Bridging the Distance: A Kindred Tales Novel (Brides of the Kindred) Read online

  “Of course they do.” Lorelei stroked his hair some more, enjoying the forbidden intimacy in a way she knew was wrong—yet somehow she didn’t want to stop. “Bound, do you think—” she began but just then a voice from the front of the shuttle broke in.

  “Unnamed space craft, please state your business.”

  Bound pulled away from her reluctantly and stood up quickly. His demeanor was suddenly all business.

  “We must have been spotted by Femalian Space Border Control. Come, my Lady—you’ll have to speak to them.”

  “Me?” Lorelei frowned as she pulled her stretchy black mesh tank-top back into place. “Why me?”

  “Because, males are not taught to pilot ships or drive any kind of vehicle on Femalah,” Bound explained. “You must speak to them and pretend you are the one piloting. Otherwise they will suspect our deception at once.”

  “All right—coming.” Lorelei hurried after the big Kindred but she couldn’t help feeling the slight weight of the golden charms dangling from her nipples and thinking how good it had felt to have Bound’s mouth on her there. Not to mention wondering what it would be like to have him and his twin sucking her breasts at the same time.

  Chapter Seven

  “Welcome to the Fren and Chulk, Gentlewoman Daniels and slave-mate.” A tall woman in a severely cut slate blue suit and black top hat bowed to them as they walked through the elaborately carved wooden doors that fronted the club. She was wearing a see-through shirt, much like Lorelei’s, but her nipple rings were silver and the charms hanging from them were simple silver balls. “We are so happy you are making it to our sale tonight. And of course you’ll be joining us for to dine before it begins?”

  “For to dine? Oh yes—to dine. Yes, of course.” Lorelei nodded. She had been given a shot of translation bacteria before leaving the Mother Ship, which enabled her to understand the words of the alien tongue, but the grammar structure of the Femalians still seemed rather strange.

  “Thank you. You and your slave-mate must be following me,” the woman said. “So I am understanding you are from the Haska region?” she said as they followed, Lorelei walking right beside her and Bound two steps behind, as was the protocol for males here.

  “Yes, that’s right.” Lorelei nodded. Haska was a remote region on the other side of Femalah. Saying they came from a place so far distant gave them a little leeway to explain any mistakes or social gaffes they might make—or that was the hope, anyway, Lorelei thought grimly.

  “It is being beautiful, or so I am told,” the tall woman said. “Before I am seating you, would you like to be counted as one worthy to be seated with the Countess?”

  “The…Countess?” Lorelei frowned in confusion.

  “The Countess du’Montrive—she from whom you have been accepting the invitation for to attend our sale.” The tall woman frowned, as though it was a terrible faux-pas for Lorelei not to know the hostess’s name.

  “Oh of course, that Countess,” Lorelei said quickly. “I, uh, thought you were talking about a different Countess. Yes, of course my, uh, slave-mate and I would love to be seated with Countess du’Montrive.”

  “Very well—then you had best to be lining up along the wall and preparing for to present your slave-mate.”

  “Uh, present my slave-mate? How and why?” Lorelei asked. “We don’t, um, have that custom in Haska,” she added quickly, hoping to avoid further censure.

  “Why to see if you are worthy and your status is high,” the woman exclaimed with a look of incredulous scorn. “The gentlewoman with the best slave-mate wins the right to sit at the Countess’s table. How can you not be having this custom?”

  “I don’t know,” Lorelei said apologetically. “We just, uh, don’t be having it—that’s all. Where should we stand?”

  “There.” The tall woman pointed to a far wall paneled in dark wood where at least three other couples were standing. “The Countess will be coming out soon. See to it that your slave-mate is being ready for inspection.”

  Then she stalked haughtily away, leaving Lorelei and Bound to stare after her uncertainly.

  “Well…” Lorelei sighed. “I, uh, guess we’d better go over and get in line. I wish I hadn’t told her we’d like to sit with the Countess!”

  “But think if we get chosen,” Bound murmured under his breath as he followed her across the long hall toward the far wall. “Surely the Countess has control over the sale. If she’s pleased with us, we have a better chance of getting to Torn.”

  “Good point,” Lorelei whispered back, looking over her shoulder. “I just have no idea how I’m supposed to, uh, present you.”

  “Stand at the end of the line,” Bound suggested. “Watch when the Countess comes out and do as the others do.”

  “Good idea.” They had come to the far wall now and she saw that the other women in line were dressed as she was, though some had on even more colorful costumes that she did. All of them wore the nipple rings as signs of status, and all of them were gold. They had various charms dangling from the rings but it was impossible for Lorelei to tell if they were supposed to be better or worse than her own.

  The slave-mates by the other women’s sides were all tall and muscular, though none quite as eye-catching as Bound. She caught the envious glances the other gentlewomen cast at him and wondered if having a big husband or slave-mate was a status symbol here.

  Kind of like a man having a trophy wife back home on Earth, she thought. Maybe it would be enough to just have Bound turn around in a circle and show himself off when the Countess came. He was clearly the biggest and handsomest man in the room—it should be a clear cut case and they would be sitting with the Countess in no time. Lorelei would be charming and persuasive (she hoped) and they would buy Torn and have him back to the shuttle before you could say—

  “Goddess, she must be coming soon,” Bound breathed in her ear. “My Lady, I think we could be in for more than we bargained for.”

  “What do you m—” But the words died on Lorelei’s lips. As if reacting to some silent signal only they could hear, every single one of the other gentlewomen had reached under the leather kilts of their companions. And each of them was vigorously stroking her slave-mate’s shaft.

  Suddenly Lorelei had more of an idea of what showing Bound off would entail.

  “Crap,” she muttered. “I thought you said they were like Victorian England here? There’s no way that a man would treat a lady like this at that time!”

  “I think maybe it would be different if this was more of a society function and I was meant to be your legitimate husband,” Bound murmured back. “This is a gentlewomen’s club which is where females bring the males they want to show off—a slave-mate is kind of a cross between a concubine and a whore.”

  “Ouch,” Lorelei muttered. “What are we supposed to do now?”

  “Well…” Bound shrugged. “I suppose what everyone else is doing.”

  “But…but…” Lorelei looked up at him. “You…you don’t mind?”

  “I will bear any indignity to get my brother back,” he said grimly, then his features softened somewhat. “Besides, My Lady, having your hands on me is not exactly a fate worse than death. In fact…” His voice dropped even lower. “I have been longing to feel you touch me for some time.”

  Lorelei felt her heart skip a beat.

  “Well, if you really don’t mind…”

  “I am yours, My Lady.” Bound put his arms behind his back and parted his legs for her, standing straight in the same posture the other slave-mates had adopted while their gentlewomen stroked them. “Do with me as you please.”

  “All right.” It felt incredibly strange to be doing something like this in public but somehow it gave Lorelei a naughty little thrill too. Almost from the first moment she’d met him, she had been wondering exactly how big Bound was in the cock department. All Kindred had the reputation of being huge between the legs and a naughty little part of her couldn’t help wishing she could find out first h
and.

  First hand—ha, very funny, whispered a sarcastic little voice in her head as she reached under the leather kilt. Just remember every time you do something like this, you’re getting further and further from that professional relationship you said you wanted to maintain.

  But I have to, she told herself. What else can I do under the circumstances? I can’t refuse to touch Bound and show him off—our cover will be blown and we’ll be kicked off the planet—or moon or whatever. Besides, I swore an oath to do everything in my power to get Torn back and bring the two of them back together. I have to do this. I—

  Her thoughts cut off abruptly when she felt something hot and hard brush against her fingertips.

  Bound gave a harsh gasp and seemed to brace himself as she came in contact with his maleness. And then Lorelei had him fully in hand.

  “My Lady,” he murmured hoarsely. “Please…don’t stop.”

  Lorelei felt a surge of pleasure go through her. Sliding her hand up, she grasped him more firmly, feeling his thick length fill her palm. God, he was so thick she couldn’t even get her fingers wrapped all the way around his shaft! How in the world would any woman take even one Twin Kindred in her pussy, let alone two?

  Trying to push the illicit thought away, she began to stroke him slowly, letting her fingers explore the silky, heated skin and throbbing thickness under his kilt. Bound groaned softly—an almost painfully pleasurable sound—and she wondered if the way she was touching him sexually without his twin nearby was hurting him.

  If so, the pain wasn’t enough to dampen his desire. He swelled in her grip, his cock getting even longer and thicker until Lorelei thought he might actually poke a hole through the thin leather kilt.

  Her hand slipped over the broad head at the tip of his long shaft and she felt wetness there—a wet, slippery heat she suddenly wished she could taste. She had an illicit urge to flip up the kilt, get on her knees, and lick him. But she knew she couldn’t do that. None of the other gentlewomen was doing it and it would probably be against the Femalian traditions.

  Still, she loved the surge of empowerment she felt when she heard the big Kindred groan softly and when he pumped his hips to thrust his cock into her loosely gripped fist.

  Then she heard the woman ahead of her whisper fiercely to her slave-mate, “Get ready to present, Bertreim—she’s almost here! Listen for the bell!”

  A soft tinkling sounded and a woman in the most elaborate outfit Lorelei had yet seen came stalking out of the shadows.

  The Countess du’Montrive was a tall, statuesque woman with brilliant orange-red curls and skin as pale as ivory. She wore a long black velvet frock coat with long bunches of white lace at her sleeves which hung over the backs of her hands. Her trousers were a blinding white, as was the transparent shirt she wore under her coat. Her nipple rings appeared to be not silver or gold but gold studded with rubies and emeralds and other precious stones. They glittered like rainbows as she moved and from them dangled two large diamond charms cut into teardrop shapes.

  On her head was the tallest top-hat Lorelei had seen yet—it was bright, blood-red and had a spray of white peacock-like feathers affixed to the front which stood up three feet in the air above the hat itself. Black boots with gold buckles completed her startling outfit.

  Behind her, trailing along like an afterthought, was a tall, muscular male with long brown hair and downcast eyes, lined in black. He was wearing a standard leather kilt like Bound and nothing else.

  “My darlings!” the Countess du’Montrive greeted the assembled gentlewomen. “It’s so very good to be seeing you all this fine day! How are you all to be doing?”

  There were polite murmurs, assuring the Countess they were fine, which Lorelei joined in with.

  “Yes, yes—that’s all well and good.” The Countess waived one hand, which was wearing a tight, white, fingerless glove. “Very well, enough with the pleasantries. Let’s be seeing what you’ve all brought with you today. Present!”

  As one, the gentlewomen pulled up their mate-slaves’ kilts and showed off their long, engorged shafts.

  The Countess du’Montrive promptly whipped out a monocle with a long, black silk cord attached to it, put it to her right eye, and began to walk down the line, looking the offerings up and down.

  “Mmm-hmm…mmm-hmm. Nice, very nice,” she murmured. Then she got to the woman before Lorelei. “Oh yes—very nice,” she exclaimed, looking at the long, thick shaft poking out from under the leather kilt. “My, my, Gentlewoman Griselda! You’ve certainly outdone yourself this time!” she exclaimed.

  “Thank you, my Countess.” The gentlewoman bowed formally. “Bertreim has been specially bred for pleasure—hence his large size.”

  “I see, I see. And what about you my dear?” the Countess asked, directing her attention to Lorelei. “Is your slave-mate also being bred for pleasure?”

  “He is indeed, my Countess,” said Lorelei, trying to imitate the tone of the other woman. “See for yourself.” She had allowed the leather kilt to partially cover Bound, but now she whipped it back with a theatrical flourish, determined to show him off properly.

  “Oh, my!” The Countess du’Montrive’s eyes gleamed with pleasure and her pale cheeks got a pinkish-orange glow. “My goodness, my dear gentlewoman…” She cleared her throat. “Why don’t I know your name?”

  “It’s Daniels. Gentlewoman Lorelei Daniels. At your service, Countess du’Montrive.” Lorelei made a deep bow, hoping it was the right thing to do.

  Apparently her action pleased the Countess.

  “Very nice, my dear,” she exclaimed. “Tell me, does your slave-mate be showing as well as he is presenting?”

  “Um…I’m sorry, my Countess, but I’m not sure what you mean by ‘showing.’” Lorelei said uncertainly. “Please forgive my ignorance, I’m visiting from the Haska region.”

  “Ah, such a barbaric region.” The Countess shook her head and clicked her tongue. “Very well, I will be forgiving your ignorance, my darling. “I am asking to see your slave give up his pleasure. I want to be seeing him spurt.”

  “Spurt?” Lorelei felt her cheeks getting hot with a blush but she tried to keep her voice calm and businesslike. “You want me to have him, uh, touch himself until he comes for you, my Countess?

  “Naturally not!” The Countess du’Montrive looked shocked, as though Lorelei had suggested something dreadfully rude.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry!” Lorelei exclaimed, even as a little voice in her head started whispering, watch it, Lorelei, you’re screwing it up! “I mean, I am being so sorry,” she hastily corrected herself. “I thought you meant—”

  “He must not be touching himself,” the Countess interrupted her. “I have been hearing that in some of the more backwater provinces, they allow this. But here in the civilized area of Femalah we are understanding that no male has the right to touch his own body or bring his own pleasure. That is only for the gentlewoman who owns him to do.”

  “Oh…Oh, of course,” Lorelei said faintly. “So you…you want me to make him, uh, come for you?”

  “Naturally, my dear.” The Countess du’Montrive nodded regally, the tall white plumes on her hat sweeping the air. “Now, please do be proceeding.”

  Lorelei glanced up at Bound, wishing she could apologize for this public affront. It felt wrong to be doing this to him without discussing it first. The again, he had said he would bear any indignity as long as it helped them get Torn back. Maybe he wouldn’t mind.

  As if in answer to her silent question, the big Kindred gave her a slight nod and widened his stance. The message was clear—do what you want with me.

  All right, Lorelei thought. I guess I will—we have no choice.

  She put her left arm around his lean hips and stood halfway behind him before reaching around to grasp his long, thick shaft in her right hand. She wanted the let the Countess have an unobstructed view, as much as possible.

  “All right, Bound,” she murmured to him as she began to st
roke him up and down. “Does that feel good? Do you like to feel me stroke you?”

  “Gods, yes, My Lady.” Obligingly, the big Kindred played along, pumping his hips to stroke in and out of her fist. Pressed against him as she was, Lorelei could feel his big body tensing—every muscle tight and hard in response to her touch. And his scent—that salty, wild, ocean scent she’d noticed the first time she was close to him—seemed to get stronger as she stroked him. God, he smelled so good! And she liked the feeling of power she got from pumping him off like this, even if it was in public.

  Part of her wondered where she’d gotten the nerve to do this—when had she become such an exhibitionist? She didn’t know but she found she enjoyed it—enjoyed it a lot. It was naughty and daring and hot all at the same time—like she was playing the part of some sexy Mistress she could never be in real life.

  “That’s right, Bound,” she murmured, stroking all the way up to slide her fingers over the slippery, broad head of his cock and all the way down to the thick base. “That’s right—come for me. Come for the Countess—she wants to see you spurt.”

  The dirty talk seemed to well up from someplace inside her, surprising even Lorelei herself. Then again, she’d always been kind of a closet exhibitionist, she thought truthfully to herself. She’d done drama camp every summer for years and she loved putting on a show. Maybe this was part of her natural showmanship coming out—or maybe you just like having an excuse to do something so naughty without consequences, whispered the scolding little voice in her head. Shame on you, Lorelei!

  She pushed the thought away and pumped harder. They had to do this, she reminded herself. If they could win the Countess’s favor, they were that much closer to getting Torn back.

  “Come for me, Bound,” she murmured again. “Come for me, now.”