Alien

by Laurann Dohner

  * * * * *

  “A fe’ka myna?”

  “Zoot f’ya!”

  “Ba ti fe’ka.”

  Kara slowly opened her eyes, her eyelashes batting away any remaining vestiges of sleep fainting had provided. Two female faces hovered over her. Two foreign faces with caramel-mocha coloring, long dark hair and… violet eyes?

  She sighed. If these women were Prince groupies they were taking his love of purple to a new extreme.

  “A fe’ka myna?” one of the women half asked and half demanded.

  Kara’s nose wrinkled as she met the woman’s—violet!—gaze. Whoever the stranger was, she was definitely the most authoritative of the duo. “I don’t understand what you’re asking me…” Her voice trailed off as she noticed what the foreigners were wearing. Kara’s breath hitched and her eyes rounded. “You’re naked!” she sputtered, sitting up. “Or close enough to naked to freak me out!”

  Both of the strange-speaking, strange-looking women wore G-strings, sandals with straps that wound up and crisscrossed around each leg to just below the knee, and nothing else. They looked like slutty prostitutes from Roman days gone by. Or like members of some psychedelic harem Prince had put together. Kara’s eyes narrowed into silver-blue slits. He had another think coming if the Purple Pain thought she would dress like that, wear violet contact lenses, and learn some trippy language he’d invented. He was as weird as legend allowed, she thought grimly.

  The dominant of the duo reached down and touched Kara’s erect nipple. She gasped, unaware until that moment she was more naked than either of them. “What are you doing?” she breathed out. “Where am I? Please don’t—”

  But they weren’t paying her any attention. Speaking in that bizarre language, they talked to each other without paying her any mind. They behaved as though they’d never seen the pink nipples of a redhead before. The leader rolled her nipple around, watching with rapt interest when it lengthened and darkened. Kara swallowed, wishing the duo wasn’t so convincing in their surprise.

  The other stranger’s hand found her other nipple and played with it too. The arousal Kara felt was sudden and horrifying. She lifted her hands to push theirs away when an inexplicable fatigue consumed her. She fell back down, her head hitting the softest pillow she’d ever felt. Her arms collapsed to either side of her nude body. She dug her nails into the silky, palatial bed she’d awoken on.

  What was happening? These women, whoever they were, weren’t Prince groupies. She couldn’t say how she knew, yet she did. Kara’s thoughts returned to the five moons that dipped below the sky and hovered above the mirror-silver waters. The maroon landscape and jungle. The black mountains and crystalline purple palaces perched at the apexes…

  Kara wasn’t on Earth. Acceptance of that fact should have made her hysterical, but haziness stole over her instead. Had the women drugged her? She’d never tried LSD, but this was as close to understanding Pink Floyd’s The Wall as she’d likely ever get.

  Her fingers, once gripping the whisper-soft bed covers for dear life, fell limp. She had to have been drugged. There was no other explanation.

  All this for a little kid on a Disney ride who wouldn’t listen to his mother. Shit.

  * * * * *

  Klykka Gy’at Li, High Mystik of the sector that bore her surname, stared down at the alien creature she and her sisters had saved from drowning in the waters of Loch Valor. The female was unlike any other The Gy’at Li had ever afore seen. Leastways, her hair was the color of fire-berries and her eyes the shade of the leaves of a jumyun tree. ‘Twas strange, that. Beautiful, but unusual. Odder still, the female sported a small triangular patch of hair on her pussy that was identical in shade to the hair upon her head. Galian women didn’t grow hair on their pussies and in all her Yessat years Klykka had never heard tell of a species of females that did. And the creature’s skin…‘twas reminiscent of the creamy colored milk Galians drank from the purple fruits of the Trefa jungle.

  Klykka’s nose wrinkled. ‘Twas an enigma, this one. In all the galaxies of the four dimensions she’d traded in, made war against, and visited for a time, never had she seen a female who carried the look of this one. By the time a female earned the rank of High Mystik she’d seen and done it all. Or so she’d thought.

  “She doesn’t speak Galian or any other language known to me,” Dorra said.

  Klykka didn’t look away from the alien female as she replied to her sister. “Nor any known to myself.”

  “You think her a Kefa slave of Tryston or a bound servant mayhap?”

  “Nay. She hasn’t the look of the slaves and she was wearing odd clothing when we removed her from the loch.”

  Dorra grunted her agreement. “Aye. Bound servants are kept mostly naked.”

  Klykka had been inspecting the female creature ever since she’d placed her upon the vesha-hide bed. The alien was beautiful, her visage exotic, yet she was useless to their sector should she be unable to reach thought-lock with her and the female warriors she ruled o’er. Thought-lock was a rarely used weapon, but ‘twas a crucial one.

  “What should we do with her? Mayhap she is dumb of the mind, Klykka.”

  “Mayhap.”

  “Should I take her to the gulch pits and offer her as a sacrifice to the goddess?”

  “I cannot say.” The Gy’at Li sighed. “And there’s only one way to find out.”

  * * * * *

  Kara fought the intense, gnawing arousal with every bit of strength she had left. Her treasonous nipples stabbed out, her body betraying her. She wanted to scream—from fear or pleasure she could no longer say. Her eyelids shuttered, opening slightly, letting her take in the scene unfolding for a brief moment.

  Her surroundings still hazy, her body adrift in a sea of arousal, the two alien females kissed and licked all over her. Kara gasped, the first sound to escape her lips since this foreign fog had enveloped her. If the women hadn’t been totally naked before, they were now.

  The dominant female’s caramel-colored hands reached for Kara’s porcelain-pale knees. Their gazes clashed and locked. The leader thrust Kara’s legs apart, a half-smile curving her red lips. The alien’s face, so perfect in every way, disappeared between her thighs.

  Kara gasped again, her eyes closing and her head lolling back, the feel of a soft tongue swiping across her clit. She moaned, her hips instinctively rearing up to give the stranger full access to her pussy. The second woman positioned herself next to Kara and played with her stiff nipples, tweaking and sucking on them as the first female continued to swig at her clit. Kara groaned loudly, a knot of titillation coiling in her belly.

  There were hands and tongues all over her, hundreds of them, rubbing and licking and sucking, coaxing her flesh into an intense state of arousal. Her eyes flew open. There were only two women touching her, yet she felt hands and tongues everywhere. Both of her nipples were being sucked, her clit nuzzled, her anus tickled, her ears kissed…

  Kara came on a loud moan, her eyes closing, as the hardest orgasm she’d ever known slammed through her body. Her orgasm created a ripple effect, causing the other two females to come as well. The power of their mirroring orgasms turned the ripple into a tidal wave. Kara screamed as another wave of primal hedonism ripped through her, her breathing turning into pants.

  And then another wave came, and another, each orgasm stronger than the last. Her skin was slick with perspiration, her clit pulsing, her nipples so stiff they ached. “No more!” she begged, exhausted. She was so drained of energy and fluid that she feared dehydration. “Please—no more!”

  A final orgasm hit her, its impact a tsunami. Kara moaned like an animal as she rode out the wave. A blinding flash of light slammed through her head, the pain worse than any she’d ever felt. She could hear the two females chanting, the dominant one demanding entrance into her mind. She instinctively recoiled against it, but the leader’s will was stronger. Exhausted and whimpering, Kara gave up whatever fight she had left in her. She closed her eyes a
nd succumbed.

  A fe’ka myna?

  A fe’ka myna?

  Kara’s mind entered an inexplicable void that she shared with this strange woman. The void quickly cracked, scaring her, as the mirror-like waters rushed in. Her heart rate accelerated. The stranger held out her hands.

  A fe’ka myna?

  Trembling, Kara grasped her offered hands. Beneath an endless sea of liquefied mirror, they should have been drowning.

  What fe’ka myna?

  But they weren’t drowning. And she instinctively understood that she would never drown so long as she trusted in this alien woman. Kara’s heart rate calmed.

  What is your myna?

  Her silver-blue gaze locked with the stranger’s violet one. Kara squeezed her hands tighter.

  What is your name?

  Her eyes widened and her lips trembled, but she opened her mouth and spoke. She had no idea where she was or how she’d gotten here, but she knew all the answers would be soon in coming.

  My name is Kara Summers.

  Chapter Three

  Kara awoke on a yawn, her tummy growling as she stretched her muscles. Today marked a full Yessat year since she’d arrived on the planet Galis. She smiled, knowing her adoptive family had planned a day of festivities to mark the anniversary. But first she needed breakfast.

  Naked, Kara climbed out of her cozy bed and donned a blue zoka—a garment that amounted to nothing more than a shiny G-string. She chose matching blue sandals with ribbons that crisscrossed up her calves and tied just below the knee to complete her wardrobe. Her breasts were bare, as was expected. No Galian female ever shielded them from the eyes of others.

  It had taken Kara several months to accustom herself to the norms of this world, but she was proud of herself for having done so. Nakedness was no longer equated with embarrassment and vulnerability in her thinking, but with pride and empowerment.

  As she walked down the crystal corridor and headed toward the spiral staircase that would take her to the great room and dining hall below, she reflected on how different her life had become since arriving on Galis. Like Alice tumbling through the rabbit hole and into Wonderland, Kara had been whisked through space and time by forces unknown into a world that made little sense to her earthly mind. The pieces of the puzzle were slowly coming together, but learning was an ongoing process that would take years—if not the rest of her life—to completely comprehend.

  Some of the knowledge had been quick in coming, especially as it applied to gender roles. On Galis, social interactions and political processes were dictated by female mystiks rather than by the whims of wealthy men. Here it was women who ruled and males who deferred to the “goddess-given superiority of females” in all matters. Galian women were bred to lead; Galian men were reared to follow. The unfortunate result for a transplanted female Earthling was a lack of attraction to the weepy, sensitive, sexually manipulative ways of the effeminate Galian males. What Klykka and Dorra found arousing about Galian men were the very things that turned Kara off. Despite their muscular physicality and six-foot statures they were, quite frankly, wimps.

  “There you are,” Klykka said, smiling from her seat at the head of the dining hall’s table. Kara’s naked breasts jiggled as she made her way down the staircase. “I was about to send a servant to locate you.”

  “I must have been exhausted from last night’s lessons because I slept like a baby.”

  “’Tis tiring, your training.” Klykka nodded her understanding. “Mayhap we should continue at a slower pace.”

  “No way!” Kara took her seat next to Klykka, directly across the table from Dorra. She threw an absent look at the naked male standing stoically behind her chair, prepared to serve Kara in whatever capacity arose. His cock, perpetually stiffened by a spell Klykka had placed on all male servants under The Gy’at Li’s dominion, was as erect as ever. The Galian version of a moist towelette dangled from his penis. At meal’s end it was considered proper to use the towelette to clean one’s hands.

  Kara sighed. It had been a year and she still wasn’t accustomed to that particular facet of Galian life. Stiff erections aside, the concepts of magic and casting spells were the stuff of sideshow carnivals back on earth. But here? They weren’t merely concepts or tricks used to fool a rapt audience—they were real and they worked.

  “Happy day of birth, sister,” Dorra told her. She raised a chalice of fermented pici juice. “’Tis proud I am to call you a Gy’at Li.”

  Kara’s smile was soft and genuine. Dorra hadn’t exactly been her biggest fan when Klykka made the choice to adopt her as a blood-sister, but Kara had worked her butt off to gain Dorra’s trust and approval since day one. It had paid off. She knew Dorra had come to love her as Klykka did. “Thank you. I’m very proud to bear your name.”

  “Speaking of names,” Klykka announced, drawing Kara’s attention, “’tis a pity this must be done today on your Galian day of birth, but it must.”

  Kara’s wine-red eyebrows drew together.

  “I must choose for you a new name,” Klykka informed her. “Leastways, you cannot be called ‘Kara’ ever again.”

  Kara’s gaze widened. She immediately felt sick to her stomach. The last remaining vestige of her home, of her family, was being stripped from her? “Why?” she asked, breathless. “It’s all I have left from—”

  “We know, sister,” Dorra interjected. Her violet eyes were uncharacteristically empathetic. Dorra wasn’t prone toward showing emotion—any emotion. “But ‘tis the holy law.”

  “I don’t understand…”

  Klykka’s bare breasts heaved on an expulsion of air. “Our planet is a part of the Trek Mi Q’an galaxy,” she explained, “and as such we must abide by its laws. Whilst the emperor is content to not interfere in Galian politics or our way of life, ‘tis with the understanding that we adhere to his galactic decrees.”

  “He doesn’t make many,” Dorra muttered, “but when he does they must be obeyed.”

  Kara shook her head. “I still don’t understand what my name has to do with this emperor or a holy law.”

  “No humanoid within Trek Mi Q’an can share the same name as the emperor, empress, or any in their direct bloodline of succession.” Klykka handed her a parchment. Judging by the laser stamp on the broken seal, the communiqué had likely just been delivered. “Each time a new hatchling is born to the emperor a missive is sent out to all rulers of the planets under his power declaring the royal child’s name.”

  “Once that happens,” Dorra interjected, “the decree is then circulated to the lesser rulers who in turn disperse it to the free men and women of their protection.”

  “All who carry the name of the new royal hatchling are given no choice but to change their names.” Klykka frowned. She picked up her chalice of pici juice. “‘Tis that or the gulch pits of Kogar.”

  Kara scanned the royal missive. She had learned to read, write and speak several languages by joining Klykka in a lesser version of thought-lock known as linking. Trystonni, the native tongue of the emperor, was one of them. Her heart sank as her eyes zeroed in on the pertinent part of the decree:

  In the Yessat Year of the Goddess 6023, on the seventh day of light in the moon-month of Rama, the Empress of Trek Mi Q’an and High Queen of Tryston did so hatch the High Princess Kara Q’ana Tal…

  Kara’s nostrils flared. She crumpled up the parchment as she fought back the tears that threatened to spill. The only thing a person ever truly owned was their name. Now she didn’t even have that. And all because some bitch on another planet hatched a baby?

  Hatched a baby? What the— She stilled. That question would have to wait.

  “’Tis sorry we are, sister,” Klykka said softly. She covered Kara’s hand with her own. “I would that I could defy this directive, yet I cannot. ‘Twould put the whole of my sector in harm’s way.”

  “I understand,” Kara whispered. “I don’t like it, but I understand.”

  “In truth,” Dorra frowned, co
vering Kara’s free hand with hers, “’twould be wondrous to me did we declare war on the warriors of Tryston. Their way of life is perverse.”

  “Aye.” Klykka nodded her agreement. “Women serving men, wives living in total subjugation to their Sacred Mates…” She harrumphed. “’Tis as natural as hatching a babe from your arse.”

  Kara’s amusement came out as a snort. “Thanks for the mental image.” She grinned, her dimples popping out. “I guess I’ll never be vacationing on Tryston.”

  The sisters released Kara’s hands and told her frightening tales about the Trystonni warriors. They stood seven to eight feet in height, had heavily muscled bodies, were the fiercest of fighters, and had a reputation for stealing women they coveted as brides. It was the stuff nightmares were made of. The males of Galis might be too emotional for Kara’s taste, but at least they weren’t misogynist assholes with an affinity for kidnapping.

  “Many warriors travel to Galis. They are bedazzled from childhood onward by stories of our mastery in the sexual arts.” Klykka’s face was stern. “’Tis mayhap impossible to avoid the Trystonni warriors altogether, but ‘tis for a certainty you should never share the vesha hides with one.”

  “Several Galian females have gone missing throughout the Yessat Years,” Dorra murmured, “and always after sharing the vesha hides with a warrior. Do not join their numbers, sister.”

  Kara’s eyes widened. The women sat in silence for a prolonged moment as Kara’s brain soaked up all she’d just learned. She took a sip of pici juice, the lump in her throat making swallowing a bit difficult.

  “Well then,” Kara finally said, setting down her chalice. She didn’t want to give up her name for it reminded her of the home she could never return to—and the sister she’d never again see. Not a day went by that she didn’t grieve the loss of Kyra. But neither did she wish to draw the attention of the warriors from planet Tryston, much less incur their wrath. “I guess you better tell me what my new name is then.”

  Klykka nodded. She could tell by her expression that The Gy’at Li was proud Kara hadn’t given into the desire to weep. Emotionalism was expected in males, but frowned upon in females, especially women training under a High Mystik.