Determined to drive his point home, he grabbed her roughly by the upper arms and pulled her closer, so that she was standing between his thighs, facing him. Her sweet scent drew him like a drug but he forced himself to ignore her effect on him.
“First, a collar.” He placed his hand on her neck, his long fingers spanning her slender throat easily. Lauren’s eyes widened and he could feel her entire body trembling but to her credit, she didn’t pull away. “Then a brand,” Xairn continued. “Here or here.” He touched the inner curve of her hip and the upper slope of her ass. “After that—”
“Wait—there’s more?” Lauren looked at him in disbelief.
Xairn nodded. “After that,” he continued, “She was pierced.”
“Pierced?” Her voice trembled. “Where? I’m guessing you don’t mean her ears.”
“Here.” Though the garment she was wearing was oversized, Xairn could still see the ripe points of her nipples pressing against the silvery fabric. He brushed his fingertips over them lightly, drawing a gasp from Lauren. “And here,” he murmured harshly, letting his hand drift down to brush the tender V of her sex.
Lauren gasped again and jumped back. “You…you’re kidding me.”
“I wish that I was.” Xairn sighed and ran a hand over his hair. “But all that was simply a prelude to the torture that was to come.”
“A prelude? Being caged, branded and pierced was a prelude?” Lauren shook her head. “What could possibly be worse?”
“Bonding sex.” Xairn rose and began to pace the room. It wasn’t very large so there wasn’t much room to pace but he felt like he had to move or he would go mad.
“What is that, exactly?” she asked.
“A mark that never fades—one that causes a permanent mental and emotional connection.” Xairn stopped and looked at her. “Do you want to know how it’s done by my people?”
“I…I don’t—”
“Fine. I’ll tell you.” He began pacing again. “The male would chain his newly won female to the bed. Arms and legs wide, for easier access. After various inventive sexual tortures, he would straddle her and force her to suck his primary shaft.”
“Wait—hold on. His primary shaft?” Lauren frowned. “How many, uh, shafts does a Scourge have?”
Xairn raised an eyebrow. “Don’t human males have more than one shaft?”
“One is usually enough,” she said dryly. “Are you saying you have more than one?”
“We have two. The secondary, which can be used for non-bonding sexual activity and the primary which is only for bonding sex.”
Her eyes widened. “What, like side by side or—?”
“The primary shaft sits above the secondary,” Xairn explained. “Unless it’s properly stimulated, it remains small and inactive.”
“So what…” She coughed. “What happens during, uh, bonding sex then?”
“With both shafts engorged, a Scourge male is able to fill his female completely—both front and back.” Xairn gave her a level look. “I trust you know what I mean.”
“Yeah, I get it.” Lauren nodded and he thought that her normally warm brown skin looked pale. “So she’s tied to the bed and he—?”
“Fucks her,” Xairn said roughly. “Bonds her. He’s not gentle either. It takes a long, long time. And when he’s finished, if his female isn’t dead of blood loss or shock, she is his to do with as he pleases for the rest of her life.” He took a deep breath and looked her in the eyes. “Do you see now why I didn’t want to tell you? Why it isn’t a good thing that I have emotions for you?”
“God.” Lauren let out a shaky breath and sank down on the bed. “And you…” She looked up at Xairn. “Are you saying you’d want to…to do all those things to me?”
Xairn squeezed his eyes closed for a moment. Gods, how he hated himself at this moment! Himself and his whole twisted race. “Would I take pleasure in hurting you?” he said at last, looking at her. “Is that what you’re asking?”
Slowly, she nodded.
“I told you that I have no desire to cause you pain,” he said, coming to stand before her. Reaching down, he grasped her by her shoulders and pulled her to her feet. She was so fragile in his hands—like a flower that could be snapped in two with one careless move. “But I have the same desire—the same need—to posses that all my people do,” he told her. “The need to claim—to mark—to own. I can never get away from it, Lauren. It’s in my blood.”