“I am Zios, and this is my brother, Utak. And you are now our mate.”
“There’s a mistake.” Her voice sounded weary even to her own ears. “There are laws between TraoX39 and Earth. There’s a… a… contract.” She could tell by the way the brothers looked at one another that what she was saying meant nothing to them. Iris stopped, shaking her head. “Why am I even bothering?” she asked as if to herself. “Savages don’t understand laws or contracts.”
“Trogar has its own laws. We are independent of the alliance. Whatever rules you speak of do not apply to us. We are here on this planet strictly as hired protectors of the mountain pass.”
She stared, taken aback by how well-spoken he was. But then Iris remembered how things were on Earth before the boundaries between countries fell. She remembered stories of people being trapped in hostile foreign countries, and the futility of diplomatic efforts to retrieve them. Her heart sank at the parallels to her own situation.
“We are chieftains.” The one called Utak was speaking now. “This is our tribe. The women obey. They do not give orders. They do not disobey. The ones out there cook and clean. But you are the mate of the leaders, and so someone will cook and clean for you. But you will do as other mates do. When commanded, you will give your body to us. The needs of the Trogarian are strong. Spilling his seed increases his might. It is not merely for pleasure that we will take you, but by necessity. We have lost our mate, and our grief cooled our ardor. But it has returned now for you, and soon you will open to us.”
It was now that Iris noticed that despite their calm appearances, the leather kilts they wore each sported a definite—and very large tent—in the front.
Utak pivoted around to pick up the board holding the food. He pointed at it. “You will eat now.”
Iris’ heart was hammering. She’d never felt more trapped in her life, not even when she had her requests for a hearing rejected by Traoians who’d laughed in her face. Even then, she had wildly assumed she could just escape. But here, Iris realized it would take more than desperation to escape. It would take wits. The two Trogarians before her were visceral beings. Perhaps she could outsmart them.
“They lied to you,” she said hastily. “They did not honor you with a gift, but tricked you with a burden.”
“Explain.” The one called Zios narrowed his eyes.
You can do this. Iris sought to remain calm.
“I can’t breed,” she said. “I’m too small.”
“You can,” Utak said. “The Crone saw it.”
“She’s mistaken,” Iris said with more certainty than she felt. “They determined it when I was being tested, but didn’t want to waste money transferring me back to Earth.” She looked from one to the other. “They said just the act of penetration would kill me.”
It was a desperate wild card. She knew they’d lost a mate, and hoped that she might play on their fears, or sympathy. She felt a flicker of hopefulness when Utak looked at Zios with something akin to doubt in his dark eyes.
“They’re probably laughing at how easy it was,” she said. “They’re probably saying it was easy to convince a couple of savages to take what they couldn’t use.”
Iris held her breath. Zios stood from where he’d been kneeling. His expression grew hard.
“I will not be lied to,” he said, and Iris felt her spark of hope grow. She’d appealed to his male pride. No male—human or Traoian or Trogarian—could bear being made a fool of. Now, if she could convince them to take her to an outpost, perhaps she could dress in robes or rags, make her way to where the scrappers lived, find Nora, and get them off the planet…
But then he reached down and pulled her to all fours.
“We will test,” he said. “Test and see.”
No! No! This wasn’t what was supposed to happen! She let out an ‘oomph’ as one of the brothers pushed down between her shoulder blades, driving her face down into the cushions. Her ass was hiked up at an obscene angle, and she looked back to see Utak kneel behind her. Iris tried to move away, but his brother had taken hold of her hips and was holding them in a viselike grip as Utak pulled her legs apart so wide she felt herself spread to their gaze, felt the warm air of the tent caress her exposed inner labia and bottom hole.
Iris’ heart was hammering. She was not a virgin. She’d had three lovers on Earth before transport, although ‘lovers’ was an exaggeration. They were more like one-night stands. With the future so uncertain, and so many babies dying, the last thing she’d wanted was to fall in love and have it end in heartbreak. Her arrival on TraoX39 had involved intimate exams, some noninvasive scans that allowed her to look, wide-eyed, at a screen showing imagery of her internal female anatomy right down to the number of eggs her body had produced. Others were invasive—warm probes that expanded to determine her capacity to take penetration of a male appendage much larger than what a human man possessed. She’d been announced ‘capable,’ and she flushed now as she remembered her unwilling pleasure at the stretch she’d felt when the probe expanded.
She glanced back and whimpered. These Trogarians were bigger even than the Traoian males. And Utak was now performing a test of his own, pushing a large finger past her labial folds into her pussy. She whimpered again as he began to move it back and forth, and when she wriggled she felt the sting of his brother’s hand as it slapped her ass. Another finger joined the first. He was pumping both now, and a third finger was grazing her clit. Was this intentional? Somewhere in the back of her mind she found herself wondering if all females had pleasure buttons like humans.
She tried to wiggle away from that finger, but she found that she couldn’t. And even worse, she could feel those huge fingers sliding faster now—faster and easier—as they plumbed her lubricated passage. They were spreading apart, pushing against the walls of her pussy, testing the elasticity of her pleasure passage. And she was moaning. The finger on her clit was pressing rhythmically now, and there was no doubt that Utak knew what he was doing, that he was teasing her toward orgasm. Iris resisted, crying out for him to stop even as her body edged closer to the climax she so desperately sought to fight.
And then something worse happened. Just as she topped the summit of pleasure, but before she could careen down the other side, the huge fingers withdrew and she felt herself lifted not just up, but off the floor, held aloft and face-to-face with a very angry Zios.
“Yes,” he said. “We were lied to. But not by the Traoians.”
She wriggled in his grasp, her feet kicking helplessly above the floor. Zios’ eyes were locked on hers. “We do not tolerate lies.”
He pulled her to a nearby wooden bench, sat down, and pulled her across his knee. She felt his large hand roaming the smooth skin of her bare bottom. It squeezed first one springy cheek, then the other. She looked back just in time to see Zios shift, raise his arm, and bring that hand down again with a punishing smack! that resounded throughout the tent. The sting of it took her breath away. And unlike the matron’s punishments, these were not drawn out for effect. There was no waiting for the sting to set in. These were rapid-fire spanks that layered pain on top of pain, the humiliating over-the-knee position only adding to her sense of helplessness.
She struggled, and at one point edged forward. A flash of hope. If she could touch the ground she could pull away. But Zios pulled her back so easily that she realized she’d only moved because he’d let her, because moving forward stretched her further over his lap, allowing him to target her thighs. And then she was wailing anew as he spanked this untouched skin.
Iris had no idea how long she lay draped across his lap. She didn’t even remember when the spanking stopped, only the feel of his hand on her bottom again, stroking.
“No more lies,” he said. Then, as he lifted her: “Utak, fetch the harness.”
She craned her neck and saw the other Trogarian walk to a carved box and rummage through it to pull out a leather network of straps, and something else—a carved wooden phallus about four inches long, narrow at the point and wider at the base. There was a flange at the end, a disc, with a metal loop on top. Zios put her back down and hastily removed the garment he’d put on her. Iris felt herself pushed back into the position she’d been forced to assume earlier.
The phallus was pushed without preamble into her still-lubricated pussy and moved back and forth as she bit down on her lip to curb the determination of her body to climax. Then she felt the phallus withdrawn and the tip of it pushed against her bottom hole.
She cried out, trying to evade the pressure she felt. But the Trogarians were so big, so strong. One held her fast by the hips as the other pushed the phallus into her. She cried as the thing stretched her resisting bottom hole. The sting of the invasion took her breath away. She begged them to stop. They did not. She felt a pop as the widest portion of the phallus slipped inside and her bottom hole closed over the narrow neck just below the flange. She could imagine now what they must be seeing—the disc on the end, its ring protruding from it, held fast between her slightly spread bottom cheeks.
She looked back again, wanting but not wanting to see what would happen next. Utak was linking a strip of leather to the ring on the flange. When it was securely fastened, she was pushed to kneeling. Iris could feel the strap pulling up through her ass cheeks, applying slight pressure on the phallus. There was a ring at the top of that strap; she could feel it against her back. Two other straps came off of it and each ran over a shoulder. She looked down. Each ended in a clamp that… no… She looked up at Zios, heard the pathetic plea in her own voice as she begged for the mercy his dark eyes already told her would not be forthcoming. She screamed as the first clamp bit down on a tender nipple, then screamed again as the second followed. The tension on the straps pulled slightly up both on the plug and on her nipples. Straps at the side continued down to join to a ring just over her belly button. At the bottom of the ring was another strap attached to an oval piece of leather with an opening in the middle. This egg-shaped piece of leather was positioned directly over her labia, cupping and spreading them open. A final strap attached to the end of the oval-shaped spreader was attached to the ring on the phallus.
Zios lifted, her, and the pressure on her labia and breasts and ass increased. Iris knew better than to wriggle; any motion just increased the pull on her tender parts. She was moved to the cushion beside the pillar. The ring at the back was affixed to a leash.
The Trogarians stepped back and stared at her. There were no smirks, just a stern resolve as they viewed her where she knelt—filled, clamped, and obscenely spread. Her hands were free, but Iris knew better than to try to undo any part of the harness. If this was the punishment for lying, what would happen if she tried to avoid it?
Tears ran down her face. She could feel them hitting the tops of her legs, which were already feeling strain from her position. Her thigh muscles twitched beneath her skin.
Zios brought over the wooden slab. He knelt, picked up a hunk of oily meat, and held it to Iris’ lips.
She was too afraid to disobey, too afraid to show any passive resistance to these huge male warriors who overwhelmed her so easily. She opened her mouth, keeping her eyes lowered as she accepted the food. She expected to gag, but whatever kind of meat it was, it did not taste bad. It tasted like a combination of fish and steak, and was far more tender than she expected. As she chewed, Iris realized how hungry she was, and she was grateful to turn her focus away from her throbbing nipples, stretched labia, and filled bottom to the pleasurable sensation of eating. Bread followed the meat. It was thicker and chewier, its rich nutty flavor far better than she’d expected. In between feeding her bites of food, Zios put a flask to her mouth, allowing her to drink water from the spout.
Soon enough, she felt her hunger satisfied. But despite her predicament, the hunger between her legs was still softly persistent. Utak and Zios abandoned her without a word after she’d been fed, leaving her alone with only her sensations for company. The pain in her crudely clamped nipples had receded to a dull, throbbing ache tinged with numbness. Her bottom still burned, and the feeling of fullness persisted inside her back passage. No matter how she positioned herself, she was aware of the appendage wedged inside her. Her labia, spread as they were, left her clit exposed. It throbbed, and with each pulse a corresponding pulse of need spawned inside her, pushing out just enough unbidden arousal to cause a trickle down her thigh.
She whimpered and tried to lie down, but the leash Utak attached to the post before leaving was too short. Iris wondered how long they would leave her like this, but she knew the answer already: as long as they wanted.
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