Little Red

All characters in this story belong solely to me, thank god.

Little Red

Chapter 1


Red pulled down the hood on her crimson SendFast hoodie, toed at the edge of her skiv-board and watched the expensive cars that flew upward past the guard platform, blissfully unharassed. Her eyes tracked them as they moved up and up, their shadows—real shadows with sharp edges, here above the mist-line—rippling along the contours of the buildings like cloth. She took a deep breath of humid air, glancing at her watch as the Sentinel processed her clearance code. Her granddame would be expecting her in two hours, just in time for lunch. It had already taken her half an hour to get past two Sentinel posts, plus she was cranky from a lack of sleep caused by increased business at SendFast that resulted in her having to take on more jobs. In the last three days she’d barely managed to snag five hours of sleep, and her body was aching with exhaustion and a need to deliver this last package and rest.
And I'm barely above the mist-line.
She gritted her teeth again.
"It's a level A3 clearance. It has been every time I've come up for the past ten years. Jesus," She grumbled. "You'd think you've never seen a fucking courier." Granddame would frown on her language, but not before she reamed the Droid for being so blasted useless. The Sentinel continued to process her card in silence for a moment before releasing a confirmatory beeping noise.
"Identification accepted. Proceed to the next level."
The Sentinel's tastefully recorded voice was courteous but not overtly happy as it extended her ID back to her on one of its tentacle-like limbs. She cursed it again, snagging the card back and starting to drop it back into her bag.
A deep, raspy voice, vaguely familiar, stopped her.
"Hold on. I will see that ID."
The Sentinel backed away from her with a "Yes, my Lord," and she turned to confront the interloper, maybe vent some of her frustration on him, but the words stalled in her throat. She fell back two steps before she managed to stop herself.
He was huge. Taller than her by nearly a foot, with massively broad shoulders and muscles that moved smoothly under his Ruler's garb—a form-fitting coat and pants in the black and silver of the bluebloods, rather than the androgynous robes that The High Circles wore with such love—but it wasn't his clothing that held her in awe.
He was an animal… and a man. An awe-inspiring combination of the two.
Someone had tampered with his DNA, which was a common enough activity after the advent of cheap-end genetic sequencers, but the finesse of the job screamed wealthy eccentric rather than homemade in the Rookeries. Rookery breeds were mind-bogglingly strong, but only the most talented of Geneticists could create beauty or intelligence in any of the specimens. Those who could charged a pretty penny for the feat. This manimal would have cost more than she would make in her entire life, if she lived three hundred years.
He was a cross between a black wolf and a man, put together like a piece of art—from a very perverted woman's collection. Like everything else above the mist-line, he was tastefully crafted; streamlined in a way that preserved the alien attractiveness of a feral animal while maintaining a form that emphasized his humanity, resulting in one of the most virile creatures she’d ever seen. He was obviously built for sex, from the top of his silken head to his well-shined boots—with more than one spectacular bulge along the way. Muscles slid smoothly beneath his fur, making her ache to feel them, and his package--wow.
Raw, dirty, borderline dangerous sex, Red thought, dragging her eyes up to the delicately sharp tips of his incisors where they indented the full curve of his lower lip.
"Here. Let's see who you are." He reached out and took the ID from her suddenly nerveless fingers, his claws gently raking across her palm. And suddenly she remembered where she had heard his curiously gravelly, deep voice before.
Ahhh… fuck. I'm in trouble.
Oh, yes you are. His voice shivered through her inner ear, menacingly smug. He didn't give any outward sign of the soundless conversation he was having with her, keeping his head bent as he perused her ID badge.
Get the fuck out of my head, she snapped, suddenly very, very worried.
I don't think I will. I've already paid for the right to be inside you. Even your head. It's about damn time for me to take what's mine.
"Well hello," he finally drawled after looking over her ID badge, his eyes bright gold with interest as they cut back up to her. "Scarlett McCallen. Fitting." He pulled off her hood, eyeing her shoulder length russet hair before sliding his attention back down to her face, his tawny eyes meeting her wide moss-green gaze. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to take you in for questioning." He turned from her and snapped out a command at the Sentinel as he walked to his car, perched at the other end of the platform. "Cuff her and put her in my car." The Sentinel hummed forward, its whip-like appendages wrapping around behind her at a speed she couldn't match, and she was suddenly handcuffed, her arms trapped behind her. She barely had time to mutter a profanity before the Sentinel shuffled her towards the beast-man's car. She had a moment to see her new captor rub the hard edges of her ID card, then put it in his pocket with a smug smile. Then she was in his car. Where she couldn't run.
I'm so fucked.
Not yet. But soon.

He had finally found her. After the nearly three years of searching, years of having the Sentinels on guard and sending out his Peace Keepers to "stabilize" the Rookeries, she had played into his hands—not gentle hands, by any means. The things he would do to her lush, rounded body with his hands…
Aelle couldn't figure out what she was doing with the clearance level she had. Running her ID through the system had only revealed that her records were blocked, and whoever had blocked them had been smart enough to make all access dependent on voice and retina recognition. Only someone who lived high in the Circles had that kind of power, so he set his tracers to sift for information on any wealthy connections a courier might have. A frown crossed his face with the thought that she might have been working for one of his enemies. He had been fairly certain that she had nothing to do with his… problem… but he hadn't known that she was under somebody's protection. Whatever the case, he had plans for her interrogation. At his home. With her tied to his bed, screaming everything he wanted to know as he impaled her luscious ass on his cock. It would be gentle retribution, after what she had put him through.

His massive skypalace was one of the most beautiful buildings that Red had ever seen – and the most heavily guarded. Sentinels and armored units of Peace Keepers hovered thick as stars in a galaxy around it, gleaming silver-blue points surrounding the house at a distance that offered privacy while maintaining solid defense. She hadn't realized how wealthy he was—but then, she really hadn't known much about him at all. His furry countenance was a new thing to her. The last time she had seen him he had been pale, blue-eyed, and the only hair he had was on his very attractive head.
Aelle Kraven.
She had attempted to talk him out of claiming her as a slave after one of her uncle's enemies had ambushed her and sold her off to a slaver bound for the pleasure palaces on Centauri Three. His response to her negotiations crushed her fragile hopes of escape, while at the same time enflaming her body in previously unimaginable ways. He led her from the auctionhouse without giving her the benefit of covering her nearly naked body. Slaves were required to keep any bits of their bodies used for reproduction covered in public, but the law was widely ignored as the flimsy morals law it was. No Peacekeeper worth his salt would waste time telling an Owner to cover up his slave. No, more than likely the Peacekeeper would lean back and enjoy the view as everyone else did. The auctionhouse, however, tested the boundaries of what society on Orion Gallis would accept. Slaves that were born to Orion Gallis would stayed on Orion Gallis. The government sat on the slavetrade like the commodity it was – Gallisian slaves were renowned across the galaxy as being the most beautiful, resilient, and devoted companion servants. Her new owners wouldn’t have known until too late that they wouldn’t be getting a docile, devoted servant. Her uncle’s enemies were demonstrating their power by getting her auctioned off-planet.
Understanding this, the auctionhouse adhered to the flimsiest laws in an attempt to stay under the radar of the Shieldleader. In some ways, Red now reflected, she had been lucky to even be wearing the tiny pieces of fabric she had come out of the auctionhouse with.
Her ears echoed with the memory of his oddly deep-scratchy voice telling her he had chosen her to hold on to her for his personal use, and she remembered too clearly the spark of interest in his eyes as he watched her with intensely focused lust. A lust that sharpened once they stepped out of the shadowy depths of the building that housed the auctions into the slightly-less-shadowy depths of the world below the mistline. His eyes had burned over her skin in searing approval, the sheer heat in them nearly overwhelming her.
Her surprise when he first spoke directly into her mind had been overwhelming as she realized that she belonged to a telepath, a rare talent that was both coveted and respected. By the standards of Orion Gallis he was practically a god.
He had told her all of the things he would do to her, his little slave, once he got her back to his skypalace, making it hard for her to walk and dampening her panties. His eyes burned down at her, his grip on the leash attached to her leather collar firm and unrelenting. She vividly recalled her embarrassment, looking around the crowds they passed on the street to see if anyone else could hear his words, see how hot she was getting. He laughed at her, and continued his mental torment, sending her visions of her on hands and knees, submissively taking his thrusts from behind. On her back, thighs spread wide for his large body, his hot penis. Sent her his thoughts on how wet her cunt would be for him, how tight it would convulse on his huge cock. How pretty her lips would look wrapped around him, and just how far he would stretch her delicate little asshole. She only hoped that he was lying bout the girth of his cock, because she doubted he would fit in her cunt, let alone her anus.
Her legs had been so weak she nearly lost her chance at freedom. It had come suddenly, with the explosions of gunshots in the air around them. A burning pain seared her leg an instant before Aelle had thrown her clear, propelling her down a side alley that offered cover from the melee as he returned fire. The dark crevasse proved to be hell, a tight hot space that smelled of unmentionable refuse, but it led her to open air and allowed her to find a hospital to seal the bullet wound that had torn through her thigh. The McCallen luck hadn’t left her yet. She had hesitated about calling the Peacekeepers about the gunfire, knowing that Aelle might still be down there. Ultimately, however, she realized that she would rather see the sexy man in jail than possibly dead.
Her anonymous call to the Peacekeepers was her guilty parting gift—at least she hoped he saw it that way—to her beautiful, powerful owner.
She had always wondered, in the back of her mind, what had happened to Aelle afterwards—if he had survived, where he was. And a small voice, immediately shushed, had always questioned whether becoming his personal pleasure slave would have been such a bad fate. Her life as a Courier was certainly no dream come true; constantly traveling, fighting for airspace as she traversed the levels of the city. Constantly on her guard against her uncle's enemies. The only bits of light in her life had been her friend Kerie, who made dilivieries for Universal Deliveries, and her treasured personal Sim collection—her large collection of kinky sex Sims in particular, which she blamed for her attraction to the man-monster—and most importantly her Granddame.
Reatrix McCleod possessed the bloodlines and—more importantly—huge quantities of money that set the High Ones apart from the rest of the population of Orion Gallis. Red, coming from a bastard son birthed outside of an official mating contract, had never been a part of her world. She had been a brief visitor after her father's death, and in that time she had found a home of sorts. Granddame offered affection, and was generous in her gifts when she knew they were needed, so Red visited her every month, or whenever someone—always a 'friend' or a distant 'relative'—sent her a package to deliver to her Granddame's skypalace, where she would be greeted with a hug, a kiss, and a "took you long enough. If you caught a man with money, you wouldn't ever have to be late unless you wanted to." Granddame was keen on men—and left a trail of broken-hearts to prove it, both on-world and off. Tales of her exploits still plastered the newsies.
She would approve of Aelle, Red thought. And all of his money. She took in the decadence of his docking bay, beautifully designed with in a simplistic roman style made with fine with flawlessly polished marble. Her eyes followed Aelle as he leapt lithely and powerfully from the car to the docking platform. Her breath hitched at the play of muscles that showed even from beneath his clothing. Granddame would probably even approve of his physical appearance.
Never question the power of attraction, Granddame had said once, no matter what form it comes in. Granddame had been responding to Red's question, during a relaxed late night conversation, of what her alien lovers had been like. Those conversations, the candidness of them regardless of topic, the basic human contact and understanding that had been missing from her life since her father's death, were one of the few things that had kept Red sane through the years. Despite their often racy content—or possibly because of it—they brought the women together in a family bonding. Red would do whatever it took to protect her Granddame and that connection.
She snapped to attention as Aelle leapt back into the car, his broad frame towering over her as he lifted her bodily out of her seat. He carried her as he leapt this time, and she suppressed a shiver at the inhuman strength that allowed him to so easily perform the feat.
"If I'm not mistaken,” Red ventured, “what you're doing is completely illegal. If you let me go now we'll forget about this ever happening. No harm, no foul." She tried to reason with the sexy wolf-man who had kidnapped her and had her locked up. The situation reminded her of some of her kinkier Sims.
“Seeing as I am the primary Law Keeper on this planet, I’ll take that into consideration.” He headed toward the large entranceway to his palace.
"Wait, you're the Shield Leader?" Red could practically feel the look of horror dawning across her face.
"Hmm," He nodded, “we were running a sting on the auction house that I bought you from. Our intel indicated that they were planning on selling a slave off-planet. Then I saw you up on that auction block.” his grip on her shifted, and he lowered her slowly until her toes touched the floor, dragging her suddenly sensitized body down his large frame until he held her firmly with one hand and cupped a suddenly needy nipple with the other. “I decided it couldn’t hurt to buy a little something for myself.” He used the hand cupping her breast to squeeze her nipple through her clothing, sending blood rushing to the hard, sensitive nub. He met her eyes again. "I was wrong.”
Red’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. “What do you mean? I didn’t do anything bad to you!”
She cried out as his fingers tightened instantly, twisting and tugging on the tender peak. His eyes narrowed on her flushed face.
“I've considered. I'm still going to fuck you silly. I'll just make sure you love it so much that you'll never want to go."