Bought By The Zandians (Zandian Brides 2)

My cock, already thick, shoots out even straighter. It’s only just beginning to hit me how lucky we are. We just scored a beautiful, valuable human slave. One who appears perfectly willing to allow us to do anything we like with her.

My conscience pricks a bit. King Zander doesn’t allow humans to be kept as slaves on Zandia. While humans must prove themselves willing to participate in the rebuilding of our planet, and be sponsored by a Zandian, they do retain a measure of free will on our planet.

By withholding that bit of information, we’re coercing the beautiful slave.

Then again, judging by the scent of her arousal, she’s not entirely opposed to our actions.

We can always explain her new situation later. After we’ve used her.

And played with her.

And delivered light punishment for running away from her former master.

And that thought has me groaning, stepping close to our slave so her peaked nipples brush my chest. I hold the water nozzle to spray her back as I cup her mons in the front.

She lets out a puh—a little exhale that makes my dick so hard I’m sure it would break off if she grabbed it. She’s juicy wet, her pussy swollen and open like a flower. Ready for tasting. Ready for claiming.

Danica

Oh stars. It must be my changing hormones. I’ve never been so receptive to any male before.

Of course, my well-being used to depend on making myself fully available to my master, Akron, but I mean truly receptive. As in—I’m dying for their touch, ready for whatever they wish to do with me.

I don’t even know their names, although Master always seems to suit in a situation like this. The one right in front of me looms—a mass of solid muscle, his purple-hued skin hairless and smooth. His horns tilt toward me, like they’re erogenous appendages. The other —the one who threw me over his shoulder—stands behind me. He’s even bigger than his friend, his interest as obvious. His cock brushes my hip as he lathers me with cleanser, taking his time, leaving no part of me untouched.

The warrior with the water hose slips one finger into me. I’m shocked to feel how incredibly wet I am for him. His finger is thick, but it’s not too much. In fact, it’s not nearly enough. I squirm over his finger to take him deeper. He adds a second finger.

I let out a moan and the water hose falls to the floor. The Zandian uses a finger under my chin to lift my face to his and then his mouth descends. I’m surprised by the kiss. I know it’s a human gesture of affection, often used during sex, but my former masters have never used my mouth for anything but their cocks.

He dominates my mouth, tasting me, twisting his lips over mine with demand. I part my lips, surrender as his fingers continue to press in and out of me.

The warrior behind me grabs a handful of my wet hair and wraps it up in his fist. He doesn’t pull, but my head is immobilized for his friend’s kiss now. There’s no escaping it.

At the same time, he slides a finger down the crack of my ass and circles my back hole.

I mewl into the mouth of the first warrior. He breaks the kiss and stares down at me. I swear I see amusement mingled with lust in his eyes. “Her pussy is juicy sweet. How’s her ass?”

I tense, attempting to squeeze my cheeks together, but it only earns me a sharp slap on one cheek. My mouth falls open and my gaze darts to the warrior in front of me to determine if I’ve angered them.

“Oh, veck, do that again. She makes the sweetest expression imaginable.”

My face grows warm. I’m not sure the last time I blushed, but it certainly hasn’t happened in my adult life.

The warrior behind me strikes my other buttock. My pussy clenches around the first Zandian’s fingers.

“Oh, she loves it.” He sounds excited. He pumps his fingers in me, his digits hitting some extra sensitive place deep inside me.

I cry out, my hands flying out to catch his meaty forearms.

The warrior behind me works a thick finger in my ass and I’m completely at their mercy. I try not to move, though my hips want to shimmy and wriggle. Whether I’d be shifting away from the sensations or toward them, I’m not sure.

I pant as they fill me, each of them pumping at his own rhythm, killing me with the overload of sensation.

“Please,” I start to whimper. “I need—” I don’t finish because my brain’s too scrambled to put words together.

The warrior in front of me loops one of my arms around his neck. “You just hang on and keep making those soft, sweet sounds, and we’ll let you come, little female.”

Holding his neck gives me the stability I require. I press my breasts against his ribs, open and close my lips over his wet skin as my feet dance beneath me.