by Sue Lyndon
Then he smacks my cheek.
It’s not a hard slap by any means, but still I cry out. More from the shock than from the pain.
My cheek smarts and tears burn in my eyes. Though I should’ve expected such brutality from him—he did put me in a cage, after all—I’m still shocked. No one has ever struck me before.
“You will never run from me.” His quiet tone contrasts with the rage in his eyes, as if he’s holding himself back from hurting me worse. He yanks on my hair. “Do you understand?”
“O-okay. I-I’m so-sorry,” I reply, my voice shaking.
He leans down until his face is level with mine and settles a fierce glare on me. He looks positively deranged. My stomach clenches tighter the longer he stares. Gradually, his grip in my hair lessens as the fire in his eyes dims, until he finally lets me go.
I rub the back of my head and wince when he raises his hand. But he doesn’t slap me again. Instead, he gestures to the massive bed.
“Lie down atop the covers, on your back.”
Out of options, I move toward the bed, though it’s all I can do to force one foot in front of the other. When I finally reach the bed, it’s so high I must place my hands on the mattress and jump to make it up. I slide away from the edge and lie on my back, my insides twisting as my pulse beats faster.
I’ve never been so terrified.
He joins me on the bed, still fully clothed—for which I am thankful—and proceeds to gather my hands above my head. Reaching for his waist with his free hand, he unclasps his belt and pulls it off his pants.
Oh no.
I start to struggle, but his weight restricts my legs and he has no difficulty keeping my wrists bound together.
Folding the belt in half, he stares down at me. Beneath his sternness, another brief flash of compassion softens in his dark purple eyes, but the caring gleam fades as quickly as it appears, once again leaving me confounded.
“I warned you not to test my patience.” He wastes no time in delivering the first blow.
Whoosh. Crack.
I cry out as the thick leather strikes my right breast. Before I can catch my breath, he slaps my left breast and continues on in this fashion, alternating sides and hitting my tender flesh. Whoosh. Crack. Whoosh. Crack.
“When you disobey, little human, you get punished.”
I twist around, but there’s no escape. No reprieve from the constant sting of lashes. I sob and beg him to please stop, but I’m completely at his mercy and he seems to have no intention of ceasing anytime soon.
All this because I tried to escape him? I can’t fathom it.
His face remains impassive and his gaze riveted to my breasts, as if he’s concentrating on each searing blow. He doesn’t care that I’m in agony.
I can’t believe he’s whipping my breasts as punishment.
He’s a ruthless, sadistic barbarian. And he claims I now belong to him.
He pauses and glowers at me. Tension radiates from his massive form, as if he’s a second away from snapping and whipping me to death in a blind rage driven by his hatred of humans, never mind that human blood also runs through his veins.
If it’s true humans experimented on his people here on Tallia, and true his mother was mistreated by his father, I could empathize with his disdain for humans. But I’m an eighteen-year-old girl from Florida who’s supposed attend college in the fall. I’m harmless to him and his entire race. I have no part in the tragedies that have befallen his kind.
My breasts throb, so swollen and tender. The tips of my nipples are on fire. I swallow hard and take a deep breath. “Is-is it over?” My lower lip quivers and I feel like the biggest coward.
As a child, I’d loved action movies and books with kickass heroines who saved the day, and I’d always thought I was as brave as those characters I’d grown up admiring. But I’m not. Not at all. This huge alien has reduced me to a sniffling mess of a girl who’ll agree to anything if only the big scary bad man doesn’t bring the belt down across my breasts again.
“What is your name, human?”
“Laylah.”
“Laylah.” His eyes glitter darker. “I am called Kenan.”
Kenan. His name bounces around inside my head as his molten stare intensifies. His eyes hold mine captive. Not even an explosion outside the window could make me look away.
“You will obey me in everything, Laylah, or I will make you hurt.” He growls, a dark animalistic noise that vibrates over my aching breasts and makes me quiver harder beneath him. “Well, I will make you hurt sometimes for no other reason than because it pleases me. But the times you are disobedient, I will make you hurt especially bad. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Ke-Kenan.” It feels odd uttering his name for the first time. He holds so much authority and brute strength over me I instinctively want to call him Mr. Kenan, or sir. “So, is-is it ov-over, then?” I sniffle, wishing my hands were free so I could rub the pain out of my stinging breasts.
“Not yet, Laylah. You’re repentant, I can see that, but not repentant enough.” His voice is strangely gentle, as if he’s trying to coax me into understanding that I’ve been a bad girl and I actually deserve this.
He shifts slightly and squeezes my wrists tighter. The belt trails over my sore breasts, like a dark seductive caress. He raises it up, and I start struggling anew and issuing incoherent pleas for mercy.
But he pays no heed to my begging and starts lashing my breasts again. Tossing my head from side to side, I bite my lip until I taste blood and try to endure this seemingly endless torture.
Whoosh. Crack. Whoosh. Crack.
As he beats me, I cry not only from the physical pain, but also for the profound loss of my former life.
Earth.
Earth is so far away it might as well not exist. I will never see my mother and father again, or Aunt Mabel or any of my friends. All my hopes and dreams are now nothing but dust.
Before our ships destroyed the Stargazer, we closed the wormhole. You are stuck on Tallia, little human, for the rest of your days.
His pronouncement still rings in my ears, along with his promise to claim me after he finishes doling out my punishment. A haze of pain consumes me. Each breath is a struggle. There’s no relief in between the slaps of his belt; the stinging throb persists even in the brief pauses before he hits me again.
At last, he stops the whipping and throws the belt down. It thuds to the floor, and I glance at my breasts and gasp at the red welts covering them. I feel brutalized and hopeless. And, yes, repentant because I’m so sorry I ran from him.
When he releases my wrists and cups my face, another sudden flash of tenderness in his eyes leaves me stunned. He wipes at my tears, and his touch is so gentle compared to the harshness I’ve endured, I find myself leaning into his caresses as if I’m hopelessly starved for affection. Perhaps I’m simply relieved the whipping is over.
“Shh,” he whispers. Before I understand his intentions, he has me seated on his lap and wraps his arms around me. He rubs my back, taking his time and handling me as if I’m a delicate flower, and lets me cry quietly against his chest.
I try to pretend he’s not Kenan, but a different, nameless man who’s rescued me from my tormenter and is comforting me.
He holds me for a long time. I melt against him, perversely grateful for each tender touch and caress. I can’t remember the last time I sat on someone’s lap. When I was a young child, I suppose. I fall into a lull of warmth and contentment, pushing away all my worries about what’s to come, though, in the recesses of my psyche, I attempt to understand how Kenan can switch from being brutal and sadistic to being tender so quickly. It’s as if he’s two completely different people.
What if I never escape this alien called Kenan?
Maybe this is the only sweetness I’ll know in my new life.
Maybe I’ll have to take beatings in order to receive a hug or a comforting touch. This thought pushes a new batch of tears to my eyes, but I blink them back and try to compose myself
.
“Put your arms around me, Laylah.”
I obey, and God it feels nice to wrap my arms around his waist. My hands don’t meet, he’s that wide, all muscle-bound and huge, and I start to wonder if I’m going crazy. His mere presence, let alone his closeness, should repulse me. But it doesn’t. Not even a little.
Another peek at my breasts show none of the welts have broken. I’m not bleeding, but holy fuck they still hurt. I wonder if I’ll wake up to find my chest covered in bruises tomorrow, bruises inflicted by the alien who’s now combing his fingers through my hair and nuzzling his face against my head, all while he continues rubbing my back soothingly.
Then I detect the hardness beneath my bottom.
My eyes go wide.
I hold still, even stop breathing, in hopes the unmistakable bulge of his erection will wither. But it persists in growing larger and harder beneath me.
My heart leaps when he places me back on the bed. He flips me over and arranges me stomach down with my legs dangling above the floor. I bury my face in the soft covers.
I should run. I shouldn’t let this happen without a fight. But the pain of my punished breasts pressing against the bed reminds me of what happens when I disobey. I get beaten. I don’t want him to hit me again, with his hand or his belt or any other implement, so I remain in the vulnerable position.
He taps the insides of my thighs, forcing me to spread wider. The cool breeze dances across my exposed pussy lips and I start shivering.
“So pretty and pink and smooth.” He prods at my entrance, sliding his fingers around in my essence.
Whimpers leave me as he goes deeper, and deeper still, until the intrusion begins to burn.
I know why it hurts so much.
He’s pressing against my hymen.
“And so wet and so fucking tight.”
“Please. You’re hurting me.” Isn’t that the point though? He wants to hurt me.
“You’ve never had a cock here before, have you, little human?” He adds another finger, and I groan at the fullness stretching me.
Despite the pain, I’m warm and achy between my legs, my wetness growing by the second. Little pulses of heat besiege me, and my face burns with shame that I’m responding to his touch. Again, I should be repulsed. I’m scared as hell, but somehow he still doesn’t repulse me, and my fear does nothing to hamper my mounting need.
“Answer my question, Laylah. Have you ever had a cock in you before?”
“No. I-I’m a virgin.”
The air hisses between his teeth as he inhales fast. He continues his exploration of my sex, pushing in and out and spreading my increasing moisture over the bare folds of my pussy.
“Is all this wetness for me, little human?”
I don’t know if he expects an answer, but I’m so afraid he’ll hit me again, I say, “I can’t help it.”
He chuckles and his hand leaves my center. To my utter mortification, I throb longingly under the absence of his touch. I might be a virgin, but I’ve brought myself to pleasure before, and I know without a doubt my clit is swollen large. It pulses in tune with the rapid beating of my heart, and I yearn to close my legs in order to relieve the building ache.
Behind me, I hear footsteps and fabric brushing against skin. Oh my God.
He’s removing his clothes.
Chapter Five
It’s probably better he takes me this way. From behind. I can hide my face in the covers and pretend he’s a human man and I’m back on Earth finally losing my virginity. Maybe I met a man during my first semester at Harvard and we fell in love. Or lust. It doesn’t matter, as long as I’m willing.
The heat of his cock stuns me when it drags against my inner thigh. A little moan drifts from me as he trails his length over my wet folds, teasing me. But when he starts pushing inside my tight passage, I can’t cope with the thickness of his cock. I grab at the covers and frantically try to evade him.
“Please, no.” I crawl up on the bed and face him, hugging my knees to my chest as I lean on the pillows. Shaking my head, I give him my most pleading look. Then my gaze travels lower and I gasp at the immense size of his manhood.
He’s fucking huge.
“Please don’t do this.”
An ice cold look enters his eyes. “Get back in place, little human, or I will take the belt to your pussy before I fuck it.” He speaks so quietly he might have been telling me it was going to rain today, but instead he’s issuing a threat that makes my stomach roil. “I must claim you now. It’s imperative,” he then says, in a strangely encouraging tone, as if it’s a matter of life and death and what he’s about to do is for my own good. There’s an urgency about him that stretches beyond his primal lust.
“Why, Kenan?”
He sighs. “Trust me, it’s for the best.” His eyes gleam with compassion for several long breathless moments, and it’s as if he’s another man entirely. He swallows hard and then rearranges his face into a firm, indifferent expression. “If you don’t obey and get back into place, Laylah, I will whip your pussy.”
The angry welts on my breasts throb harder, and I scramble to obey, laying stomach down at the end of his colossal bed.
I believe him. I believe he’s that cruel and I don’t want to ever experience the lash of his belt again. But I don’t want him to fuck me, either, even if my pussy is incessantly throbbing for his touch.
I start crying, for the millionth time in his presence. I’ve never cried so much in my life, but then I’ve never been kidnapped by a huge scary alien either. Before this happened to me, I was always so stoic. I hurt and raged inside when my brother and grandmother died, but I fucking held it together and tried to be strong for my parents’ sake, especially for my mother. I wish I could be strong like that now, but I’m so fucking scared and still in disbelief that aliens exist that I can’t help falling apart.
“Hush,” he says gently, before urging my thighs apart. “This must be done.” He strokes two fingers over the slit of my opening before splaying my nether lips open to explore the wetness within. I whimper when he rubs my essence overtop my pulsing clit, and, to my mortification, my hips jerk of their own accord and I press myself against his hand.
A satisfied groan rumbles from him.
He abandons my clit to insert his thick digits into my channel, driving as deep as my virginal barrier only to withdraw slightly before pushing inside again. The shallow thrusts soon make my body hum with pleasure, and he gradually increases his pace until I’m panting and trying my best not to moan or whimper. But it’s difficult, because I’ve never experienced such an intense need to come.
I clutch the covers and take deep breaths in a futile attempt to quell my arousal, but it doesn’t work. With each thrust, the ache in my core deepens and my wetness grows.
At last, he withdraws from my center entirely, but he remains close, the heat of his body waving onto mine, a boundless sensual caress that promises more.
He’s not done with me yet.
“Spread those legs wider, human. I intend to impale you and make you mine.”
The moment I part my thighs to his liking, he grips my hips and drives his cock deep into my pussy. I gasp as he pounds into me with abandon. Each thrust is a blazing stab of agony. It hurts so bad, if he does this to me every day, I don’t know how I’ll cope.
“I own you and this hole of yours, Laylah. I’ll claim you whenever I want, and you’ll bend over and take it like a good little mate.” Though his tone is firm, underneath the steel there’s a hint of tender regard that clashes with his bold declaration.
Mate? My mind reels at this particular word. Does this act solidify something more in our roles than abductor and captive? Does it have something to do with his urgency to claim me?
He continues thrusting in and out, and at some point the blinding pain fades to a dull ache, and slowly, very slowly, the heat of my shameful arousal returns until it’s burning with a vengeance. I’d rather each thrust hurt like hell than experience
any bit of pleasure from his touch.
The bed bounces with his rough movements as he pounds into me. Deep growls and moans emanate from his throat, noises that don’t sound even remotely human, making it impossible to pretend I’m back on Earth, losing my virginity on a college campus.
As he fucks me, I’m ever aware I’m on Tallia and a huge, fierce alien named Kenan is claiming me despite my protests.
Each time he enters me, his heavy balls impact upon my clit, causing everything below my waist to ache desperately and pulse harder with need. I’m close to coming apart, soaring high and shattering amidst the stars, but trying damn hard not to surrender to that first wave of pleasure.
I’m vaguely aware of the twin moons of Tallia rising outside the window, glowing bright orange against the backdrop of a brilliant starry night. The sound of the forest reaches me and keeps me grounded in reality. Insects buzz, screech, and sing in a chorus that doesn’t sound as chaotic as it should. The breeze picks up and cools my skin.
Breathless and sweating, I welcome the refreshing night air, for it briefly distracts me from the present circumstances I’m hopeless to escape.
The pace of his thrusts increase, and he releases one of my hips to grab my hair. He gives a harsh yank, and I gasp. My scalp still aches from his rough handling earlier.
“I can feel your muscles clenching around my cock and your little clit swelling larger and larger every time my balls hit it.” There’s a smirk in his voice, as well as a note of warning. “Stop holding back and come, Laylah. You have thirty fucking seconds to come or I’ll pull out of your pussy and fuck your ass instead.”
He hasn’t issued an idle threat yet, so I close my eyes and allow the pleasure to sweep me under. Sharp pulsing waves crash over me and I come longer and harder than I thought humanly possible. The whole while, he keeps fucking me in a rough manner, claiming my innocence because he’s big and strong and I can’t fight him off, and for whatever reason he has decided I’m to be his mate. I shudder as the last remnant of shameful ecstasy pulsates through me, making my toes curl and leaving me panting for air.