Alien Hostage

by Tracy St. John

  With the slightest one’s rhythm established, the other two rutted as well. Shockwaves of pleasure jolted through Tasha as first one, then the other, drove deep into her. The extraordinary fullness in her pussy and ass drove her to orgasm every few minutes. When her mouth opened wide to cry out another fulfillment, the man she sucked on rubbed his cock, watching her rapturous expression with avid eyes. Even at the height of bliss, Tasha knew he watched. Being on display strengthened the surges of pleasure.

  The three men moved faster, driving harder. Soon they would come, marking the woman they’d found in their midst. Tasha sucked and licked the pulsing shaft in her mouth, wanting it to submit to her. The men gasped and grunted, eager for the culmination of their conquest. Yet it was Tasha who ruled now, with her body soft to their clamorings, her mouth and openings clutching and drawing on them, insisting on them sacrificing their pleasure to her.

  The slightest one surrendered first, flooding her mouth with ecstasy. Tasha drew on him, swallowing and sucking, demanding he hold nothing back. Feeling his cock throb against her tongue, tasting that wild savor, brought her close to another release.

  Bliss billowed in a final mighty heave as the Scarred Savage yelled. Tasha felt his shaft pumping, filling her ass with cum. She clawed at the leader, whose shoulders already streaked red with scratches from her nails. His head jerked back and he howled with rapture, his completion throbbing inside her pussy.

  The slightest one, Imdiko Nirad, collapsed to the upper deck of the clan’s tree-home. He lay gasping as if he’d run a marathon. He rolled so that his body splayed, as if to offer himself as sacrifice to the vid-produced sky overhead.

  Nobek Gid, he of the amazing map of scars, groaned and slid out of Tasha’s ass. He too rolled onto his back, away from her. Dramok Deg grunted as the last pulses of climax rippled through his cock. His eyes were closed, his mouth slack.

  Tasha blinked slowly, the final orgasm receding and taking the fantasy of fierce jungle wildmen with it. She swallowed as reality intruded, erasing the sweet afterglow of wonderful sex.

  Here I am yet again, she thought, looking over her shoulder to take a peek at the satisfied smile on Gid’s rough but compelling face. Now the other part starts, the part that doesn’t feel right.

  As if hearing her thoughts, Nirad stretched and rolled on his side to look at her. His smile was as sweet as sunshine. His voice was gentle as he spoke in warm tones. “You liked that, didn’t you? Shall I fetch you some water now? Or would you like a protein drink, Tasha?”

  She felt the tightness of her return smile. “Water, please. Thanks.”

  Nirad got up, snickering to himself as he discovered his movements to be a little awkward and stiff. He’d had the most demanding position of all, so Tasha didn’t wonder that his steps were slow to the small cooling unit, discreetly placed in the corner of the deck.

  Deg climbed to his feet, his grin wide as he called after his Imdiko. “Are those cleansing wipes there? I did ask you to—”

  “I made sure everything was here,” Nirad called as he bent to the unit. “I’ll bring it to you.”

  A big hand rubbed Tasha’s back, the pressure gentle. “I take it you enjoyed our surprise, my lovely? It was to your liking?” Gid rumbled in Tasha’s ear.

  She managed not to squirm at the solicitous touch though it made her skin crawl. “I’m impressed you went to so much trouble.”

  A slight frown touched Deg’s face, and Tasha winced inwardly. Her tone had been a tad too formal.

  The Dramok said, “You said it was a good book, so we read it. We thought you’d enjoy the idea of men who’d grown up wild in the jungle, more beast than civilized. We even made the loincloths from some old rugs made of hides.”

  Tasha didn’t have to lie when she said, “Oh, I enjoyed it, all right. It was perfect.”

  Nirad laughed as he rejoined them, sitting down cross-legged in front of Tasha. “That was fun. I’ll have to read more Earther stories. Such an exciting fantasy!”

  He opened her bottle for her and tipped it to her lips. Tasha drank deeply, wondering if he’d take it wrong if she grabbed it away. She looked around the deck, hoping to spy a chronometer somewhere. No such luck. She’d have to ask what time it was and hope she wasn’t obvious about wanting to leave.

  Gid and Deg set about cleaning her up with the wipes. Even brutish Gid’s handling of her was gentle, his big hands as tender as a nursemaid’s. “Relax and enjoy. We’ll give you what you like. What you want.”

  His words brought an echo of others from the past. You like it. You want it. You know it feels nice.

  Tasha’s stomach churned. She thought she might throw up.

  While Deg wiped their mingled fluids from her inner thighs, he gave her his brightest smile, the one that had seemed so cheerful to Tasha in the past. “Will you stay for dinner?”

  She seized on the innocent question like a drowning woman grabbing onto a lifebuoy. Pushing away the nearly empty water bottle she said, “Dinner? Oh my gosh, is it that late?” She looked up at the sky – actually a vid projection on the ceiling of the underground living sector. It was still mostly blue with daylight, but she detected the slightest hint of coral tones that confirmed evening was on its way.

  Nirad blinked in surprise at her concerned tone. “No. Why?”

  “What time is it?” Tasha jumped up, escaping the Dramok and Nobek’s ministrations as she sprang away from them.

  Gid called in Kalquorian, “Time check.”

  When an electronic voice answered, Tasha felt relief. She heaved a sigh. “Oh thank goodness. I have just enough time to go back to my quarters, shower, and get to the Royal House. I promised to keep my niece tonight for the Imperial Clan.”

  All three faces fell. Tasha felt a stab of conscience at their obvious disappointment. Yet the flash of guilt did not mitigate the need to get away from them now that they’d turned solicitous.

  Deg made noticeable effort to keep letdown from his tone and expression. “We didn’t realize you had another engagement.”

  Tasha chewed on her lip. “I’m sorry. It slipped my mind until just now. I really have to get going.”

  Liar, her conscience whispered. You are the worst person, Natasha Salter.

  Gid squared his shoulders, too much of a Nobek to show whatever regret he felt. “We will escort you to the Matara Complex.”

  “Thank you.” She hated to leave them when Deg and Nirad had those hangdog expressions, so she added in her most encouraging tone, “What a shame I have to go. I had such a good time today. You were fantastic. Thank you.”

  She kissed each one, and the three men brightened. It gave her another pang of conscience to know she led them on.

  Yet the old revulsion had come again, that sick feeling when exciting sex turned into overly attentive aftercare and the words meant in kindness sounded too much like past words of coercion. Tasha knew she wouldn’t see Clan Deg again.

  She was callous, a terrible person to lead clans on the way she did. It was wrong, and Tasha knew it. Time after time with clan after clan the same thing had happened. It didn’t matter than she wanted love with all her being. No one had been able to shut out those awful echoes from her past, the ones that made intimate kindness a horror.

  I don’t want to be alone, her heart cried.

  Looking at the three men as they helped her dress, three men who were nothing but kind and good and willing to give a girl her silliest fantasies – men she could not bear to spend another moment with – Tasha knew solitude was her lot in life. It hurt, but she couldn’t keep stringing innocent clans along.

  Clan Deg would find out they needed to move along soon enough. She’d offer them the same lame excuse of ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ that she’d given all the rest. They’d be confused, maybe even a little hurt. Tasha knew they had four more chances in the lottery, and a clan as nice as theirs would probably strike gold next time. Surely by their third or fourth attempt.

  Tasha forced a bright smil
e as they ushered her down the stairs that wound around the trunk of the tree. They answered that smile in kind, hope still alive that she might be the one to make their clan whole.

  Tasha swallowed guilt. It would be okay. They were a good clan. They’d find the right girl eventually.

  Chapter 2

  Tasha grabbed a shower in her small quarters at the Matara Complex, a huge building located in the underground area not far from Clan Deg’s treehouse home. She dressed hurriedly in a matching skirt and top and slid on comfortable shoes. Refreshed and glowing from the excellent sex – and still wincing a bit over the conscience that didn’t want to let her go – she headed for the Royal House.

  The home of the Imperial Clan and members of their family was dug into a cliff that hugged the powdery pink sand beach of Kalquor’s capital. Kalquorians preferred to make their homes in natural settings, not wanting to spoil the native beauty of their planet. The interiors of the cliff dwellings and businesses were thoroughly modern however. The love for nature did not keep the Kalquorians from enjoying the latest in technological advances.

  Upon arrival at the royal apartments, Tasha was automatically ushered into the Imperial Clan’s home by a couple of swarthy Royal Guards who stood vigil at the entrance. She eyed the red armor-suited Nobeks with appreciation. They looked like pure brutality, an appearance she appreciated. Pretty men held little attraction for Tasha. Men should look like men, in her opinion. The rougher, the better.

  The two fierce gents she swept by gave her a quick once-over, but their scowling visages didn’t change expression. Whether they examined her because they searched for possible urges of regicide or because they were men looking at a woman, she couldn’t tell. The Royal Guards didn’t take their duties lightly – when they weren’t traitors, at least.

  There had been problems on Kalquor lately. It was getting harder to know who to trust.

  Tasha wandered through the royal apartments. The smooth walls with their lighting panels, the firm yet slightly giving floors with their scattered furred rugs, the hand carved furnishings, the priceless artworks by masters throughout the known worlds ... the home held no hint that it resided within a cliff until one went on the balconies carved from the rock outside.

  She waved and exchanged greetings with familiar faces of assistants and household staff. In the hallway, Dramok Emperor Clajak and his aide Korkla interrupted a quiet argument they were having to offer her bows and smiles.

  “Trouble in paradise?” Tasha asked.

  “My emperor is unhappy about the seating arrangements at tonight’s dinner,” Korkla said in his mild tone. The sharp-featured Dramok looked more amused than put out.

  “He’s put Councilman Terbal within shouting distance,” Clajak scowled. “That man gets on my last nerve.”

  “But he’s always in favor of everything you want done for Kalquor,” Tasha said. Her tone was mocking since she knew why Clajak couldn’t stand Dramok Terbal. The problems went far beyond the sycophant statements often delivered by the councilman.

  “He’s a sniveling, lying piece of – ugh, don’t get me going again,” the emperor griped. Despite the note of complaint, he winked at Tasha.

  She grinned at the handsome face framed with steel-colored hair. Clajak had an infamous temper, but he usually kept it aimed at those who made him mad.

  In a loud, conspiratorial whisper, Tasha told Korkla, “No knives at my emperor’s place setting.”

  Korkla laughed at that and Clajak’s trademark roguish grin spread over his face. “And none for Terbal to stick in my back,” he snickered.

  “Noted.” Korkla smiled at Tasha. “I suppose you’re looking for your cousin? The empress is in her dressing room.”

  “I figured. Chin up, Clajak. Tonight won’t last forever – especially if Terbal does get that knife in you.”

  She walked off on his and Korkla’s laughter, searching for Jessica.

  Tasha found her cousin in her private dressing room, along with what appeared to be an army of Kalquorian men dashing about in a flurry of activity. For the most part they were gentle-faced Imdikos, the breed that gravitated towards nurture and care of others. A couple of Dramoks also busied themselves calling out orders.

  In the center of all the bustle sat the empress herself, Matara Jessica of Clan Clajak. Back on Earth she’d been plain old Jessica McInness, a nurse with no interest in fame or pretention.

  Tasha had gotten used to Jessica’s lofty status as one of the Kalquorian Empire’s rulers for the most part. She still experienced moments when the sight of her cousin’s power brought her to a standstill. This was one of those moments as stylists crowded about Jessica, getting her ready for an important state dinner.

  Tasha tried to reconcile childhood memories of her younger cousin. Once upon a time, Jessica had been a tiny terror with flashing eyes and scabby knees. That little girl showed little resemblance to the self-possessed woman Tasha saw now. Jessica’s chestnut brown hair had been arranged in an elegant serpentine coil that wound to the back of her neck. Her delicate features, which reminded one of the elves of folklore, were enhanced by the most careful application of cosmetics. Jessica was not one to wear much makeup, but the small amount she’d allowed for tonight had been applied with an artist’s touch. Her fine-boned body was toned from the dancing she enjoyed for exercise. The slender column gown she wore was pink, setting off her lightly tanned skin so that it glowed.

  Her eyes were the same as ever, one moment warm with caring and the next sparking with temper. Jessica and Clajak were a pair with their fiery temperaments, all right.

  “Tasha, isn’t my mommy pretty?” a small voice asked.

  Tasha located the owner of that sweet trill. Jessica’s youngest child Noelle sat on the sofa-like lounger in the room surrounded by piles of offered and rejected gowns. She beamed up at her second cousin with a child’s innocent delight as she clutched a doll that had been made to look just like her.

  Tasha picked her way around shoes and dropped toiletries to join Noelle. The styling crew kept moving like busy bees about the hive, but they nodded and moved out of the way of Tasha’s passage. When she got to the lounger she collapsed next to Noelle as if having navigated the world’s trickiest obstacle course.

  “Hi, sweetie! Yes, your mom is beautiful,” Tasha said, giving Noelle a kiss.

  Her three-year-old second cousin snuggled up close to be held. Tasha’s nostrils filled with the little girl’s sweet, still-babyish scent. Noelle nearly crawled up in her lap in her desire to be kept close.

  Noelle had been clingy the last six months since her older brother Wayne had gone off to Nobek training camp. The family had taken great pains to explain the situation to Noelle. Wayne was a young warrior personality. The camp would help him control his destructive tendencies, teaching him how to be a productive member of society. Yet even though Wayne came home on regular visits, Noelle still couldn’t quite grasp why he’d been sent away. She seemed to have the idea that she too might ‘disappear’ some day.

  Tasha cuddled with the little girl. Nearing her fourth birthday, Noelle would have been big for her age had she been a full-blooded Earther. She was average for a Kalquorian, however. She had Jessica’s elfin features with a sharp nose and pointed chin, but from there her fathers’ heritage was obvious. She had the brown skin, purple cat-pupiled eyes, and tiny hinged fangs that would stay folded to the roof of her mouth until she reached puberty. Her frame also showed signs of growing muscularity, a natural benefit of the Kalquorian race. She would not be small-boned and slender like her Earther mother.

  If not for her hair, it would have been impossible to tell which of Jessica’s three male mates had fathered Noelle. However, she possessed the mutation that made Clajak’s hair silvered steel, making it clear who her blood sire was. Not that it mattered one bit to Nobek Emperor Bevau or Imdiko Emperor Egilka. All three of Noelle’s legal fathers doted on her with equal love and regard. The same could be said of Wayne, who looked like a smalle
r version of Egilka. That Wayne had turned out to be a Nobek was a matter of obvious pride to Bevau, who had strutted around with a smug expression for days after the test results were announced. The way he had bragged to anyone who would listen, one would have thought the boy to be Bevau’s natural-born son.

  It was the Kalquorian way for all men in a clan to accept each of their Matara’s children as their own. No one talked biology, at least not in public. A child was the reflection of all four of his or her parents.

  Tasha hugged the much-loved princess close, feeling happiness that her own future children might have the advantages of so many fathers. If she could ever settle down to take a clan on as permanent mates, her conscience reminded her. She frowned.

  Her momentary disquiet over the continued issues she had with commitment were forgotten as Jessica’s voice rose in irritation. “No, no, no! How many times have I told you I won’t wear that obnoxious thing? Get me something simple, for heaven’s sake.”

  Tasha looked at the necklace one of the Dramok stylists held up, offering it for Jessica’s slender throat. She snickered. The thing was chunky with monstrous amethysts, sapphires, emeralds, and rubies. No doubt each stone cost a fortune, even discounting the rose gold chain they hung from. Tasha thought no one could possibly wear the necklace and hold their head up straight.

  Jessica was not someone to boast of status and wealth, though as empress she possessed them in spades. Had she deigned to wear such a bauble, she would have gone from boasting to flaunting with no hint of modesty whatsoever.

  The Dramok lowered the horrendous piece of jewelry, though he didn’t put it away. “My empress, your gown is minimal. You need something eye-catching.”

  Jessica looked at her image in front of the full-length mirror. Tasha saw herself behind Jessica, full-figured, her hair a darker brown than her cousin’s, her face rounder. She had a moment of envy for the empress’s slight figure. It didn’t last. Kalquorian men appreciated lush women for the most part, and Tasha never lacked for companionship when she wanted it.