Caged With the Beast Read online

  “M - Marissa.”

  Kon stands up and cups my chin in his large, strong hand. He looks down into my eyes, turning my head one way, then the other, studying me closely. I try to move but can’t—I feel absolutely paralyzed beneath his gaze. Kon looms over me, his body dwarfing mine. As he presses closer to me, I feel the warmth radiating from him, it seeps into my skin and fuels the flames crackling inside of me. My shivering has stopped—at least the shivering caused by the cold. My body trembles with a need that shocks me. A need I must deny.

  He slides his fingertips from my chin down to the hollow of my throat, then slowly moves it lower. Kon’s fingers trail down to my breasts, and he circles my embarrassingly stiff nipple with his thumb, drawing a shuddering gasp from me. A grin quirks one corner of his mouth upward, and I see that strange, almost mischievous glint in his eye.Kon cups my breast, squeezing and kneading it almost painfully.

  And yet, that pinch of pain somehow sends a rush of pleasure through me that I can’t understand. I’m being violated. And yet there is a warm slickness between my thighs all the same.

  “What do you call this?” he growls, squeezing my breast firmly.

  “It’s a breast,” I murmur, my voice thick.

  “B-reast,” he says slowly like a non-English speaker learning the language.

  I draw in a sharp breath, desperate to get his mind off exploring my body, as well as his hands. And yet, some wanton part of me wanting him to continue.

  “Do your women not have breasts?”

  Kon shakes his head. “Not like these.”

  He leans his head closer to me, closing his eyes, and inhales deeply again. A look of pleasure mixed with curiosity on his face.

  “Your scent…it is curious to me,” he says. “As is your body. It is so soft. So fragile.”

  Still gripped by fear, warm tears spill from the corners of my eyes and roll down my cheeks. At the same time, my cheeks flare with heat as a feeling of profound shame steals over me as my body responds inappropriately to his touch, to his violation of me.

  Kon looks at me dispassionately, as if he does not understand what they are. Maybe Tabieans don’t cry, I don’t know. But he reaches a hand up and touches his finger to my tears, looking at the damp spot it left behind. He brings his hand to his mouth and touches his tongue to the tear, tasting it, a strange, rumbling noise coming out of his throat.

  I tremble, and a soft whimper passes my lips as he slowly trails his fingers down my skin again, resuming his exploration. My insides churn as his hand slide down my stomach and moves lower still, a sense of excited anticipation and deep, regretful shame that I am letting myself be violated like this, warring within me. I clamp my thighs together with all the strength I can muster, determined to stop his probing, but he manages to part them with his hand with ease. His fingers are surprisingly soft as he strokes lips that are wet and swollen with desire. My face burns bright red with a mixture of lust and shame.

  “Your body is so different from my people.” His voice is low and husky. “So delicate. So soft. It is fascinating.”

  Kon’s fingers reach deeper and he gently strokes my swollen and throbbing clit, sensations firing through me like lightning. And when he slips a digit into me, I cry out at the bite of pain blending with a pleasure I’ve never known. A soft moan of ecstasy passes my lips, and I’m gripped tightly by a blend of pleasure and pain so intense it chokes me with emotion so thick, tears roll down my face .

  Kon slides his finger in and out of me, studying my reactions closely. He’s like Jane fucking Goodall studying apes in the wild. This isn’t a sexual thing for him, it’s like a scientific or anthropological experiment. It’s almost cold and clinical. And yet, my center is burning and my thighs are slick with my juices all the same.

  Kon continues to caress my clit with his thumb as he slides a pair of his thick fingers even deeper into my pussy and I’m ashamed that I’m dripping wet and aching with desire. He slides it deep between my folds, perhaps trying to ascertain how much of it I can take. His digits are thick and fill me up, plunging inside me, and I can’t stop the moan from bursting out of my mouth. Kon watches me closely, working his fingers into me as he teases my clit at the same time, the sensations so intense, it makes my vision waver..

  As I feel Kon’s hands on me, his fingers inside me, I bite my bottom lip and revel in the erotic energy coursing through me. It feels like electricity flowing through my veins and is so intense, it makes my entire body tense. I don’t have much in the way of sexual experience. I haven’t had many relationships that have lasted very long—at least not long enough to have had sex with them. I rarely let things get that far. The men I’ve dated have all been to handsy. Too forward. They’ve tried to force me into things I wasn’t ready for, and it never failed to turn me off and push me away. I don’t trust men.

  And yet now, though my heart flutters in fear, my body writhes in desire. I find myself wanting to let this massive alien do to me things I’ve never wanted another man to do. I do not understand my feelings and I war with them in my mind, but my body overrides all thought as it revels in the sensations reverberating through my body.

  Kon pushes his finger deeper into my slick pussy, and I wince as a white-hot stab of desire sears my every nerve ending. I bite my bottom lip hard, but soft whimpers escape me anyway as I revel in the powerful near euphoric sensation that grips me. I grind myself against his finger, biting my lip hard enough that the coppery taste of my own blood fills my mouth, the twin threads of raw need and pleasure, gripping me tighter.

  But just as I am close to orgasm, Kon takes his fingers out and holds them up to his face, inhaling my aroma before licking my juices off. The sight of him combined with the powerful sensations still rocking me is almost enough to make me come, but I manage to hold back. Just barely, though.

  He leans closer to me and inhales my scent once more, a look of what might be pleasure on his face. But then he steps back suddenly and looks at me with an expression that seems more distanced and clinical.

  “You are fragile,” he announces. “Too delicate. You do not belong here.”

  The big Tabiean reaches up and unhooks my shackles, freeing my hands. I immediately cover myself with my hands. Kon tosses me a prisoner’s tunic, and I turn away from him as I slip it on. When I turn back, he is sitting on the edge of his sleeping cubby, watching me, studying my body with that distanced, clinical expression on his face.

  “You will be punished tomorrow,” he said, his tone matter of fact.

  “I was defending myself.”

  He shrugged. “Violence and murder are rewarded in this place,” he said. “But you killed the lover of one of our cruelest guards. Now he will want your blood.”

  His words make me shudder with fear. The last thing I ever wanted was to get on the bad side of one of those huge lizard-people. Even more disturbing, though, is the fact that although I’m looking at some sort of punishment, perhaps even my death, all I can think about is how having Kon’s fingers inside of me felt. And that I didn’t entirely hate it. It had awakened something within me.

  I wrap my arms around myself protectively, my stomach churning as I struggle to come to grips with the twin threads of desire and shame still tying me in knots. Despite the fact that what Kon did to me was a violation, it lit a fire inside of me, and now that he had snuffed it out, I was left feeling a little empty.

  Makes no sense to me. None at all. But here I am, all the same.

  “It was an accident,” I say. “She attacked me. I moved. She fell. It wasn’t my fault.”

  He shrugs his massive shoulders. “It matters not. You will be punished. G’rin is not very forgiving.”

  I want to hate this man for violating me. For touching me against my will and without my consent. But as much as I scold myself for it, there’s some small piece of me that wants more. The wanton desire that’s wending its way through my body is surprising to me, but no matter how much I try to push it away, it lingers.
>
  “Come,” Kon beckons me. “The night grows cold.”

  Slowly and reluctantly, I take one step, knowing that if I do, if I obey his command, I’m giving my power and control over to him. But then, who am I kidding? I have no power or control here. Clearing my throat, I walk over to him, still silently trying to convince myself this is my choice.

  When I get close, Kon reaches out and grabs hold of me and pulls me to him. He drags me into the sleeping cubby, my back to his chest as he throws a protective arm around me. The fine fur on his body is soft. Downy. And I feel the warmth radiating from him and seeping into me, warding off the chill. The warmth of his body, musky and earthy, somehow begins to soothe my aches and pains.

  His breathing grows steady and regular, and his strong heartbeat reverberates through my body. It’s soothing. Calming. It’s nothing I can understand, let alone explain, but wrapped in the arms of this giant creature, I somehow feel safe. Protected. It makes no sense given how he violated me earlier—although, the more I look back on it, the more I see it as a clinical exploration, not something sexual for him. It was my own reaction to what happened that has me feeling shame. I shouldn’t have been aroused by the way he touched me. And yet I did.

  With all of those thoughts running through my head, I lean back into the Tabiean’s colossal body, reveling in the feel of him. I’m absurdly more relaxed now than I have been since I was abducted and it’s not long before the sweet darkness of sleep embraces me, pulling me down into its dark and comforting depths.

  Chapter Four

  Kon

  I listen to the steady breathing of the small human female cuddled up against me. Normally, I abhor the idea of sharing a space with anybody. I fought hard and killed many for the right to claim my own cell. But there is a strange comfort I find in having this Marissa in my space. It baffles me to no end, but I can’t deny it either.

  Her body is so soft and delicate. She truly does not belong in a place such as this, and I do not think she will last long without help. Without my help. But if my hunter’s instincts are accurate about her, this female is stronger then she looks. There is a ferocity and a fire in her that cannot be denied. And if there wasn’t, she would not have been able to kill that Gargolian. Not with her size and power disadvantage.

  I think the Gargolians underestimate her, which is not surprising since the Gargolians believe they are the top of the pecking order. They believe, as all conquerors do, that they are the pinnacle. The apex. I would love nothing more than to disabuse them of that notion, and I will as soon as I get off this prison moon. There are plans already in motion. I just need to be patient..

  The door to my cell slides open with a loud whoosh and two black-clad Gargolians step inside, clutching their shock-sticks tightly. They look at me, then at Marissa, a grin splitting their scaly faces.

  “Looks like the Beast has a new pet,” the first guard says with a laugh.

  “Looks quite cozy if you ask me,” says the second.

  Careful to avoid jostling Marissa, I get to my feet and stare the two guards down. They take a step back, fear flashing in their eyes, then quickly stand up straighter, attempting to look menacing and like they hadn’t almost just tripped over themselves. The second guard slips out of the door and pushes a grav-cart in, leaving it hovering against the wall, then steps back.

  “Take me to the Administrator,” I say.

  “We’re just bringing your morning meal,” the guard replies.

  I cast a glance back at the sleeping form of Marissa and decide to let her continue sleeping. This is probably the first real sleep she’s had in a long while, and she needs to rest for what is to come. She can eat when she wakes up.

  “Leave the food. Take me to the Administrator,” I repeat. “Now.”

  Without another word, I stride to the door, the guards scampering to get out of my way. The two Gargolians exchange an uneasy look with each other before falling in behind me. They close the cell door and follow along, shock-sticks at the ready as they march stiffly, desperately trying to appear as if they have control of the situation—and me. But nothing can be further from the truth and they know it.

  I let them think it though, for I really do not care. I am the best and fiercest fighter in this entire prison. I know it. The guards know it. Every other prisoner here on Gerr’a knows it. And they know if they cross me, I will tear them to pieces without hesitation or thought to the consequences.

  We finally arrive at the Administrator’s office, and I walk in before they can stop me. The Gargolian behind the large desk looks up, startled, as I cross the office and stop before him. A look of annoyance crosses his face but he dismisses the guards with a wave of his hand. He sighs and sits back in his chair as the door slides shut, leaving us alone.

  X’yr is the smallest Gargolian I have ever seen. He is shorter and has a slighter build than any other I’ve ever seen. But he has his skills and is the chief administrator here on Gerr’a. He is in charge of the prison’s day-to-day operations, but he is also responsible for coordinating with the Gerr’a Justice, Inc. producers who are the actual power here on the prison moon. It is they, not X’yr, who decide life and death here. And it’s all done in the name of ratings and money.

  “What do you want, Kon?” X’yr asks, not bothering to hide his disdain for me.

  “The human female,” I say. “What is her punishment to be?”

  He sighs. “I do not know yet. I have not been given the order.”

  “She cannot be killed. She acted in self-defense, which is not illegal,” I respond. “She should be awarded astrat for a clean kill, not punished. You know this.”

  “As I said, it is not my decision. All I know is that she will be punished.” He leans forward, studying me closely. “What is your interest in the human?”

  “That is my business,” I snap.

  “Touchy, touchy.” He grins. “I guess I heard correctly—you do have a pet.”

  “I wish to bid on her punishment,” I tell him.

  “You what?” He gapes at me. “You’ve never bid on anything. Ever.”

  It is true. Although I have won more battles than I can count and have racked up thousands of astrat, I have not spent those astrat on anything other than my own basic needs. I had never found anything else worthy of it, and I did not care to participate in the kill-for-comfort economy within the prison.

  “I have accrued more than enough astrat to bid. And I want you to bid all of my astrat if required,” I remind him. “It is my right.”

  X’yr waves me off. “Yes, yes, fine. It is your right,” he growls. “I will put you into the bid cycle. But I cannot guarantee you will be successful.”

  “Fine,” I snap. “Just see that it is done.”

  * * *

  The door slides up, and I march into the oval-shaped arena, the site of so many of my victories. I look down at the sand beneath my feet, thinking of all the blood I have spilled here. The bleachers that surround the oval are filled with the rest of the prisoners who begin shouting and cheering as I make my way across the sand.

  In the center of the arena is Marissa. She is stark naked, bent over and bound, hand and foot, to the bench. She turns to me, and I see that her face is red, eyes puffy with the small droplets of that colorless liquid sparkling in the corners. We, Tabieans, do not release such a substance when stressed, and I found the taste of it interesting. They were salty and bitter, which was unexpected.

  As I step up beside her, I look down. She sobs wildly, her body heaving with the effort. I inhale deeply, smelling the fear wafting off of her. She flinches as I run the fingertips of one hand along the soft, smooth flesh of her back.

  “Please,” she begs. “Don’t do this.”

  I walk around the bench, taking in her nakedness, and pause as I stand behind her. I study Marissa’s backside, gazing at the holes I explored last night. Tabiean women have three holes to help deal with childbirth and waste. Marissa has two, which makes me wonder how she doe
s it. Or perhaps she cannot, which might explain how she ended up in Gerr’a in the first place. If she is unable to bear children for the Gargolians, they would have no other use for her than fodder for the prison.

  “Please, Kon,” she pleads.

  “You are to be punished,” I say. “It is better for you that I punish you than G’rin.”

  Though the guards are not typically allowed to bid on the prisoners, Xyr had allowed it in this one particular case. Probably because he and G’rin are friends and Marissa had killed his lover. I don’t pretend to know how these corrupt Gargolians operate, nor do I normally care. But this was a matter I cared about. It cost me more than half of the astrat I had accrued in my time on Gerr’a, but he could not match me. Not that it matters, I have more than enough astrat left to sustain me for a long while.

  Marissa sniffs loudly, her body still shuddering wildly. I run my fingers up the backs of thighs and over her backside, the feel of her flesh beneath my hand, stirring something inside me. The crowd cheers wildly, frenetic energy beginning to build as the video-drones hover above us, their lenses covering the spectacle from every angle, not missing a thing. A loud chime echoes throughout the arena that silences it almost instantly.

  “In accordance with our rules, prisoner Marissa of Earth has been sentenced to fifty lashings for the unsanctioned killing a fellow inmate,” X’yr’s voice echoes throughout the arena. “She will also be credited with one hundred astrat.”

  The contradictory message is not lost on me, and it makes me roll my eyes. You are rewarded for murder in this shithole prison on the one hand, but you are punished for it on the other. I do not want to do this, but like I told Marissa, better me than somebody else.

  “Punisher, you may proceed,” X’yr’s voice commands.

  The crowd roars again, urging me to punish her harshly. To beat her bloody. Violence, torture, and death—they are the three things that make life on Gerr’a go round. It turns my stomach, but there’s nothing I can do to change it. I can only control what I can control, and right now, that’s the punishment Marissa receives.