Voxx: Book Two in the Mastered by the Zinn Alien Abduction Romance Series

by Alana Khan

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Day Six

  Day Seven

  Day Eight

  Day Nine

  Day Ten

  Sneak Peek of Voxx Three

  Acknowledgments

  Copyright

  Voxx: Book Two in the Mastered by the Zinn Alien Abduction Romance Series

  This is Book Two of a Trilogy

  By Alana Khan

  Prologue

  In Book One, Voxx from planet Zinn abducted twenty-six-year-old law student Victoria Franklin from her apartment in Des Moines, Iowa.

  For several hundred years, the United States government has conducted a secret ‘girls for guns’ exchange program with the Zinns who need human women. Female Zinns are now a small percentage of their race because of genetic mutations caused by pollution. In exchange for women, the U.S. government negotiated access to advanced military technology.

  The Interstellar Compact allows Zinn males to abduct a human female of their choice and hold her against her will for fourteen days. At the end of the period, known as the Quest, the female is given the choice to stay with the male, or return to Earth with all memory of the encounter wiped from her mind.

  All Zinn males are dominants. In Book One, covering the previous five days, Voxx established clear rules for their relationship. Victoria fought Voxx, as well as her own desires, but she has become increasingly aware of her own submissive tendencies and her growing attraction to the male holding her captive.

  Although there has been no penetration for the first five days, that will change today.

  Day Six

  Present Day

  In Space Onboard the two-person vessel the Drayant

  Victoria

  I wake in Voxx’s warm embrace; he’s hot as a furnace. I’m on my side, being spooned from behind, his cock nudging the small of my back.

  The last five days have been a revelation. He stole a nerdy law student from Earth, introduced me to levels of sexual passion I’d never even dreamed of—and he hasn’t even penetrated me with that gorgeous purple cock of his.

  I resisted my own desires for days, but I’ve come to realize that calling him Sir and following his orders is a huge turn-on for me. My body loves his dominance, and I’m not going to fight it anymore. For the next nine days, I’ll try anything he initiates. All I have to do is say “red” and he’ll stop.

  It’s a relief to allow myself to enjoy what he does to my body knowing that in less than two weeks I’ll be back in my bed in Des Moines having totally forgotten about the big, purple asshole from Zinn.

  “I want to teach you a new position, Victoria. The Ass position.”

  Shit, I didn’t even know he was awake. This is what he thinks of the moment he wakes up?

  “Yes, Sir,” I say with enthusiasm. He wants to play? I’m game.

  He sits up, plumping the pillows and leaning against them on the headboard. After spreading his legs wide, he says, “Face away from me. Get on all fours between my legs.”

  As soon as I comply, he adds, “Forehead on the mattress. Good girl.”

  My ass in all its glory is inches from his face. Stroking the globes of my tush with his palm, he says, “You know what today is?”

  “No, Sir.”

  “Today is the day you feel me inside you.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Do you like this position?” His middle finger slides through my folds and plunges inside. “You’re already wet for me.”

  “Yes, Sir.” Yesterday I gave up my resistance. It was futile. Yeah, I know, Borg reference. I’m not coy. I’m not a virgin. If I’m turned on, it’s no use trying to hide it. I thrust back to meet him each time his finger penetrates me.

  A second finger joins the first and I could come with just the slightest pressure on my clit.

  “Look at the screen, Victoria,” his deep voice is provocative.

  I lift my gaze to the one-foot by two-foot screen on the wall in front of me. It reads “5:59:56.”

  “We’re going to play a little game today. As you know, I’ve given you release dozens of times since you joined me on this ship. You’ve relieved me once, last night when you stroked me in the shower. Today, we’ll turn the tables. You’ll relieve me many times today. You’ll receive your relief when that clock gets to zero.”

  “Six Earth hours, Sir?” I didn’t mean for the words to come out that way. I sound like a desperate, whiny brat.

  “Yes. I read about this on your Earth internet. It’s called edging,” his voice is upbeat, as if he’s describing an exciting new science project.

  Being in close proximity to Voxx, with him knowing everything there is to know about my sexual response cycle, and I can’t come for six hours? I’m already an inch away from orgasm, how can I keep my traitorous body in check all day?

  “Any questions about the rules?”

  “No, Sir.”

  “Make me chernoy for breakfast.” He pulls out of me, playfully swats my ass, and leaves the bed.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  I wash quickly in the small adjoining bathroom, then trot into the kitchen. Since I’m not allowed to wear clothes I don’t have a big morning ritual sucking up any of my precious time.

  Of course, he had to order me to cook chernoy. It was my botched attempt to cook it yesterday that precipitated my personal epiphany that I have submissive tendencies. Well, it wasn’t exactly my botched attempt at cooking that triggered my epiphany. It was my body’s response to his punishment for a job poorly done.

  After I assemble all the ingredients on the counter, he comes up behind me, grasps both my shoulders, and leans closer, his lips next to my ear. I melt at just this calming touch. “Do you remember the rules?”

  “I remember how to cook it for you, Sir.”

  “I would hope so after yesterday’s disaster. But I’m asking if you recall what you should be thinking about while you prepare food for your Sir.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Edify me.”

  “Every act I perform should be in service to our bond, Sir,” I say, rotely repeating his previous instructions. “I should think about your pleasure when I do even the most mundane task.”

  “Very good, Victoria.” He slides my long, chestnut hair over my shoulder and kisses up my neck. “You woke up in a very good mood this morning. A different male might regret the choice of tormenting you all day.”

  He gently swats my ass again, then saunters to the captain’s chair ten feet away.

  I’ve never been a rule breaker. This fact entered into the equation yesterday when I determined I was a submissive. I like having parameters. I enjoy coloring within the lines. I don’t bother questioning myself as I prepare his meal with care, following the instructions perfectly.

  When the chernoy is cooked, I spoon it into a bowl, mindful to keep milky splatters off the wide rim.

  “Where would you like me to serve it to you, Sir?”

  “Here, come kneel in front of me.”

  I do just as he says, kneeling directly in front of his captain’s chair, then handing him the bowl, both arms outstretched like a religious supplicant. I wait impatiently for him to taste it. Gone are all worries of finals and time crunches and paying bills. Right this moment, my biggest concern is whether Voxx from Zinn will approve of how I cooked his chernoy.

  I don’t want an instant replay of yesterday when he was disappointed in the way I prepared his breakfast.

  Actually the most disturbing thing about that episode wasn’t the objectification and th
reat of punishment. The most humbling part was the way my core lubricated at his treatment.

  “Very good, Victoria,” he announces as he nods his head. “Not only did you cook this exactly as I asked you to, but you served it to me in a pleasing fashion. This is how I wish you would service all of my requests. I will reward you by removing one hour from your restriction.”

  I’m afraid to glance at the clock. I wonder if taking my eyes from him might break a rule.

  “Come closer.” He pats his knee and I scoot toward him. “Here.” He spoons me a bite.

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  He takes turns feeding himself and me. I allow myself to enjoy eating out of his hand. I try to banish my self-loathing at relishing in his attention.

  “You seem more serene today, Victoria. Is that correct?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Why is that?”

  “I’ve quit fighting my own impulses, Sir. I’ve decided to embrace my desires, one of which is to please you.”

  “Excellent. Right now it will please me for you to clean the galley. Then it will please me to re-introduce you to the krannock.”

  I cock an eyebrow in question but am afraid to ask.

  “The machine taking up half the galley. You called it ‘sex furniture’ I believe. It offers infinite positions, both for pleasure and pain.”

  Shit. That’s the machine I was tied to when I woke up on board this ship. I’d hoped it was a ‘one and done’ sort of thing. The look on Attila the Zinn’s handsome face tells me there’s no arguing with his idea. Okay, I take a deep breath, krannock it is.

  As I finish cleaning, I glance at one of the screens posted all over the ship. 3:12:33. I’m in close quarters with a sex god who knows every spot on my body that turns me on—both inside and out—and I have over three hours before I can come. I try to convince myself this will be child’s play.

  “Before I put you on the krannock, here’s another position for today. Inspect.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  My eyes widen in fright when I see the black riding crop in his hand. He points toward the krannock with it.

  “Stand as tall as possible with your hands behind your neck, legs wide, eyes on me. ”

  “Yes, Sir.” I comply.

  “Legs wider. Breasts out to please your Sir.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  In the past, I only focused on how much I hated the big, purple asshole, and how much I resented being here. Today, I allow my mind to settle into an appreciation of my position.

  I’m on display for Voxx. My most private spaces are open to the air, my breasts are thrust out, and the best part of the equation is the look of pure appreciation in his eyes. This isn’t half as bad as I made it out to be.

  Out of my peripheral vision, I snag a glimpse of the wall of torture as I call it. There are whips and other sex toys that scare the crap out of me. I may have decided to go with the flow until choosing day, but I’m still Victoria, and I still hate pain.

  “Turn toward the krannock.”

  I comply.

  Voxx is behind me, stroking me with the leather riding crop from inner ankle to outer lips to the other ankle. He’s never hurt me with the crop, and I let myself get lulled into relaxation by its slow slide on my skin.

  “Open your mouth.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Hold this.” He puts the crop in my mouth and I clamp my teeth around it. I imagine what I must look like. In my mind’s eye, I look kind of sexy.

  Stepping closer, his hands cup the globes of my ass. Two fingers dip between my legs and spread my liquid to my clit, then plunge into me. His other hand cups me from in front, two fingers plucking my clit. I bend my knees to garner more pressure from both hands.

  “This displeases me, Victoria. I don’t want you to forget who is in charge. The Inspect pose is for my enjoyment, not yours. I’m adding a half-hour punishment.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  He’s still behind me, so my eyes flick up to the screen in front of me to see 3:25:54.

  “In the future, I want you to thank me for every punishment. I only do these things to help you become a better submissive.”

  “Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.” Don’t fight this, I urge myself. Pretend this is a game. As much as my mind rebels at this and wants to hate him, my body is on fire for him right now.

  “You may put your hands at your sides and walk to the wall. I’d like you to inspect the dildos carefully. Pick one that will provide pleasure to your ass.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Pleasure. That’s a great operative word. Although I thought I’d hate it, I loved his fingers back there. I find a dildo that is a close approximation to the width of his two fingers, it’s blue.

  “Approach me, kneel, and hand it to me. Tell me what you want me to do with it.”

  I kneel at his feet and gaze up at his piercing silver eyes as he towers over me. “I’d like you to penetrate me with this, Sir.”

  “Be more graphic.”

  “I want you to fuck me in the ass with this, Sir. And make me come.” I add as an afterthought, “If it pleases you, Sir.” I don’t want to forget he’s the dominant.

  “I believe you forgot who’s in charge again, Victoria. When you come is a decision only I make. I’m adding thirty minutes. No, make that ninety minutes.”

  Shit.

  “Thank you for teaching me my place, Sir.” It’s just a game, Victoria—my new mantra.

  “There’s a way to remove your punishment.”

  He’s baiting me. I have a feeling what he’s going to say next is actually the point of this whole exercise.

  “I will remove all ninety minutes if you go to the wall and pick out a dildo that will challenge you here.” He presses the tips of two fingers into my core. “After all,” he pauses until I lift my eyes to him, “you’ll need to take this. Soon.” He grabs his hard purple cock in his large purple hand.

  Well, yeah, the elephant in the room. That humongous thing’s about to go into a lot of places that aren’t quite ready to be invaded.

  “Yes, Sir. Very generous of you, Sir,” I say without a hint of sarcasm.

  As I stroll to the wall of torture, I notice a lusty zing of anticipation reverberating through my body. Why, I wonder, do I keep repeating that I don’t do pain if the thought of this makes me wet?

  It’s hard to miss the dildo I should pick—it’s purple and about as big as Voxx’s cock. I pick the one next to it, it’s chartreuse and a bit smaller than my Sir’s. Did I really just do that? Did I really call him ‘my Sir’ in my own head? I thought this was all a game. I refuse to buy into all his bullshit. Evidently some part of my mind didn’t get the memo.

  I walk back to him, kneel at his feet and lift it up toward him. “I want you to fuck me with this, Sir. It’s just a bit smaller than you are and the first time I’m breached with something that big, I want it to be your beautiful cock. Sir.”

  Not only did I say that, I said it without irony—or paradox. And dear God, I meant it.

  Voxx

  That was… amazing. I know her well by now. I’m familiar with all her tells. She wasn’t punking me. She wants to please me, and she wants my cock! I’m tempted to set the clock to zero and give her boundless pleasure right now, but I won’t do that. The manuals say that withholding her release intensifies her pleasure which will solidify our bond.

  “Good girl, Victoria. Your ingenuity and deference are duly noted. Climb onto the krannock. On your stomach.”

  The machine is a wonder of engineering. Its padded cuffs can capture wrists, ankles, even the waist. The legs can be lowered or raised, opened wider or clamped together, the same with her arms.

  I communicate to the machine with the implanted chip in my brain, and within seconds her hands are pulled straight above her head, her legs are spread wide apart, and her ass is in the air higher than it was today in the Ass position.

  I don’t need to see her beautiful face to know she’s pani
cking. She’s probably remembering waking up from her safe bed on Earth and finding herself cuffed to this machine having a vibrator bringing her to orgasm.

  I’ve already apologized for that. I decided it was best to admit it was a severe violation of trust. I wanted what I have today—her choice to submit to me.

  I stand near her head and stroke her hair. She loves this, and it never fails to calm her. Within minutes her shoulders relax and she’s breathing deeper.

  “Is the position comfortable? Is this too hard on your shoulders?” I don’t want her in pain—not unless it’s the type of pain that will bring pleasure.