Demon's Captive (4 page)

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      Utterly sated, Melmanon lay sprawled on his back, the slight weight of Charity's body against his side. With one arm circling her back, he traced the outline of her hip, marveling at her delicacy. Her slender arm at his waist, he placed his hand over hers, completely engulfing it. Her raised leg put the soft hair of her sex against his hip, and made him think of rolling towards her and taking her. She wouldn't protest. Strangely, he had come to believe the most fulfilling part of this arrangement was just knowing what he could do.
      He'd thought at first it was his power over her and her unwilling response that brought him such satisfaction. After his earlier use of her, he realized the truth. He was most aroused by the simple fact she would do whatever he told her to. To be totally in control of her, without reservation, and able to do anything -- please or punish her -- was his ultimate fantasy revealed.
      Even as his training protested, he knew he would never again be satisfied with the hurried sex of the war tribe. In their society, it was considered a perversion for a warrior to lust for anything but combat-challenge sex. Only when warriors retired and took bond mates did they have any other kind of intimacy.
      In fact, it was a fairly accepted assumption there were dominance issues inherent to bonding that continued for the duration of life. He had previously thought Charity had the look of a wife, rounded and soft, made for having children. But those lush wives of retired warriors were not shy and timid. Some had even been warriors themselves, or in another service capacity.
      Melmanon admitted wryly that if anyone knew his secret, they would truly think him perverted. He felt no shame, though. Thin king back, he understood why the combat-challenge system had never satisfied him, why he had a vague distaste for the method. As he lay in the dark with Charity breathing softly against his side, he remembered the first challenge he had participated in, and the lesson about sex he had learned that day.
      He was only a first-class warrior then, barely fifteen years old in his first four year of duty. Her name was Perla…
      It was a bloody battle, and he had already slain more than ten of his enemies when he saw his commander fall under the blows of five enemy warriors. Racing to his side, Melmanon struggled to fight them back, hacking and sawing until nothing was left. Sticking close to his commander for the remainder of the battle, he was startled when the Grinstat came for him later that night in his quarters aboard ship.
      "Why am I summoned?" His words had no effect, and they pulled him bodily down the hall and into the hearing room. The Grinstat were the police for warriors. Being summoned by them usually ended badly.
      When they entered the hearing room, it was not to the accused box that he was led, but to the witness box. Scanning the room, he saw Perla, a warrior several years older than himself, who stood trial.
      After more than an hour of questioning, it was determined Perla had broken rank, leaving her commander open to attack and failing her duty. Melmanon understood the gravity of her failure, but wondered what punishment would be meted out. He did not have long to wonder. After several minutes of conference, the judge announced that the commander himself had requested a specific punishment, for Perla's actions had caused him the most detriment.
      And so it was ordered. Perla would be combat-challenged by the commander. Melmanon agreed it was fair; she had no chance against the commander. It would allow her to return to the ranks without further punishment. If anything, the sentence seemed light. Then the other shoe dropped. Melmanon would also fight. Long moments of silence gripped the hearing room. He had never heard of two warriors being allowed to combat-challenge one. It guaranteed her loss.
      He had never challenged before, was actually a virgin, since combat was the only way warriors received sexual experience. In the normal course of things, he would not have chosen to challenge for many more years, until he was strong enough to win.
      The next day it began. It took no time at all for the commander to capture Perla. Within minutes, he held her tightly from behind, urging Melmanon to take her. As he thrust deep, he felt her jolt as the commander pressed from behind, reaming her ass in punishing strokes. As they hammered her in a relentless fury, her body mashed between them, he felt uniquely powerful. He had never dreamed how it would feel to fuck a woman, and feel her helpless struggles. After a few thrusts, he shouted his satisfaction as the commander released her.
      Perla slumped to the ground as they stepped away, but Melmanon was unprepared when the commander suddenly tackled him, brought him to the ground, and pinned him like a bug.
      "Your turn, warrior." Nearly twenty-three years later, he still remembered the terrible pain and humiliation of that day. Although he had lost his first challenge, by the time he was twenty, he had grown another foot taller and gained seventy pounds. He was also undefeated. No one had ever used him again.
      Every time he conquered another warrior, he felt the triumph, but there was never any real or lasting satiation after the act. There was always the knowledge they were not truly bested. They would throw off his victory over them and fight another day, conquering and being conquered in turn. Among the warriors, you were only defeated until the next battle.        Now, though, with his little torture slave, he had found someone whose resistance was crushed permanently.
      As he stroked the cool skin of her back, images of Charity at his mercy flashed through his head. He lowered his hand to her succulent ass, slipping his fingers down her cleft and pressing one finger into her moist hole.
      Against his side, her breath stuttered, but she did not wake. The wetness grew until he easily slipped two fingers in and out in a slow rhythm. The leg that rode high on his tightened imperceptibly, and he listened closely to her thoughts to ensure she still slept.
      As soon as she was close to orgasm, he stimulated her clit, bringing her to a mild climax. As the pulses faded and she continued to sleep, he withdrew his fingers. When he woke the following morning with a steely erection, he would be able to take her quickly.
      Cock already hard at the thought of tomorrow, he closed his eyes. In moments, he slept. It didn't occur to him to wonder why he had been so gentle.

Chapter Eight

      Gasping and waking at the same time, she opened her eyes in the dark. Whether it was night still, or very early morning, was impossible to tell. All of her attention was on the body folded around hers. Lying on their sides, Melmanon was close behind her. His arms curled around her, one at her shoulders, the other at her waist. Harder and hotter than she remembered, his massive cock was already seated deeply inside her.
      She felt the fluid strength of him in the easy movements that rocked her hips against him. Minutes passed while he kept up a gentle rhythm. Finally he groaned, holding her tightly while within she felt the pulse of his release.
      When he pulled out of her, he didn't go far. He settled onto his back at her side and pulled her into the curve of his arm. Still drowsy and slightly bemused by the tenderness of her captor,
she drifted into sleep again.

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      "Wake up, Charity." The rough sound of her name was almost a purr. "Wake up now."
      Murmuring blearily, she rolled over, burrowing her head against the bed and mumbling indistinctly. "Nomph trrd."
      Melmanon surveyed the picture she made in his bed, tousled hair and pale smooth skin against the absolute black of the sheets. Reaching for her with both hands, he drew her -- not harshly -- into a sitting position. Her head drooped a moment before her eyes snapped open and locked with his. Her thoughts were clear and sharp in his mind. Oh, I forgot. How did I … Oh, no. No, no, no.
      Without releasing his hold on her waist, he soothed.
      "Now that you are awake, go the lavatory and prepare yourself. There are clothes for you there." Her eyes grew impossibly wide as he spoke quietly. When he said the word go, the only thing that kept her from leaping off the bed to obey immediately were his restraining hands. As soon as he turned her loose, she bolted for the lavatory, disappearing inside.
      Inside the lavatory, Charity quickly cleaned up before turning to the clothes on the back of the door. Like Melmanon's own, they were unidentified leather. Instead of black, they were a dark red, almost wine-colored.
      When she put on the pants, she discovered they were lined with a fur so soft, it felt like silk. The top was made like a corset without stays, hugging her tightly from bosom to hip and lacing up the front. Her arms and upper chest were totally bare, but otherwise, she felt warmer than she had in days. She hurried quickly from the lavatory, worried she had kept him waiting too long.
      He stood next to the door. When he saw her emerge, he beckoned her to him. As she approached, he opened his hands to reveal more leather pieces of the same color as her clothes, and she stood in front of him while he fitted them to her neck and wrists, removing the old collar. Now she wore one piece around her neck, the soft fur lining tickling the underside of her jaw, and one on each wrist like a cuff.
      She couldn't see the one at her throat, but the cuffs had intricate designs branded into the leather with several metal studs throughout the pattern. Curious about what they meant, but hesitant to ask, Charity followed as he stepped from the room into the hallway beyond.
      Her earlier observation that they were on a ship of some kind seemed correct, since the metal and rivets theme continued here. Melmanon's hand wrapped around her upper arm, and he set a rapid pace as they moved down the hall. Struggling to keep up or be dragged, she gasped when more warriors came from the opposite direction. They didn't pay any attention to her, only striding purposefully by with a motion of acknowledgment toward her captor.
      As they passed out of sight, she wondered why they hadn't resembled him. Oh, they were large beings, but vastly different in appearance. They hadn't looked at all like demons or devils. She slanted her eyes to him now, and wondered if he was a devil, even to them.
      "Better the devil you know, Charity." He had not looked at her, but his words reminded her of his ability to read her mind. She tried desperately not to think of anything at all, but immediately recalled half a dozen unsuitable memories. As a particularly vivid image of his head between her thighs came to her, he pulled her abruptly through an open doorway into a room that looked to be a public lavatory.
      His hand was at the opening of his pants, and within moments, his huge member was free.
      "Suck." He kept one hand in her hair as she leaned down to take him into her mouth. Using both hands as before, she set a fast pace of sucking and stroking to bring him to climax. He grunted, then shuddered as he came, and she sucked and swallowed greedily. Unlike before, she was able to keep up and only some of his seed escaped her mouth.
      Charity felt his shaft harden once again and tried to fight the answering clenching of her sex. The hot, sweet taste of him had only whetted her appetite for his thickness between her legs.
      Then he reached for her, pulling her pants down to her knees and bending her over the sink. With her hands braced against the wall, she felt a moment's panic when her feet couldn't touch the floor. With her weight on his hands, she gasped when his fingers found her. She felt him spread her labia with his thumbs, and he quickly worked his length into her tight, wet core.
      Giving several hard thrusts, Melmanon used the wetness of her cunt to lubricate two big fingers before sinking them deep in her rectum. Her mewling cries of pain and pleasure urged him on. When she came, the gripping of her sex rushed his own end, and he buried deep and erupted hotly into her body.
      He reached for toweling and quickly cleaned himself, then Charity. She did not move until he lifted her. He quickly fastened her pants and brushed her hair back from her face with his calloused hand. She was absolutely quiet, in mind and body, and he realized she was fading fast. He cupped her face in one hand as he met her eyes and tried to read her thoughts. Frustrated when only disjointed words and fractured impressions came through, he shook her gently.
      "Charity? What is wrong?" His words came out hard and angry, making her flinch and stammer her reply.
      "I'm sorry, I'm…I'm hungry…" She trailed off into silence, and he released her face.
      He felt foolish. Of course, she was hungry. He had captured her almost two days ago. And who knows how long since she had eaten before that.
      He had been so happy to wake to her this morning, and so intent on satisfying the morning erection that woke him. The kindness and custom-made clothes he'd given her this morning were the first unspoken tokens of his pleasure with her, but her more basic needs had escaped his attention.
      Gently pulling her into the hall, he proceeded to the kitchens, placing an order for both of them, then continued to the private dining room. Here, only his highest-ranking officers congregated, and as he led Charity to a table against the wall, one called out to him.
      "Rinkh laus, commander! I heard you had taken a slave!" The sound of his second in-command, Theron, caused him to pause long enough to answer.
      "Yes. How quickly word travels." Theron was the worst gossip on the ship. He stood nearly two hands taller than Melmanon, but had a wiry body that dipped and swayed as he walked. A descendant of the Drannons, he came from a birdlike people; even the hair on his head was fluff and feather. He looked down at Charity, saw her wide green eyes taking it in. For once, he didn't have to read her mind.
      Theron, unoffended by his dry observation, merely continued to talk with no expectation of a reply. "Well, it's like I said. You deserve it more than most. It gets harder and harder to find a good battle, and the way this girl evaded capture makes her a perfect choice." Theron peered down at her face, still wide-eyed and staring up at him. "Though perhaps she is not as intelligent as her elusiveness implies."