Three Days Earlier






    Troy fisted a handful of Nancy’s red hair and tilted her head back until their eyes met in the full-length mirror. She was on all fours, stripped of everything, her face a mask of sensual abandon. He knelt behind her as she shamelessly rode his dick, desperately chasing her pleasure.

    “Harder, please,” she moaned, the words escaping in a throaty plea.

    Troy yanked on her hair, adding a pinch of pain. “Quiet or I’ll gag you,” he snarled into her ear before gliding his tongue across her cheek. “I control how this works.” His thrusts slowed as he entered her, ensuring she understood her place. He dictated the pace.

    Nancy clamped down on her lower lip. “Bastard,” she purred with blatant satisfaction. He plunged into her, balls deep, holding himself steady as he shifted his weight onto one knee behind her.

    Nancy liked being dominated in the bedroom, and tonight, Troy had every intention of making all her darkest fantasies come true. Not only would he tie her up, but he planned to muzzle her, just like he’d threatened to.

    He was already sporting the ball gag around his neck as part of his costume, along with a spiked collar and heart-shaped dog tag with the words “My King” inscribed on it. This year’s theme for the Governor’s annual Valentine’s Day gala was the Queen of Hearts, and Troy was Evangeline’s King. The iconic monarch in Alice in Wonderland was just as powerless as he was.

    Luckily, Troy had bet on Evangeline being too busy at the gala to monitor him, and he’d been right. With the Governor engrossed in conversations about politics, Troy was free to wander the premises and he’d made his way to Nancy unmolested. The Governor was his acting Keeper. She ruled with an iron fist, and few women risked pawing him without her explicit permission. He was hers, and hers alone.

    Ever since Chimera, the hybrid virus that had devastated the male population everywhere, men were divided into three categories. Category one was Susceptibles: males diagnosed with the Achilles Effect, which made them prone to any illness and required them to stay in sterile medical facilities. Nevertheless, these men were important to the female-governed world of the Coalition because their genetic material was used for artificial insemination, ensuring humanity’s survival.

    Category two were S-breeds; sterile, their fate was to serve as sexual playthings in Himeros Houses for women.

    At the top of the list was category three: Elite Breeders. These males were both healthy and fertile and were leased out to the Coalitions’ affluent. These privileged women acted as their designated Keepers until they became pregnant. Once the pregnancy was confirmed, the e-breeder would be sent away, and the entire process would begin again. Fuck. Impregnate. Relocate. And repeat.

    Troy fell into this rare category. He’d been assigned to new Keepers countless times before, as was expected of a virile male born and bred to serve his country. But Evangeline was the first woman powerful enough to prolong his stay without the Council’s intervention. But, fed up with being defined by his gender and patriotic duty, tonight, Troy would strive for independence—again.

    Troy couldn’t believe his luck when Nancy stepped onto the Governor’s grounds as part of her security team. She was a tall and impressive woman at six-foot-two, a perfect complement to his six-foot-five frame. It was obvious from the beginning that Nancy found him attractive, regardless of the fact that he was the Governor’s prized possession. But Evangeline wasn’t willing to share Troy, unlike so many of his other Keepers before. Women were allowed to admire and caress his body, but no sex. Not ever.

    Over the next couple of months, he and Nancy managed a few illicit rendezvous, with his end goal being to seduce her. But not in the way she probably imagined. In his mind, it was a fair exchange. She got to fuck an Elite Breeder, and in the end, he got to borrow her uniform.

    The timing of Nancy’s arrival couldn’t have been more perfect, with the Governor’s upcoming Valentine’s Day gala. With Marcy’s help, his nurse and coconspirator, they set up an escape plan to get him to the first station of the Network, a clandestine organization that aided citizens in escaping the Coalition. From there, Troy would make his way through the Dead Zones and eventually reach Freedom’s Landing, a small enclave of survivors who, despite the odds, had stayed alive in the wilderness all these years.

    Determined to bring their playtime to a close, Troy slammed fiercely into Nancy, and she gasped in delight. In the mirror, he watched the tiny red rhinestones Evangeline had glued over his right eye in the shape of a heart, glint in the light with each rhythmic thrust. His royal cloak, trimmed in ermine and clipped diagonally across his glistening chest, added a regal touch to the otherwise debauched scene. A filigreed crown lay discarded on the carpet, forgotten in the heat of passion. If Evangeline found his ridiculous costume incredibly sexy, who was Troy to argue? Whatever the Governor wanted, she got.

    Nancy’s blue eyes held his momentarily in the mirror before they rolled back into her head as he pounded away at her—hard, just on the edge of being brutal. Troy released his fury into her body. Slapping against her ass, he watched her skin brighten to a soft pink. He grabbed the fleshy globes, biting into them with his fingertips until her skin paled. She loved it.

    One palm circled the back of her neck. “Stay down, like a good girl,” he whispered into her ear, and she responded with a muffled groan of agreement. She put up a token resistance against his grip before Troy overpowered her, pushing her down onto her forearms as he leaned forward and forced his fingers into her mouth.

    Troy had become a connoisseur of dominance in the bedroom through years of practice and far too many partners. Now, as he thrust against Nancy on the floor of the oversized walk-in closet in one of the estate’s guest bedrooms, his skill was put to good use.

    The role of Dom drew Troy because it was the only time he felt truly in control. And the power he held over Nancy excited them both. He confidently assumed the lead with skill, and many influential women enjoyed submitting to him during sex—wanted it—and Nancy was no different.

    “Mm-hmm. Yes,” she purred as Troy’s fingers entered her mouth. Her pleasure escalated, sucking him into her mouth as she reached down and let out a low moan as her hand flew to her clit. Troy pulled his invading digits out, smacked her butt cheeks, then drove himself into her with wild abandon.

    “That’s right. Take all of me deep inside your sweet, wet pussy. And just maybe…”

    Troy grabbed her by the front of her neck, his hands lightly squeezing her throat. He had been reluctant to do this in the past, but he was finally prepared to take the risk and give in to her desires.

    “Yes—do it,” she pleaded with excitement. “Fuck me hard and choke me—my God—yes.”

    Troy curled his fingers tighter around her neck. Her body quaked with excitement as the sensation of pleasure and danger drew nearer, hovering between the brink of life and death.

    “Oh yes, more,” she pleaded. “Choke me until I come on your dick.”

    Troy used his weight to drive deeper inside her one more time before he shifted and locked his arm around her windpipe, pulling her upright and flush against his chest. She quickly moved her hands up to protect her throat, gripping his forearm to push him off. But instead of continuing to struggle, she released a quavering breath and shut her eyes.

    She wanted this.

    And badly.

    Troy thrust into her, the different angle sending pleasure coursing through his balls. He fought against his own arousal, not wanting to get off on what he was doing, yet he couldn’t help it. Perhaps it was their precarious situation that aroused him even more; there was always a chance of getting caught and ruining everything. Troy didn’t want to become addicted to this act, strangling while screwing, but he couldn’t go limp. Not today. Today he needed to be a living piston and keep his intended victim enmeshed in fucking.

    Troy threaded his hand into the fold of his other elbow, locked his arm in place, and applied pressure to Nancy’s neck, just enough to restrict the blood flow to her brain.

    “Yes!” she gasped, arching her back against him. The contractions in her body indicated her imminent orgasm. He pulled her closer to him as he released his own climax, jets of semen being eagerly swallowed by her greedy cunt.

    Troy embraced Nancy; his face pushed against her nape as he let out shaky grunts of pleasure. His breath was heavy and labored as he held her tightly in his grasp. Nancy strained to break free, becoming more frantic as she realized he was squeezing the oxygen out of her lungs. She desperately clawed at him, yet all that could escape her lips were small, whimpering gasps.

    Troy clung tenaciously to Nancy as she thrashed and fought him, her strength far exceeding that of Marcy’s. Marcy had suggested that he should practice the sleep hold on her, and he was thankful that he had. But Nancy was far stronger than the middle-aged nurse. Troy teetered on the brink of losing his balance. Gritting his teeth, he maintained his grip until Nancy’s body slowly relaxed, signaling that she’d finally succumbed to his grip.

    Time for immediate action.

    He had exactly eight seconds between the instant she lost all muscle control and the moment she would regain consciousness.

    Troy laid Nancy down on the floor and removed his gag. He slid the breathable ball into her mouth, making sure the strap at the back of her head was secure. After that, he grabbed his leather pants from where they’d been tossed down earlier and undid the handcuffs, along with the accompanying restraints, from the belt loop.

    Troy wrapped the cuffs around Nancy’s wrists, securing them to the straps of her gag. Being a pet of the Governor had some unique advantages, such as access to a wide selection of sex toys. He rose to his feet, aware of every ticking second, and opened the drawer where he hid some duct tape and used it to tie her ankles together.

    Troy took a step back to inspect his handiwork and saw signs of Nancy waking. In another second, she’d be ready for a fight. She had impressive combat training and experience, and Troy had neither. Although he was in peak physical condition, it was purely cosmetic. Only so women would find him attractive, not for fighting. In the Coalition, men were forbidden to fight.

    Troy tugged on his underwear and slipped on his pants. They would do as part of his disguise. Evangeline’s female elite security squad wore black as part of their official uniform all the time.

    Troy took off the cumbersome cloak and collar and replaced them with Nancy’s black tactical shirt and vest. Thankfully, he was just slim enough to fit into them. His strict dietary regimen under Evangeline’s care, kept him lean. Thanks to her, he was shredded, without an inch of fat on his body.

    Nancy moaned around the gag. He glanced over and saw her eyelids flutter.

    Troy grabbed Nancy’s gun belt and fastened it around his waist, then adjusted the holster at his thigh. He had no clue how to use a gun, but he knew enough to point the barrel and look threatening. Marcy told him his next agent would instruct him how to shoot a weapon in theory, if not in practice.

    His first stop was in the farthest reaches of Zone 7, the outermost boundary of the Coalition. Few ever dared to cross the border into the treacherous Dead Zones, and those who did rarely returned. It was infamous for its lack of safety and basic necessities. Even though fences didn’t mark its boundaries, nobody strayed beyond Coalition borders for fear of what lurked outside. But if the rumors were true, freedom, as a male, could be only be found in the Dead Zones.

    A flurry of muffled, angry words had Troy spinning around to see Nancy staring at him, her eyes brimming with rage. If looks could kill, Troy would have been a dead man.

    “Sorry about this,” he whispered and pulled a few items of clothing off their hangers. “It isn’t personal,” he said as he crouched down in front of her and covered her nakedness for modesty’s sake. “It’s the best I can do under the circumstances.”

    The telltale signs of their indiscretion were now streaming down Nancy’s thighs. Troy wouldn’t want to be in her shoes once the Governor found out what they’d done.

    Nancy strangled an angry warning behind her gag. Troy slowly rose to his feet and peered around the room, searching for the remaining parts of his disguise. He wanted to make sure that he could seamlessly pass through a crowd undetected.

    In the far corner of the closet, Troy spotted the slip-on card sleeve Evangeline had ordered all her security personnel to wear while keeping watch over tonight’s event. They were dressed as playing cards from the queen’s deck, with red hoods and black mesh masks to prevent anyone from seeing their faces. Nancy was the Ace of Spades. How fitting. Troy pulled out the backpack he’d stowed away in the closet some days prior and quickly stuffed his costume into it. The bag was stretched tight, crammed with items for his escape. Water, food, a personal interface, a pocketknife, a first aid kit, and other essential supplies. Marcy was an angel.

    “Damn it!” Troy muttered to himself; he’d almost forgotten. He yanked up his sleeve to the spot Marcy had marked with a blue dot. Until she mentioned her connection to the Network, he wasn’t aware of the tracking device embedded beneath his skin. No wonder his previous escape plans hadn’t worked; they’d known where he was every step of the way. As a reminder of his unsuccessful attempt, they’d branded him like the livestock he was, with a circled R etched into the right side of his lower back. Runner. The resulting scar tissue still ached sometimes, but right now, he had to push past those memories and focus on removing the implant by himself.

    Troy inhaled deeply, bracing for the agony. He looked warily at the anesthetic Marcy had given him. For many years, he’d been shielded from pain, and now he was expected to plunge a blade into his skin and extract a tracking device.

    If you’re going to run, you’re going to have to grow some balls.

    But first, Troy knelt in front of Nancy. He grabbed the duct tape he’d dropped at her feet and pulled off a six-inch section. She watched him with a combination of dread and defiance in her eyes. He looked back sympathetically, silently communicating that what he was about to do was his only option. He put the tape over her eyes, lightly smoothing it down so it stayed in place. The less she knew, the less they knew, and the better his chances of getting away safely.

    Troy set his mouth into a thin line. “I’m really sorry to add insult to injury,” he said. He stood up, pulled out the pocketknife and first aid kit, and sat down in the opposite corner, bag at his side.

    Troy covered the blue spot with some numbing agent, clenched his teeth, and took a deep breath, forcing the blade into his bicep. Of course it had to be his dominant arm; that made it even harder to extract the device. He hissed as pain seared through every nerve ending. His eyes watered as he kept digging until he almost passed out from the pain. As soon as the tracking device slipped out, Troy exhaled with relief and watched as blood dripped down his arm and onto the pale carpet.

    Troy rapidly cleaned the cut and bandaged it up securely. Adrenaline had helped him through the ordeal. He safely tucked the tracking device into his pocket, recalling Marcy’s instructions to plant it on some unsuspecting guest while leaving the premises. Doing this would divert the security team. As Troy pulled down his sleeve, he glanced around.

    He had everything he needed. This was it. It was time to go.

    He rose to his feet, quickly collected his things, and slipped on the card sleeve. He pulled up his hood, hiding himself away, and prepared to exit. Troy lifted the backpack onto his shoulder, but right before he left, he scooped a few pieces of clothing and tucked them beneath Nancy’s head for a pillow. Initially, she fought his assistance, but eventually her shoulders relaxed.

    Troy glanced down at the woman he’d just fucked and was struck by a pang of guilt. She’d most likely face significant repercussions for the decisions she’d made today. He’d had no choice though. All men were victims of their circumstances.

    Rage flared inside his chest, hot and heavy, and for once he embraced it rather than trying to suppress it as he usually would. Nancy was going to get what she had coming. Troy didn’t have to be polite anymore. He had the right to feel anger, or anything, for that matter.

    Women thought that all a man ever wanted was sex. They separated their precious few male survivors from the general population, providing them with endless opportunities for it. With their baser needs met, they were expected to be content to live sheltered and idle lives. What the women who ruled over them seemed to forget was that eventually a man could think past his dick. Want something more—like freedom, which once upon a time was rightfully theirs.


    Troy had found out the truth of his situation after reading a historical text he’d snuck a peek at years ago. As soon as he realized what he was—a sexual slave—he craved his escape. Until then, he hadn’t even known he was a prisoner.

    Sex wasn’t the be-all and end-all to life. There was also love between two people, family, friends, and the freedom to choose for oneself.

    Once, man had known it all.

    The words of a dying character resonated from another forbidden book Troy had stolen out of Evangeline’s library. He kept it hidden beneath his mattress. The protagonist, Alec, said as he lay dying: “In the end, there is only love.” It was the truth.

    Troy let out a deep breath, his heart aching. He longed to know what it felt like to be in love. To love and be loved, freely. Without any power plays.