His Sex Pet

Spring-springing howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

This idea for an erotic romance sprang at me one night during that twilight time before sleep. Anyway, here's a rough-draft opening to my space fantasy story, starring Sabrah and Commander Droz. Their story could easily be connected to Talbot's Peak since Dante's Interspecies Pleasure Club is known throughout the galaxy.

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"I pounced upon a comet for a taste of icy fire, but stole a ride into the mind of the Divine."  Commander Droz of the Zivkvic Clan quoted his own prose, as he stood before his immense observation window. He indulged in the beauty of the starscape as they flew through an area of space he particularly enjoyed. 

The ping of his universal communicator interrupted. Spinning on his booted heel, Droz strode to the holo-globe located on one end of his personal command station. Since he recognized the unique sound as being from his homeworld, Droz answered, thumb-pressing the device on. "Commander of Galactic Contact," he formally intoned. 

"Brother, I have news," Gryz announced without the usual growled greeting, or one word about the latest matters as concerned their panther shapeshifter family. 

"I take it I won't be pleased." Droz lowered himself to his three-sixty view chair. "You look good for being miniature-sized," he joked for the sport of it -- to rub his brother's fur the wrong way. "Like a roderra I could snap my cat jaws around." 

"Hilarious." Gryz twisted his human-form lips, then scowled. His panther glared a challenge from his brother's amber-dark eyes. 

"What is it? I have a feeling my day is about to be royally ruined." 

"More than your day," Gryz began, his mood altered to brotherly concern.  "I have been properly informed by her clan that your intended in marriage has changed her mind, and her heart. " 

Droz raised his brows high at the unexpected end to his marriage plans. His gut kinked like an angry Pitxqua snake. Yet, the inner knowing had been niggling at him for a good period of time...he realized. 

"Yes, a fist-to-the-jaw gamechanger. Indeed." After a sharp intake of breath, Droz asked, "Did Philazov state her reasons?" 

"Not in any detail, my brother. I gather she prefers to remain on planet. And..." Gryz furrowed his brow. 

"And," Droz prompted in his command voice. 

"Her intended does not own your status in our realm. However, he is quite solicitous of her every desire." 

"Ah, quite understood. My attentiveness would be lacking, as she would describe it." Droz moved restlessly, not only from the metaphorical claws ripping at his insides, but his cock jerked with clear complaint. "A raw bone of contention we discussed frequently." 

"Women are fickle when it comes to being adored," Gryz offered. After a short pause, he inquired, "Your physical state...the time of mating?" 

"I am in desperate need. Laorev owns me. With my marital bed imminent, I have not suffered the pains. Now–" Agony cut a huge swathe through Droz's torso even as he spoke. He growled a curse. 

"You will procure a sex pet at once. Do you sail near any reputable merchant?" 

"Near enough. The trade has not lessened in this sector. Let Father know I will make immediate arrangements since my death is not an option." Droz grunted a laugh at himself, at his challenging plight. 

"Of course. Good hunting, brother." 

"I will contact once I have found a suitable sex pet. Good hunting," Droz ended, noting their holo-transmission was about to expire.

****

Sabrah silently wept, her tears streaming down her face, and onto her bound arms. Beneath her the scant but clean bedding was becoming increasingly wet. Not that she cared one whit. 

Goddess, oh Great One, why? She mentally cried out. 

Her three older sisters, or one of them, had sold her into slavery. That Sabrah couldn't deny, given her wrists and ankles were shackled to the barren walls of a small cubicle by soft unyielding bands. 

Mere minutes ago she'd awoken, her head muzzy, whirling. When she'd been able to move, her limbs had yanked against the constricting shackles. 

She'd fought like a wild animal for moments, quickly realizing it was a useless battle. Before her mind's eye, the infuriated faces of her sisters, their voiced threats to rid themselves of her, cruelly played out. Again. 

Sabrah wept harder. Her beauty had become a curse. No cosmic doubt. 

Not once had she entertained or encouraged any man her sisters set their desires upon. Yet what had she gained but their constant loathing, their vile plans aimed at defiling her reputation. Now... 

Now, she knew not where she was, where she was headed, and worst of all, who owned her, and what their despicable actions would be toward her. Afraid of listening ears, Sabrah suppressed her anguished moans. That could bring unwanted attention sooner than what she would otherwise endure. 

Wanting to scream her desperation at the heavens,  Sabrah contained them inside her mind instead. She screamed over and over.  At least, her tears abated. 

When the scent of violets swirled around her, Sabrah fell into a troubled slumber. She dreamed of her beloved home, the grand sprawling manor surrounded by lush lovely lands -- the fertile lands and forests where the most splendid species of animals thrived. 

Recognizing her ability to manage the wildlands, Sabrah had been given domain by her father. Even that small title caused her sisters to rage, despite their own managerial duties over the domestic lands and livestock. 

A rocking motion caused Sabrah to awaken, and before thinking, she tugged on her restraints. Sobs burst past her lips. 

Hearing the low whir of a door opening, similar to her family's air-flight carriage, Sabrah raised her head. She gulped past the huge lump in her throat. 

"You are a beauty." A frog-croaking voice spoke with smug satisfaction, and in universal speech. "You'll sell fast, and for a high profit." 

"Whatever profit you could make with my purchase, I assure you my father will match." Sabrah choked on her tears. "And increase." 

"Perhaps," the gray-robed man, who couldn't be much taller than she, whispery-croaked. "But he would also have my tender hide. And I am quite attached to it." 

"I cannot see your face or your form clearly. I will not give you away. I–I promise. Just return me...at once." 

"Your words may or may not be sincere, pretty slave. I cannot afford to chance it. However, I will assure you I am not a cruel man. What would you have to eat?" 

"Nothing!" Sabrah stuck her chin out as much as she could, given her restrained, awkward position.

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Wishing you love and passion on the wild side ~ 

Savanna 

Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance