Part 13 (2/2)

”Nothing good comes from the way the males currently treat their captive females.”

”They do as they are told,” Samson growled. ”What else is there?”

Taylor smiled inwardly at the male's curiosity.

”Perhaps you should explore other options. Bring flowers to a female you are interested in. Show her you enjoy her company by asking about her past. Her life before she was enslaved.”

”Her past?”

”This shows her you care to know more about her and she will be more friendly rather than scared.”

”Friendly,” Samson repeated with a softness that indicated he may like the idea.

”And she will be more receptive in the bed,” Taylor urged.

”I see.”

”Now I trust you will excuse me...I must alleviate myself further before I return.” He hoped the male would get the message that he still needed to go.

”You will return and show us?” Taylor hated the hope in the male's voice.

”I will return.” Not.

Samson left, but when Taylor turned, he froze as a figure stood bathed in the moonlight and a metallic glint sparkled off something in the male's hand.

King...and he meant business with his knife.

”You are no longer one of us for speaking such treason to a young Death Valley male. You will die for your insolence.”

As he swept the knife sideways, Taylor tried to move out of the way, but the darkness was deceiving. He gasped as red-hot pain slashed across the right side of his waist. His knees buckled from the ferocity, but he could not let himself fall.

Grabbing a nearby branch from the ground, he turned and swung it at King with all his might. He grimaced at the distinct sound of bone cracking as the thick, heavy branch crushed King's skull. The male went down to the ground.

He lay motionless.

The other males called out in confusion. Obviously they heard something amiss.

Taylor wasted no time and slipped quietly into the dark forest.

From past experience with females brought to Death Valley, women always warmed up to Blackie. Eventually. He never forced himself on an unwilling female. However he had partic.i.p.ated in forced seductions with a female who showed signs of interest in group s.e.x.

He had, on occasion, partic.i.p.ated in what the Boys referred to as conditioning. Conditioning a woman to a male's touch. As he planned to do with this female named Kinley.

The women he knew were different from this one. Kinley did not possess their air of superiority. She behaved differently. She did not force herself to be in charge of him as the other females tended to try. She did not argue or fight overly. She had accepted he was her captor and she wore his chains. Although outwardly she did not show reception of her chains, collar and clamps, she had accepted his touch. His instincts told him that she could be a natural s.e.xual submissive.

A female s.e.xual submissive was virtually unheard of on this planet, yet it had always been a fantasy of his to have a female who would submit to him. The females he came into contact with resisted a male being in a dominant role, but he craved it nonetheless. Just as he craved Kinley. Perhaps in Kinley his fantasy could come true?

He had been awake for hours, since daylight had crept into the cave, illuminating the sleeping figure of the female. Her curvy body was pressed against his entire front as he spooned her. He wanted her so badly, he ached as never before. His c.o.c.k and b.a.l.l.s throbbed as never before.

She was his prisoner. Beautiful, alluring. Attractive.

Reluctantly he moved his gaze from her and eyed the dying embers of the fire. Throughout the stormy night he had left her side, tossing wood into the pit, keeping them warm. Then he had rejoined her.

Each time he settled back next to her, she'd snuggled close to him in her sleep, her lush curves igniting fires within him. Just watching her, smelling her, touching her warmed him like no other female had ever done. He had never known this attraction toward a female. This need to comfort, to protect. To make her only his.

During the storm he had worried for her safety. Had been rough with her in his fear, unintentionally rough. Arrows of regret and guilt rammed through him as he surveyed the several red blisters marking her arms and legs as well as the few burn holes in her garments.

Areas around her wrist were red from the cuffs he'd kept on for too long. He wanted to soothe all those injured areas of her flesh. To smooth ointment over her nipples again. To ma.s.sage her c.l.i.t and have it engorge with arousal beneath his fingers. Her mouth parting as her s.e.xy whimpers escaped while he touched her.

For a brief moment, he considered leaving her. Running from these odd-yet heartening as well as frightening-thoughts that raced through him like last night's storm.

They had been lucky in escaping with mere burns. They would be lucky too if they could make it back to Death Valley without another storm. But he was relatively confident they could get out of the Acid Zone in one piece.

He doubted he could keep this female out of his head or his thoughts, for he had discovered since meeting this one that all he could do was think about her. Think about how to bring a smile to her face. There was more to this female. She wanted more from him.

But what?

Oh why did females have to be such beautiful, mysterious, complicated creatures?

They were on the move again. Kinley bound in her silver chains, nipple and l.a.b.i.a clamps, much like yesterday. Yet something had changed.

Him.

He awoke on the wrong side of the floor this morning, acted grumpy and distant. After supplying her with a breakfast similar to last night's meal, he'd gone through the same ministrations as yesterday. Collaring, cuffing her, chaining, clamping her and touching her until she was just as aroused as yesterday...if not more.

Falling asleep while his hand cupped her breast hadn't been as hard as she'd thought it would be. Nor had the electrifying contact of his hard body pressing intimately against her back prevented her from falling asleep.

She literally had been exhausted. Weary from all that running and climbing and tired from her arousal and the fear and excitement from that acid storm.

She'd slept as never before. Deep and soothing with frequent dreams of him. His lithe, strong body coming over her. Ma.s.sive muscles in his tanned, whip-marked shoulders flexing as he held himself above her. His face hard yet tender at the same time as he lowered his naked body onto her.

His c.o.c.k, long and thick, swollen and purple with arousal, entering her in one fierce thrust, overpowering her with such domination she'd literally ached with need for him. She woke that way. Aching, needing him, wanting him, secretly begging for him to f.u.c.k her.

Maybe she should just ask him politely if he wouldn't mind putting out the fires claiming her body? He had, after all, created these exquisite urges.

He wanted to have s.e.x. She wanted him too. Yet there was that invisible barrier she just couldn't seem to break through. A barrier that prevented her from making the request. Okay, so her pride prevented her from begging.

But he certainly did look yummy this morning. Yummier than yesterday, if that were possible. Nice, tanned body. Magnificent muscles in his legs. Sensually shaped a.s.s. Oh yes, a very hot bod.

She wondered what he would do if she dropped to her knees behind him, grabbed him by his hips and licked the curves of his rock-hard a.s.s. Well, she couldn't do it, not with her wrists cuffed to her waist...compliments of him.

Son of a b.i.t.c.h!

Or she could simply stop. He held her by the hand so he wouldn't have a choice but to turn around, and she would look into his eyes and beg.

<script>