Mena looked down at the cup in her shaking hands.
“So I can be fucked.” If she said the crude words first, it wouldn’t be such a shock to hear them from someone else.
“Yes. And bred.”
Mena looked up, horrified. “Bred? As in, having a baby?”
“I know that news is distressing. Every female slave has a hard time hearing it.”
“I don’t want alien babies,” she whispered, looking down again at her hands in a death grip around the cup. “I want human babies. I’m-I’m sorry if that’s offensive to you, but it’s the truth.”
“It’s a normal response, especially when you had no idea humans were not the only species you’d ever meet. But that won’t be your decision. Your new master might be of any species, and he will decide if you are bred. I’m sorry.” She rose. “There are a couple more things to do. Please stand.”
Somehow, Mena got her legs underneath her and stood, holding on to the table. The world wobbled a bit, but the doctor with the long green arm and only three fingers—and no thumb—took her arm with surprising gentleness and led her to a doorway that appeared in the wall as they approached.
This room was also white and featureless, save for a narrow, padded table with narrow benches on each side. Mena had seen enough vids to know exactly what it was.
“No…!” She tried to yank out of the doctor’s hand, but the gentleness was gone, replaced by an iron grip. She desperately tried to peel the fingers off, but Niola appeared behind her, grabbing Mena around the waist and rendering her struggles futile. The doctor’s other hand reached into a pocket and pulled out a thin stick with a bright blue glow at the tip.
“This is a discipline stick. It leaves a painful welt wherever it touches the skin. Hold out your arm.”
Mena stared at her in horror.
“No! Please! I’ll get on the bench!”
The doctor shook her head. “Maybe this time, but you will find it easy to protest and disobey the next time. You need to feel it, to fear it.”
“I fear it!” She tried to pull away, but Niola forced her arm out. When the blue tip touched, a brief agony raced up to her shoulder and down to her fingers, and she screamed. The light pulled away, leaving behind a raised, red welt that felt like a burn.
“Now, you will get up on the bench.”
The two aliens propelled her toward the piece of furniture. She half stumbled, half crawled onto the knee supports on each side. Someone pushed her down to the padding and strapped her tight. More straps appeared, pinning her wrists and elbows, then knees and ankles.
“Turn your head this way.”
She lifted her head up and turned to face the doctor, who pulled up one last strap across her forehead, pinning her head to the side.
“Ah!” Someone was wiping between her legs. “What are you doing?”
“We’re cleaning off the wetness from your first tests. We’re also placing a sensor just inside your vulva to measure blood flow and moisture. These will give us unbiased data about your reactions.”
“Reactions to what?”
The doctor did not answer, but the wall Mena was staring at dissolved into a window, and in a dim room behind the window were a dozen or more shadowy figures.
Oh God. Whatever they were going to do would be in full view of other people. The muscles between her legs clenched and released.
“Blood flow and moisture both increasing beyond 0.2,” a low, gruff voice informed whoever was listening.
She groaned, the reason for the test clear. Did she get aroused being watched by strangers? “No, that’s not true,” she whispered, but she had a feeling they wouldn’t take her word for it when her body was giving a different answer. She struggled in futility against the straps. She couldn’t even turn her head away.
They wanted to see her face.
They wanted to know how she reacted to being watched.
They had measured her orgasm time and a dozen other things.
They were measuring her involuntary responses.
And they didn’t care how she felt about any of it.
4
Mena
She closed her eyes, but a tear slipped out anyway, running across her nose and dripping down onto the padding under her head. She had no doubt they were recording and measuring that as well.
“What are you going to do to me?” she blurted out. “Shove something up my ass? Stick a dick down my throat?”
The doctor stepped into view once more.
“We did that while you were unconscious. Humans have such a negative reaction to those acts when done without consent that we needed to get data that wasn’t confused by your emotions.”
“Fuck you!!” Mena screamed.
“Blood flow and moisture passing 0.4.”
The doctor made that odd expression that was probably a chuckle.
“It seems finding out you’ve been violated is arousing. That’s very interesting.” She turned and disappeared.
Mena squeezed her eyes tight again, trying to control the anger and panic welling up inside. A warmth between her legs told her they were removing her wetness once more.
“Stop touching me. Do you hear? I do not consent to this!”
“Your consent is not required,” a loud voice boomed from above. “We will now perform a series of pain tolerance tests. The first will be your physiological reaction to ongoing pain in the absence of arousal.”
“No! You already did that in the other room!”
“Your responses at that time were not being documented nor observed,” the voice informed her. “Proceed.”
“Wait! That’s— Ow! Shit!” Her protests were cut off by the slicing pain of something thin and whippy striking her unprotected backside. The first sensation mostly startled her, but a millisecond later, pain bloomed into a line of fire. She hissed and tried to breathe, two techniques that had helped her when Daniel had spanked her hard.
But he’d just used his hand. This was definitely not the same.
She heard the whisper of the implement through the air, and the second line of fire landed.
“Aah! Stop, please! I’ll do whatever you say, please!” Fuck, she was calling uncle after only two strokes?
“You will do whatever we say, but that has no bearing on this test. Nothing that will stop this.”
When the third one landed, her scream was as much anger as anything. She struggled furiously, pleaded, swore at them, begged some more, but stroke after stroke landed, each one as shockingly painful as the last one. Something swept through her folds at one point, and the whipping went on.
By the time it stopped, she was sobbing and insensible. Her butt felt like it had been skinned, and she could feel her heartbeat pounding in the pulsing of blood under her skin. She barely registered the voices as they talked.
“Results?” the overhead voice asked.
“0.6. at the halfway point. Very wet, despite her fear and pain. At the end, 0.2. Dry, as expected.”
“It seems some punishment makes her aroused, but serious punishment does not. That is good. Serious punishment should always be a bad experience.”
Mena sobbed quietly.
“Continue.”
Her eyes flew open, but instead of pain, she felt a buzzing between her legs. She let out a groan.
“No, please…” she begged, but they ignored her. The buzzing continued, her pussy clenched, and the pain receded just a little.
“0.4 and rising.”
She fought to hold in her gasps and grunts.
“0.6.” The buzzing stopped, but before she could take a deep breath, she heard the whisper of the cane again, and her breath became a choked-off scream.
“0.4.”
“Good. Not all the way back down.”
She braced herself for more pain, but the buzzing started again. She couldn’t keep back a guttural moan as her arousal skyrocketed.
The buzzing stopped.
“0.7.”
The seari
ng pain of the cane wasn’t unexpected this time, but as soon as it landed, the buzzing was back, somehow changing the fire consuming her into a thousand fireworks instead.
“0.6, then back to 0.8.”
She was so confused by the alternating pleasure and pain that she couldn’t keep track of what each was doing to her, save that the pain made her scream each time. But something was building in her she never would have believed before now.
The buzzing didn’t stop through the slicing pain of the next stroke. She screamed again, but this time it was a scream of coming apart. One last cut across her skin that surely must have flayed her open sent her shooting over the top, and she shattered.
It was a while before she was aware of the straps being removed. Someone helped her roll off the side of the bench and stand on shaky legs, but only long enough to move over to a floating pad, where she curled up and faded away.
She woke as the pad floated through stone hallways to a large cell filled with the other humans. When she found Addy, they had a good cry in each other’s arms. Shortly after, the women were handed thin shifts and the men a pair of shorts. They ate a strange brown bread, drank water, and talked in subdued conversations.
Wild rumors flew around the room. They were going to be eaten. They were going to fight each other to the death for the aliens’ amusements. They were going to be auctioned.
That seemed likely.
They might be bred. Mena verified that one, to the horror of every woman there.
The trickle of humans into the cage continued until it seemed they were all back together again. Humanoid aliens in identical red and black uniforms closed the doors and took up positions outside the cage. The lights dimmed.
Mena found it incredible that they wanted the humans to sleep as if nothing was happening. She sat down on the edge of a cot, wincing, but suddenly so exhausted she hardly noticed the pain. She turned to say something to Addy, but the other woman was already curled up on her side, her eyes shut. In fact, almost everyone was lying down.
Whatever made everyone else fall asleep suddenly erased all of Mena’s concerns, so she, too, laid down and closed her eyes.
Her dreams were vivid. Men—large alien men—held her down, stroking her breasts, kissing her neck, fondling her clit. One of them bent his head between her legs and licked until she screamed in ecstasy. You’re a real slave now, you’re a real slave now echoed over and over in her head. Huge dicks bobbed in the air all around. They forced themselves into her pussy, into her mouth, and into her ass, causing her pain that only made her arousal grow. She dreamed she was being whipped—no, spanked—no, paddled. She was kneeling low to the floor, then her hands were tied above her head with her toes off the floor.
When the lights in the cage turned on and woke her, she was horrified to find her hand between her legs, halfway to an orgasm. She quickly wiped the wetness on her shift and joined the others being herded into a unisex bathroom.
Shortly after another meal of bread and water, guards began removing groups of women. Mena and Addy sat on a cot, arms wrapped around each other, not saying out loud what they were thinking in their heads.
We may never see each other again.
Addy and Mena had been friends since the first day of their voyage, when they were only fifteen years old, grieving the families they’d left behind. When they discovered a few years later that both had a submissive kink, it had been the most wonderful thing to ever happen to Mena.
Now, it seemed that their kinky, playful side had led them down a dark road to a bleak future as real slaves on an alien planet.
5
Mena
Mena tried to ease the strain on her shoulders as she stood with her hands bound over her head, but the bindings pulled her arms up tight, and the spreader bar between her ankles kept her feet planted on the floor. Her backside was still tender from the day before, and she didn’t think today was going to get better.
The room was crowded with all the human women and a few of the men lining the walls on three sides, their arms all bound to a railing over their heads. The women still wore the see-through shifts, but the men had been stripped of their shorts. Dozens of aliens milled about in the center of the room, moving from human to human, examining a breast, a mouth, or what was between their legs.
The scene before Mena looked like some bizarre Halloween costume party. Her mind still reeled with the knowledge humans were not alone in the universe.
There were tall aliens, short aliens, broad and weirdly thin ones. She saw more green ones, and several the yellow color of baby poop. There were even huge blue aliens with horns, just like some sci-fi stories she’d read. She wondered if her favorite author had known her aliens really existed.
Most seemed to favor shades of tan and brown, and most, fortunately, had humanoid forms. She supposed those who didn’t would be less successful in coupling with a human and producing children.
With so many bodies in the room, the air was heavy and thick. Unfamiliar scents assailed her nose from every direction, occasionally interesting, but more often making her gag when one of them drew near.
She never realized aliens would stink so bad.
What really bothered her, though, were the sounds she couldn’t block out. The protests of human women as they were groped and examined drifted over the top of the noise of the crowd. To Mena, each cry was another stab in her own torn-up heart. She fought back tears, not wanting to appear weak or cowed.
An extremely tall, thin, almost completely see-through alien approached. Mena and the others had been ordered to look down submissively, but in defiance she stared into its narrow, snake-like gold eyes. At least it had two arms, two legs, two eyes, a nose, and a mouth in more or less the right place. It stared, unblinking, into her eyes, then slapped her across the face.
Mena’s head snapped sideways. “Sonofabitch!” She strained furiously at her bonds, rattling the chain above her head, wishing she could snap the skinny thing in two.
“Sssslappping huuummanssss doesss not maaake them ssssubmit?” The voice sounded like the slithering of a thousand snakes across the ground.
“No, you asshole!” Her voice was loud enough to stop all conversation near her as a dozen aliens turned to stare at the defiant human. She stared back at them, but one after another, their glances slipped down, first to her breasts, then down past where the shift barely hid her most private area from view, to her long legs. Though her voice had pulled their attention to her, it was clear her body was still just something to bid on.
“You aaaare tooo sssssmall for myyyy cockkk annnnywaaay.” To prove the point, a clear tube slipped out from between the folds of his robe, waving in the air like a flag in a stiff wind. It wasn’t thick, but it was alarmingly long, about the length of one of Mena’s arms from shoulder to wrist. She drew back in horror.
The alien petted it, murmured something, then pushed it back inside his robe. To her relief, he walked away. Now the tears sprang into her eyes, and she screwed them shut to avoid letting them run down her cheeks in waves she feared would never stop. There would be time for crying later.
Mena opened her eyes again, still fighting the tears, gradually looking up at the crowded room. Through the sea of bodies, one alien stood with his arms crossed as he leaned against a wall, observing everything around him. He was humanoid, medium height but very broad, with an intricate light brown pattern covering his tan skin that the doctor had said belonged to the native Kaziri. His hair was wavy black and pulled into a braid she could just glimpse hanging down behind him, almost to his waist. He wore a coral-colored tunic over black trousers, with a length of coral fabric thrown across his shoulders. The effect was almost that of a Roman toga from ancient Earth. He looked her way as she was studying him and for a moment, his completely black eyes locked onto hers. He was the first alien to look at her, not just her tits. She glared at him, refusing to back down, until he was joined by a second Kaziri, similarly dressed, but in red and black. The one
in coral broke eye contact with her, turning to talk to the other.
Then an alien whose features reminded her of the painting “The Scream” stepped in front of her, blocking her view. This one didn’t make eye contact or talk. He felt her breasts, pinching and squeezing the nipples, and consulting a small datapad. When he finally moved away, the alien across the room was gone. She felt a touch of odd disappointment.
Momentarily dizzy, she closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she jumped. The Kaziri from across the room, and his companion, were standing right in front of her.
He smiled, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. She glared back into the dark threatening voids, completely absent of color, and fought a sudden panic. She wasn’t sure why he affected her more than the others who had been pawing her, but there was nothing in the entire universe that would make her act submissive right now.
“You’re right, she’s taller than most.” He turned to his friend and continued to talk about her as though she didn’t exist.
“Excuse me,” she spat. “I’m right here. Try talking to me.”
He looked back to her, an expression of amusement on his face.
“I don’t talk to furniture before I buy it, and I won’t be talking to you, either.”
He turned to the other alien and shrugged. “She’s interesting, but too much work. No, thanks.”
That comment sent her over the edge. Before she knew what she was doing, she let all her weight hang from her wrists, picked up her feet, still trapped in the spreader bar, and launched straight at him. One foot landed squarely between his massive thighs. Assuming he was built like humans, that was exactly the place she was aiming for.
He sucked in air, making no other noise, but his hands fisted and his face went absolutely white.
There was a moment of silence, then two guards raced over. One pulled out the wand with the blue tip, about to jam it into her stomach, but the alien batted it away.
Tribute: Captives of Kazir Page 3