FrankenDom (32 page)

Julian came back in, wearing his unbuttoned jeans.

“I had a file with surveillance shots of the milquetoast,” he said, sitting on the
edge of the bed by Colin, “but none of the two of you together, if that’s what you’re
concerned about. I destroyed it all when we left Bangenschloss anyway.”

“Okay, good.”

Julian leaned over and kissed Colin sweetly on the lips. “Good night, my beloved fuckhole.
I’ll see you in the morning.”

Colin caught him behind the head and pulled him back for a deeper kiss. “Good night,
my beloved master. Thank you again.”

After Julian kissed me, I grabbed his hand. “Please wait, Sir. I want both of you
to promise me something. And I’m asking as Dr. Rachel McBride, not as a slave.”

They looked at each other and then Colin said, “It depends on the promise.”

“I want you to promise that if I’m ever dying and a head transplant is the only way
to keep me alive, you’ll let me go.” When neither of them answered, I said, “Please.
I don’t want either of you going through something like this again, and there are
some things I just don’t want to live with—like having to deal with some other woman’s
period every month.”

They looked at each other again and then looked me right in the eye and promised.

I gave a disgusted sigh. “There’s no way you’ll keep that promise, is there?”

Colin grinned. “Nope. We’d both better hope he dies first or one of us might wind
up with our head attached to a pig or something.”

Julian smacked his bruised hip. “Just for that, I’m attaching yours to a jackass.”

“Don’t forget, Sir,” Colin said with a grin, “I know how to transplant a head, too.
If anything happens to you, I might put your head on a woman’s body and you can spend
the rest of your life as my Domina Julia.”

Julian frowned fiercely…and then looked intrigued. “Now
that
could be a fascinating project. There’s a lot of room for improvement in the field
of gender reassignment.”

Colin rolled his eyes. “Good night, Sir.”

“Good night, my dears,” Julian said absently as he closed the door behind him, obviously
considering a possible expansion on his research.

“I think you’ve just given him a new reason for living,” I said as I snuggled back
into Colin’s arms. “I hope I’m not kicking him out of his own bed.”

He shook his head. “We’ve never shared a room. He only sleeps a couple of hours at
a time, and I like my eight hours when I can get them. That’s what I hated most after
you left,” he added softly. “Sleeping alone again.”

“Oh Colin,” I sighed, hugging him. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea. I thought you’d comfort
each other.”

“He was too much of a wreck about Jordan. But that’s all behind us now,” he added
firmly, tugging my chin up with a finger to look me in the eye. “You’re never leaving
me again. You’re mine, Rachel Anne McBride, and as soon as my ring is on your finger,
everyone will know it. I want to meet your family.”

My head spun and it took me a moment to catch up. “You want to marry me?”

“No, I’m
going
to marry you, and you’re going to marry me. This week. You agreed to be my slave
unconditionally and do anything I ordered you to, remember? No safe-wording out of
it.”

Though tears prickled in my eyes, I laughed. “Yes, Sir.”

“I’m glad you’re able to see reason.”

Then I bit my lip. “What about Julian?”

“He’s mostly married to his research, Rachel, and we both think it’s best this way.
If that’s all right with you,” he added. “You do have some say in this, sweet slave.”

“He’ll stay with us, though?”

“He couldn’t live without us, and I don’t want to live without him.”

I sighed, snuggling into his chest. “I don’t either.”

“Maybe someday soon we can have a baby or two and name one of them after his very
kinky Uncle Julian?” he said hopefully.

“That sounds wonderful.” I looked up at him then. “Doesn’t Julian want to have kids?”

“God, no. There’s no way he’d chance losing someone else he loved to Bain’s. He had
a vasectomy years ago.”

I nodded. That was kind of sad, but it seemed the reasonable thing to do. Julian might
be too obsessive to be a fun father anyway.

“You’ll be a wonderful father,” I whispered, kissing his chin.

“Now that Julian’s whipped me into shape, I think I might just agree with you.” He
leaned down to kiss me, and then pulled me over to straddle him. “I think I owe you
a few good, hard orgasms while our pain pills are still working, my darling little
brave slave.”

Smiling down at his wonderful face, I said, “I wouldn’t dream of arguing with you,
Sir.”

His hands slid down to squeeze my butt cheeks and I inhaled sharply.

“Are you sure about that, Rachel?” he asked. “I’m still going to fuck this ass tonight.
Just give me a couple of hours.”

Scowling, I declared, “I think Julian might have created a monster after all.”

Colin gave me a delightfully evil grin. “My love, you have no idea…”

For links go to
http://robinlrotham.com/playlist.html
.

When I complained of being bored the summer before 7th grade, my mother (who worked
at a boookstore at the time) handed me a stripped copy of Victoria Holt's The Shivering
Sands--and I was hooked. I became a voracious reader and an aspiring author, bringing
home stacks of books from the library every single week. The next year, I did a school
report on Ms. Holt and wrote to her asking for information. In reply, she sent me
an autographed photo and a lovely two-page hand-written letter in which she encouraged
me to follow my writing dreams. Sadly, both the photo and the letter were lost over
many moves, but my writing dreams remained.

At 14, I tried to write my first two romances. The first was about a federal agent
masquerading as a bank robber, and a smart-mouthed customer who drove a custom baby
blue Trans Am named Shark. The "robber" stole Shark as his getaway vehicle and the
heroine, Nicki, dove in beside him. That was as far as I got--I could never see beyond
their flying down the highway bickering as they were chased by bad guys.

The second was a hot mess of an erotic Gothic paranormal involving an eighteen-year-old
governess and the sixteen-year-old eldest son of the house, who made quite inappropriate
advances toward her via astral projection while she slept. I wrote 100 pages front
and back—in pencil—before I hit that I HATE point in the story and shoved it under
my bed. When I retrieved it two years later, the lead was so smeared I couldn't read
it. The End.

After that, I set my dream aside to address the more practical matters in life--matters
like eating and putting a roof over my head. It took finding my own hero to reignite
my passion for romance writing. More than 25 years after my last attempt, I bought
a used laptop on eBay and wrote my first erotic romance.

Mr. Robin and I have been married for fifteen years; we live on a farm and have three
wonderful kids. I love to hear from readers, so don't be timid about dropping by my
website
robinlrotham.com
to say hi!

Ellora’s Cave Publishing

Copyright 2007

Chapter One

“Notice the slight emergence of the male’s accessory sexual organ, or what the Garathani
refer to as a breeding spur.”

Kellen bit back a grin at Dr. Alvin Snow’s play-by-play of the xenophysiology demonstration
currently spotlighted in the dim theater-style classroom. His hushed delivery called
to mind one of those fascinating televised nature programs, where the khaki-clad host
hid in the bushes with a microphone while two wild animals went at it, oblivious to
the watchful lens of his camera. Only
these
particular animals were both perfectly cognizant of their audience and could hear
and understand every word the man said.

The female subject, a plump and greedy red-haired Terran whose pronounced facial grooves
and silvery abdominal stretch marks proclaimed her well past the established age limit
for reproductive service, grasped anxiously at Ensign Hastion’s flexing buttocks and
whimpered for more. He gave it, pounding her without reservation, knowing as they
all did that this female had already accommodated another Garathani soldier with ease.
Her shout of approval tightened Kellen’s scrotum and he shallowed his breathing in
an effort to relax it. The degree of exhibitionism this creature displayed was unheard-of
among Garathani females, but he was disinclined to condemn it, in light of its service
to his people—not to mention the vicarious pleasure it afforded him.

The appropriately white-haired Dr. Snow cleared his throat and continued, “Garathani
texts place the time from penile penetration to full spur emergence at typically ten
to fifteen minutes. However, because of the protracted nature of this male’s enforced
abstinence, today’s interval will be somewhat shorter.”

Now there was an understatement if he’d ever heard one. Already, Hastion’s spur was
beginning to ride up into the hollow where an intriguingly narrow strip of orange
pubic hair met the female’s denuded labia, and she was carrying on as if she were
about to expire from the pleasure of it. And pleasure it was, though a few of the
sixteen Terran females in the study group looked as if they had their doubts. Most
of the males, on the other hand, were exhibiting signs of arousal, their faces flushed
and respiration rapid. So much for their claims of clinical detachment. They had no
more control than he and his men, some of whom had suffered in excess of eleven Terran
years without mating.

Could they possibly have any concept of the delicious torture it was for a Garathani
soldier to stand guard over such a demonstration? Obviously not. If they had, their
female colleagues would be locked safely away in another part of the compound instead
of sitting there among them, fragrant and tender and begging to be impaled without
warning, much less consent.

The Powers take him if he wasn’t having trouble resisting the call of their alien
flesh himself. His head swam with the musk of aroused female, and not just the one
onstage. Three others sat among the crowd, weeping from their feminine passages and
no doubt imagining their succulent secrets were inviolate. In this case, ignorance
was indeed bliss. Terran females were oddly defensive of their personal scents, and
these three would probably drop dead from the shame of knowing that every Garathani
nose in the room, followed closely by every Garathani cock, had homed in on their
genitalia.

Cock
. The word prompted an inward smile, conjuring images of unruly feathered heads straining
to escape the confines of his officers’ uniforms. Comprehensive download aside, English
was an elusive and remarkably messy tongue in which Kellen found new idiosyncrasies
to appreciate daily. In truth, no cerecom program could teach the more engaging subtleties
of a language as well as a year or two spent among the natives.

Dr. Snow’s renewed commentary interrupted his musings.

“The fully extended spur is designed to penetrate the Garathani female’s complementary
orifice or, loosely translated, her spur nook. We have no firsthand knowledge of this
structure, since only Garathani males are included in our studies, but the delegation’s
physicians tell us that it houses their females’ equivalent of a clitoris.”

Kellen shifted his stance. The last thing he needed to think about was the welcoming
quiver of a nook under his long-deprived spur. Glancing across the classroom at Shauss,
who appeared to be suffering the agonies of the condemned, he finally gave in to the
grin and accessed his cerecom.

“Are you going to walk out of here with your dignity intact
,
Lieutenant
?
”

Shauss returned the grin with a grimace as a bead of sweat trickled down his brow.
“Hope springs eternal, Sir.”

“Ah, I like that one. Pithy.”

“Yes
,
Commander
,
by all means
,
let us examine the complexities of the English language for the next three to five
minutes
.
Perhaps that will bank the open fires currently roasting my chestnuts
.
”

Kellen’s chest shook with silent laughter
. “Oh, now that one I like even better, my friend.”

“Why are you not suffering as I am?”

“Rest assured, I’m emitting as fast and thick as the rest of you. It’s probably a
good thing there are no Garathani maidens in the room. Between the five of us, we’d
have them under the table by now.”