by Iona Strom
The hot eruption of his ejaculation hits my cervix with a forceful splash. Gushing out from around his cock as his hips jerk out his final spasms, I can hear the mess we’ve made dripping onto the floor.
Collapsing, his hands land on the table on either side of me.
Nuzzling my neck, he breathes out, “You were worth every piece of rillium Xuel paid for you. I shall thank him for his gift of your willing cunt.”
The foul odor that accompanies his words so close to my face steals my breath, even chasing away the masculine musk that comes with the males’ arousals. Like a forgotten leftover that’s had time to fester in the way-back of the fridge, my eyes begin to water.
Another nuzzle, and he pulls free of me, the meat of his sex so heavy, it literally flops out. I swear, I hear it smack his thigh.
Taking a much-needed breath, I remark, “Don’t let this go to your head, but that was the best sex I’ve ever had. Just a tip for the future,”—I can’t stop my smart-assed mouth as I turn around to face him—“you could use a Tic Tac, maybe three…”
Words leave me as I get a gander at his deflating sex. Holy mother of all cocks! I can’t believe that was inside me.
Taking note of the direction of my shocked expression, his chest inflates to twice its size as he lifts himself and turns to the side to show me just how impressive he is. The male definitely wins first place, but his cockiness trumps any trophy.
Snagging me around the waist, he lifts me and sits me on the table. Pushing my thighs apart, he nudges me so that I have to throw out my palms, catch myself on the table, and lean back. Slipping his fat finger inside my heat, I’m surrounded by his musk.
I luxuriate in his deep probing while he speaks to me. “There is much pleasure to be had from a cunt such as yours.”
His cock bounces back to life in response to his own words. I lie back allowing him to prep me for round two.
“There is only one fuck per turn, but Xuel is not here to exact his rule. It is not as if you will be telling anyone.”
Dragging me to the edge of the table, I’m not disappointed as he lines up his enormous sex with mine, taking his time, he feeds every broad inch of himself inside me.
Once fully seated, the pressure is colossal. The knots typical to his sex bump along my clit when he begins to fuck me. Held by the ankles, my legs are straight with my feet in the ten and two positions. Snarling down at me, he starts to pound harder than the first time. I snarl back and grip the sides of the table, hanging on as he uses me a second time. The weight of my breasts bouncing with his every thrust. I hate the feel of them flopping around, but my discomfort is swept away on a tide of pleasure so sharp, I feel my release in every single cell of my being. Little electric charges firing all at once, touching every part of my soul.
Curling my hips tight, my bottom half no longer touches the table. The convulsions of my intimate muscles almost painful as I grab at his pistoning cock. Swinging by my ankles, the male doesn’t slow his assault as he finishes inside me with a heavy load.
Mewing out the satisfaction my body has been given, I stare at his ruggedly handsome face through eyelids lowered to half-mast. Returning my stare, he doesn’t pull out but grinds his pelvis against me. The curl of his lip is more about admiration rather than anything ugly.
“You like my cock,” he grumbles. “This way is better for you. You will serve me regularly. I do not ever miss my turn at a slave’s cunt.”
Carefully, he lowers my legs and leans over me, running a careful hand over my cheek and hair.
I hold my breath against the putrid onslaught of his as he murmurs. “You are lovely. For a Mannock.”
My legs now hanging down the sides of the table, the pressure of his member seated deep inside of me—hard or not—puts insurmountable pressure on my G-spot. That spongy spot of tissue—a mystery to all the men I’ve ever been with—is a treasure uncovered by these aliens.
My lips part, and I rock my hips.
“You are greedy,” he remarks, running a thumb over my clit. “I am inclined to reward you for the pleasure you have so freely given me.”
He doesn’t need to be fully erect to create that marvelous fullness. Circling those magical fingers around my over-sensitized nub, he mumbles more of his incoherent gibberish, intensely watching the pleasure he’s creating play across my face. Writhing and twisting, I come for him with an arch of my back, and a groan pulled from somewhere deep.
A craving like nothing I’ve ever known for this male draws out a whimper when his sex slips from me in a rush of wetness.
“Do not fret, slave.” He touches my cheek. “I will be back to fill your insatiable cunt soon enough.”
Like an animal created for sex, I don’t recognize myself as I frown when he covers his cock with loose pants. Blissed out, I stay where I’m left, alone in my prison, spread out like a well-used slut on the table. Stretching, I enjoy the aftermath of what was just done to me.
Who have I become? I wonder. The whore my father always thought me to be?
Maybe that girl has always lived somewhere inside, and somehow my father could see the girl I was destined to become beneath what I thought was innocence.
I was never promiscuous before my abduction, which is a mystery why my father formed that opinion of me. Only having a scattering of short-lived relationships, it wasn’t like I was fucking every man I came in contact with. Honestly, sex never really held much to be desired, that is until I met these aliens. It seems my body is adapting to my circumstances, which is a good thing. Better than suffering brutal rapes—but damn, I could at least act offended instead of spreading myself wide for every male with a pleasing musk who drops his pants.
A rush of fear is born from the alien’s ejaculate that dribbles from my body. I’ve dutifully been ignoring the repercussions of my actions. But always in life, with all great pleasure, there comes a price.
Although, I will commend myself with how I’ve come to terms with what has happened to me so far, even forming a semblance of a plan to get home. I haven’t freaked out or made my situation worse by fighting them. No. I’ve just enjoyed fucking them back.
Reaching between my thighs, I gather some of what the male left. Holding up my coated fingers, I study the whitish discharge, so much like what a man produces. I stress over the outcome of all this unprotected sex and begin counting off the days from my last period. It’s impossible to calculate with any accuracy, given I’ve no clue how long I was unconscious when I was first abducted, so I have no way of knowing how much time has passed since I was taken from Earth.
Xuel’s sudden appearance startles me.
There are only one of two reasons why he’s here—sex or ensuring his purchase hasn’t sustained any damage. He doesn’t come across as a male who would accept sloppy seconds, so my guess is, he’s here to inspect his recently used merchandise.
Spreading my own legs, he doesn’t touch me as he looks over my flesh. Satisfied with what he sees, Xuel grunts, leaving me where I lie. The breadth of his retreating back disappears as the door reforms in his wake. A lingering cologne, heavy with a passion unquenched, my only company.
Chapter 3
I wake up shaking. Terrified.
I’ve had this dream many times before… only just bits and pieces of it. This time is different. This time, I dreamed—beginning to end—all the pieces of my nightmare coming together in a single cohesive and horrifying recollection from the night of my abduction.
Pulling my legs up to my chest, I try to hold myself together. I can still feel the scaly hands pawing at my breasts and sex as if it was still happening. The worst part was being completely paralyzed, aware of everything around me but unable to do anything about what was happening.
Their slinky, bluish bodies, the shade of death, milling about the countless rows of occupied tables in a vast room with metal walls and ceiling, sorting through all those females. Some alien, some human.
At some point, my eyes had flipped open. I coul
d only blink, moving my eyeballs around in the sockets while the rest of my body remained immobile. No matter how hard I willed my limbs to move, lifting even my pinky finger was impossible. Whatever the aliens had given us was keeping all of us incapacitated.
All except for one.
All except for her. How could I have forgotten her? The female who had nearly gotten away.
Turquoise of skin and lithe of body, the female had timed her escape when all the abductors had made their way to the opposite end of the room. Springing up from her table, her long limbs had eaten up the distance to a hatch that looked like something that belonged on a submarine. Struggling with the lever, I silently cheered her on while my body remained deathly still. Straining to keep her in my field of vision, my eyes ached from cutting them so far to the right.
The clunk from the hatch breaking its seal got the aliens moving pretty damn quick. Before the female could swing the weight of the hatch wide enough to slip through, the aliens were on her.
My heart broke as she fought them. Many slender, bluish arms had wrapped around the turquoise female, containing her. Out came a handheld device. One of them had touched the device to her skin, and she fell limp, sure as if she’d been hit over the head. The aliens dragged her lifeless body back and laid her out on her table.
To have a taste of freedom only to have it snatched away. I wanted to rail at our abductors, wanted to tear the place to pieces, to do something, anything to help not only myself but all the females trapped under the influence of their drugs. It mattered not that they were all strangers, we were all the same at that moment—no matter the origin of species present, we were all captives.
Try as I did to make my body obey, all I’d managed was a few tears that had rolled haphazardly down my cheeks.
As I laid there in a paralyzed state of consciousness, I had watched, unable to get away as my abductors systematically moved from one captive to the next, pressing that device to each of our skins—a fresh dose of drugs to make sure none of the rest of us got any bright ideas about escaping. I suppose that extra dose was what saved me from the knowledge of how I’d come to be the merchandise of those sex-slaver trolls.
After having relived the horrors of my abduction, I would rather have remained ignorant. To be trafficked on a galactic scale, I never imagined such a thing existed.
Crying for myself, for all the females who were taken against their wills, I miss hearing Natu enter. Strong arms wrap me in a tight cradle against his hard body. I don’t need to see which male it is—Natu is the only one of them that would show me this comfort.
If he were human, he would be the perfect boyfriend. As an alien, here on this spaceship, zooming through the cosmos, he’s the ideal captor.
My captor.
Just one of several males who hold the key to my freedom.
Snuggling into his warmth, I don’t want to think about the fates of the other females. I can only hope they have found some sort of comfort, and wherever they are, they aren’t suffering.
Maybe they were lucky enough to have found males like mine.
An odd attachment I’ve pushed aside for a while now takes root and begins to grow into something warm and familiar. It’s disconcerting. Maybe it’s a natural response to develop an affinity for one’s captor if they haven’t done any harm, or maybe it’s just me.
Unfortunately, I’ve had a lot of downtime to ponder my situation. How much? I don’t really know. Could be weeks, could be months. My room without a view has nothing for me to reference the passage of time—no clock, no sun, no moon—only the manual luminescence from night to day and back again, which I can control.
Counting meals, how often I’ve slept, or even the number of times I’ve had sex with my males has been of no help. The measurement of time doesn’t feel the same between their visits. I eat when I’m hungry, I nap when I’m tired. There’s simply no way of ascertaining the number of days since my abduction.
Murmuring something in that odd language, Natu mispronounces my name in his charming, alien way, and hugs me tighter.
Natu has been the most difficult to keep at arm’s length. It’s a struggle to remain detached with all these mixed emotions gumming up my brainstorming as I try to formulate a plan that will get me home. Not that I have anything definitive—basically, I haven’t formulated enough to fit inside a thimble. The only sure thing is knowing I’m going to have to use Natu to reach my goal, which only makes me cry that much harder while he holds me so carefully.
Loosening his hold, Natu tilts my face to brush away the tears streaming freely down my cheeks. As he gives me a sad smile, I give in to my inclination to kiss him. Never having kissed any of the males, this will be my first attempt at initiating anything.
As I lean into him, he leans away. Bewilderment scrunches his handsome features, and I feel foolish for trying to kiss him. It never occurred to me he wouldn’t want to.
“Sorry.” I pull back, ducking my head.
Tilting my chin up, I keep my eyes averted away.
“Avay. What is it you are trying to do?”
I glance up at his questioning tone. The sincerity I read in his expression holds my gaze. My fingers shake as I touch the chiseled sculpture of his lips. His brow furrows deeper. He clearly doesn’t understand. I step off the edge, about to tread on new ground and teach an alien the act of kissing.
I touch my own lips before returning my fingertips to his. He smiles a little.
I move in closer, so close I can see the fine texture of his skin. Closing the distance, I ever so gently press my lips to his. He remains still, so I pull away to judge his expression.
Tilting his head as if contemplating the exchange, he leans into me, and our lips touch again. This time I let him be the one to end our chaste kiss.
Pulling back, he smiles wide, flashing those monstrous fangs. Touching his lips, he laughs, then touches mine, tracing the curve of my lower lip.
“Does that have a name?”
I don’t need a translator to figure out what he’s asking.
“It’s called a kiss. Kiss,” I repeat the word and pucker, blowing him an air kiss.
He laughs again, playfully gesturing his hand between us.
“Kwiss.”
I nod at his pronunciation. There’s not an accent on Earth I can compare to his inflection. Although these males look and have acted very much like brutes, their language doesn’t sound crude. It’s smooth, refined with a flourish that colors every syllable.
I wish I knew what he was saying. I’m aggravated with myself that I’m proving to be a poor student of linguistics. I’ve only picked up on a few of their words in the time I’ve spent around them.
Natu has proven to be the epitome of patience. He’s the only one of the three that tries to communicate. I can tell his frustration is increasing the same as mine since neither of us is making any headway toward understanding the other.
Cupping my cheek, Natu looks ready for more kisses. Closing the distance, he’s all business, mimicking my pucker. Experimentally, he brushes his mouth against mine.
My male’s first kiss.
Correction.
Not my male. I have to stop thinking that way. I meant the male—the male’s first kiss.
I shiver as Natu’s free hand grazes my nipple. He’s a gentle lover. What happens between us is more akin to making love than anything else. He’s very tactile, always touching and caressing. Never one for closeness, I find I like this about him. As he pulls me in for a cuddle, that traitorous organ behind my breastbone melts like a handful of candy on a hot summer’s day.
Natu surprises me when he pulls back to slip a hand inside his pants pocket to pull free a long length of sparkly beads. Jiggling the trinket in the air for me to take, I hold out my hand, and he drops the length into my palm. The beads coil around like an ornamental snake.
Studying the unexpected item Natu has brought me, the beads gleam an otherworldly blue. As I pull the string through my fingers, t
hey blink, one at a time, with a crisp illumination.
“Extraordinary,” I breathe.
This string of alien pearls is either worth a fortune or as worthless as my mother’s costume jewelry. Whichever, it’s fantastic and will aid in alleviating the weight of boredom that has settled around me.
After all the time I’ve been held here, I’ve begun to sink into a hollow of loneliness. Forlorn and adrift in this foreign place, I welcome any company into my circular abode, even the scary shark-tooth, child-sized aliens that clean up and bring my meals. But I still jump every time the wall silently dissolves to allow a visitor inside.
I especially look forward to seeing my males.
The males, I school myself—not my males. I have to stop thinking of them as mine. They aren’t mine. I’m actually theirs. Their property.
I witnessed the auction—saw the exchange of alien currency for my body. I know better than to think this way. I suppose my sense of self-preservation is playing tricks on me, because somewhere deep inside, I’ve begun to feel as if these three males belong to me, when in actuality, I’m nothing more than a living, breathing sex doll, a plaything they pause to pass the time with before continuing on with lives of which I’m not privy. Grateful for the reprieve in my solitude, I’m becoming suspicious of their musk, that natural pheromone that saturates the air whenever they’re aroused, the scent weaves an intimacy I can’t decipher between real or artificial.
Real or not, Natu feels like the closest thing to a friend I have, making love to him is always as gentle and careful as any boyfriend would be. He spends time with me beyond the sex, usually sharing a meal and trading words, the meanings of which are lost in the lack of translation. If only we could understand one another, I know he would be a male to spend long hours in conversation.
The one with the bad breath just comes to fuck. Although he does talk to me, I get the impression it’s all dirty. I tried once to tell him my name, but he didn’t seem to care, just flipped me over onto my belly, ending the conversation. He couldn’t give two shits about me beyond getting his rocks off. At the same time, he gifts me with such explosive orgasms, my body always greets his arrival with a rush of wetness.