Never Submit! The Swarii Brides, Book One

by Korey Mae Johnson

  “Hey, if you can get those assholes outside to turn off the power and make it safer, be my guest. They won’t, though. I’m an affront to their high standards of laziness. They wouldn’t go so far as to reach all the way into their pocket to lend me a pen if my life depended on it.” She efficiently twisted two hot wires together and then cut a new line of wire off her belt.

  He watched her work with a subtle look of curiosity. “You do this often?” he asked. She had heard that same sort of incredulous tone before. It had the same tone as the question, ‘you’re a woman, shouldn’t you be off baking a pie somewhere?’

  “Yeah,” she replied. “When I’m not wiggling my ass for Jazeel, I’m normally knee deep in wires. I used to sit around eating cookies all day under the air conditioning until that started to piss Peyton-the-Prime off, and then he learned what I used to do on Earth. Before you know it, the holiday’s over and I’m knee-deep in washing machine parts. What I can’t stand is crystal technology. That crap is as alien as it gets.”

  “Like what they use on their ships? Neither do we,” he admitted. “Just because if something breaks, it can really create problems. You just can’t wire something together, and…”

  ZZPOP! A spark flew out of the panel she was working on—something bright, something that would have laid her on her ass again if Graham hadn’t grabbed her arm and pulled her to his body and away from the panel. In the next moment, as more sparks flew out of the panel after them, he pressed himself against the nearby wall with her at his chest.

  It was then that she fell in love with Graham Masterson, and vice versa.

  Actually, she didn’t fall. It was like electricity—like something grabbed both of them and held them close to each other until they melded together, whether they liked it or not. They were very still for a long moment, nearly paralyzed by unwelcomed warmth that seemed to fill them down to their toes.

  She didn’t hear anything for a second; it was like a blaring noise had deafened her. She was wondering if she actually had been electrocuted, except that she wasn’t in pain. Quite the contrary; she had never been so aroused in her life, and she was getting more so, it seemed, by the second.

  Graham’s chest, she noticed instantly, was heaving, like he had been running as fast as he could for as long as he could.

  The other Swarii finally approached, beginning to talk to him in their language, their faces concerned. Graham suddenly snapped at them, sounding angry, not releasing Ellie for even a moment. The Swarii silently stared on at them, anxious.

  “I guess I should put the gloves back on, huh?” she finally said, breaking what she thought was awkward silence.

  Graham still made no sounds and no movements.

  Finally, she began to squirm. She was beginning to feel flushed, to say the least, and pushed against Graham’s arm to try to get him to release her from his vice-like hold.

  “Don’t move,” he ordered in a raspy voice, his arm pressed her more firmly to his chest.

  Now, she couldn’t move if she wanted to. She was beginning to feel pretty vulnerable, not to mention alienated. This was odd. She shouldn’t feel this way, especially the arousal which had hit her like a damn fire hose. Furthermore, the fact that she was being tightly held by a seven-foot-tall gorgeous alien commander was something that Peyton would certainly frown upon, if he were to walk in.

  The moment the traveling heat in her body started to fade was the exact same moment Graham let her go. She got up to her feet then and straightened herself out. He stood up, looking like he was in sudden agony.

  “Are you okay?” she asked him. The man definitely looked emotionally compromised.

  He was quiet for such a long time, that she had to take it as a ‘no.’

  “What was that? Were we shocked? I’d been shocked before,” she blabbered. “And that was weird. That was almost pleasant! Did you feel it, or am I nuts?”

  He continued to be silent.

  She turned to the other Swarii, who continued to stare. “Any commentary? Did any of you see what happened?”

  One of the Swarii, who was short for their race (he was only Peyton’s size), cleared his throat awkwardly. “You should give him a minute,” he advised. His accent was thicker, and was actually quite Irish, even more so than Graham’s.

  “What’s wrong with him?” she asked, pointing to the practically catatonic man leaning up against the wall, looking deeply disturbed.

  “He’s trying not to rape you,” another one offered. This Swarii was larger than Graham, and blonde. He stepped forward and pushed her behind his shoulder to protect her. “I’d step back, Sweetheart.”

  She jumped back, but then looked at that Swarii like he must have been kidding. “What?”

  “You both just… Um… If I’m not mistaken…” he began to explain, but the short Swarii cut him off.

  “There’s no way he can do that with a human,” the smaller one said, swiping his hand through the air with clarity. He looked at her and hedged immediately, “No offense.”

  “She’s not human,” Graham finally growled, looking not like himself. His expression was animalistic—primal. After he said the words, his expression looked like it was warring again, and he looked away from all of them, huddling his body closer to the wall, as if the coolness of the metal wall was somehow soothing when pressed against his face.

  “Okay, I need an explanation. This is weird. I feel… Weird.” There were no other descriptors. She didn’t want to add that what she really wanted to do was take off her clothes and get on all fours, so that Graham could properly mount her. The idea didn’t seem to match up with her conservative background.

  “Of course you do. You just felt the union,” the large, apparently more open-minded Swarii explained delicately. “I think so, anyway…”

  “Riiight,” she drawled, having no idea what he was talking about. Apparently, he thought he was using a word she should know.

  The large Swarii sighed and looked wearily at the ceiling as if he was trying to explain something amazingly simple to a seven-year-old. “You chose each other as mates.”

  “What?” she cried incredulously, immediately embarrassed by the idea. “I most certainly did not!”

  “You didn’t consciously choose it. That’s not how it works! Criminy, what do they do on your planet?”

  “Um…” She had wondered about that many a time herself. “Not that,” she said, definitely sure of that much. “What the hell happened?”

  “It happens when two Swarii touch naked skin—Swarii that are genetically compatible, that is. It can only happen once in a lifetime,” the short Swarii replied, looking confused as he watched Graham press his body even harder against the wall. “That’s why it’s weird. How the holy hell would he even be compatible with you?” Again, he added after that, “No offense. You’ve got nice boobs and all, but you’re just a tiny, weak, weird-looking little…”

  “Shut the fuck up, Thorton!” Graham snapped, suddenly pushing himself away from the wall and launching himself at the smaller Swarii, who wasn’t quite through insulting her.

  The two Swarii who, it appeared, did not speak English, held Graham back, although it looked like he greatly wanted to rip off one of Thorton’s arms and beat him to death with it. Thorton stood back, looking quite stunned, and then he hummed in his throat. “Huh.”

  She backed away. This was a little much for her to handle. Two seconds ago, Graham was being nearly charming. Now, he was like a wild animal. She walked to the door and pounded on it with her fist until the guard finally answered by pulling the door apart manually from the wall. He looked quite cantankerous, as if she woke him from a nap. “What?” he looked at the pile of wires on the floor before he looked up and saw Graham still on a quest to destroy one of his friends. “What’s wrong with him?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll come back when he’s cooled off,” she replied. “I’ll serve Lord Jazeel his lunch, and then I’ll come and finish.”

  “You’d better
,” the guard replied, glaring at her, then mumbled something that sounded like a rant on how humans were so entirely incompetent that they probably assumed a door would fix itself.

  She scurried as fast as she could up to the main floor of the palace, where it looked like Peyton was about to serve lunch to Jazeel for her. She stopped him in the hallway by getting in his path.

  “You done already?” he asked her. Then, he looked at the strange glow on her, which made her look feverish. “Hey—you okay, kiddo?” he asked, suddenly concerned.

  “No,” she replied simply, rubbing her sleeve against her forehead. “Can I serve lunch to Jazeel?”

  “You look like hell,” he said, shaking his head, rejecting her request.

  “I’m gonna continue looking like it if I don’t get the plug out,” she replied tersely, reaching up to grab the tray away from him.

  “Fine,” he said, rolling his eyes at her as if he had decided she was the biggest wuss in the world. “I’ll go in with you,” he offered, carefully handing her the tray and following her to the chamber in question, where he opened the door for her.

  She quickly served Jazeel, who was in the middle of an intergalactic highly-technological phone call, and then got to her knees and rubbed her face on his boot.

  Finally, distracted by her patheticness, he sighed and shal’taed to the Frian in the hologram in front of him. ‘I’ll give you a call back, Colonel. My pet needs attention, it seems.’ He hit a button within a small panel strapped to his forearm. “Yes, my pet?” he asked her, sounding somewhat annoyed. “How’s your bottom feeling?” he added coyly.

  “I fell, Master. And I’m dying,” she whined miserably, letting out a fake sob.

  He sighed again. “I have never known a pet that took a punishment less well. And what you’re wearing, by the way, is horrid.”

  “I’ve been working as you ordered, my lord,” she replied. “It’s how I fell... Now I’m dying,” she repeated, raising her face to him.

  “You’re not dying, you’re—” he suddenly noticed the misting on her forehead. “Are you…” He put his long-fingered hand to her raised head. “Are you ill, my poor pet? You have a high fever…”

  “I’m dying,” she repeated again miserably, resting her head dramatically in his lap.

  “Peyton! Why haven’t you cared for this poor little beast?” he accused, looking up at his prime crossly.

  Peyton shifted his weight nervously, knowing he’d have to hedge his words perfectly to keep himself from being whipped. “Master, I could never disobey you… Besides, other girls have survived this punishment fine enough.”

  “The other girls aren’t as fragile as my little rose,” he retorted crisply. “Fine then, I forgive you,” he decreed to Peyton. “See she is given what is required, and discontinue her punishment immediately.” He raised up Ellie’s sad, pouting face. “My poor, sweet little pet. Enjoy this now—my wife will have a stricter hand, you know.”

  Ellie knew. She didn’t smile at all—she continued looking pathetic until she was properly dismissed, at which time she let Peyton guide her gently from the room. He closed the heavy chamber door behind them, and then took her firmly by her forearm and practically dragged her to her room.

  “You are ridiculous,” Peyton told her, slapping her on the ass as he grabbed a chair from her vanity and moved it to the center of the room. “Take off your pants.”

  She began to unfasten her utility belt until she looked up at Peyton’s expression. “You’re not going to spank me, are you?” she felt she had to ask. “Because I didn’t know Jazeel was going to get angry with you.”

  “Well, he ain’t gonna get angry with himself,” Peyton sighed, then visibly calmed. “No, I’m not gonna spank you.” He added with a grin, “Much. But one of these days you’re gonna get me whipped, and you’d better believe I will share some of that pain with you.” He patted his knee to signal for her to bend over it.

  She pulled her pants and panties quickly to her knees and bent uncomfortably over his lap. She was never going to get used to this position, even though she should have been by now. “You know, this isn’t even a big one,” he told her. “There are bigger. Mary gets something like this up her bottom with no complaints, and it’s twice this size—at least. And she likes it.”

  “Since when has Mary ever been plugged?” she snapped.

  “Never.”

  Suddenly, she realized what he was saying. Her lip curled over her teeth. “Gross, Peyton. I don’t need to know any of the details concerning your… thing.”

  “It’s like a baby’s arm holding an apple,” he added teasingly, enjoying her disgust as he adjusted her comfortably on his lap.

  “Oh, gag!” she whined, and then twitched when she felt Peyton’s fingers under the rim of the plug.

  “A little sensitive today?” he asked, watching as her other orifice writhed slightly at his touch, glistening in the light of the room. “Wait a second… Are you aroused?”

  “Only to the idea of death,” she whimpered. “Can you not torture me?”

  “Torture’s kind of the program,” Peyton explained simply, playing with the plug by moving it slightly—tugging it back and forth. “I’m actually taking this out the easy way, rather than just ripping it out of you.”

  Suddenly, paying far too close of attention to his movements, Ellie moaned—not groaned, but moaned. Immediately, she put her hands over her mouth.

  “Whoa…” Peyton noticed, surprised. “What’s got you in the mood?” Suddenly he demanded, “You’ve been away from the supply room, right?”

  “Dear lord, of course!” she replied. “I’ve been in the prison the whole time with those Swarii. Then something weird happened. I think I was electrocuted.”

  “I think you liked it,” was his reply.

  “Weird, Peyton,” she nagged, kicking her feet uncomfortably. “But no—it wasn’t like that. Graham and I just—I don’t know—but then he became—well, acted—really odd, and…”

  “I love a good story poorly described,” Peyton said curtly. “It’s like when you were describing that movie with that guy who was in love with that girl from that other movie and there was this evil guy after them that’d once played that doctor on that one TV show.”

  “I’m not a poet, Peyton,” she retorted tersely.

  “Who’s Graham, then?” he asked, continuing to play with the plug.

  She nearly didn’t want to describe him—the thought of Graham made her hot all over again. “The Swarii commander, and oh!”

  Peyton quickly stopped doing what he was doing. “Are you about to cum?” he asked, watching her writhing with open eyes. He felt himself actually getting aroused by this, and didn’t like it. “Mary would not like this at all…”

  “Stop being so damn nice, Peyton!” she snapped. “Take this goddamn thing out of me, or I swear to God I will be the one ripping your nuts off!”

  She didn’t know what she was asking for, but she swore she could see stars when Peyton quickly did what he was told and yanked the plug out of her body. “Sweet baby Jesus!” she hissed.

  “Hey, no blasphemy,” he reminded frankly as she writhed and dug her toes into the ground, trying to deal with the startling amount of soreness. “Ass sex is not a good option for you, you wuss,” he added. “Now, what the hell is it with this commander?”

  “Never mind,” she simpered miserably. There was no way to explain Graham without the risk that something even more embarrassing—if that was possible—could transpire. Besides, Peyton was paranoid—if she explained the passion she had felt, the animal urge to mate with him, then Peyton would gladly step in the way of her seeing him ever again.

  She picked herself back up on her feet and quickly pulled up her panties and pants swiftly. “Their conversation was interesting, is all.” she lied. “They speak English.”

  Peyton seemed confused by this. “Really?” Suddenly his eyes darkened. “They’re not talking to you, right?”

  “As
much as you talk to a human electrician, I suppose,” she said ruefully.

  “Are you attracted to one of them?” Damn, Peyton was good at guessing.

  “Well, the commander’s pretty…” She caught herself mid-sentence and decided to throw him off the scent of where her mind was going. “Does it matter? The guards are paying super-close attention, anyway. So don’t worry yourself into an ulcer,” she lied easily, grabbing for her utility belt.

  When she looked back towards him, his expression was extremely dark. “If I hear any more of you talking to those guys, little girl…” he threatened, then shook his head. “I’m gonna tan your hide for you, so help me. Ignore them, you hear?”

  “Oh, I hear,” she told him. She just didn’t agree.

  * * *

  She was annoyed by the fact that she was still walking a bit bow-legged, despite her best efforts. Still, compared to how she felt earlier, she was practically ready to do cartwheels into the prison. The guards seemed to be annoyed by the fact that she was far more cheerful than she was earlier. They called her a few names and shoved her back into the cell without much ado.

  When she was in the cell again, she looked awkwardly at the Swarii, who looked very on-alert because of her presence. She waved at them timidly and then crouched down to the electrical panel.

  Suddenly, before she noticed that anyone had approached, her rubber gloves were hanging in front of her nose. “Hello,” Graham said to her. His voice was velvety, breathy. He sounded tired—more specifically, he sounded like the sort of tired she imagined a boxer would feel after going up against Ali. “Can you wear these, please, this time? You left them.”

  She smiled awkwardly at him and thanked him. She put the gloves back on her hands, and let him just stare at her in silence for awhile. She couldn’t help but feel that he viewed her as ‘bad news’ he was going to have to ‘fix’. If she glanced up for a moment, she could see the gears rolling behind his eyes.

  “Sorry about before,” he continued. “I sort of lost control for a moment. I’m just glad it was more on Thorton than on you, but I could see how you might think less of me.”