Her Masters' Hands (Captives of Pra'kir Book 5) by Richards Kate

Author:Richards, Kate [Richards, Kate]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Kate Richards
Published: 2017-05-31T04:00:00+00:00

“No!” Liliana clenched her buttocks around the intrusion. Even without any of the vibrations, she felt over-filled and walked awkwardly. Only the bounty of plants filling the soaring structure provided enough distraction to keep her wobbly legs moving forward.

Aman’s chuckle made it worse. How had she, a woman who had cavalierly shunned all types of sexual contact until nearly thirty years old not only allowed these thing to be done to her—as a virtual prisoner, what choice had she—but responded to them in such a positive way. If one of these very tall, very dark alien gods asked her to bend over the planting table to her right, she’d do it in a heartbeat. With alacrity her feminist soul would never forgive her for.

She had no doubt that if the bulges tenting their trousers didn’t rip her in half, she’d experience pleasure all those bragging girls back in school could never dream of. Her swollen pussy seeped arousal, adding to her discomfort.

Forcing her attention back to the tag she held, she squinted at it. The symbols bore no relation to any written language she’d ever seen. Not even hieroglyphics. “I don’t know what this says.”

Cain took it from her trembling hand. “Why don’t you?”

“I don’t know.” A terror unlike any she’d experienced chilled her soul. What if she never got away from here? And what if her injuries, the amnesia, made it impossible for her to read? Had she forgotten how?

Racing back to the table, she grabbed another of the small squares and scribbled her name on it. Lily. Oh thank heavens. Turning, she became aware of the sober scrutiny of both men, and held the tag out to them. “Read this.”

With a sardonic eyebrow lift, Aman approached and took it from her. “It’s gibberish.”

“It’s my name.” She nodded. “And gibberish is what your writing looks like to me.”

“But you understand when we speak.” Cain joined them and eyed the letters. “We do not understand your language.”

Lily blinked at them. “Why do I understand yours?” So much was buried in the fog of amnesia, she had forgotten to ask. She swayed, and Cain grabbed her wrist.

“Steady. You were given an injection in the hospital that allows you to communicate with us, and us with you. A translator serum, as it were. We just didn’t realize it didn’t extend to reading and writing.” He paused. “Want to try writing?”

She shook her head. “I can’t even tell how the letters or signs or symbols are formed.” Bowing her head, she tried to take in her new status. “I’m illiterate, here on Pra’kir. How can I be of help to you as a botanist who can’t even make notes of my observations?” Her stomach churned. “I guess you’d might as well lock me in my room and just come fuck me when the mood strikes. Maybe I can help the housekeeper make beds. I’m useless otherwise.”

Cain’s grip dropped from her wrist, and she shivered, feeling very alone in her silly apron with the big bow over her bottom.

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