Alien Alphas: Twenty-Three Naughty Sci-Fi Romance Novellas

by Grace Goodwin

  I still. “I’m being punished, aren’t I?” I meet his gaze and he pauses, too. “But... should I like it? Because I am.”

  He shifts his weight, allowing my legs to relax, and he forms a canopy over my slender form with the length of his body, from his broad shoulders to his trim waist. Still locked inside me, he gyrates his hips while at the same time, he twirls my hair in his fingers. He’s contemplating my question, which surprises me.

  “I’m rehabilitating you. Not punishing. And, I’m enjoying it too. More than I usually do. I think, Kleo, you’ve triggered something in my core being. I...” He breaks off. I’m left dangling, waiting for the reason.

  The vibrations of the glass phallus softened when he spoke, but as he dips his head and kisses my lips, they intensify.

  He won’t say what he means, but it doesn’t matter. I cast aside the final dregs of doubt. Having left the lowliest place in the nebula—the only human camp on the Golden Planet—then trained to serve in a prestigious academy, I’ve been brought to Helle against my wishes and forced by the terms of a contract to comply. But, for the first time in my life, I’m finding the real me. No, this fucking isn’t rehabilitating me, it’s discovering me.

  “Rehabilitate me, then,” I stutter. “Please.”

  “I will, Kleo,” he says in a new huskier tone. “I shall.”

  He recommences his fucking with vigor, and each stroke of his cocks heightens my arousal to a new level of joy. I struggle to contain my emotions as well as my orgasm. I rake my fingernails along his back and track the knots of his taut muscles—a symborg of strength, agility, and maybe, he can be compassionate too.

  “Now, fuck, now!” he roars with an accompanying shudder.

  The eruption of cum flushes out the raw heat of the previous essence. This liquid heat quells the storm raging in my belly and I come in a strange state of calmness that ripples around both his natural hardness and the solid substance of the glass. The former gives as I squeeze, the latter refuses to yield as I spasm.

  I cry out and focus the flood of energy into one spot. My heart. Its frantic beats drum against my breast and I exhale breathlessly.

  Only when he is fully spent does he ease out of my saturated sex and somewhat gracefully lies next to me. I purr, satisfied with my performance. However, I wonder if I’ve done too well.

  His eyes are closed. I’m tempted to trace a trembling finger along the outline of his handsome features: the straight nose, the noble cheekbones and solid jaw. What has he done to me?

  “I’m rehabilitated?” I ask cautiously.

  He smiles and opens his eyes. “No. Whatever gave you that idea,” he admonishes softly. “Your contriteness and submission must be augmented by regular sex and more spankings.”

  I snuggle down, clenching my pussy at the implication there is plenty more of Brax to come. “I’m sorry. I mustn’t assume, I know.”

  He turns back to stare up at the ceiling. The smile remains, though. “I have many, many deviant things I wish to do to you.”

  I swallow hard. “Things?” I say quietly.

  “Do you know how many different kinds of phalli I can attach to this?” He jerks his chin at the glinting glass that protrudes from his pubis. “I intend to extract the full terms of this contract. Your obedience is essential to this. But, I can assure your needs will continue to be met by me, and only me.”

  It’s sudden, the rush of adrenaline that comes with his firm voice. I don’t need to know the details because I’m going to find out anyway, and soon.

  However, when it comes to his anatomy, curiosity gets the better of me. “How did you get those... things?” The word seems inadequate but he doesn’t mind the crudeness or the nature of the question.

  He tucks his hand behind his head. “When I reached the age of man, they came for me. They took me to the heart of Helle, the bigger hub, where we are reborn with new bodies and decided how I should be enhanced. From that point on, I followed a path designed by Helle’s best bioengineers. I bear the scars of those operations and implants. My blood is thick with an elixir that enables me to stay erect for hours. The key enhancement, my adaptable phallus, was added to aid my role as a rehabilitator.”

  “The third... ball... thing?” I ask.

  “Oh, that?” he chuckles. “Well, actually, all men of Helle have that little sac. It’s natural. You assumed it wasn’t and I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

  I caress it gently with the tip of my finger. “It’s supposed to make me hot and you bigger?”

  He captures my hand and draws it up onto his chest. “Yes. Although mine is especially potent, so I gather.” He winks.

  I squirm, still feeling the heat in my bottom from the last time he shot his special load inside me. There’s much to ponder about us but as he disappears into the bathroom to bathe, I can’t shape my thoughts coherently. What I feel is dopey, warm, and remarkably content. When he slips back to lie next to me, still wonderfully naked, I coil my forefinger around his shaft. “I like this cock. The other too, but this one has the bonus of being in the right place.”

  He frowns. “Explain.”

  I ring his warm erection with all my fingers. The skin is textured and the head smooth as my oiled bottom cheek. I let go and rest my hand on his flat belly, which rises and falls as he breathes—it calms me. “You have a handsome organ. An appealing one. Tyan wants me to mate with a Feesh.”

  I guess going by his blank expression, he doesn’t know about the Feesh. “His name is Shafargh and he’s an important emissary for their trade commission. When I return to Tyan, I will be sent to him. Of course, we won’t be able to breed, but that isn’t an issue. The Feesh mate by penetration, like you, but his cock is on the end of a two-meter-long tentacle.”

  Brax’s eyes widen into dark pools. “He doesn’t mate with his own species?”

  “He breeds with them. But he fucks for fun and I’m a prized alien—a human female.” I cover my eyes with my hands, horrified by the image. “The Feesh won’t touch aliens. So, when he fucks me, I’ll be kept in a cage out of reach, so not to offend him. Just that thing poking me.”

  “Um. Hardly the best way to have sex,” Brax says dryly. He pries my hands away. “Your submission is key. Without it, Tyan, your so-called guardian, will have nothing to trade. Did you run away to Opar to escape this fate?”

  I shake my head. “No, that wasn’t my original idea; I needed to feel free of him for a while. I convinced him that my training had exhausted me. Tyan made a contract with Shafargh, but not on a disk or anything like that. I did however promise that I would come back. I’d groveled to Tyan and he agreed to my plan only if I met Shafargh before I left. He’s a weird alien with a dome-shaped head, bulging eyes, and stubby legs. Where he kept his tentacle, I didn’t ask.

  “But, my courage grew stronger, especially every time I thought of that ghastly Feesh. When I visited the Silver Planet for a rest break, I met Vaneza, a weak-minded girl and I persuaded her to smuggle me out to the Oparian System. It was Opar Prime that reminded me what I really wanted to find out about myself. The men there are kind, generous, and they made sex such good fun.”

  Brax chuckles. “I can see you learned a lot from them.”

  “I lost my virginity to one Opar, not Pheon, but one just as sweet. I’m sorry I treated them badly. I lost my honor as well as my virginity.” I drape my leg over his thigh and nudge his stiff cock with my knee. It’s a risky tease.

  “So, you’re stuck with me until you have been well fucked, spanked, and treated to many deviant cocks.” He rolls on top of me and thrusts his knees between my legs.

  I giggle. “I need plenty of rehabilitation before I go back.” If ever, I plead silently.

  “You do, bad girl. I’m looking forward to it.”

  I spread my legs and he lowers his lips onto one of my nipples. With each gentle nip, I moan softly. I close my eyes. He’s trailing kisses down my stomach and every inch he covers pushes Shafargh further from my thoughts. I�
��m awash with a sense of bliss even before I come. It’s easy with Brax. Too easy. I’m in trouble. I don’t want to leave Helle.

  * * *

  Brax

  Kleo Nikara has completed her rehabilitation. I have fulfilled my obligation to Tyan. She is contrite of her behavior and punished. I fuck her daily, feed and bathe her. She does as she’s told... for the most part.

  At this point, I break off from writing my report. I’ve not fulfilled my duties adequately. I am lying because as far as the contract stipulated, I have not turned Kleo into a demure submissive creature ready to be fucked remorselessly by a grotesque alien. I’ve taken her to my personal quarters and clothed her. I’ve allowed her to rise above my waist, sleep with me, talk with spontaneity and use the occasional burst of disrespect in the tone of her voice. When we lie next to each other, we entwine our arms and legs as lovers do, or so I’m told. The DEEmen don’t take lovers; we mate for procreation and pleasure, but not for emotional fulfillment. With Kleo, I have discovered something about myself I did not know: mating is mutually beneficial. Kleo calls it lovemaking.

  My assessment therefore is false. I cannot give her back to Tyan as she is. It would be wrong of me to claim my reward based on my inability to extract her submission. She has changed me. I am the one who needs to escape. We’re two people reprogrammed to be something different and we’ve more in common than I imagined. I want to be free to choose how I live my life and so does she.

  I rise from my desk and exit the observation room, where I’ve kept half an eye on Kleo as she sews. She’s making herself another dress. I enjoy watching her sew and her concentration is admirable. She has many assets; she’s quick-witted and smart. She also occupies her time effectively with things I have not considered useful, until now, such as cooking sweet morsels, dancing to music—as opposed to using the exercise machine—or reading words that have no purpose and seem to make her either laugh or cry. I find it faintly amusing she reads something that doesn’t instruct the reader on what to do.

  She rises as I enter the sleep room. I don’t expect her to bow or prostrate herself on the floor, but she swings the skirts of her newly sewn dress and meekly waits for me to greet her with a kiss on her forehead.

  “Please sit.” I join her on the edge of the rest pad. I extract the contract disk from where I keep it safe in my pocket.

  She inhales sharply. “You’re sending me back!” She leaps to her feet.

  With a snap of my fingers, she remembers her place and sits back down. Her hands come together and she weaves her fingers into a ball.

  I place the disk in the palm of my hand. “I have thought hard about what you told me about Shafargh, and about responsibility and honor. I cannot find it in my heart to send you home knowing that this alien will fuck you without a care for your feelings.”

  “What about Tyan?”

  I hear the little wobble in her voice and I comfort her with the touch of my hand on the back of hers.

  “To dishonor a contract is reprehensible. I will not find any more work in the Chorion Nebula if I do.”

  She hangs her head. “I understand. Then, let me go back to the Golden Planet now. Today. Before it becomes too unbearable.”

  “Unbearable?” I ask, confused.

  “The thought of not being with you.”

  I stroke her arm. She ripples with nervous energy. I sense it through her skin. We are so in tune now that we are mates.

  “Kleo.” I squeeze her hand and she looks up. “I’m not sending you back.”

  Her eyes widen. She doesn’t believe me and, although disappointed with her lack of faith in me, I offer absolute proof of my intention. I drop the disk on the floor and grind the heel of my boot into it until it shatters into tiny pieces.

  “But... it’s a contract,” she exclaims.

  “It was. And now it is broken.” I feel nothing but relief for what I’ve done. “How can I send you back to Tyan knowing he will curse your life with misery? My honor belongs to you now, not him or any contract. I will not break my word to you. You are mine and always will be.”

  She throws her arms around my neck, sobbing hard into my shoulder. My heart quickens—something is still wrong! “What? Is this not what you want?”

  She struggles to find her voice among the crying. “I do want this... I’m so happy.”

  I have much to learn about humans, it seems. I will try harder to fathom her peculiar system of emotions. “Then why the tears?”

  “It’s the relief. I’ve done everything I can to satisfy you and I didn’t know if it was enough.”

  I draw her onto my lap. “You still cause me grief, but I will put up with it if you mate with me.”

  “Where will we go?”

  She knows we can’t stay on Helle. My name is ruined. I will not be able to trade at the hubs. “Not all of the galaxy recognizes contracts. Some use laws and regulations, things that need courts to decide what is right or wrong. We will have to use starships to reach those places. It will take time. We shall go to one of those planets and start a new life together.”

  She blinks several times. Now, her lack of faith riles me slightly. I furrow my eyebrows—a warning she recognizes.

  “We are bonded,” she says, then smiles. “And Tyan’s contract is void?”

  I nod.

  “Then, sir, take me wherever you wish.”

  We topple backward onto the rest pad. Tomorrow we can leave. Today I shall be busy for a few hours working on a new kind of contract, one between a human and a DEEman from Helle.

  The End

  About Jaye Peaches

  I’m a bestselling erotic romance author including Sci-Fi and Historical Romances. All my books contain an element of BDSM, spankings or erotic games of sensual exploration. If you desire a little thrill, something to entice, then please take the time to read one of my books. Thank you!

  When not writing, I’m busy spending time with my family, sometimes drawing, cat watching, and if good weather allows, which being England is never often enough, I’m pulling up the weeds in my garden.

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  Her Biker from Mars by Katie Douglas

  Chapter One

  Real men are from Mars.

  Sy suppressed a laugh when he saw the words leaping out of a 3D aftershave advert on a billboard. The model in the advert was wrestling an alligator. He could have been Sy’s doppelganger: long dark hair, although Sy’s was probably more tangled from being outdoors in the wind all day; piercing blue eyes; aged somewhere in his thirties. Sy had celebrated his thirty-second birthday not long ago. They were both unshaven, with the useful sort of stubble that you could light a match on. Muscles everywhere. Tattoos. They even wore the same white vest. Sy’s was grubbier than the model’s, though, as a result of being a real man, with the sort of life that was a little too realistic for most women to handle. And Sy still had the angry red burn on his right upper arm from where he’d rescinded his membership in a motorcycle club not two months ago.

  Christ, that acid had burned. Did the job though. The trouble with lasers was that the clinics all kept before and after pictures of the work they were getting rid of. Sy didn’t want the evidence all over Mars like that. It only took one well-meaning doctor posting their success stories online and he’d be found out.

  He sidestepped an overturned trash can that was vomiting garbage all over the street, and planted one of his motorcycle boots straight into a puddle. Water or something more feral, he didn’t care. He kept walking.

  Somewhere near here, there was a snow cone with his name on it. The allure of that cold, icy bite was the only thing keeping him sane. That snow cone was the high point of his day, every day since he’d washed up back on Mars. All his life he’d worked to get away from the wretche
d pisshole, and somehow it always dragged him back.

  Death was the only way anyone left the Mother Theresa Motorcycle Club. The name had been coined in irony, as a bit of a joke, but it had stuck. And Sy had walked away from them. If news got back to Earth that he wasn’t dead, some very bad men would kill his sister. She was settled in New Los Angeles with some tosspot who would never protect her. Despite Sy’s best efforts, he couldn’t make her see the man she was dating was a scumbag wannabe gangster. And she was being watched by the Mother Theresas, just in case Sy rose from the dead. He knew their MO too well to think they’d leave her alone.

  A man blocked Sy’s path. Sy fixed his gaze on the street, not wanting to cause any trouble that would draw the attention of the law, and tried to move out of the way. The man followed.

  “Axel Sydon.” The man’s voice was triumphant.

  Sy fixed him with a stony gaze. “Who’s that then?” Sy growled.

  “Don’t play dumb, Axel, that’s not what we want from you at all. Get into the car. My associate and I have things to discuss with you.” The man indicated a vehicle that had paused at the curb. Sy spat out his gum onto the filthy pavement then got into the car.

  Bastards. Who the fuck recognized him here these days? He’d only been away three years the last time, and yet no one remembered his face. Returning on a fake identity card, he’d not seen a single person he knew since he got back.

  He did a double take when he saw the other occupant of the vehicle. A priest.

  “Mother Theresa watches over you, my son,” the man said.

  Sy laughed out loud. The impossible, ridiculous inevitability of the situation was too much.

  “Were they having a sale at the costume shop or are you missing from a church somewhere?” Sy asked.

  The priest pulled his hands out of his pockets. He wore brass knuckles. “I assure you, I am a very religious man. I am Father Croxden, and this is my associate, Kevin. We offer you salvation.”