Forced To Kill The Prince

by Hollie Hutchins

  “But how are you –” I hesitate, then squint in suspicion as I see two humans playing air hockey not that far away from my gaming stall.

  Ronald and Matthew. The other missing crew members. Here. Old grizzled Ronald, our bear of a captain, and the twitchy, bug eyed Matthew, who knows a lot about computers and not so much about people. Ronald is currently playing against Loren.

  Ah.

  “Everyone’s here?”

  “Yes!” Theresa takes me over to the air hockey table. Loren and Ronald turn to look at me. Ronald waves.

  “Good to see you in this place. And you’re looking healthy. How have you been?”

  “Could be better, could be worse,” Ronald says, wry.

  I’m completely off balance at the optimism of my long-lost friends. They’re not acting like they’re captives at all. Obviously, Loren’s been away for the past few days organizing things so that everyone’s squashed together in the same place. But why? And why don’t they seem… traumatized?

  “You appear to have questions,” Loren says, his expression delighted.

  I twitch a finger. “Okay, no offense, but I thought all my friends were dead, and now they’re all here and happy. What the hell?”

  “Perhaps you should listen to them,” Loren says, again smiling faintly. He knows he’s struck gold with me this time. I’m utterly speechless. He’s just alleviated one of my worst fears. Not the other things – but it’s hard to feel guilty when your friends are alive and seemingly happy.

  I hear their stories with a mix of trepidation and surprise. From what I glean – all of them were sent off to auctions. The men went to a different one, hence why they weren’t on the same hovertruck.

  All of them were sold off to wealthy nobles. Apparently, the urtok like human livestock especially, because humans are amongst the most fertile of the aliens they’ve ever encountered. Which is interesting.

  I see Loren’s face color slightly when Theresa explains that although she has been used to produce urtok, there’s been no direct physical contact between her and the urtok she’s been brought by. Basically, when she ovulates, they extract the egg from her with a fairly easy, slightly invasive procedure that gives her discomfort for about five minutes, and then the egg and urtok sperm is placed together and conceived. Apparently, it has about a 40% success rate, and she’s had one growing egg so far.

  With Matthew and Ronald, they pretty much had the choice of masturbating into a sample tube, or having direct intercourse with some enamored urtok women.

  “They treat me like a king,” Ronald says. “The only issue I have is that I’m not free. But as being trapped goes, it could be worse.”

  “I told the urtok,” Loren says, now coolly starting the next round of air hockey, forcing Ronald to concentrate, “that humans prefer social contact, so if they want healthy offspring, then it’s best to let the humans speak to others of their own kind. I needed to receive boundary rights to your friends, but after that, it seems you all may meet up regularly.”

  Despite not wanting to like this at all, I’m flattered. And deeply suspicious that Loren might have been able to extract the eggs from me the same way as Theresa – but wanted to do it the authentic way instead. I’m not sure what that means. It’s “healthier?” Or he has another motive?

  “I am also arranging for you to be able to contact your father that you keep talking about,” Loren says. “And releasing you.”

  I pause, shocked. “Release me?”

  “Yes. But only after I’ve gotten enough offspring from you to make it worthwhile. I will set the cap at 20. After that, you will be free to go. I give you my word.”

  “Damn, Teena,” Theresa says. “You got a good one here. I was so scared when he approached me at first.”

  “Of course you would be.” I sigh. “It’s my fault. If I hadn’t gone so close to the planet. If I’d paid any attention at all. Things wouldn’t be as big of a mess as they are now.”

  “Look,” Ronald says gruffly, clapping me on the shoulder. “Sometimes we just need to make the best of a bad situation. And it’s not your fault. None of us expected this to happen. We can be grateful that we’re all alive right now. That our captors treat us with as much decency they can comprehend. And that we won’t be stranded here for the rest of our lives.” He then smirks. “I’m also being paid. That was one of the demands I put on my buyer.”

  I smirk as well. Trust Ronald to exploit what he can out of a situation. Theresa’s eyes light up, as if she hadn’t considered this idea before.

  After this, we all take turns playing games and talking to one another. Ronald wins the game against Loren, which seems to surprise the urtok.

  Honestly, we end up having fun.

  More fun than I expected. And those knots in my stomach are slowly vanishing. They melt away with all the tension, and I’m able to take a good, long look at my situation. For whatever reason, Loren is going out of his way.

  He had done before. But this – doing this, giving me an escape clause, a reason to adhere to his demands – is both cunning and kind at the same time.

  Because we both get what we want. And it brings us a little closer to one another.

  I’m sad when we depart from the arcade, with promises to meet again soon. Loren has to take them all back, so I wait for a couple of hours in the main house, mostly being avoided by his family. I spend a long time staring at the wall, thinking through what has happened. My heart’s so much lighter. I can’t even begin to describe the relief I felt when I saw Theresa and the others. The heaviness in my body has unravelled. The guilt that’s been knotting everything up and making it hard to breathe is but a tiny echo of what it once was.

  Damn it. Loren managed to do the one thing that would most certainly get me on his side. It doesn’t make me any more obligated to do whatever it is he wants. People can’t just buy others and give them gifts and then expect everything to be alright. That’s not how it works.

  Still, I’m finding it harder and harder to find the reasons to hold back. My mind’s split in two over this. The stubborn, wilful, I refuse to do anything part aligned with the I’m making more trouble than necessary part.

  And when Loren comes into my room later, I still haven’t found the bridge between those two.

  I would make a horrible partner for anyone, really. It would just be too easy to keep pointing out all the things I don’t like, and keep this state of attrition going.

  I’m just tired. Maybe I am brainwashed, or maybe I would have naturally come to this conclusion anywhere – and it has nothing to do with what I assumed. If someone is nice to you, patient to you, and does everything they can to make your life comfortable, and respect you in their own way – of course you’re going to like them.

  And I do like Loren. I do. I hate that I do, but it’s wedged there in my mind and heart and it’s not going away.

  Loren sits by the bed next to me, his amber eyes holding a question. He looks particularly brilliant today. Or maybe he does every day, and it’s only now that I’m paying closer attention that I honestly feel like he’s standing out. Shining, even.

  Well, this is awkward. There’s also an unmistakable tension in the room right now. As if I could reach out and break it with a twitch of my finger. I don’t know where it starts and stops, but I highly suspect the tension is due to the fact that we’re slowly gravitating towards one another. That leg shift which shuffles him along the bed, just that little bit nearer. My hair flick, so I can overtly examine his body, and let my eyes rest on the bulge between his legs, concealed in dark blue pants. Then there’s my mind wondering just how exactly it would feel.

  Would it be good? Hot? Exciting? Lame? And is his dick normal, or something… weird?

  I know I shouldn’t be thinking like this, but I am. “Thank you for doing that earlier, Loren. Out of all the things I might have expected – that wasn’t it.”

  “As you can see,” he says, with a twitch of one side of his lips, “they’re
not dead. They’re not being abused. You didn’t hurt them. It’s not your fault. I hope that eases some of the problems you’ve been having.”

  I hesitate for a moment. I’m hovering on a precipice, looking down to where I’m about to fall. I’m not being dragged down like before.

  Ah. Whatever. Let’s cut this tension with a knife of my own making. I step off the bed, straddle Loren’s lap, and give him a long, smoldering gaze, before bringing my lips to his. I hear the inhale of shock in his breath, see his eyebrows pop up, before he closes his eyes shut, and merges better into the kiss.

  Not a bad kisser. I indulge in the taste of him against my lips. I feel the ripple of muscle along his arms, and the slow ignition of my desire. It creeps though my body, leaving my face in a heated flush. Damn, it’s getting hot in here fast. Maybe too hot. But I keep kissing him anyway, taking the time to explore the sensations, and use all of my senses to engage within the moment.

  Without my eyes, I hear his soft gasps mingle with mine, and the rustle of our clothes as we lean into one another and shift slightly. My knees and the top part of my calf muscles press into the bed, and when I push my hips into his, I feel his fast growing erection, pushing against the pants. I smell the spicy, hot accent of his body, not an aroma I’m familiar with, but it fills my nose and I can taste it as well. I wonder what I smell like to him, if he can identify which part of the galaxy I originate from with it, or whether he’s not paying attention to anything but the feel of my lips upon his.

  His thick lips are so pliant against my thin ones. It’s easy for me to clamp gently down on his bottom lip and suck at it, tugging the flesh. Licking it to moisten it further.

  He groans at this teasing. And the fire in my ramps up, wanting to feel more of this. To live more of this. To throw every thought out the window and just indulge in primal, lustful carnage on the bed.

  Show him just how wild I am, because I’m not the type to sit back and meekly let it happen.

  I begin tearing at his clothes, wanting to come into contact with his skin, and to see what lies beneath.

  I’m not disappointed with what I discover under that blue shirt. He has a fine, light brown skin with the barest of hair upon his chest, and petal shaped pecs. The skin has a gleam to it that’s attractive, as if he’s oiled himself up, but he feels smooth and not slippery to the touch. I admire this texture.

  The big challenge though, is knowing what’s lying between his legs. Presumably he has the same organ, but if it has a bunch of spikes, I think I’m probably going to pass on the intercourse part of what we’re doing.

  I get him to wriggle out of his pants, and revealed to me is a dark brown dick, with veins ringing around the outside of it. It’s not huge, which is a relief, and it has that familiar soft tip, slightly concealed by foreskin. It’s thick, thicker than I expected, and I’m just able to get my longest finger and thumb around it. And I have long fingers.

  Well. This is certainly interesting. I smirk at him as I begin to massage that organ, watching it twitch under my touch. Hearing him hiss and groan, as he tilts his head back. Wetness pools between my thighs. My body is craving this, wanting to feel him inside. Since when did I get so horny? I was always able to channel most of my sexual energy into my piloting. Not mentioning my days before being a pilot in that fuck-fest of a University I went to. You could say I learned a lot of things there.

  And now, apparently, an urtok’s body is really damn sexy.

  I consider pushing Loren onto the bed, but given that he has back spikes, that’s more likely going to just ruin the bed. My hands fumble along those spikes, which feel like elephant ivory, smooth and expensive under my hands. Damn. I really want to ride him.

  Well, guess it’ll just have to be in this position.

  He seems to have other ideas on his mind, however. In a burst of energy, he tears off the flimsy fabric I’m wearing. Watching the way his muscles bunch and flex invigorates me, and for the first time, I feel a flood of arousal at the thought of being dominated. Of having the lead stripped from me and becoming the receptor of pleasure.

  I’m usually the girl in control. Or at the controls, depending on how you want to look at it. And even on this planet, I retained control of myself. I had plenty of time to think, to dislike what was happening, and to like the small things.

  I had times warring with myself, to the point where I don’t know if I would have resisted constantly and continued treating Loren the way I did.

  It’s astonishing, really, how much lust I can feel for an alien. His body resembles human anatomy, human coloring. He has some differences with his muscles and facial structure, and then there’s the spikes, but honestly – he’s attractive. And my body certainly thinks so, judging by the way it’s responding.

  I should be an emotional mess at this point, but I’m not. I’m determined to make this work. I am grateful to Loren, now. Finally, after spending so much time rejecting everything. I wish we could have met in better circumstances, but honestly, in normal circumstances, we never would have met at all.

  I was likely to keep roaming the galaxy forever, never choosing to settle down, never doing anything until I hit menopause, maybe having some stabs of doubt at the life I’ve led, before reminding myself that piloting is the only thing that matters. That, and my family.

  Then you have someone like Loren, who would make someone a wonderful mate.

  Maybe even mine.

  “I’m glad you don’t have spikes, Teena,” Loren growls, examining my naked body, his eyes lingering on my breasts. My nipples are like erasers at this point, and when he moves forward to suck on one nipple hard with his mouth, I gasp, clutching his head to hold it in place. With a mouthful of breast, he adds, “because I can do this.”

  He flips me over and presses me into the bed. Then he crawls between my legs, shivering in excitement. He’s devouring my body with a stare. I want him inside me, I want to feel that thickness stretching me out, sliding and generating pleasure with every thrust, like a gathering thunderstorm.

  “Beautiful,” he whispers, tracing his fingers over my jawline. Checking me out. Feeling the way my skin ripples, and the hairs on my arm rise up as if charged with static.

  Maybe I am.

  “So soft,” he continues, mesmerized, it seems. I take my chance to examine him as well. I run my hands over his body, sometimes scratching my nails across that skin. I’m so pale in contrast to him. I’ve never realized just how pale I am. His skin is so rich, earthy, and it carries that enticing, spicy scent with it. It addles my brain. I think it must have some kind of drug in it, like a pheromone, because my heart’s triple the pace, and I want nothing more than to be consumed mind, body and soul. To lose any semblance of rational thought, and scream as an orgasm rips through me.

  I shiver when he runs his hand across my stomach, goes lower, until he feels the impossible wetness covering my core. I don’t know why he’s so surprised by that. He should know how good he feels. What he’s doing to me.

  With a soft growl, he positions himself, so that thick erection is resting against my fold. It’s too thick to just slide in, I think. He examines my opening there, and seems to come to the same conclusion. He uses his hand to put pressure on his length, and pushes it partway in.

  Oh. I shiver. I feel my folds unravel around him. I feel more wetness gushing out of me, luring him in further. He continues like this for a moment, gradually pushing himself deeper inside me, until he’s all the way in, and I’m stretched so wide.

  Holy shit.

  When he begins moving in earnest, I whimper and writhe underneath him. I don’t know what to do with my body for a moment. Crackles of pleasure keep surging inside me with his thrusts. He’s jabbing into my g-spot effortlessly, and feeling that thickness glide inside me is incredibly arousing. His heart’s thumping as hard and fast as mine, and sweat forms along that perfect skin.

  We both gasp and moan together as he dives into me, using his formidable strength to maximize the p
leasure. Oh, it’s so intense. So much. I’ve had orgasms before, and I know how to anticipate the build-up, and the way it coils there, but this, the build-up is slower, somehow. Like a growling monster that’s preparing to pounce and take me utterly by surprise.

  It’s subtle at first. And I feel it growing. The pleasure increasing. My brain’s struggling to concentrate, my lungs are struggling to inhale properly. I can’t believe this is happening. My limbs are getting that pins and needles feel, and the tension becomes unbearable.

  I let out a long, deflated gasp as the orgasm finally breaks the tension, and it hits me like a storm. My limbs go utterly boneless as I flop in climax, feel every muscle go tight, and my brain fuzz out for a second.

  I might have even lost consciousness, but it can’t have been for long, because I’m still there to experience the whole unbelievable shock wave roaring through me.

  I’m burned up, and I love it.

  He stopped whilst admiring the fruit of his efforts, but then started up again when it looked like I showed some signs of recovery.

  Fuck sake. I instantly feel another orgasm coming on, despite being so sensitive. My bundle of nerves only needs the slightest of contact to zing pleasurable, painful electricity through me.

  The second orgasm is not as powerful as the first, but it still knocks me out for a good few seconds as I feel Loren shudder, and release himself inside me.

  Wow. Just wow.

  Now this is a feeling I can fast become addicted to.

  Loren rests by my side, facing me with wonder in those amber eyes. A sheen of sweat covers his face, but he’s otherwise happy.

  Like I am. I give him a dumb smile, because I can’t control it with all the happy chemicals dominating my senses. He smiles back, and reaches to caress my cheek.

  Neither of us say anything. No obvious, wow, that was amazing, or sudden confessions of love. We’re just lying here, facing one another, both probably trying to gather some movement back in our legs. I sincerely doubt I’m going to be walking straight if I stand up now. And then there’s that delicious ache between my thighs.