“M-may I ask your name?”
“Augustus,” he growls.
I shudder. I’m trying to play the part of a seductive pleasure slave, to win these three men’s favor…
…but how much of it is an act, truly?
In fact, the barely contained hunger in Augustus’ growl actually turns me on. I know I should hate these three men – vile aliens who buy and sell human females like livestock – but now I’m all alone in their ship, I can only imagine what is going to happen to me.
“And you?”
I turn to the third Aurelian – the one with the anxious movements to his hands.
“Conan,” he growls. The alien sits down near the window, and I know his eyes are scanning the outside world for any sign of danger. He seems constantly on edge – anxious, and nervous, and strained.
The vessel takes off slowly, and without the bumps and shudders of the limousine that brought me here. Evander is clearly an expert pilot. I gently touch the collar at my neck, watching the movement of the cord dangling to Evander’s wrist – binding me to him.
“May I ask… Why did you turn the pleasure dress off?”
Evander doesn’t move his eyes from the cockpit window as he answers: “I can taste your arousal, from here, Ashley. Aurelians don’t need human inventions to inflame the desire of females such as yourself.”
Fuck.
So, the rumors about Aurelians are true. They have superhuman sensory abilities…
I’ve heard Aurelians can go so far as to even smell the virginity on a human female – a female like myself…
For the moment, I’m just ashamed that they can smell the arousal on me – and I’m ashamed that I can’t blame it all on that pleasure dress.
Just as the Bullfrogs utterly disgusted me, these three Aurelians are so big, and masculine, and sexual…
Fuck.
…there’s nothing I can do to hide the fact that I’m turned on by these bastards.
My nipples harden even more, becoming desperate, aching points that beg for the Aurelians huge hands to pinch and pull them. I look up at Augustus. He could pin me against the wall right now if he wanted to, and fuck me hard and fast; pounding me until I melt into a gasping puddle, and probably without even exerting himself.
Hopefully, I can make him want to do that…
…without actually doing that. Not yet.
I need my plan to work, desperately, and I give him my most sultry, simmering look.
“My Lord,” I say, hoping that the term will turn him on even more. Then I up the ante: “My Master.”
Evander’s expression is infuriatingly impossible to read.
“There are three of you,” I continue, “and only one of me. I will do everything I can to satisfy you, but please, it will be so much more pleasurable if you’d acquire the slave who was sold directly before me. Her name is Danielle, and she has experience in giving pleasure even greater than my own.”
That wasn’t a lie. I was still a virgin. Any woman would have more experience than me.
The lie comes easily to my lips, and I’m ashamed that it becomes even more convincing as I allow myself to imagine Danielle and I kneeling together in front of this brutal, alien warrior.
Side my side, we could both use our lips and tongue to satisfy what I assume would be his massive, Aurelian cock. Along with all the other tales, I’ve heard all the rumors about the endowment of Aurelians – and so far, none of the other rumors have turned out to be exaggerations – so why should this one?
Augustus’ hand suddenly moves – so quickly I can barely see it. It’s a blur as his palm quickly cups my chin – gentle, but forceful. I can’t resist as he turns my face to meet his huge, emotionless eyes.
“Why do you lie?” Augustus sneers. “I can taste your innocence on my tongue. You have no experience in giving pleasure.” He pauses, his eyes narrowing. “Who are you working for?”
I gasp in fear – and as soon as I do, Conan stands – slapping Augustus’ hand from my chin.
It takes me a second to realize that Augustus was about to wrap his powerful fingers around my throat – clearly truly believing I was working for some sinister entity.
I shrink back, sensing the tension between these huge, powerful men even as Evander pilots our vessel out from the hanger bay.
As he flies, Evander growls in warning from the pilot’s seat: “Together.”
It’s a single word, but it seems to calm these two, snarling battle-brothers from coming to blows.
As they calm, Conan looks down at me with suspicion almost equaling that of Augustus. Up close, I can now see the differences in the three men’s faces. They’re clearly not brothers by blood – even if they fight like it. Some other bond has joined them.
The Bond itself.
Conan has almond-shaped eyes, and more delicate features than the other two Aurelians – if anything about these huge, muscular men can be called ‘delicate.’
There’s certainly less anger in his gaze. Instead, he has a constant look of unease – as if Conan’s constantly prepared for calamity, expecting it at every moment.
Right now, for example. Conan studies me cautiously. He breathes in deeply, and with a shudder I understand that he is tasting – no, enjoying – my scent.
“Answer him,” Conan demands.
Tears come to my eyes. It’s not fair! They saw through me in an instant!
I shudder at the thought of them punishing me for my attempted subterfuge. These three wouldn’t need a whip to punish an unruly slave like me. Their huge palms, cracking down on my bare ass, would be more than enough to make me whimper and scream.
I gulp and blurt the truth: “I’m not working for anyone! Please! Please, believe me!”
“Liar!” Augustus barks. “You’re an agent of Peter Paradooli – you’re trying to deceive us!”
His slate-grey eyes flash with anger.
“You know those Bullfrogs would never give up their slave – not when she’s new.
