Bride of the Trogarians Read Online Free Page B

human was reaching hers.
    She was writhing in pain, her cries increasing with each gyration when he finally stopped and knelt down.
    “You are female. You never strike a male. You obey.”
    She looked up at him, her mouth open in a bawl. He glanced down at her firm breasts, the pale round globes tipped by their ruddy pink nipples, and lower to the narrow waist and full hips. He needed to remind himself again that the sobbing female who’d just had the defiance spanked from her was not a youngling. She was so very small, so easily broken. Would such a small thing be able to handle him and Utak? Would she be able to handle their cocks thrusting in and out of her?
    Of course she would. The Crone had foreseen it, and the Crone was never wrong. But Zios knew they could not breed her until she accepted her role as a Trogarian mate. And that would require training of her mind and body. Mara had known, and understood. Zios’ heart twisted in his chest. He could not think of her now. She was with the All that Is, and this human was the mate in the here and now. They would teach her. She would learn. She would have no choice.

Chapter Three
     
     
    The technology of TraoX39 had been the stuff of science fiction movies—flying shuttles, biodomes, holoscreens, infoboards. Iris had been fitted with an internal chip no bigger than a grain of sand that allowed her brain to immediately process any language in any known galaxy into her own, so that the speaker—in her mind—spoke perfect English. Likewise, it translated everything she said into the language of whoever had spoken to her. Like most new arrivals, her features had been somewhat augmented by the matrons through use of a wand that smoothed skin, removed blemishes, and denuded hair at the blink of an eye.
    That technology extended to implements used in the ‘training’ that were never mentioned by the government agents who’d promised her and Nora transport to the distant planet would assure them a better life as the wife of a Traoian.
    There were benign-looking cords that heated and welted the skin of her bottom on impact, internal probes that stretched and stung her bottom hole. And for added humiliation, sometimes the punishments were—as the matrons put it—‘primitive.’ Those involved Iris being thrown over the lap of one of the huge caretakers, her bare bottom on display as it was spanked red in front of the other girls.
    But none of those indignities matched the pain of the punishment she’d just gotten from the huge Trogarians who’d taken possession of her as one might a piece of property or livestock. The pain from the strapping had been concentrated on the portion of her bottom pressed into the wooden chair, its rough surface abrading the tender welts each time she made the slightest move. The chair was too small for the men, and she suspected that it was currently being used for exactly its intended purpose.
    She tried to sit still, and found this nearly as unbearable. Left alone, she was now forced to endure not just the physical pain, but also the emotional agony of her predicament. How could she have been so reckless? Or so naïve in her idealism. On Earth, she’d taken stands—for herself and others. And for Nora, especially for Nora. They’d been friends since school. Her desire to protect Nora had been the only reason she’d applied for refugee status to TraoX39. She couldn’t imagine her small, innocent friend alone in a strange world without her protection.
    She’d had no doubt that Nora would be happy with a mate. The brochures depicted the Traoians as handsome enough, but Iris always had the uneasy feeling that the full truth of the deal was being glossed over, and decided that if an advocate was needed, she would be the one to take a stand. So on the way to the planet, as Nora pored over handouts on Traoian culture and fluffy articles on how to best please a Traoian male (a real Cosmo article if there ever was one, Iris thought), Iris