“Everything?” He laughed; a low, sinister sound that made things throb low inside her body. “That could take a while, so I guess we’d better get started.”
There were more hidden cupboards in the room, and they held things she’d never even imagined. He laid an assortment out in front of her and told her to pick two things to start with, and he would pick two things to compliment them. Her eyes went wide, and she nibbled her bottom lip as she wavered between the choices like a child in the candy store.
In the end she fell back on what she’d seen pictured in those old magazines and picked up a leather paddle, but then looked up with a frown. “Don’t you have some rope? Or maybe cuffs?” she wondered. It always seemed like bondage was involved in those photo shoots, and she wanted to know what it would feel like.
One eyebrow went up in surprise and he laughed as he shook his head. “You’re on an alien spaceship, far from your planet, with a sadist who enjoys causing pain and pleasure, and you want to be even more vulnerable and helpless?” He leaned in and whispered, “I have things that are better than rope and cuffs. You won’t be able to move an inch to avoid what I’m going to do to you, my Rassa,” against her ear. “Shall I start by making you climax over and over until you cry and beg me to stop?”
A delicious shiver rolled down her spine and she gasped, “Yes please, I want that,” in a breathless needy way.
“Good girl. Let’s warm you up a little first with the leather.” His big hands drifted down to her backside, squeezing both cheeks roughly as he stared into her eyes. There was a grin of pure, feral delight on his face, and she was fairly sure it was mirrored on her own.
Earth might have been her birthplace, but she had a feeling it was no longer going to be her home—and that felt just fine.
The End
If you enjoyed this story you might like to read the other books from that universe.
Surrendering to Her General
Rise of the Sadecs Book One
Kenzi has fantasized about being controlled and dominated for most of her life—but fantasizing about being owned isn’t the same as the reality. Now there are no safewords, no escape, and no mercy from the sadistic aliens. Falling in love wasn’t supposed to be part of the deal, but it changes everything.
Taken by the Renegade
Rise of the Sadecs Book Two
Sam just wants a sweet bite of pain with her pleasure, then she meets the sexy new Dominant in town, and finds herself falling hard and fast. But he's not who she thinks he is. He's not even human. Taken by a Renegade is a stand-alone sequel/companion to Surrendering to Her General Both books are Dark-ish BDSM romances with lots of steamy scenes and HEAs.
About the Author
Sadie Marks is the darker side of author Kessily Lewel. Between those two pen names she has a total of seven published books now. All of them fall under the category of power-exchange romance. Kessily’s books cover paranormal and time travel, while Sadie has been sticking to sci-fi with her race of Dominant aliens who are looking for a few good humans to call their own.
She has been in love with sci-fi and horror since she was a child. She grew up reading Stephen King, Asimov, Robert Heinlein, and others, so it was only natural that one day she’d write her own worlds—though hers do seem to have a lot more sex and BDSM in them.
You can find Sadie and Kessily here:
Website and Blog
Sadie Marks
Bookbub
Amazon page
Kessily Lewel
Facebook Page
Bookbub
Twitter
Amazon Page
Stolen By The Warnex
Ella Maven
About Stolen by the Warnex
It all starts when Donut escapes. In my defense, I didn’t sign up for this.
When I’m elected lizard-sitter for my niece’s bearded dragon, I’m not excited. Donut eats live insects, has a staring problem, and isn’t cuddly. When he escapes his cage and flees the safety of my condo, I consider letting him live his best free-range life, but my niece loves her cold-blooded pet, so I have no choice but to track him down.
When I finally capture the runaway, I find myself surrounded by creatures who look a lot like grown-up Donut, if he had muscles, walked upright, and looked at me in a way that made my skin hot.
Before I know what’s happening, Donut and I are on a one-way trip to another planet in a spaceship. I’m desperate to get back home, but the leader of these aliens tells me I’m perfect, which is flattering but not the answer I was looking for. Until I realize he’s not just giving me a compliment. He thinks I’m perfect… as the future mother to his muscle-bound lizard babies.
Billie
With a morbid fascination and queasy feeling in my gut, I watched my niece’s bearded dragon eat. The mealworms I’d placed in his dish—with special tweezers, because ew—writhed around blindly, not knowing they were about to be dinner. Or maybe they did know. I wasn’t up on the IQ level of beetle larvae.
Donut—that was the bearded dragon’s name for reasons that only made sense to my six-year-old niece—tilted his triangular-shaped head, eyeing the mealworms with the round, hooded eyes on the side of his face. He opened his mouth slowly and then quick as a whip, his pink tongue shot out, snatched up his mealworm, and brought it back into his mouth where he crunched away. Yes, an audible crunch that made me swallow back the bile threatening to rise up my throat.
He slowly turned his head then and stared at me. For a long time. Unmoving. In fact, I even turned around to look behind me, but nope, it was just me in my niece’s room along with this massive glass tank holding Donut’s worldly possessions which consisted of a few logs, rocks, and a fake and frankly ill-proportioned skull with fangs.
I pointed at my chest. “Why are you looking at me the way you looked at those mealworms? I’m not for dinner. I gave you dinner. That’s how this works.”
The only response he made was to open his mouth.
I glared at him.
He kept staring.
“I don’t get your and Greta’s relationship,” I said to him as I sat on the edge of her bed which was covered in motorcycle sheets. “You’re not cuddly. You don’t play games. Why couldn’t Greta have asked for a rabbit or something?”
Of course, Greta didn’t ask for a rabbit. Soft wasn’t her style. My niece liked reptiles, her BMX bike, and me—her single aunt who laughed too loud, read tarot, and spent three months out of the year as a magician’s assistant at the local Renaissance Faire. When I wasn’t getting disappeared in a box while wearing a corset, I worked as a server at a local bar. Sometimes I wore my corset there too.
I was casual today, wearing a pair of holey gray jeans that I should have retired ten pounds ago and a faded Guns N’ Roses T-shirt.
I glanced at Donut, who had given up staring at me and had resumed eating the rest of the mealworms. Done with listening to his gross chewing as he nommed on the mealworm exoskeleton, I decided to leave him alone to dine.
My sister, her husband, and Greta had left for the beach for a week and a half. Seeing as I had no significant other and no life, I was tasked with feeding Donut. Every day. Cats were less high maintenance than this damn lizard. Still, I didn’t mind. My sister lived in a two-story colonial in a quiet cul-de-sac, which was a nice break from my one-bedroom apartment with noisy neighbors. It was amazing to fall asleep on the couch without ninety-two-year-old Mr. Withers yelling about how the CIA will never find him, or the brothers who lived above me and stamped so hard when they walked that my plaster crumbled.
My sister, Sadie, had said I could sleep in their guest bed, but there was something decadent about turning on John Wick in surround sound in front of their massive mounted flat screen and falling asleep on their plush couch to the gentle sounds of grunts and gunfire. Maybe I did miss the noise of my apartment building.
In the kitchen, I threw a bag of popcorn into the microwave as I pulled up the godforsaken dating app my coworker
had downloaded on my phone. Just to be a shit. She’d filled out my profile too, and while she was trying to funny, she wasn’t far off. She called me a child of the nineties who acted like I was born in ’75, could fix home repairs with sage and some essential oils, and only needed some cheap moonshine to keep me happy.
My profile was batshit because I was a little batshit, which meant all the men who swiped right on me were also batshit. And not the good kind of batshit where they’d be good in bed and willing to experiment with butt stuff, but the bad kind of batshit where they’d steal my car and maybe a kidney.
My latest match messaged me to tell me he had some salty moonshine he’d be willing to let me try. “Oh fucking gross,” I muttered and closed out the app, tossing my phone on the counter where it slid to the very edge before stopping.
I stood there pouting and fuming until the scent of food burning reached my nose. “Oh shit!” I rushed over to the microwave, but it was too late. The bag was smoking, and the entire kitchen smelled like burnt popcorn.
I raced to back door and opened it a few inches. Cool air rushed in, and I looked for the screen, but they’d taken it off for the season. It didn’t really matter. It wasn’t like mosquitoes were hanging around in this Vermont winter.
I left the door open and trudged back to the kitchen, waving my hand in front of my face and wrinkling my nose at the smell. After dousing the popcorn bag in cold water, I tossed it and grabbed a chocolate bar instead. I had been attempting to eat popcorn with low fat butter, but clearly the universe didn’t want me to eat healthy.
I kicked off my Converse, propped my feet up on the arm of the couch, and settled in for a little John Wick.
I must have dozed off, because I woke a little while later to the credits rolling, a piece of chocolate wedged into a roll in my neck, and I was shivering at the cool night air. I bolted upright, remembering now that I’d never closed the door. I jumped to my feet, relieved to see the door was still only open a few inches. Still, I grabbed one of Greta’s softball bats and did a tour of the house in case any intruders had come in while I was passed out in a chocolate coma. I reached Greta’s room last and strolled over to close the lid of Donut’s cage. His mealworm dish was empty, and he’d also picked at the fresh veggies I’d given him.
I looked for him in the cage but didn’t spot him. I frowned, a niggle of worry prickling the back of my neck. I needed to account for him before I shut everything down for the night. I squinted into his cage, pulled up his little green carpet, and turned over his log and hammock. No. Donut.
I held the panic at bay, but I felt it creeping up my spine. My palms were damp, and my hands began to shake. This was not good. I’d left the lid off the cage while he’d been eating and hadn’t placed it back on right away. Greta had said that it was okay, that Donut wasn’t going to leap out and escape.
But he had. There was no other explanation. And now I had to search a four-bedroom house to find a tow-foot long lizard who blended into everything.
Fuck my life.
I grabbed a flashlight—or more like a fog light since it was way overkill, but I was on a mission—and searched every room in the house. “Donut!” I called out, like a dummy, as if he’d bound into the room like a dog.
Just when full-blown panic was setting in, I spotted a piece of his skin at the bottom of the stairs. Not like a piece of his skin in a Holy shit something killed him way, but in a he’s shedding, and this is a clue where he went.
“Come on, Nancy Drew,” I said to myself. “Think, think, think.”
My gaze went to the back door and, like my fog light was drawn to it, the beam landed on another piece of shed skin.
Had he really hated me that much he fled the house? It didn’t matter, I took off on my bare feet, flinging open the back door and waving the fog light like a maniac in the dark of the backyard. I was probably waking neighbors, but luckily Sadie’s property backed up to a wooded area. Just when I thought I was going to have to call my niece and tell her why I couldn’t be her favorite aunt anymore, the fog light landed on a distinct shape. A scuttling lizard-type animal moving at a rate of speed I didn’t think it was capable of. He turned his head, looking me right in the eye, and took off into the woods.
“You little shit!” I called as I took off at sprint across the backyard. “You’re getting frozen spinach for a week. And I’m picking out the smallest mealworms I can find.”
My fog light caught on his body, but he was moving fast, racing under bushes and other forest undergrowth so I kept losing sight of him. By the time I finally gained some ground on the little fucker, I was a good hundred yards or so away from the property line and still going.
Donut finally made a miscalculation in his escape attempt and burst into a clearing. Without anything to hide under, he froze in the moonlight. “Ah-ha!” I cried, diving on him and scooping up his scaly body into my arms. “Gotcha!”
He was pissed. I knew this because his little beard was black. I wasn’t sure quite how it worked, but Greta had been very clear that if his beard—normally a tan color like the rest of his body—blackened he was angry, irritated, or scared. I was sure it was the first, since I thoroughly ruined his escape attempted.
“Why are you trying to ruin my life for running away, huh?” I demanded. “I fed you your worms. I chopped up vegetables and gave you a gourmet salad, and you repay me by running out the back door while I napped?” I shook my head. “Rude, Donut. Really freaking rude.”
He didn’t answer. Because of course he didn’t talk. I sighed and tucked him against my shoulder, so his claws dug into my thin shirt. Wiping my hands, I glanced up and immediately froze.
I blinked at what stood before me in the clearing of the woods right before it ducked back into the shadows. Was that… was that a life-size Donut? And I didn’t mean the confectionary, I meant the little thing currently clinging to me.
Nah, I was seeing things. Or dreaming. Was this whole chase in my imagination and I was going to wake up on the couch still smelling burnt popcorn?
I pinched my arm. “Ouch,” I muttered.
A large shadow in front of me eased into the moonlight, and I gasped. No, this wasn’t a dream. This wasn’t my imagination, because even I couldn’t have thought of something this whacked.
Because staring at me with slitted yellow eyes was a six-foot version of Donut, except this creature stood on two legs and his entire torso was a wall of bunched muscles covered in black and tan scales. Just like Donut, the creature had a row of spikes along his jawline, although his face was slightly more humanoid, with a flat nose and full lips. His long, whip-like tail hovered motionless a few inches off the ground, and he wore only a pair of pants and an open vest with metal braiding along the hem. His feet, made up of five thin toes with claws, were bare, one talon tapping into the dirt as he studied me.
I was going to go with he, even though I didn’t like to assume gender. He just seemed so… masculine, from his high cheekbones and bulging arms, to the bladed weapon he clenched in his five-clawed hand.
This was crazy. Maybe I’d stumbled onto some people cosplaying? Who knew what the kids played these days?
“Yeah, so… I’m just gonna…” I cleared my throat and jabbed my thumb behind me. “Head on back the way I came.” I laughed awkwardly and took a step back. “Got to get this little guy home. Little chilly out here for him.” I pretended to shiver.
The creature cocked his spiked head at me but didn’t speak. Or move. This was method acting, I guessed.
“So, have a good night! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” I took another step back and hit something solid. Very solid. And…spiky.
I slowly turned my head to find I’d bumped into another lizard creature. And behind him four more stepped out of the shadows of the woods. Panic seized my heart. I opened my mouth and didn’t get a single scream out before a massive scaled hand clamped over my face.
Loprok
“Great, now you scared her.” Gorald rolle
d his eyes.
“Scream.” Horvul grunted in explanation, his one-word response understood by all of us since we’d grown accustomed to his single-word communication. He hadn’t wanted her to scream. I hadn’t wanted her to either. I should have been the one to grab her, but I’d been struck dumb by this Earth creature. Humans weren’t known for their beauty, and I’d seen many in my lifetime, but none like this. And none with a spawn that looked like me, a Warnex.
I’d seen humans with many spawn—four-legged balls of fur and hissing devils and flapping shriekers with wings. But this human, this human had wild curly hair, a soft yellow streaked with pink, and large blue eyes. Her belly was round and soft, and her hips were wide, leaving plenty of room to give me more warrior Warnex spawn.
I’d heard her voice first. Then Gorald, the blup had stepped into the light, and that had sealed her fate. She saw us, and now she had to come with us. I tried to be angry at Gorald, and he would be punished for disobeying a direct order, but I couldn’t be sorry the human would be mine. Because that was what I had decided as she struggled weakly against Horvul’s massive chest, emitting muffled shrieks from behind his hand. She would be mine. Her and her spawn, who I’d raise as my own.
“Release her mouth, Horvul,” I said. “It’s unsanitary.”
He glared at me but removed his hand.
I held out my palms. “Please don’t scream, human.”
She stood frozen with her hands clasped to her breasts while her spawn remained motionless where it perched on her shoulder. “Why…why are they speaking French?” she whispered, almost to herself.
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