Dementia Read online

  With a primitive growl, he thrust his huge cock inside of her enveloping flesh, impaling her cunt in one deep thrust. She could hear the suctioning sound her pussy made as he slowly pulled back and stroked out of her, as if her body was trying to pull his cock back in to the hilt.

  “Oh god,” she moaned, trying in vain to throw her hips at him the way she wanted to. She could see his teeth gritting, the vein at his neck bulging. She wanted him to thrust fast and deep inside of her. “Oh god—please.”

  Zaab gave her what she wanted, growling low in his throat as he plunged in and out of her cunt, over and over, again and again. He rode her hard, like an animal, impaling her enveloping flesh like a battering ram.

  His silky black mane of hair tickled her breasts, running like silk over her nipples as he fucked her. “Do you like this, slave?” he arrogantly ground out, the muscles in his arms bulging as he repeatedly buried his thick cock deep inside of her.

  Dee’s head thrashed from side to side, sexual euphoria overwhelming her. “Yes.”

  “Yes what?”

  “Yes, Master.”

  He rewarded her obedient answer with harder, deeper strokes, threading her golden hair around one hand as his other hand kneaded her breasts and played with her nipples. He rode her body ruthlessly, going primal on her cunt, marking her flesh with his scent.

  She closed her eyes on a moan, her hands tied above her head, her breasts jiggling, as the Alpha Male of the Mantus Hoard fucked her long and hard. She came over and over, again and again, moaning and groaning, marking him with her scent as much as he meant to mark her with his.

  “Beg for my cum, slave,” Zaab growled, his cock plunging into her flesh in fast strokes. “Beg your Master to mark you.”

  “Yes—please—Master…”

  Dee’s half delirious gaze clashed with his alert green one. She could see his jaw clenching, his nostrils flaring. Perversely, the knowledge that she was the cause of such a rigid, controlled male showing even that much emotion made her impossibly wetter.

  Zaab lowered his face to her neck as he continued to mount her, a low, warning growl hissing low in his throat. She tensed, realizing as she did that he was displaying his dominance over her. He could slice through her jugular at any time, that growl resonating through her eardrum said. He could kill her, he could fuck her, he could enslave her…

  Dee gasped when his incisors scraped against her jugular vein, fear causing her eyes to close tightly. He grunted, as if pleased she had at last realized who it was that held all power over her.

  “Relax, lass,” he purred near her ear as he stroked in and out of her cunt. “If you’re a biddable little wench,” he ground out, his thrusts coming faster and harder as he wrapped his hand more securely around her hair, “you will know my pleasure instead of my wrath.”

  He took her hard then—harder than ever before. His hips pistoned back and forth as he plunged his cock in and out of her suctioning flesh, his jaw clenched tightly as he drove them both toward orgasm.

  “Yes,” Dee groaned, unable to move, unable to do anything but lie there and feel him fucking her. “Oh god.”

  She came violently—convulsively, her loud moan echoing throughout the highlander alien jungle. “Yes—oh god yes.” Her thighs shook like leaves in a storm as her head thrashed madly from side to side. She groaned when his thrusts became impossibly faster, more primal and animalistic.

  “Who owns this cunt?” Zaab ground out, the fingers threaded through her hair clenching the strands tighter. “Tell me.”

  “Master!” Dee cried out, another violent orgasm crashing over her. “Master Zaab!”

  He growled low in his throat as he stiffened above her, thrusting in and out of her pussy like an animal—like a predator. She opened her eyes to the sight of his clenched jaw, his gritted teeth, his corded muscles, his bared incisors…

  Zaab threw his head back on a deafening roar that bubbled up from his throat and reverberated throughout the jungle. He impaled her cunt over and over, never stopping his thrusting, as he pumped her cunt full of cum. She cried out at the sound, her eyes widening, the instinctive need to clasp her hands over her ears thwarted by the vines that held her pinioned to the cold ground of the jungle.

  “Mine,” he hissed into her ear as his climax began to wane. “My cunt.”

  He continued to stroke his massive erection in and out of her flesh, his cock still not satiated. But then neither was her body replete. The hallucinogen had made it so it would be hours, perhaps days, before her pussy felt satisfied.

  The general fucked her for endless hours that night, stopping occasionally to feed and care for her. And he did take good care of her, Dee would later admit. He forced her to drink liquids even when she didn’t feel thirsty, growled at her to eat the food bits he placed in her mouth even when she complained she wasn’t hungry.

  And always he fucked her. Violently. Endlessly. Gluttonously.

  After several hours of mating, he finally cut the vines from her body, freeing her. But he didn’t let her go, of course, didn’t give her the chance to escape from him again. He twined his large, warm body around her smaller one instead, providing her with warmth as they drifted off into slumber.

  Chapter 3

  Zaab carried his naked slave on his back as they made their way through the highlander jungle. Harnessed to him by a leather-like contraption Dementians often used when carrying their young, he was taking no chances with either his captive’s safety or with the chance that she might escape him for a third time.

  Dee Ellison—he knew her birth name. It had been the first piece of information he had extracted from the slave Zidia when she had been captured by the Mantus Hoard and sold to the Myng Hoard.

  Zidia had tried to escape Dementia with Dee, he knew, but of course, the lasses had failed. On a planet where no female births ever occurred it would be foolhardy to let even one wench of childbearing years leave it. Without the humanoid female slaves available to breed, there would be no such thing as Dementia, for their numbers would die out until their species was extinct—a fact Dementian males were careful to keep quiet about to outsiders.

  His warlord friend Jek Q’an Ri had once told him that mayhap his species should try love on the wenches instead of slavery. But Zaab failed to see the difference between the wife of a warrior and the zahbi of a Dementian. Neither was given the choice concerning whether or not they could leave the male who had captured them. Neither was permitted to touch another male after mating.

  Insofar as Zaab was concerned, Dee Ellison’s fate had been sealed from their first meeting…and her first escape.

  The first time the general had laid eyes on her she had been attempting to steal a spacecraft vessel from Stone City with the slave Zidia. His fighters had captured Zidia within minutes, but Dee Ellison had managed to escape into the lowlander jungle.

  If he hadn’t been immediately taken with the lass upon first glance, then by the time the wench had managed to thwart his attempts at capturing her, he had been consumed with her. Zaab had thought back on the lass often after that eve, wondering if she had met a bad end, wondering too if she’d been captured by another male.

  Three months later Zaab had caught Dee stealing meat from the communal hut of the Mantus Hoard. His first reaction had been surprise at seeing her—alive and not yet enslaved to another. His second reaction had been admiration, for ‘twould have taken more than a wee bit of cunning to survive alone and unaided within the jungle for so long. His third reaction had been a mix of lust and possessiveness—he wanted her and he wanted no other male to touch her. His fourth reaction had been anger, for the wench had managed—again—to escape him.

  The admiration, lust, possessiveness, and anger coalesced into obsession. He was obsessed with Dee Ellison, he knew. Mayhap he would always be obsessed with her.

  “I’m thirsty,” she whispered from the harness strapped to his back, the first words she had spoken in hours. “May I have a drink?” When he didn’t a
nswer right away, she amended her statement. “May I have a drink, Master?”

  Her voice was scratchy, her throat parched. He hated that he cared so much, but there it was. Ammunition she could use against him if she knew of his obsession. He steeled his jaw and answered her. “We will stop at the next stream, slave.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Zaab’s green eyes watched as his naked obsession drank from the pure waters of a highlander stream. She was on her hands and knees, her back to him, cupping water and lifting it to her face for refreshment. His gaze strayed to her cunt.

  Puffy. Pink. Pretty.

  His.

  Dee gasped when Zaab’s hands roughly grabbed her hips, then groaned when he slid his huge cock into her pussy from behind. “Beg me, slave,” she heard him grit out. “Beg me.”

  On her hands and knees, impaled to the hilt, her sensitive breasts dangling, she had never been more aroused. Or more worried about her body’s reaction to the general.

  He slowly slid his cock out, then back in, teasing her with the promise of ecstasy. She shuddered, wanting more. “I beg you,” she murmured.

  “I didn’t hear you, lass.” He gave her two more long, deep strokes.

  “I beg you!” she gasped. “Please fuck my pussy, Master.”

  He palmed her breasts from behind. “Whose pussy?” he growled.

  “My—your—your pussy.” She groaned when his fingers began plucking at her nipples. “Please fuck your pussy, Master!”

  He took her hard, animalistically, plunging in and out of her flesh like the predator he was. His growls punctured the night, his masculine scent perfumed the air.

  “Harder,” Dee moaned, throwing her hips back at him. “More.”

  His growls grew louder, more reverberating, as he fucked her harder, the sound of their flesh meeting an aphrodisiac. “Do you like this, little lass?” he ground out. His fingers dug into the padding of her hips as he pummeled her cunt with deep, possessive strokes.

  “I love it,” she gasped. It was the truth. An unsettling truth. She would be no man’s slave.

  Dee came violently, her entire body shuddering on a groan loud enough to wake the dead. She could feel Zaab’s cock ruthlessly plunging into her from behind, over and over, again and again. She could hear his low, possessive growl, could feel his powerful muscles tensing…

  “Zahbi,” he growled as she felt his hot cum pour into her. “Mine.”

  Panting for air, her eyes closed in a euphoria more hedonistic than the one brought on by the vines. She was on the verge of orgasming again when she cried out instead, shocked and in pain when two incisors sliced into her shoulder. “Zaab—don’t kill me! No—please!”

  “Mine,” he growled against her shoulder as he lapped up the blood the pinpricks had made. “All mine.”

  Dee came harder than she’d ever come before, moaning and groaning while she met each of his animalistic thrusts with one of her own. The orgasm was endless, intense—all consuming. Blood rushed to her face, heating it. Blood rushed to her nipples, elongating them until they stabbed Zaab’s palms.

  “Oh god,” she whimpered as they came down from the high together. “Oh god.”

  Chapter 4

  One week later

  Dee didn’t know what to make of anything. She was Zaab’s slave—one slave in a harem of thirty. And yet the only woman he touched, the only woman he even looked at, was her. The other females were but serving girls to him, whereas she was…well she didn’t know what she was. She only knew that she hadn’t been given much in the way of chores beyond feeding him, bathing him, and fucking him.

  Confusing.

  Equally confusing was the fact that she was growing to care for him. She didn’t know how that had come to happen, or when precisely he had gotten under her skin, only that he had.

  Zaab was rough and stern—but only to others. He was ferocious and deadly—but only to others. Where Dee was concerned, Zaab was different somehow. His speech was gentler when she was around. His conduct was more relaxed and personable with her than with anyone else. Almost as if…

  She snorted at her thoughts. Dementian males did not love. Emotions like that were not in their genetic make-up.

  Were they?

  She sighed. Did it matter?

  Naked, for slaves were always naked, Dee padded over to the window of the large thatch and stone hut that was Zaab’s home and stared out of it, her thoughts a million miles away. She’d been in Dementia for over a year now and was a much different woman from the carefree one who’d once called Earth home.

  Would Earth feel like home now, she wondered. Would she be able to forget this past year and fit in with other humans again if she found a way to return? Did she want to?

  One thing was for certain, Dee thought on a sigh. It would be difficult, to say the least, to pretend that she was just like every other human. She would be forced to keep her silence about Dementia for fear of being institutionalized. She would be forced to do her damnedest to erase the past from her memories for fear that she’d slip up and start talking about life in the alien jungle.

  And she would be forced to find pleasure with a human male. As if a human male could ever hope to compare…

  “What troubles you, lass?” Zaab asked the question before leaning down to place a kiss on her shoulder.

  Dee jumped, startled, for she hadn’t heard him come in. “You frightened me,” she breathed out, turning around to face him.

  He snorted at that. “’Tis doubtful that ten charging liats could frighten you.” He lowered his face to her chest, popped a nipple into his mouth, and began suckling.

  She smiled, proud that he found her a force to be reckoned with. And then she moaned, turned on by the attention he was laving on her breasts.

  Zaab raised his head a few minutes later, his green eyes clashing with her blue ones. He reached for her golden hair, his fingers running through it. “’Tis beautiful, lass. As are you.”

  More soft words. At this rate, she’d never want to leave him. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  They stood there in silence, gazing at each other, neither of them speaking a word. But finally, long moments later, Zaab broke the silence. “Come to my bed, zahbi,” he said softly, “I cannot sleep without you in it.”

  Don’t do this, she thought. Don’t make me love you.

  But when he laced his fingers through hers and gently guided her to the bed, she knew deep inside that it was too late.

  She had been lost to Earth from the moment their gazes first clashed in Stone City.

  Chapter 5

  One week later

  The Feast of Beginnings

  General Zaab, the Alpha Male of the Mantus Hoard, the Supreme Master of the Highlanders, leaned back in his chair as he watched three naked slave girls dance for him. This eve was special for the feast they were partaking of was held in honor of Jaaker, the male ape-god who had breathed life into the first of their species.

  Zaab cared not that the males of his hoard were touching and fondling the three slaves as they danced by. Slaves were expected to give their bodies not only to the master, but to his friends and family members as well. Or more to the point, they were expected to give their bodies freely for the use of any Dementian male, until she was claimed as a zahbi by the male who impregnated her.

  In the eyes of Zaab, Dee was already his wife. Yet he knew the others would not see it thusly. Her belly was not ripe with child, therefore, ‘twas impossible to make a public claim on her. He had marked her privately when he’d bitten into her shoulder that eve at the stream, yet insofar as he knew none of the Dementian males had seen her branding.

  He knew they hadn’t. He’d permitted no other males to be near her.

  Zaab’s green eyes darted up when he saw Dee walk into the communal hut carrying trenchers. His entire body stilled. Who had told Dee to come to the feast? Had he not given orders that—

  “Such beautiful breasts you have, my dear,” the leader of the Myng Hoard told
Dee as he cupped them, pulling her to his side. “You have nipples like berries.”

  Dee blushed, clearly not knowing what to do or say.

  “Bend over, wench,” another gorilla fighter called out. “I want to see what your cunt looks like. Mayhap ‘tis worthy of milking my cock.”

  Zaab exploded from his chair, leaping onto the table before them in one swift action. Growling, he backhanded the fighter who had thought to fuck her, blood spurting from the male’s nose as he fell to the ground.

  Dee turned wide blue eyes on him.

  “What is this?” the leader of the Myng Hoard asked, offended. “You have insulted my fighter!”

  “He has insulted me!” Zaab bellowed. “That wench he thought to fuck is my zahbi!”

  Dee’s mouth dropped open. It was then that Zaab realized she’d had no idea what zahbi meant…until this moment.

  “Well I…I…did not know,” the leader sputtered. “You have not publicly claimed her, General Zaab. She wears no belly chain.” The leader of the Myng Hoard, clearly not wanting bad blood with the Mantus Hoard, nodded respectfully down to Dee. “Congratulations on your pregnancy, lass. ‘Tis honored you are to bear the heir of the Mantus.”

  Zaab glanced away, preparing to be publicly humiliated. The moment Dee told them the truth he would look the fool for caring so deeply for a wench he had not—

  “Thank you,” Dee said simply.

  Zaab’s body stilled.

  “I’m sorry you were confused, but he was planning to publicly claim me at the feast tonight.”

  Zaab glanced up at her, warily meeting her gaze.

  “Weren’t you, Zaab?”

  “Err…” He was shocked. He could scarcely believe Dee had defended him and his honor before the others. “Aye,” he muttered.

  “Well then,” the leader of the Myng Hoard interrupted, his attempt to keep any potential brawls at bay obvious. “Let us get on with the claiming then.”

  * * * * *

  A little embarrassed, but mostly aroused, Dee sat on Zaab’s lap, her back to his chest, and eased her pussy down onto his cock until she enveloped him. She heard his grunt of pleasure when he was seated to the hilt, then moaned when his fingers began plucking at her nipples.