by Sabrina Kade
Doesn’t mean I have to be friendly about it.
“I don’t know, Ellis,” I shoot back, suppressing the trained politeness I use with clients. I don’t want to let worry show on my face, but this situation is outside the norm.
Twenty Human Whores locked in pleasant enough accommodations, if not for the fact we’d all be forced to spread our legs later for whoever purchased us.
Still though, twenty? It seems a bit excessive. Maybe it’s for another alien bachelor party of some sort.
Sighing, I remember I deserve this. I signed the papers. I boarded the shuttle willingly without a second thought.
“There are twenty of us here, you know,” Ellis goes on, glancing around the sterile enclosed room we’re bunked in. She openly expresses all my worries in her submissive, yet obviously intelligent voice. “Twenty. What could anyone possibly want with twenty girls at once?”
“Bachelor party?” I guess sarcastically.
“Maybe they’re like the Entlas?” an unfamiliar girl asks hopefully, and I’m immediately drawn to her young face and near black eyes. “They weren’t so terrible. Some were even kind.”
“Doubt it,” York says before swallowing. “Maybe they’re Sidyths?”
“You think they’re like the Pluefs? Or the ones with the fins?” The one with dark eyes swallows. “Or Drakens?” She finishes in a small voice.
A lot of these girls are new to me, but that doesn’t necessarily mean they’re new to the whole space whoring thing. There are formal training academies all over the galaxy, and they’re all buying up humans and humanoids with names I can’t pronounce. Humans are a commodity in the universe because no one cares about a human’s welfare. The mentality was, ‘what could we possibly do? Fly home? Alert the Galactal Federation? Please, go ahead’, followed by chuckling. Earth didn’t even belong to the Galactal Federation. To most, humans are only a few steps better than how humans view dogs. We’re pets. Adorable pets. Pets who can give pleasure.
And so, Human Whores became the accepted name for girls like us as a whole.
I’m sure it could be worse.
I turn my head slightly to face the one who asked about the Drakens and absently wonder what her deal is as I struggle to maintain my aloofness in this tiny space. If word gets around I know things – any things – they’d look to me as their leader. And in this world, the last thing I want is to be seen as a Madam. The less we know about each other, the better.
Made it less painful when we were separated.
“Drakens,” the woman continues. “You hear me? They could be Drakens.”
“I heard you.” I can’t hide my annoyance. Of course, I’ve considered the possibility of being purchased by Drakens. Probably for some gallivant party. Drakens could afford it, but I didn’t want to be part of some alien version of a bachelor party. Drakens – though rich – were not kind.
“So say something,” the girl continues.
“How about shutting up?”
“I sure hope it’s not Drakens,” another girl mutters – Sloane. Sloane Clark. She’s a few years younger than me and dumb as a brick when it comes to books, but smart enough when it comes to staying alive. Her light blue eyes are in direct contrast to her blood red hair. She’s pretty. Most of us are.
“Drakens are rough,” she adds softly.
“Not good tippers either,” one says hoarsely, laughing. Experience always rings in Arizona’s voice, so much so that a few others join in meekly, but I merely shudder along with Sloane. From across the room, I notice Arizona hadn’t changed much from when I first met her at the training academy. That’s how experienced girls like Arizona were.
They’d come in from time to time, between assignments, to teach the new girls a thing or two. She’s pretty enough, especially for working in this business since half of these girls were in kindergarten, but there’s also something I don’t like about her. Her stupid stage name? Her lackeys, Alaska, Dakota, and Kansas, who go with her on every job? Maybe her reputation around the stars?
Arizona does this. Arizona does that. Arizona never minds when I stick it there. Blah blah blah.
Or maybe it’s that even though she’s past thirty, she’s a horrible combination of looking young and acting like a bitchy mama hen. She has the most amazing almond colored skin with a perfectly matched eye color. Her body’s tight and toned like a gymnast’s, and though she’s short, she commands everyone’s attention in every room. Rumor is she’s even dominated a few aliens herself – an absolute rarity for a human whore.
Her lips pull into a smirk when she catches me looking at her, and unfortunately, I glance away too late before she notices. “Like what you see, sweetheart?” she teases, elbowing Dakota.
“No. I’m worried we’re heading to a Draken bachelor party,” I say, doing my best to keep my composure.
“Why?” Arizona smirks, lowering her eyes to my chest. “Oh. Yeah. I guess that would be a concern.”
No one joins in Arizona’s laughter this time. They all know what she’s inferring, and she’s not wrong to point it out.
Drakens? Those motherfuckers hate large tits. On the rare occasions I could get one to carry a conversation, I learned they got in the way when they wanted to suck the skin over my heart.
“Hey, at least you all have the latest language transmitters. They didn’t get a chance to update mine after they pulled the last one out,” one sulks. Mia – whatever her last name is, tugs absently at her ear.
“Oh boo-fuckity-who,” York sneers. “Consider yourself lucky you don't know what these creeps are going to say to us.” She pulls her knees up to her chest and looks around the room from her seated position on the floor.
York Albright – I’ve worked with her a few times. She isn’t the prettiest chick in the room, but she is the smartest. Unfortunately, she’s also a smartass who uses sarcasm to mask how afraid she is of anything. She’s only twenty-one with decent dark blond hair and brown eyes, but she’s already seen some of the worst the galaxy has to offer, so her mouth is permanently set in a skeptical frown. I leave her be for the most part.
“I don’t ever want to hear what these perverts think about humans in general,” Sloane says, and I can’t argue.
“Seriously,” Alaska says after getting an approving nod from Arizona. Her accent from home is still thick on her tongue. “Where are we going? Does anyone know anything?”
“My last owner didn’t say anything,” I say lowly.
“Neither did mine,” says Sloane.
“Use your brains, ladies. Twenty Human Whores?” York says. “Most with language transmitters? Most having worked before? It can’t be good.”
“Maybe it won’t be so bad,” someone chirps up with a bright smile, and I immediately want to smack it right off her face. She’s young and inexperienced. Easy to see she hasn’t been broken in yet thanks to her styled white-blond hair and sparkling blue eyes. “I’m kind of excited. Traveling the universe isn’t something everyone can do.”
“You’re fucking deluded, Phoebe,” York sneers. “You’re acting like this is some summer vacation. Don’t you get it? We’re slaves now.”
“Entertainers!” Phoebe chirps, rising to stand. York doesn’t bother to move. Alaska and Arizona smirk, and I barely manage to hide mine. This bitch is fucking clueless. “They said we’d be entertainers. That we’d travel the galaxies! How can you all be so negative about everything?”
“Maybe because I’ve been entertaining for too long,” York says. “Sit before you piss someone off, yeah?”
“But—”
“Sit down, Phoebe,” Arizona snaps.
And so she does.
An uncomfortable silence settles over the room as Phoebe whispers to the girl next to her. Probably some overexcited bullshit about fabulous planets and alien cultures. What a newbie. She has no idea what’s about to happen to her.
That’s the thing about some of the new girls. They start out so excited and ready for something new and fres
h to do.
Travel the skies!
See the stars!
Send the money back to your families!
Entertain some of the most interesting beings in the galaxy!
What could be wrong with that?
The term entertainer is such a laugh. We’re not entertainers. We’re whores. Toys. Pets. Slaves. The only things keeping us alive and mostly intact are our rarity and mythical contracts.
Speaking of which…
“How long is this assignment going to be?” I ask, scanning over the group. Arizona meets my gaze but doesn’t open her mouth. She doesn’t know. She’s pissed she doesn’t know. Alaska’s soft blue gaze meets mine, but she casually looks away, flipping sandy blond hair over her tanned shoulder. Dakota and Kansas don’t bother to acknowledge my question. And though York looks pissed, she doesn’t have an answer either.
All the previous owners knew to keep their mouths shut before shipping us away.
Probably because if they told us where we were going, we’d try to escape.
Slowly, all the experienced girls turn towards the newbies. Maybe someone was stupid enough to say something to one of them.
“Well?” I ask again.
“I heard six months,” one says meekly.
“I heard a year.”
“I heard we’d be possible carriers.”
Everyone jerks in their seats like the ship’s lurched in some nasty turbulence. Arizona’s group collectively sucks in a gasp.
“Where’d you hear that shit?” York snaps.
“Easy, York,” Arizona says. “She’s a newbie.”
“You shut up; you’re not my owner.” York turns her attention towards the girl who had spoken. I’ve never seen her before and judging by the looks on everyone’s faces, they haven’t either. York’s full lips press together into a thin line as she assesses her, just like I did.
“You.”
The girl looks up. She meets York’s intense gaze. She’s young. Pretty.
“What’s your name?” York asks.
“Layla Sullivan.”
“Like your last name matters.” York rolls her eyes. “How old are you? You look like a teen pop star.”
“Nineteen.”
“I’ve never seen you before.”
“I’m new,” she says, confirming what Arizona’s already pointed out.
“From where?”
“The training academy by Base 46.” Some of the girls agree, recognizing the mentioned site. Layla pushes a thin hand through her chestnut brown hair. She’s got the face of a twelve-year-old, but a banging body. “When they picked me to go, I worked up the nerve to ask one of the guards why they wanted me so bad. He told me the price. Whoever these people are—”
“People don’t buy whores,” Phoebe chirps.
“What planet are you from?” York says before turning her attention back to Layla. “So whoever these guys are paid a lot of money, huh?”
“Why do you think we were rounded up so quickly?” Layla continues. “That’s what the guard told me, anyway. The money offered couldn’t be refused. He told me to prepare to be a carrier, but also not to worry because it could be fixed after our contract was up.”
I swallow, and part of me wonders who the guard was. Some of them are kind. Too kind.
“Fixed?” Phoebe asks, interrupting my thoughts.
“Our lady parts, newbie. They’ll sew ‘em up nice and tight, so we’ll practically be virgins again,” Arizona says, shaking her head. “Yay.”
I can’t help groaning.
“B-but that’s not what we’re supposed to be doing!” Phoebe squeaks. “We’re entertainers. EN-TER-TAIN-ERS!” She rises to her feet again, and out of the corner of my eye, a red light flickers above the door.
My eyes dart back to Phoebe as she paces around. We watch with wary expressions, all noticing the blinking red light above the door.
“They’re trying to scare us. Make us listen, you know? We’re entertainers, not hookers.”
York laughs. “Sorry to burst your bubble, Phoebe, this is what you signed up for. Didn’t read the contract, did you?”
Phoebe stops pacing and spins around. Color flushes across her pale cheeks.
“Sorry, girl.” Ellis shakes her head full of curls. “Welcome to the wonderful world of being a Human Whore.”
Purchased by the Alien is available now
Guarded by the Alien
Rebels of Sidyth
Book Two
CHAPTER ONE
York
“He’s watching you again.” There’s a hint of laughter in Layla’s voice as she glances towards the gaping hole at the front of the Gathering Room. My current accommodation is not the most welcoming, but considering I’m trapped on a rainy planet full of exiled Sidyths with nineteen other human entertainers, I guess I don’t have any reason to complain. There’s a place to piss, and food and water is being brought to us around the clock. And though I don’t like feeling like I’m in a cage for all these aliens to watch, I’m happy that so far their eyes are the only thing they’ve had on us.
“York.” Layla’s voice hits an annoying squeak. “Did you hear me? He’s watching you.”
I don’t need to turn around to know who she’s talking about.
It’s been a few days since me and nineteen other women were dropped off for an assignment by a group of bad-mannered aliens and then escorted to a lovelier accommodation Sidyths like to call a Gathering Room, and I’ve noticed one of these intimidating creatures has been keeping an eye on me.
For what, I’m not sure, but it’s not like the enormous alien says anything.
A few days ago, the twenty of us were divided into two groups, and luckily, I was stuck in the larger one. It’s not like I want to talk to everyone and be social, but the more girls there are, the less action I’ll have to see – in theory. It’s been almost a week, and there’s six girls in the second lair and thirteen, including me, in the first lair. One of the only women I trust – Blythe – was taken on the first day by the prince of the Sidyths and hasn’t been seen since. None of the others have tried to claim a woman, but that doesn’t mean we’re in the clear. They could be waiting for a holiday of some sort. Who knows? I’m rarely content with a new assignment, and when I do get comfortable, I become bored easily.
I’m growing more comfortable, but I’m not bored. The seven-foot scaled alien watching me is enough to keep me on edge. He’s there almost every day. Standing. Silent. Waiting. Watching.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention almost every time he’s nearby.
Sidyths are not what most would consider a fun stop on the Human Whore tour. For one, they’re usually at least six and a half feet tall and pale like a Twilight vampire. They’re also covered in scales on various parts of their face, shoulders, arms, stomachs or legs. I’m pretty sure there’s also scales on their cocks because sometimes my secret admirer’s package slips free from his tiny shorts. Sidyths are also bulky and covered in lean muscle that could easily choke the life out of me if I don’t do what they ask.
The weirdest thing of all? None of them, not even Captain Dick Slip, has asked me to do anything. Or any of us, for that matter.
“You should say something to him.” Ellis pushes a few stray strands of curly hair away from her face so she can fix her intense brown eyes on mine. “Just so he’ll stop staring in here. It’s kind of creepy, you know?”
“Maybe Blythe knows what’s up with him,” Kansas calls in a bored tone. “She certainly seems to have gotten friendly enough with the prince.” She rolls her hazel eyes and shares a smirk with Alaska who doesn’t say anything.
She hardly ever does. Bitch is fucking cranky, and I can’t say I blame her.
It’s obvious Blythe is the only one enjoying her time on this planet filled with Sidyths. We haven’t seen her, but thanks to our translators it isn’t difficult to figure out how things have progressed. It’s annoying, to say the least, but I can’t get too
upset with her. I want to believe she’s part of the reason the rest of the Sidyths have left us alone.
We haven’t been forced to give pleasure, receive pleasure, or do anything odd since arriving.
I’m not used to this amount of freedom. I’m not used to having a choice.
For years that’s all I wanted. I got tired of people telling me how smart I am, and how I could do anything I wanted with my life.
You have many options, York.
You’re talented, York.
Do you understand how lucky you are, York? Do you understand how much potential you have?
Despite the frightening stranger with the inadequate shorts, I’m still not upset about my predicament. Here I am, in a Sidyth lair with a bunch of intergalactic space whores waiting for the specifics of my assignment.
Most of the girls who sign up to become a Human Whore have obvious financial problems, but that isn’t the case with me. I only wanted something different. I wanted to escape my potential. Yes, I know I sound like a bratty princess, but if the same people who thought that saw me now, they’d laugh in my face. After all, they’d see my secret admirer with bulky arms crossed over a bulkier chest and searing golden yellow eyes that are always trying to see what I’m up to.
Then there’s the mask on his face.
I don’t want to think about why he’s wearing that.
The rest of the entertainers continue to openly observe my secret admirer with nervous expressions. It’s been at least a week since Blythe was taken away by the prince and it’s only a matter of time before mask-boy claims me in the exact same way.
The more worrisome question is, what happens when I’m taken?
And why am I kind of excited to find out?
All my life I wanted something new and different. I wanted to escape. My parents’ friends always told me I was the stupidest smart person they knew, and maybe they were right.