Mastering Marissa Read online

  Despite the cold of the tub, Marissa sat quiet and complacent. What was happening to her? She’d lost all her desire to fight. For the first time since she’d met him, she reached out to him, touching his shoulder.

  He stiffened under her hand, slanting a questioning glance back at her.

  “I…I’ll do my best for you…” She stumbled over the words.

  Kytar smiled, engulfing her in a feeling of safety. “I know you will. Now relax,” he said, as he helped her into the tub. “I’ll be back in a little while.”

  Marissa slowly sank into the hot water, reveling in its heat. She couldn’t figure out what had happened. She attempted to dismiss Darinthian practices as abhorrent and degrading but instead she felt safe and satisfied though they hadn’t yet consummated their bond. Maybe this world was magic. She felt no desire to fight. The depressing weight in her head was gone, her mental barriers shattered by her need for Kytar. She felt like she could fly, she was so free.

  Kytar hadn’t broken her spirit. Instead, he’d demolished her fears and anger. And she realized her need to be free at any cost carried a high penalty. She’d found true freedom and safety with Kytar, a freedom she never imagined or known existed.

  She was so busy fighting that she’d ignored all her own needs and desires. Kytar hadn’t broken her, he’d set her free. The fact that Kytar claimed control meant that she could lose all restraint. She didn’t have to decide what to do next. Kytar would take care of that and she had to admit that for the first time in her life she felt free just to be herself. She didn’t have to fight. She didn’t have to think and that was a heady feeling especially when she felt cherished as well. Then her head cleared a little. She remembered her mother’s letter. Her letter had talked about the freedom she’d find here. Is this what she meant? If so, how had she ever left?

  Marissa felt a twinge of regret for her mother’s loss. For the first time in Marissa’s life, she belonged, really belonged. Cherished and not alone, she’d never be alone again. She’d always be with Kytar. That thought originally so horrifying now made her happier than she’d thought possible. The stunning realization that she loved Kytar caught her off guard and she wasn’t prepared for his return.

  “Little one,” Kytar said, returning to sit on the edge of the tub, “look at me.”

  Marissa slowly opened her eyes and turned her head to look up at him, not quite ready to admit her love.

  “I’ve called for the ritual tomorrow.”

  His words chilled her. The ritual was so unnecessary now. “I’ve surrendered. Do we really need to do this?”

  “You know we do. Right now, you’re compliant and willing. We both know that won’t last long.” He smiled down at her. “The ritual will strengthen our link to the point where even you will no longer be able to deny it.”

  “But I’m not denying it anymore. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

  “That’s only part of what I want,” he said, terminating further discussion by reaching out a hand, “time to get out.”

  Marissa let him take her hand and help her out of the tub. Still shaky and weak, mentally and physically, she wasn’t sure she could have managed on her own. And when he pulled her close, his male scent enveloped her and despite her misgivings, she sank into the safety of his arms. His cedar scent comforted her, his strength fueled hers.

  Kytar wrapped a towel around her cooling body. He dried her then helped her to the bedroom and said, “I won’t see you again until the ceremony. Rest now. You’ll need your strength tomorrow.”

  Marissa lay on the bed, eyes wide and unseeing. Her thoughts circling endlessly, trying to figure out what had changed. She wanted Kytar to take her in every way possible. She tried to lie to herself, by saying that he’d simply brainwashed her, but she accepted that wasn’t true. She liked his strength, no matter how much she tried to deny it. The connection between them was undeniable. How could it strengthen? She should be horrified, rather than aroused, but she didn’t care.

  On her home world, she’d taken great pride in always being in control. Now, she found to her surprise that she enjoyed submitting to Kytar. She wanted him in any way he demanded. She was like those women in the vids. Cherished, as well as tormented. He tangled her emotions, creating combinations of sensations that caused her to explode in mindless frenzies. No other man had aroused her like this. Even the memories left her weak and needy.

  What was going to happen tomorrow? Her father said the ritual was public. The thought of surrendering in public terrified her. Would she break? Would she fail Kytar? How could she have been so stupid as to demand any Darinthian ritual? she berated herself. It would have been so much easier just to accept Kytar without all this turmoil. Finding no comfort in her pointless wishes, she finally fell into a fitful sleep.

  Talcor and a strange man were in the bedroom when she awoke. Marissa started. She wanted Kytar, she wanted to tell him she loved him but before she could speak, Talcor held up a hand. “It is time for the ritual.”

  Chapter Twelve

  The two men stared at her, their faces serious and intent.

  “Get up,” the stranger said.

  Frightened by their harsh expressions and his cold tone, she sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed.

  Leather thongs hung from their belts and not one trace of sympathy or kindness crossed their faces.

  “Kneel!” Talcor commanded.

  Knowing that Talcor wouldn’t hesitate to use force and uncertain as to whether or not this was part of the challenge ritual, Marissa said, “I’ll obey.” She moved without hesitation into the position he indicated.

  “Yes, you will,” Talcor replied. He moved close to her, his crotch just millimeters from her face. He cupped her chin and raised her head. He touched the collar encircling her throat, making sure it was snug. She would not be able to forget she wore it. Then he stepped back and the other man moved behind her.

  He seized both of her wrists and twisted them harshly behind her. The leather cut into her wrists and she bit back a moan. Then they blindfolded her and forced a gag into her mouth.

  Fear threatened to overwhelm Marissa. She couldn’t give in to it. Bound helplessly before them, fear would send her into a blind panic from which there would be no escape. Even chained in the cell she hadn’t felt as helpless as she did now. These men were frightening.

  In a harsh voice, Talcor ordered, “Stand!” But she was too stunned and disoriented to do it on her own and his hand was gentle as he helped her to her feet. The stranger moved to her other side and they led her out of the room.

  They walked for a long time. At least the time seemed long with her eyes covered, arms bound and mouth gagged. It was as if time altered and each moment expanded by hours. She didn’t know how long they actually walked.

  The men’s tight grip on her arms helped her keep her feet when she stumbled. She was grateful for their strength even though she should be angry or defiant. But she was too confused to fight. Besides, fighting wouldn’t help her. All she could hope for at this point was to maintain her dignity and submit to the coming ordeal with pride and grace. She finally admitted that it was her own fault she was in this position. Kytar and Davo had both given her the opportunity to escape the coming ordeal. All she could do now was endure it.

  They entered a large space echoing with tension.

  Talcor placed a hand on each shoulder and pushed her down. “Kneel,” he commanded in a loud voice. Then he bent to her ear and whispered, “Trust Kytar.”

  She startled at the kindness in his voice. Kindness wasn’t a quality she associated with Talcor. But before she could process his strange act, a hand pressed her legs apart. “Spread your legs,” the other man commanded.

  She lost her balance as she struggled to comply. Talcor steadied her by holding her shoulders, while the other man positioned her legs. She ended up with her knees nearly two feet apart.

  Immediately, her thigh muscles protested the position. Unsteady and unbalance
d, she wondered how long she’d be able to hold this position as their hands fell away from her and she fought to remain upright.

  “Let the ritual begin,” she heard a booming voice say.

  A hand between Marissa’s shoulder blades pushed her head to the floor. An easier position on her muscles, but more frightening in that it left her bottom high in the air and spread wide open. She could feel her labia trying to close and hide her exposure, but shelter was impossible in this position.

  Someone moved around her, circling her. A hand barely brushed her ass then she heard a whistle and felt the sting of a lash. Before she could jerk out of position a hand cupped her head, keeping it down, and she heard Kytar whisper, “Don’t move!”

  Irrationally, a sense of relief poured through her. No matter what she faced, Kytar was close. He’d keep her safe. Another lash, this one caught her labia and she couldn’t prevent the moan that escaped around her gag, but she held her position. She wanted to fight, but a barrier in her mind seemed to distance her from Kytar’s actions.

  She held still as a finger traced the lash mark, unfairly generating warmth in her pelvis. The lashings continued, interspersed with soft touches that aroused her.

  Pain and pleasure mingled until she could not tell them apart. She was open for him to see her glistening wetness. She lost track of the number of strokes she received. By the time he stopped she was shuddering and trembling, struggling to hold her position.

  “The first stage is complete,” she heard the booming voice announce.

  She briefly wondered how many stages there were, but the question fled as Kytar touched her.

  Kytar seized her shoulders and raised her torso back to the agonizing position of kneeling with her legs apart. Kytar removed the gag. “Don’t move. Stay silent,” he encouraged her again.

  She blinked in the harsh light when he removed her blindfold. She drew in a horrified breath when she realized she was in an auditorium. Beyond the glare of the spotlights, she could make out the shadowy forms of tier after tier of people. Men, she assumed. She doubted that any other women were present.

  The men stayed so silent she hadn’t realized they had such a large audience. Marissa cringed as she realized they’d witnessed her arousal. Stiffening her spine, she shoved aside the thought. She had to concentrate to survive what ever came next.

  Kytar moved in front of her, cutting off her view of the audience. He kept one hand on her shoulder and one on her head. His hands didn’t comfort her though. Strong, forceful and tense, prepared to force her compliance if she panicked.

  The hand on her head moved and he wound her hair in a familiar grip. “Suck me,” he demanded in a voice that carried to the rafters.

  Once more, he showed no mercy as he shoved his cock deep into her throat. She was grateful he hadn’t attached nipple clamps. She had enough to cope with. Clamps would have challenged her limits.

  He forced himself deep into her throat until the connection between her throat and pelvis ignited. Her cunt ached in time with his thrusts. She wanted him down below, but he continued working himself in and out of her mouth. Her eyes closed, she relaxed into his grip, allowing another millimeter of depth. She forgot her audience, lost in sensation.

  Her throat and jaw ached by the time he finally shot his come deep into her throat. There was no question of swallowing his ejaculation, he was far too deep to do else but swallow with her battered and bruised throat. She was breathless and a little dizzy by the time he finished and just a little cheated that he hadn’t told her to come.

  He’d simply used her, as if she were a convenient receptacle for his need, with no concern for her desires. She could feel the moisture seeping down her thighs and a tiny piece of her mind raged at his treatment. She needed him, buried not in her throat but deep in her pussy.

  “The second stage is complete,” the booming voice rang out.

  Kytar moved behind her and freed her wrists.

  Marissa groaned with pain as needles of circulation returned to her hands.

  Kytar placed a hand on her head as a man rolled out a table. The table had just a little arch, with extensions…for her extremities, she realized with a cringe of fear. Kytar did not let her fear take hold though. With a sudden motion, he picked her up and placed her facedown on the table, quickly spreading her extremities, and tying her motionless.

  The padding pushed against her belly. She couldn’t prevent a small squirm; the pressure was tantalizing, but in the wrong spot. He circled to her head. Holding her face, he once again whispered, “You’re doing well.”

  She relaxed a little at his words, glad that she pleased him. But his next words sent a thrill of fear through her, “Just hang on, little one. Don’t move. Be very quiet no matter what happens.”

  He raised the table to cock height, and then turned it, fully exposing Marissa’s nether regions to the large audience. Her face flamed, embarrassed by her public viewing. She’d wanted him to shield her from public view, but he had other plans.

  He stood by the side of the table. The warm hard tip of a finger pressed against her rectum. “No…” she whispered.

  “Quiet,” he whispered back, continuing the preparation.

  The first finger didn’t hurt too much. “Relax,” he commanded in a voice so soft it wouldn’t reach the watching men. She tried to do as he ordered, but the second finger hurt more and she groaned, surrendering to the erotic feelings he created.

  She was unprepared for the intensity of the sensations washing through her. He could effortlessly create pain that morphed into pleasure. And once more, he seemed determined to prove to her that pain and pleasure were two sides of the same coin. He didn’t stop. He didn’t hesitate. The pain of expansion and the pleasure of penetration increased as he forced three fingers inside. Then he withdrew his fingers and spread more of the cold jelly. He reinserted his fingers. Spreading them, he opened her wide. Then he twisted them around, massaging her opening.

  The fourth finger hurt more. A sharp pain announced that her anus had stretched to its limits. She tried to squirm, to escape his relentless attentions, but she couldn’t move. He forced his fingers in and out, again and again. The pain lessened as he continued the massage but when he spread his fingers wide, she couldn’t stop the groan that escaped her throat.

  Before she could assimilate the pain, he took his fingers out. The relief was instantaneous, despite the throbbing ache he’d left behind. She was just adjusting to the relief of an empty rectum when the hard tip of his cock touched her anal ring.

  She felt a light breeze in her mind, whispering to her, telling her to relax and open for him. Mindlessly, she obeyed and Kytar, in one smooth motion, sank deep within her, filling her bottom with his hot strength. All of her attention focused inward, on her filled bottom and empty cunt.

  She’d forgotten the audience until the sonorous voice boomed out, “The third stage is complete.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Kytar pulled out of her, replacing his warmth with a cold plug. He unbound her, flipped her over and rebound her so fast that she’d barely realized what he was doing.

  The table arched against her back. She cringed when she realized he planned to leave the plug in her butt. The foreign object kept her channel open, but pain blended with need and the emptiness in her cunt intensified, nearly causing her to scream for satisfaction.

  Spread out like a sacrificial offering, every man in the room could see the glittering wetness of her arousal. A strange small part of her felt proud that she’d survived to this point. She couldn’t deny her arousal.

  “The woman has never been penetrated by a Darinthian. She is deemed chaste,” the booming voice announced.

  Marissa heard pleased murmurs from the audience, followed by excited chattering. She did not understand why the announcement caused so much excitement. She didn’t care. By this time, despite the exhaustion deep in her bones, all she could focus on was Kytar and her need for him.

  Despite the de
gradations—or maybe because of them—she desperately needed release. Hysteria threatened to overwhelm her. Everyone she knew thought her controlling. If they could only see her now, desperate for a release, they’d know she wasn’t in control at all.

  She bit her lip. She had to hold out. She loved Kytar. If she broke, so did their bonds and the thought of being free of him was no longer attractive. It horrified her to think that if she failed him, she’d destroy them both. Taking a deep breath, she focused. She was strong. She could survive this and then they’d always be together.

  Kytar turned the table a little and brought over a stand. Suddenly a screen flickered to life and she saw her open, gaping, glistening pussy on a twenty-foot screen above. Clearly visible to every man in the audience, it revealed the truth of her need.

  She was on fire. Her vagina ached with emptiness and the fullness in her rectum merely accentuated the emptiness in other places. Even her mouth longed for Kytar’s cock if it meant she could have him inside her.

  She hoped the next stage would be the breaching, but Kytar dashed that desire.

  The camera remained fixed on her pussy as Kytar moved to her breasts. He lightly grazed his hand over her nipples and defying gravity, they stood high and proud. She saw another drop of moisture seep down the screen and she moaned when she realized he planned to arouse her even more and that her arousal would be on display for all to see.

  Kytar left her nipples and circled each breast with a hand. He squeezed and massaged them, causing the blood to seek his touch. Then he left them—aroused and proudly pointing to the ceiling, aching for more—while he reached in a pocket and drew out the familiar gold clamps. She grew even wetter, moisture trailing down her thighs.

  Kytar bent his head and licked a nipple. Then biting lightly, he pulled on the nipple and to Marissa’s amazement it stretched even higher. When he was satisfied it would go no further, he clamped it in place.

  Marissa tried to jerk away from the sharp, stabbing pain in her chest. He finished clamping her other breast. She closed her eyes and softly moaned. Her body was a waiting receptacle, under his complete command.