The twisting, squirming tendrils filling my ass and pussy are inside me so fucking deep. They’re shuddering and vibrating, bring me closer and closer to the brink of explosion. My cheeks are bright red with humiliating pleasure, and the only thing I can do is stare at Daccia’s massive, drooling cock as he slowly strokes himself.
The bastard. He’s so turned on, watching me being turned into a whore in front of him by those squirming tentacles. I struggle against my bonds, but there's nothing I can do but take the humiliation and melt with pleasure.
9
Hadrian
Daccia returns from the medical bay. He’s a pent up, unreleased ball of tension.
Even though our leader was in a separate part of the ship, I felt in his aura the intense need to claim our woman – Allie.
Our woman. That’s how I think of her now. I know I shouldn’t. She’s a prisoner, and we are Law Enforcement agents…
But I can’t deny how she makes me feel. How the very scent of her is right.
I ashamed to admit that I wouldn’t have been able to withstand her charms, as Daccia did. I’d have succumbed and taken her hard. This is the reason he’s our leader, and I’m not. For as long as we three have known each other – ever since the bonds of battle created the Bond of our triad – I‘ve always had too much passion inside of me to make the cold, analytical decisions that need to be made: The decisions that occasionally cost lives.
I turn to our leader and ask: "Tell me: Which pheromones did she use to cause this reaction in us?"
Daccia slowly shakes his head. He turns to me – his eyes narrow, considering.
"None,” our leader eventually admits. “The AI scanned her clean. The reaction we had to her… It wasn’t caused by any drug, or artificial pheromone…"
Kitos turns from his gunnery station. He cocks his head.
"That’s impossible. She must be using some kind of trick."
Daccia snorts bitterly.
"She had two tricks: That jammer, which knocked out our Orb-Drive. That was a one-time use thing, but it's knocked out our Orb-Drive until we get this Reaver back to Colossus for repairs.” Daccia’s shoulders slump. “That means we have to make the trip using the impulse engines. Twenty-five days, it will take us."
Fuck.
Twenty-five days, sharing a cramped Reaver with that seductive minx?
If I even smell her, it's going to drive me crazy. I might even consider sleeping in this gunnery station – as far as possible away from her.
Gods, the mating rage is a constant bubble beneath the surface of my thoughts. All I want to do is unleash my passion on that minx – to seed her and discover one way or another whether or not she’s truly our Fated Mate.
But how can I do that if we take her back to Colossus and imprison her?
Kitos clears his throat.
"Two tricks, Daccia. You said she had two tricks."
"Aye,” our leader nods. “The other one was nastier. A shock implant – one that could kill a human, or knock an Aurelian out cold."
I laugh bitterly.
"Well, she's feisty, this one – not like most weak-willed women. That triad of Elites had no idea what they were getting themselves into when they welcomed her into their harem."
Daccia fixes me with a hard stare.
"That triad lost their Elite status because of her.”
His slate-grey eyes narrow.
“They lost everything – but we have even more to lose. We've worked our way up in the ranks. I'm not going to lose all that now – to her.”
Daccia wheels around, and barks: “AI! Open communications to Law Enforcement HQ.”
The AI beeps, and a moment later the hologram screen ripples into life with the face of our commanding officer, Inspector General Haratar.
We've worked closely with Inspector Haratar for decades now. In fact, he was the one who guided us throughout our careers with Aurelian Law Enforcement – from when we were just new recruits, fresh from our hundred years of service in the Aurelian Army, to the trained and experienced officers we are today.
Inspector General Haratar honed our raw steel into a fine blade. We owe everything to him.
On screen, the Inspector clears his throat. Haratar stands tall and proud, with a pure white mustache that illustrates his senior age. I've never seen the man out of his crisply-pressed Law Enforcement uniform – and today is no exception.
Hell, when the Inspector’s not at work, I half imagine him to spend his days in his luxurious manor fully dressed in that same uniform, just waiting for an update on one of the many hundreds of cases he’s responsible for.
Many joke that Haratar is mated to his job. In fact, he took only three human women into his harem, which lends credence to that suggestion. Most Aurelians take hundreds of willing human women into their harems by the time they’ve reached his age.
Like most Aurelians, Haratar has never found his Fated Mate. Perhaps he still will, one day – but by now, he must be facing the inevitable truth that he’ll probably live out the rest of his centuries and die without ever tasting the greatest thing an Aurelian can experience – the touch of their one, true, destined partner.
The Inspector looks up at us.
"Daccia. Hadrian. Kitos. You look healthy and well. I see you did not use the entire budget I’d assigned. Good work.” He pauses. “You did secure the prisoner, correct?"
"Yes,” Daccia nods. “She’s in the punishment brig."
"The punishment brig? Not the regular prisoner’s quarters? Why? What did she do?"
Daccia snorts bitterly. "She had an implant, Inspector. She knocked out our Orb-Drive. We'll now be spending twenty-five standard days getting back to Colossus."
By a strange twist of fate, the days of Old-Earth and those of Colossus, the Aurelian home world, are similar in length to within just ten minutes. This is why we use it as a measure of time across all Aurelian-governed worlds.
Inspector Haratar considers Daccia's words. He taps his fingers against his desk – the same habit
