Bought By The Zandians (Zandian Brides 2)

He pumps faster, harder.

The warrior behind me adds a second finger and I sob.

The males suddenly synchronize their thrusts and I’m filled and emptied at the same rhythm. It gives me the focus I need for my climax to build. My mouth is open somewhere over his pec, and without realizing it, I start sucking hard.

He curses and doubles his speed. My knees buckle. A strangled sound leaves my throat and then I hurtle into my climax. My muscles spasm around his fingers, and my anus attempts to close around the finger in my backside.

I scream into his chest as the waves of release buck through me. Only when it’s passed and I’m hanging limply from his neck do I realize I’ve sunk my nails into his skin.

They ease their fingers from me and I nearly collapse. The warrior in front reaches around to extricate himself from my grip, and the one behind scoops me into his arms.

“Let’s bring her to the sleep chamber to examine her,” he says.

This whole time they’ve spoken more about me than to me. But I suppose I am more of an object than a being to them. As a slave, I’m used to such treatment. Taking offense would get me nowhere. What’s odd is that I find their discussion about me somewhat pleasing. Almost arousing.

Maybe it’s the appreciative way they discuss me. They’re enjoying me, or rather, enjoying my body, and apparently my body enjoys them quite a bit, too.

I’m not sure I’ve ever experienced the pleasure I just found with them, embarrassing though it may have been.

They carry me to a small chamber in the ship where a raised platform takes up half the room. The big warrior lays me on my back on the platform and they both loom at the edge, studying me.

I’m shocked to see I marked the slightly smaller warrior when I sucked his chest. I’ve never done such a thing, and I fear he’ll be angry when he sees it. He notices my gaze and looks down.

“You must’ve pleased her, Benn, if she left her mark on you,” the bigger one says, chuckling as he strolls to open a cabinet on the wall.

The one he called Benn reaches a hand behind his neck and rubs where I hung onto him. When he brings his fingers away, they’re marked with a tinge of purple blood.

“Forgive me, Master,” I say quickly. “I did not mean to use my nails on you.”

He offers a wicked grin. “I don’t mind it, little female, but perhaps we should punish you, just the same.”

I stiffen, pushing up to my forearms.

The bigger one returns carrying a bottle of some kind of liquid. “Oh, certainly,” he agrees. “She loved having that ass of hers smacked. Let’s oil her up, first. That will increase the sting.”

Increase the sting?

I can’t decide if I should be afraid or aroused. Do they mean for me to experience pain or pleasure? It’s unclear.

Benn holds out his palm and his friend pours some of the oil into it, then takes some himself. Suddenly, two pairs of large hands are on me, pushing me back, rubbing my skin.

It’s pure pleasure. I haven’t been touched this way—ever. One strokes and rubs oil into my arms, caresses my neck and shoulders, my breasts, while the other works up from my toes, rubbing the aromatic oil into my calves and thighs. He coats my pussy with it, spreading me wide, working it into my outer lips, around my clit.

“Feel how she trembles?” Benn asks.

I start to whine and moan again as the sensations become intense.

“Roll over, little slave. Let’s see that ass.”

I obey and they spread my legs wide, working oil over the backs of my thighs, my ass, my back.

Smack.

Gulp. The two of them take turns spanking me, one hand falling, then another in quick succession. It hurts—no pleasure at all, just hard, stingy slaps.

I squeeze my ass cheeks together and push up on my hands, arching my back. I know better than

to move out of position—I’ve been trained too well for that. “Ow! I’m sorry, Masters. I’m sorry! Forgive me.”