Alien Slavers II: Breaking Brandi

by Stacey St. James

  Dismay flickered through Brandi.

  She really hated high places and she especially didn’t like the idea of going up a rocky mountain on the back of an unpredictable animal.

  She hadn’t been given any choices about anything since she’d been taken, however, and she didn’t bother voicing her complaint aloud.

  Ulrich would do what he wanted to do.

  And at the moment, he seemed content to sit studying the rocks … very carefully.

  It unnerved Brandi. She began to stare at the rocks herself, braced for whatever might be hiding and ready to pounce.

  She didn’t see anything, however, and glanced at Ulrich after a few moments.

  “Hold on,” he said grimly.

  And then kicked the damned animal before she had time to do a fucking thing beyond gape at him.

  The beast lurched into a run, almost slinging Brandi off when he bounded into motion. Fortunately, she hung her chin on Ulrich’s arm as she slid sideways. He grabbed her waist and dragged her closer, pinning her hips with his thighs. “I said hold on!” he growled.

  “But you didn’t give me time to brace myself!” Brandi snapped. Retribution was almost instantaneous, but not from Ulrich. The jarring gait of the bounding beast made her bite her tongue when she unclenched her jaw to snap at him.

  They’d raced across an area roughly the size of half of a football field when Brandi saw what they’d been trying to outrun.

  She supposed.

  Black ants swarmed out of a valley/crevice formed by a line of boulders that lay before them.

  They weren’t actual ants, of course.

  It looked like an army.

  Of priests.

  Except they weren’t just wearing the robes she’d grown way too familiar with. They were bristling with weapons.

  Ulrich changed directions abruptly.

  Brandi gasped when the abrupt switch in directions sent her flying toward the dirt. Impact with the hard, rocky ground hammered the air out of her lungs and sent her spiraling down into darkness.

  Shock made it difficult to sort her perceptions, but she knew Ulrich leapt down, gathered her up and launched the beast into a run again when he’d leapt into the saddle with her. She knew the moments he’d lost collecting her off the ground had cost both of them because they were surrounded in moments and both of them dragged from the guak’s back.

  She thought Ulrich might have tried to fight his way out of the trap, but he couldn’t reach her and, when the priest/warrior that had her in a choke hold barked something at him, he stopped fighting abruptly.

  They were both bound, although Brandi wasn’t aware of that at first. The only thing she knew after the fight stopped was that she was bound and tossed across the rump of a guak on her belly. Fear of falling should have been sufficient to keep her alert, but she was still badly shaken up from her fall and having the wind knocked out of her again was enough to send her over the edge of consciousness into the nether world of no awareness.

  Chapter Seven

  What the hell had happened? What had they done? Not done?

  Brandi wondered for a little while after she finally regained her senses if it was possible that she was simply hallucinating, but she thought it must be nearly impossible to imagine the sort of discomfort/mild pain/developing into all out agony she was experiencing.

  What could they possibly have done to warrant this sort of thing, though?

  Unless these guys weren’t the priests—and they certainly appeared to be—they had done what they were supposed to. Ulrich had dragged her from one fucking temple to the next and handed her over to pay the damned travel toll!

  Maybe it was just a case of mistaken identity, she wondered a little hopefully?

  But how could anyone possibly confuse Ulrich with anyone else?

  She slanted a speculative glance at Ulrich, heavily bound and being led on foot by thick chains—dragged if he tripped. The muscles in his arms and shoulders and back were taut and bulging from his efforts to stay upright and keep up with the guaks so he wouldn’t be dragged.

  His expression was stony. A muscle in his jaw twitched—as if he was grinding his teeth.

  He didn’t glance in her direction. Beyond the flexing muscle in his jaw, he didn’t acknowledge he was even aware of her.

  And yet she thought he sensed her gaze.

  Should she take that to mean he was totally pissed off with her, she wondered uneasily?

  Did he think it was her fault they were in this predicament?

  Probably, she thought angrily!

  People always looked for somebody to blame! They never wanted to take responsibility for their own actions—unless they were being rewarded for them!

  Of course, these weren’t people like she thought of people—aliens might have a totally different mindset.

  But Ulrich certainly seemed more furious than frightened and he wouldn’t look at her and that usually meant the person being snubbed was thought to be the guilty party.

  Well! It would’ve been nice to know exactly what she was supposed to be guilty of!

  For a little while, her anger buoyed her.

  Then her aches and pains took the upper hand and she began to think about all of her bumps and bruises and recalled that she’d fallen off the guak when Ulrich had tried to escape … and he’d come back to get her and they’d been captured.

  Ok, so she supposed she could see his point—to an extent!

  God! It wasn’t as if she was used to making a getaway! Or used to riding an animal like this, for that matter!

  If, she thought resentfully, he’d bothered to inform her that there might be a problem she might have been better prepared!

  She’d been caught totally off guard!

  She thought about that angrily for some minutes and then it occurred to her that she hadn’t been completely caught off guard—no sense in lying to herself!

  She’d begun to suspect something was up when Ulrich had left the trail and headed off through the woods. Not that she’d had any idea what might be up, or even been certain anything was, but she couldn’t deny that she’d thought it was strange that they’d completely changed their previously established travel routine.

  Ulrich had begun to move as if he was in a great hurry.

  As if men didn’t do that when they got on the road anyway! They didn’t even want to stop to pee, let alone spend money at restaurants and hotels!

  Of course, if the temples were what passed for hotels on this planet, she was all in favor of skipping a few—or all of them—and sleeping on the ground!

  But she’d decided that they must have reached an area where there just weren’t any temples. She’d just been grateful for the respite.

  So what that it? Ulrich had gotten a wild hair up his ass and decided to ignore the ‘law’ of the land? Gotten tired of dragging her from one temple to the next and having to wait while they tried to fuck her to death?

  Had her germ of a suggestion taken root?

  Was she ultimately to blame because she’d made it clear she thought it was nothing more than superstition and it was ridiculous to be governed by make-believe things?

  She frowned, thinking it over, but try as she might she simply could not recall how much she’d voiced aloud and how much she’d simply thought. She didn’t see how she could have planted a seed of doubt in his mind if she hadn’t said something to that effect, but she couldn’t remember trying to convince him nothing would happen if they didn’t stop.

  Was that it? Was that what this was all about? They’d discovered, somehow, that Ulrich had decided to skip out on paying any more tolls and they’d tracked them down to punish them for it?

  And, saying they couldn’t convince the bastards they hadn’t done anything to deserve being ‘arrested’, what did they have in mind as punishment?

  That thought made her belly clench with fear.

  It was unfortunate that she’d distracted herself with useless speculation when she might hav
e had at least a slim chance of throwing herself off the guak and avoiding whatever punishment they might have in mind. Because when she finally worked her way around from the ‘why’ to the endless, horrible possibilities they might have in mind as punishment, she realized that they were approaching one of the temples to Nhewa—this one by far the largest and most intimidating she’d seen yet.

  * * * *

  Brandi supposed she’d had some dim idea that they were going to get a trial of sorts. She supposed she’d been expecting to be thrown into some deep, dark hole until the worshippers of Nhewa got around to formally charging them with whatever ‘crime’ they’d trumped up and retribution wasn’t something that was going to come swiftly—regardless of what form it took.

  Either the priests were really, really pissed off, though, or ‘justice’ on this world moved with blinding speed and even less regard for fairness than it did on Earth.

  The temple priests began to bang their gong before the party she was with was even close enough to be recognized by sight—unless the aliens had far better vision than humans. By the time they’d reached the foot of the temple, faithful followers had already gathered in an uneasy crowd. Brandi was dragged off the beast she’d been tied to and half carried, half dragged up the stone steps to the top. She didn’t realize Ulrich wasn’t behind her until she got there and was turned to face the crowd below.

  Ulrich, she saw then, had been chained between two of the posts she’d thought were primarily there to tie up the beasts the people rode.

  A priest—high priest, she supposed—who was far larger than most—in fact damned near as big as Ulrich the tank—emerged from the temple behind her and moved to the top of the steps. Spreading his arms wide, he began a speech that seemed to agitate the crowd below even more.

  Unfortunately, she didn’t have a fucking clue of what he’d said, although she supposed he was explaining to the crowd what it was that they’d supposedly done.

  She began to wonder if, maybe, Ulrich actually had done something. Maybe he’d robbed the treasury at one—or all—of their stops?

  Her fear rose to new heights when that occurred to her and when the High Priest descended the stairs to confront Ulrich for his real or imagined crimes, she thought she was going to puke, or maybe pass out.

  It didn’t cross her mind to wonder if she was more afraid for herself or Ulrich until she saw the barbed, multi-tailed whip that was handed to the High Priest.

  The bastard was going to kill him with that thing!

  “No!” she screamed, surging against her captors so suddenly and with such force that she actually managed to break their hold for a few moments—long enough to descend three steps before she was recaptured. “You’ll kill him! Don’t! He didn’t do anything wrong!”

  The only thing she actually accomplished with her outburst was to draw the unwanted, unwelcome attention of every single being standing in or around the temple. They gaped at her in patent disbelief.

  As if a tree had abruptly spoken.

  But then again they probably hadn’t understood one word, Brandi reflected later.

  Even Ulrich whipped his head around to gape at her in disbelief.

  It flickered through her mind to wonder if she’d lost her mind. Was it simply shock and horror that they would consider doing something like that to anyone?

  Or fear for herself?

  Or fear for Ulrich?

  The High Priest jerked his head at the priests holding her, lifted the whip and brought it down across Ulrich’s back.

  Brandi screamed as if she’d felt the blow herself, watching in horror as long gashes opened down his back and dark liquid began to ooze from the tears. She fought the men holding her. “Stop it, you bastards! Oh my god! What did he do? Why are you doing this, you monsters?”

  She almost managed to fight her way free of her jailers again, but they dragged her inside of the temple. The horrible sounds followed her, the wet, meaty thuds of repeated lashings.

  A more horrible thought followed her into the tiny cell they threw her into.

  What if her behavior had made them decide to give him more lashes?

  She dropped weakly to the pallet on the floor when they left her, struggling with nausea, trying to erase the images from her mind of the brutal beating.

  If he survived the beating he was going to be horribly scared—mentally and physically.

  Her nausea almost got the best of her with that thought. Instead, she burst into tears.

  She still didn’t know whether it was more from fear for herself or Ulrich, but she didn’t want to be caught blubbering either way.

  They would see it was a weakness and she didn’t think she could afford to convince them she was weak and helpless.

  They probably already thought so just because she was a woman.

  Or maybe it could be used as a defense of sorts?

  She managed to regain control of her emotions at that thought, turning it over and over in her mind, but then she remembered trying to fight lose to rush to Ulrich.

  She didn’t have a clue of what she’d hoped to accomplish, but she was pretty sure she’d given away way more than she ought to have with that stupid display of useless emotion!

  “Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!” she muttered to herself.

  She doubted she could convince them that she was weak and frail after that!

  And they were no doubt convinced that she cared about Ulrich.

  Her belly knotted at the thought.

  She didn’t, though. Not really. Not beyond the fact that she needed him to stay alive and he was a human—well a higher, intelligent being—and shouldn’t be treated like that!

  Actually, it would’ve been worse if he was animal. At least he understood what he’d done and why it was happening to him.

  Which was more than she could fucking say! She still didn’t have a real clue of why the priests had decided to … make an example out of them, she supposed.

  Were they going to chain her to the same posts when they were done with Ulrich and strip the skin off of her with that horrible thing?

  Unable to stay still, she lurched to her feet and began to pace back and forth across the small stretch of floor she had. Some time passed before she heard a noise outside—footsteps, a dragging noise.

  Her imagination instantly conjured an image of Ulrich, bloodied, his skin shredded, being dragged along the corridor outside.

  A meaty thud filtered through to her a few minutes later and the sound of a cell door being slammed closed and locked.

  She waited fearfully, holding her breath, listening to the marching feet approach her door and then, thankfully, fade into the distance.

  She sat down then, wondering if she’d been spared the beating because they had something else in mind for her or if they’d just decided to beat her the next day to get the full effect of terrorizing the local inhabitants into obeying the priests unquestioningly.

  She thought that was what this was really about—had to be.

  They’d chased them down. Beaten Ulrich within an inch of his life—he had to still be alive or there wouldn’t have been any point in locking his cell, she told herself.

  And she still had to face some kind of punishment herself.

  The thought terrified her and she tried not to think about it, but she knew they had something in mind for her, too.

  Chapter Eight

  Brandi didn’t realize that she was hopeful that they would put off her punishment a while until she realized they weren’t going to. She was taken to the purifying pool and bathed, oiled, scraped and bathed again. When the priests had prepared her to receive, her hands were bound behind her back and a black hood lowered over her face.

  The moment the thing fell over her face, blinding her, seeming almost to deafen her, as well, Brandi’s blood ran cold with stark terror. She was only slightly reassured when she discovered that she could breathe without difficulty.

  She’d been blindfolded by the priests before, but
she didn’t want to know if the hood had been placed on her head for the same reason, or if this ordeal would be even worse.

  It took an effort to keep from blubbering in terror when they lifted her and carried her to the chamber. The dread didn’t dissipate as she was set on her feet. Instead, her stomach tightened even more. Her hands were unbound. Gripping her wrists tightly, the priests led her a short distance and then turned her and pushed her back against something solid. Lifting her arms out to her sides, they clamped manacles around her wrists once more.

  Despite her fear, puzzlement descended upon her when she realized that the ‘wall’ seemed to end somewhere along the middle of her back.

  Hands gripped her legs just above her knees and her legs were lifted and spread wide. For many moments, she hung from her arms while something almost as wide as the length of her thighs was wrapped around them. It was tightened, lifting her thighs wider and higher. The pain in her shoulders eased, but she thought the pain in her thighs might have overshadowed it anyway. Fingers parted her nether lips. Something hot, moist, and faintly rough penetrated the mouth of her sex, startling a reflexive jerk from her.

  It was pushed slowly along her channel, almost as if it was exploring the cavity, until it touched her womb. After a few moments, it was withdrawn.

  The tension went out of her as it was removed. A few moments passed and then she felt fingers parting her flesh once more. Again, something hot touched her. This time, however, it was smooth, rounded, large and solid. She gasped, panting as it was pushed inside of her, stopping a hair’s breadth from her womb.

  It was so hot that for the first few seconds after it was pushed inside of her, fear surged through her that it would begin to burn. To her relief, although it felt hot inside of her, there was no discomfort from the heat of it. Neither was it so large as to cause her pain, although the rigidity of it did produce some discomfort.

  She wasn’t particularly reassured. She’d thought her fears must be groundless, despite the mask, when they’d taken her and pinioned her to the wall—or whatever it was that she was bound to. It wasn’t exactly like her previous experiences in the temples, but being bound was nothing new and it certainly seemed sexual as all of the other encounters had been.