease him, she continued to suck and stroke, milking him through his climax and beyond.
      As before, he stayed hard, but reduced in size. Still sucking and stroking, Charity released him from her mouth with an audible pop when he used his hold on her shoulders to push her away.
      With her lids drooping in exhaustion, she felt more than saw a towel brush her as he wiped his seed from her face and breasts. He pulled her against him, easing them both back onto the bed, then lowered her onto his upright shaft.
      She cried out, bracing her hands against him in a futile attempt to lever off his invading length. After a moment, when he hadn't moved, Charity looked at his face. It seemed that whatever he saw in her expression was what he had been waiting for, because he spoke.
      "Ride me." His tone brooked no argument, and she swallowed heavily, fearing his anger more than her discomfort.
      She sat up and found that her knees didn't touch the bed; she was completely helpless atop his cock. As if he realized it too, his hands came under her hips, lifting her, then letting her fall, wringing a gasp from her as her clit struck his pelvis hard, unwanted sensations flaring to life. With no way to stop him, Charity didn't fight as his hands continued to lift and release her in a hard ride of his flesh.
      Several moments later, she choked back a scream when she came, shuddering as convulsions gripped her. Exhausted and spent, she slumped forward, her face resting against the fiery skin of his chest.
      Part of her was horrified at her response, and longed to wrench away from him and his terrifying control over her. But weariness and weakness pulled at her. Unable to move or even think, Charity was unaware when sleep claimed her.
      On his back, her slight weight atop him and her quivering sex still wrapping his own, Melmanon felt her mind fade out as she drifted off. It was not a peaceful sleep; her days of struggle and fear, the culmination of her capture, and his ruthless sexual assault had left her completely depleted.
      Alone, he used the privacy to catalogue the sensations in his body. With her face resting on his chest, he felt her breath slide over his skin in soft puffs. Her hair cascaded around her head and down onto his sides, brushing his skin lightly. The clinging, wet corridor of her core gave an occasional pulse, tightening on his shaft, giving him pleasure. After a few minutes of enjoying the feel of her, he decided he wanted to look.
      He used one hand to lift her off him and splayed the other across the back of her head and neck. Holding her like a baby, he turned her onto her back on the black bed coverings.
      With his hand spread against the soft skin of her stomach and pelvis, he noted the burning darkness of his skin appeared like old blood against her milky pale hue. The breadth of his hand also forcibly reminded him of her diminutive stature. Considering his much greater size, it was a wonder she was so docile before him.
      Never had another being been so helpless before him. She neither fought nor seemed to plan further attack. From his views of her mind, he saw her defeated acceptance and her fear of future pain. Even when he commanded her to suck his cock, there was only desperation to please, to submit to him, and to avoid his displeasure. Melmanon recalled the dark thrill that had coursed through him as he watched her obey.
      Lustful thoughts of the things he could do to her and make her do to him flashed like an erotic vid through his mind. Charity was no warrior who must be conquered over and over, on whom one could never turn one's back.
      She was a complete submissive.
      Her kind never survived in his world. The only exceptions were brides, women recognized during testing for their singular potential as a mate and mother. Those women were raised and trained to be productive, fertile wives. Even then, they were usually assertive and confident, like women who took the warrior path. If some were occasionally more submissive, it was an added virtue to their mates.
      Since her people would not be added to the war tribe, her suitability would never be considered. Without the distinction of being a wife, his people would never suffer her to live as a citizen. She could only be a slave.
      Melmanon absentmindedly stroked the soft skin of her belly and considered how rare a find she was. In addition to her utter subservience, she had a lush body, and she sexually excited him as no other ever had. It was a pity he had to get rid of her so soon… He sat up slightly to sharpen his gaze on her slumbering face. An idea formed in his mind.
      He was a hero of some renown. It was well known how much the war tribe owed to his military prowess, and the list of his successful campaigns stretched longer than any commander in their history. A toy such as this could very well be sanctioned, considering how difficult she had proven to capture, and the bloodlust he rightfully deserved to satisfy at her expense.
      To request a special dispensation to keep her as a torture slave would not be unheard of. How he tortured her need not be anyone's business but his own.
      Pleased he had found a way to keep her at his disposal as long as he liked, he relaxed. Proprietary interest flared, and he looked to the time then considered how long he had before needing to return to the deck.
      His gaze once again on her pale flesh, he traced the contours of her body, starting at her small face with its frame of dark brown hair curling to her shoulders, across the leather collar she still wore, and down. Her breasts rose and fell, and he rubbed a calloused finger across a nipple, watching it bloom into a hard nub.
      Suddenly curious without knowing why, he reached into her slumbering mind for memories. Images of her former lovers came into focus: small, pale hands like her own caressing her, small mouths drawing at her nipples, pressing into her sex with lapping tongues. When he mentally pulled away, he felt her body give a small shudder, as if even in sleep she felt his presence inside. Good, he mused. He planned to be her whole world. The sooner she became attuned to him, the better.
      Between her legs, the small patch of hair glistened from their joining, and her thighs rested slightly open, revealing pink inner lips. He visually measured the differences in their bodies and felt himself grow hard again. Damn. Even the fiercest warrior met in challenge had never aroused him so often or so quickly. He rose from the bed and cleansed himself in the lavatory before donning his clothing.
      Garbed in his usual attire, he returned to where Charity slept and pulled the thin black sheet over her exposed body. He watched as she sighed, curling onto her side, one small hand cupped to her face. The leather of the collar peeked out from the concealing cover of her hair, and he brushed his fingers against it briefly before striding purposefully from the room.
      There was much to be done, but he didn't discount his need to further analyze his reaction to the captive. As he strode down the corridor to the main command deck, he considered what it meant that he had found such pleasure in dominating Charity. Grimly, he wondered how long it would last. He still longed to kill someone. Eventually, it would probably be her.

Chapter Seven

      Charity woke slowly, coming to awareness in gradual stages. First, the feeling of her hair, soft and cool, brushed her cheek. Next, the tingle of numbness from the arm supporting her head in lieu of a pillow. Her eyes fluttered open, and she surveyed the dimly lit room around her. From the bed, she saw two walls that looked like black steel, reminiscent of a nautical ship, with rivets at the joints. The door that led out was the same, rounded at the edges and firmly closed.
      Gingerly, Charity propped herself up and groaned aloud at her sore muscles, a reminder of the sexual demands of her captor. The ache between her legs was sharp. She slid off the bed and crossed the room. Her bare toes curled against the cold floor as she entered the sterile lavatory. Though alien, the basic fixtures were fairly self-explanatory. Within five minutes, she stood beneath a punishing spray of hot water.
      Braced against the cold wall, Charity let the stinging force batter her body, and wished she could do the same with her mind. Memories of her behavior burned her eyes with unshed tears. It seemed the worst kind of betrayal to her people. Even now, she couldn't understand why she responded so readily to the demon's touch.
      Perhaps it was because he had behaved so unexpectedly. In her heart, she thought she was facing death, only to be offered something entirely different. There had been no terrible brutality in what had happened between them. A thoughtful frown puckered her brow. In fact, if not for his incredible size and frightening appearance, the act might have even been tender at times.
      She shook away the traitorous musings when a harsh inner voice reminded her of the crimes his kind had so easily committed against her world. To forget what he was capable of, what he would do when he tired of her, would be foolish. Her fists clenched in anger, she vowed she would not allow herself to find pleasure in his arms again.
      Newly determined and much revived by the cleansing spray, Charity stepped from the stall. Wrapped in a large toweling cloth that swaddled her from neck to knees, she entered the room. Her breath drew in sharply at the sight of him reclining on the bed. Her gaze dropped to her feet, abruptly fearful and shy, terrified she had incurred his displeasure. She started at the sound of his voice, but did not look up.
      "I hope you are comfortable." His tone was chillingly sarcastic. "Drop the cloth."
      The room now seemed starkly cold, and she hesitated slightly before releasing her cover. It hit the floor, and he was on his feet. In two great strides he was upon her. His hands closed brutally around her waist and lifted her to his eye level. Unwillingly, her eyes met his as her fingertips reflexively braced against his chest.
      She spoke before she could stop herself. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please…" The last was squeezed painfully past a growing constriction in her throat as tears threatened to fall. Shame at her own cowardice overwhelmed her, and her eyes closed while she waited for him to act.
In Charity's mind, Melmanon felt desperate obedience and a dozen new fears. Her skin was ice cold, and her body shivered lightly in his grasp. The feel of her suspended helplessly between his hands helped him forget his anger. When he'd come back to find her gone, his instinctive reaction had been to assume she'd tried to escape.
      He had gotten approval to take Charity as a torture slave. Although slaves typically died relatively quickly, lasting at most perhaps one or two years, there were those who had endured for much longer. He was confident that regardless of how long he entertained himself with her, there would be no issue.
      To look at her now, his body was even more certain he had made the right choice. The temporary pleasure to be had by torturing and killing her was far outweighed by the ecstasy of using her for sex. Although he had frequently combat-challenged other warriors to relieve his lust, the use of her soft body was far more satisfying than any war cunt or warrior he'd ever had.
      Her thoughts cut through his own as her fear increased. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…Please, please, please…I'm so tired…please don't hurt me…I can't…I can't… He growled deeply as he lowered his arms, bringing her against his chest with her face below his own. "Charity, look at me." He was gratified by how quickly her head snapped up, her eyes flinching slightly as they met his own. "Obey me. Always. Immediately. Do you understand?" He heard her thoughts even before her head nodded vigorously.
      "Yes, yes, yes." Her voice was breathless and reed-thin.
      "Good. Go to the bed." After lowering her to the floor, he was pleased to see how quickly she ran to the bed, clambering on top with no pretense of pride or modesty in her nakedness. With her feet tucked beneath her bottom, she clasped her hands in her lap and bent her head. He had never seen anything so arousing.
      He shed his clothes on the way and used the flat of one hand to press Charity backward. There was no resistance in her body, but he heard her thoughts and worries loudly in his mind.
No pain. Please, no pain. Please, please, please. I'm such a coward.
      Yes, she was a coward. But it was that timorousness that made having her so desirable and using her so thrilling. It was also what awakened repressed fantasies inside him, bringing out his curiosity.
      He was reluctant to hurt her. Even more strangely, he wanted to replace every other lover in her memory. In her mind, he'd seen fond and happy recollections of tender lovers. As much as his domination aroused her, he was determined to conquer all of her, not only her submissive side.
      Looming over her slight form, he saw a fine trembling in her legs and belly. He grew even harder at the small sign of her nervousness. Emboldened to do whatever he wanted, he moved to fulfill a forbidden fantasy.
      He settled between her thighs, his face close enough to smell her arousal. Despite the soreness he knew she felt and the recriminations in her own mind, she was wet. Ever since he had seen her memories, he had wondered about tasting her.
      Using his thumbs to spread her nether lips, he marveled at the deep pink color of her sex. Every detail was revealed in glistening dew, her tiny clit still protectively sheathed. He lowered his head to her, took a long, slow
lick, then returned to explore.

      Charity nearly yelped at the first touch of his tongue. Unnaturally smooth, it felt long and thick. After his first lap, he settled in and delved deeply, stirring her to near orgasm. Fearful of his wicked teeth should he decide to take a bite, she responded as his strokes pumped her to a fever pitch. She despaired at her inability to remain aloof, and bitterly thought any other advance would have been easier to withstand. Knowingly or not, he had found her point of weakest resistance.
      Unable to stop, she raised her hands to the thick black hair that reached his shoulders, threading through it, then tightening to hold him close as she approached climax. Suddenly, it was there. Her internal muscles clamped around his still invading tongue. Long moments passed, and her hands fell away from his head. He rose and pulled her hips against his own.
      She felt a stinging pressure as his massive cock pressed deep. There was a moment when he touched her cervix, causing her to flinch in distress. It didn't last as he instantly pulled back, easing the discomfort. After setting a steady rhythm, he proceeded with measured thrusts that perfectly filled her.
      "Touch your breasts, Charity." His growl was more effective than a shout, and had a purring edge she hadn't heard from him before.
      She cupped her breasts in both hands, moaning slightly at the delicious tightening of her lower body. Another climax was building. She pinched and tugged at her nipples with abandon. Pleasure flared as she twisted them almost painfully, and she convulsed around his cock. As if her moment had triggered his own, he plunged deep, and she felt his scalding hot seed inside her.
      For several moments, he held her immobile. Then he pulled away, her flesh releasing his with a reluctant quiver. As he rose from the bed, Charity stayed in the position he left her in, legs spread wide and her hands at her breasts, unsure if he would tell her what to do next.
      Without the heat of his torso close to her own and his fiery hands holding her, she felt shivers spread through her. She was cold all over when he returned to the bed.
      As before, he returned with a moist toweling cloth, cleaning her of his seed, then extinguishing the light and coming back to the bed. She felt him settle next to her on top of the sheet. Charity curled onto her side facing him, nervously awaiting his next move, but after long, silent minutes, decided he must be sleeping.
      Her earlier bravado and determination to resist his sexual domination rang through her mind. Disgust at her disloyalty to her people broke her heart. She had never guessed the depths of her own cowardice. While she thought her response to him was involuntary, a mocking corner of her soul suggested it was her own depravity.
      How could she be so attracted to a monster, the worst killer she could ever imagine? A man who would no doubt kill her in time. It was a fierce ache in her breast that would not relent.
      After nearly half an hour of fretting and shivering, naked and without cover, she moved fractionally closer to his heat. Careful not to touch, she fell into slumber uneasily.
      As soon as she nodded off, her body followed its own instinct and pressed tight to his side, her leg rising to curl over his, her arm resting across his waist.