Can she conform to his way of life? Does she even want to?
Star was raised in a post-apocalyptic, sheltered environment, cherished and educated until she turned eleven. From that day forward, all physical contact ended, and her life changed, but she had no idea why. Until the day she was given a drug to paralyze her temporarily, strapped to a cross, and taken to him.
Tru was a leader among men, created and trained after the demise of the earth to be a fighter and to someday take over the land with his bravery. He ordered her to be his mate many years ago, before she was created. He paid for her to be raised to his specifications and to be educated as he saw fit. And now the time had come for him to reap the rewards. His slave was grown and ready to come to him, to keep house for him, cook his meals, tend to his needs and most importantly, to bear his children.
But Star soon finds that her life will never be the same. Tru is a strict disciplinarian and he has given her many rules to follow. Can she conform to his way of life? Does she even want to? Planning her escape would be difficult, but she promised herself she would find a way.
Publisher’s Note: This futuristic, sci-fi adventure is full of graphic scenes and power exchange. Do not read if this is offensive to you.
Star remained silent.
“You’ll have to be punished, you know, for even thinking about escaping me. And punished harshly.”
“Aren’t I always?”
Tru considered her carefully. The remark wasn’t said sarcastically, but matter of factly. “Yes, you are. It’s what you need. It’s also what you were built for.”
The truth of his statement shone through in his voice, but Star blanched at his statement. “It was not.”
His smile was not quite right.
“It was. You were built for me.”
“I was not built—”
“You were mixed up and combined and created in a lab just as surely as I was. Only I was the one telling them what I wanted when you were conceived. There was no one there for me but a bunch of scientists. I made sure you had more than what everyone else was asking for in their women—all the other men who were bought off with the women they made for us. I made sure you had a brain and that you knew how to use it, even though everyone said it was the last thing I should do. It would make you uppity, they said, and they were right, it turns out.”
Tru stood, slowly, and grabbed her upper arm, forcing her over the back of the chair, guiding her hands to the seat of it, curling her fingers around it and squeezing them there, letting her know she shouldn’t let go under any circumstances.
Then he slowly snicked the leather belt through the loops at his waist, gathering it into one palm until he had it in a manageable size, the belt end carefully wrapped. There was no way he would ever allow metal to dig into that wonderfully soft skin of hers. He’d punish her, all right. He’d take her audacity out of her hide, but not in any sort of permanent way.
“I suggest you don’t let go of that chair, Star. It’s not going to be easy to do, but your punishments—plural, just in case you were wondering—are going to be bad enough without me needing to double them on you because you couldn’t keep in position when you were kindly reminded to beforehand.”
He liked the way she whimpered, even before the belt fell. That was a good sign, if ever there was one, that she could be reformed. She would be reformed, one way or the other.
He lifted his arm into the air and the belt began to sing its mournful song, followed by a more familiar female wail that accompanied it, louder than the strong whacks of the strap, more strident and off key and high pitched and desperate, but no less beautiful to his ears, nor to those of his men who were right outside the room, listening to what he was more than willing to do to his woman.
And that was just the beginning.