That part I have trouble believing. Aurelians are renowned for their sexual appetites – and because most of their species are prodigiously wealthy, awarded riches and huge estates after serving a hundred-year obligation to their Empire’s military, there are never any shortage of willing human women eager to volunteer to serve them. Thirty women between three Aurelians – as absurd as that sounds – seems like a modest number.
As if reading my mind, Darr explains:
“These three seem to have a… particular taste.”
What kind of taste? Blondes? Brunettes?
Darr snorts: “But whatever their taste in women, all Aurelians crave the thrill of claiming a virgin. Also, their species can’t resist the chance to act the hero, the smug bastards. We’ll use that magnanimous arrogance against them.”
I shiver again.
Claiming a virgin.
Is that what Darr expects me to do? To sacrifice my virginity to not one, but three towering aliens? Just so he can score his valuable merchandise?
It’s hard to remain sympathetic to the bastard when I see how cold and calculating he can be.
But what should I expect? I’ve never been more than a commodity to him. The only reason Darr isn’t fucking me himself is because he considers my virginity more valuable to him in the long run.
Isn’t that the irony? That Darr is such a cold-blooded son of a bitch that he’d rather earn a little extra money months or even years down the line, rather than get laid. How many men do you know like that? If it wasn’t so calculating of him, it would almost be admirable.
But, anyway, back to business - and what business!
I shudder. The thought of infiltrating an Aurelian Harem is a dirty, shameful thought – but one I’m pretty sure that all women have had at one time or another, whether they admit to it or not.
Even those fancy high society types, who look down at the human women who flock to volunteer to join those harems, must sometimes find themselves tossing and turning in bed just thinking about it.I suspect those haughty bitches are just jealous they’re not the ones getting fucked into slutty little puddles every night, so they try to make the choice seem shameful.
Aurelian harems are such an insane concept. Those towering, marble-skinned bastards are almost pathological, the way they amass their legions of women – and so often for nothing.
During my research, after the first time I’d seen those Aurelians, I’d learned that Aurelian warriors search their entire lives for something few of them ever find – their one, true, Bonded mate. My research is buying travellers a drink in unsavory bars in return for tales, but it’s all I have.
Their famous harems are more than just a way for them to get their rocks off with a seemingly endless stable of willing human women. It’s their primary strategy for trying to find that fabled woman.
A Bonded human woman – their Fated Mate – is the only way for an Aurelian to continue their bloodline naturally – “the old-fashioned way” as Darr call it.
Only one woman out there, in the vast expanses of the universe, is biologically compatible with an individual Aurelian triad. Only she can get pregnant by them, and bear them sons.
However, to find that one, individual woman out of the billions of human females stretched across the seemingly infinite expanse of space is the stuff of statistical nightmares. For a triad to discover that one female… Well, it’s so rare and unlikely that almost all Aurelian warriors die never having done so. Most never find their Fated Mate, despite their lifespan of thousands of years and their single-minded pursuit of fucking every fertile human woman they encounter.
I’ve heard the math. Despite being the most dominant, strongest and most powerful species in the universe, Aurelians are slowly dying out. New Aurelians are being spawned – although I have no clue how they reproduce without the Bond. I just know it’s not through natural means. One drunk told me if you cut an Aurelian’s arm off, a new one forms from the stump. I don’t buy it.
Only a handful of Bonded females have ever been discovered by their triads – and they are the ones doing the rest of the work of maintaining their race’s dwindling numbers.
The most famous of these Bonded partnerships is known to everybody. Nearly three-hundred-years ago, an Aurelian triad and their Bonded human – Jasmine – took the throne of the Aurelian Empire. Since then, she must have born more than two dozen sons with her triad, and is still rarely seen without her belly full and her breasts swollen with milk.
The visibility of Jasmine and her Bonded triad has since reinvigorated the urge for Aurelians to find their Fated Mates. After all, if Emperor Raegan and his triad found their Bonded mate, why couldn’t any other Aurelian? It was proof that the Bond was real, after a thousand years of barren history that had convinced some Aurelians that such a connection was the stuff of legend.
Now, Aurelians have doubled-down on their obsession with finding their Fated Mate; and eager women are taking the opportunity. The number of volunteers to become part of these Aurelian Harems has exploded; and now tales and rumors of what goes on in those mansions, bed chambers and pleasure rooms have spread like wildfire.
Why wouldn’t they? The mating frenzy of Aurelians is legendary – and while more upper crust woman claim to be shocked that any woman would willingly volunteer to join a harem; I’m sure they all fantasize about it themselves.
As for the human women who weren’t born with a silver spoon in their mouths and a stick up their asses? Well, now there are more reasons than ever to join a harem – much more than just the promise of regular couplings with those towering, magnificent alien bastards…
It’s a way out.
For
