Tamed by the Alien Overlords

by Renee Bond

  I quickly decided that I had been putting off my regular duties as Captain long enough. I changed into my formal li-orta and made to leave, off on inspection rounds.

  At a sudden thought, I paused at the threshold of the room.

  Used my nanites to summon the closest admin drone.

  “What is your command, Captain?” asked a fist-sized orb of silver metal, which floated up through a small opening in the floor.

  “Check if we’ve processed the DNA profile of one of our female prisoners yet,” I ordered. “A woman named Liza Strong.”

  The orb hesitated, processing the request, transmitting and receiving data.

  “We have not,” it said. “There are two hundred and twenty-five prisoners scheduled to be tested for genetic compatibility before she is.”

  “Move Liza Strong to the top of the list,” I said. “I want her DNA tested as soon as possible.”

  “As you command, Captain,” the orb replied cheerfully.

  Chapter 17

  Liza

  I never really understood just how slowly time passes when you’re locked up.

  But I was beginning to.

  There was nothing to look at in my little cell. Nothing to do.

  I did some calisthenic exercises to pass the time.

  It helped.

  A very, very little bit.

  I was fed. A sort of gruel, and another cup of water. The sticky paste was strangely sweet. Too sweet. It reminded me more of a dessert than a food. Like eating a bowl of frosting. The water was good, though. Afterward, I felt energized. Whatever the Domann fed their prisoners, it was apparently extremely nutritious.

  I tried to sleep. But the floor was hard. And I wasn’t tired. In fact, I was already beginning to get a little stir crazy.

  Then, not a half hour after I laid down, the door of the cell opened up once again.

  And in walked another Domann.

  This one was freaking huge! Easily a foot taller than Karkan had been, and even more easily a hundred pounds heavier. Every ounce of which was pure, tight, mean-looking muscle. He legitimately reminded me of a tank. He was wearing the same kilt that the rest of them wore - and the same nothing else that the rest of them wore too. Where Karkan’s skin had been a light blue, this one’s was deep amber, lighter in some places and darker in others, like some sort of caramel and chocolate dessert. His short, messy hair was made up of all the colors of a roaring fire.

  Fuck, but it shouldn’t be this hard not to stare in wonder at these alien’s bodies!

  Something about seeing this new Domann’s incomprehensibly muscular torso just… pressed down on me. It was as if his very body, the sheer magnitude of his oh-so-obvious physical power, were demanding my respect. My adulation.

  And something deep inside me was all too eager to give him all that he demanded.

  “On your feet, woman!” the giant alien roared, doing his best imitation of every stereotypical drill sergeant from every cliche war movie I’d ever seen.

  And managing to be significantly more intimidating than any of them.

  I sat up.

  Crossed my legs.

  Glared at him.

  My bottom had had some time to heal. Enough that I was in no mood to take orders from my captors.

  My captor grinned. Widely. Savagely.

  For a split second, pain surged into my butt and legs, as if from straight through the floor!

  I let out a surprised yelp and jumped up to my feet.

  The Domann chuckled, drawing out the sound, letting me know just how satisfying that had been for him.

  “Electrified floor,” he explained. “Which I can control remotely.”

  “That make you feel safe enough to be in here alone with me?” I asked, putting as much biting sarcasm as I could into the question.

  To my disappointment, he threw back his head and laughed.

  “Karkan said you were a tough one!” he exclaimed. “I see he wasn’t exaggerating!”

  “He doesn’t know the half of it,” I said. Doing my best to keep my face icy against the strange surge of warmth hearing that name brought to me.

  “What do you think you’re little quips are going to accomplish for you?” the big alien asked, as if genuinely curious. “They’re certainly amusing. Are you trying to amuse me? Thoughtful of you.”

  “What can I say,” I replied. “I’m the kind of girl you can really let your guard down around.”

  The fucker laughed again. Damn him. He really was making it hard for me to be as difficult as possible.

  “You must be one of those humans who grew up in the resistance groups,” he said. “You’ve got the constitution of a real soldier. Something I find sorely lacking in the rest of your species.”

  “I’ve been fighting you assholes all my life,” I said. “And I don’t intend on stopping any time soon.”

  “Excellent!” he said.

  Suddenly, his arms were in a fighting stance. It was a subtle shift. To a casual observer, he might simply have appeared to be in a vague state of readiness. But having been trained in hand-to-hand combat from a young age as part of the resistance, I knew better.

  I took a step back.

  Assumed my own stance, feet shoulder width apart, body turned at an angle towards him, my left arm out and low, ready to block or grab, my right arm tucked close for balance but ready strike.

  I had no illusions about being able to defeat this giant. One of his arms alone probably outweighed me.

  But I wasn’t going to just roll over and cower before him.

  If he wanted to hurt me, he was going to have to earn it.

  “I need a little exercise,” the Domann said, “and I’ve decided that you do too. I can’t have one of my women getting out of shape, after all!”

  “Your women?” I asked. “You’d better talk to your buddy Karkan about that. I’m pretty sure he’s got a crush on me.”

  The Domann frowned.

  “I’m positive that he didn’t do anything to you that could be described as ‘crushing,” he said.

  I rolled my eyes.

  “I mean he likes me,” I said.

  “How did you get from liking to crushing?” the Domann asked, clearly perplexed.

  “It’s an idiom!” I snapped.

  “If you say so,” he said. “Admittedly, I never really cared much for human expressions. But, yes, he’s enjoyed his time with you very much. And I can see why. Not only are you an uncommon beauty, but you’ve also got the spirit to match! Lucky for me that human women are always shared among us Domann, and that my being one of Karkan’s honor guard means that you’re as much mine as his.”

  A deep well of fear opened up underneath me at that.

  The idea of being the plaything of a Domann was infuriating… even if the actual experience was maddingly arousing.

  But being the plaything of two Domann was nearly beyond my ability to process.

  And, underneath everything, in the back of my mind, lurked the strong possibility that I would end up as an official Domann mate. That I would be not only their plaything… but their lover as well.

  And that I would have absolutely no choice in the matter.

  “Now then. I can see you’ve had some training! Good. This will be more fun.” He stretched his neck back and forth, producing an audible series of popping sounds. “I’ll tell you what. If you can manage to land one strike on me, I won't punish you. But if you can’t,” he grinned, “then I’m going to take my turn spanking that sweet ass of yours!”

  That was fine with me.

  I mean… it wasn’t. I didn’t even want to be there.

  But I was more than sure that I could at least land a single punch on him. I’d never hurt him, of course. But just touch him? Not a problem.

  “You’re on,” I said. “But no cheating! No fucking nanites, no levitation rays, no shooting combat drones out of your fucking asshole!”

  He laughed again.

  “I wouldn’t dream of it
!” he exclaimed. “Where would the fun be in any of that? Except for that last thing, of course. I have to admit I’m a bit intrigued-”

  I attacked, hoping to catch him off guard.

  I… did not succeed.

  He didn’t move as I charged forward. But when my leg streaked towards his stomach in a vicious kick, he pivoted smoothly out of the way. He honestly didn’t even move very far.

  My momentum carried me so far forward, that he ended up standing almost behind me.

  Not exactly the place you want your opponent to be.

  I whirled, sinking low and throwing out my leg in a hooking sweep I hoped he wouldn’t expect.

  He hopped simply over it, landing in the same spot. Again, he’s moved the minimum amount needed to avoid my attack. His face remained impassive. Calm.

  Almost bored.

  “Good!” he exclaimed. “Your balance is fairly tight, and you obviously have excellent control over your movements. Quite admirable - and that expression of vexed futility is so damn cute!”

  In response, I threw a flurry of punches at him, not putting any real power behind any one of them, striking as quickly as I could.

  In vain.

  His left hand parried every strike, gently redirecting every single blow just enough that my fist missed his body.

  He wasn’t just winning.

  He was humiliating me.

  I wanted to accuse him of using some form of technology to enhance his movements. But I had no evidence of that. And, deep down... I could recognize the ungodly amount of skill he possessed. Blocking a strike was one thing. But moving the way he did… that was something else. I’ve sparred against fighters like that before, so I know that I was evaluating his level of skill accurately. The way he moved… it was as if he’d been born fighting. As if his body was made of fighting itself. Nothing I threw at him could even threaten him. Could shake loose even one shred of emotion in him.

  In desperation, I threw my head forward in a vicious headbutt, aiming right for the center of his massive chest. It would hurt, but the skull is actually thicker than the bones in a person’s chest, and if I kept my neck straight it would hurt him a lot more than it hurt me.

  I succeeded in hitting him.

  Unfortunately.

  My forehead rebounded off his steel chest as if I’d smashed it into a brick wall.

  For a split second, I felt myself falling backward.

  Then I felt nothing at all.

  Chapter 18

  Liza

  “How the hell was I supposed to know that she would smash her freaking head into me?” asked a voice.

  “What, you combat brutes don’t practice that maneuver?” asked another, far more sarcastic voice.

  “No!” exclaimed the first voice defensively. “Why would we practice something that’s far more likely to hurt us than any enemy?”

  “You’re sure she did it on purpose?”

  “Definitely. She put her entire body into it!”

  “How many times has it been drilled into our heads to expect the unexpected when it comes to dealing with humans?” demanded the second voice. “You should have known better!”

  “No soldier would ever be able to anticipate that an enemy would choose to hurt themselves as a means of-”

  “That’s no excuse!”

  “Oh.”

  That was as much as I could express.

  My head. Fucking. Killed.

  Imagine the worst headache you've ever had.

  Now smash your head into the most solid thing you can find.

  Then, and only then, will you know my pain.

  I tried to move. Suddenly feeling completely helpless before my alien captors. And not thinking straight enough to remember that I’d been helpless ever since they captured me.

  “Don’t speak,” said the second voice. Gently, soothingly, reassuringly. “And definitely don’t move.”

  Suddenly I felt… something, grip me, so gently, around the top of my head. That something, which felt kind like fingers, pressed in.

  There was a flash of pain - then the pain began to recede. Very quickly.

  “Oh!” I gasped.

  You know how when you’re in so much pain that any relief hits like an amazing form of pleasure? I was feeling a lot of that, very suddenly.

  Something else - more fingers, maybe - took one of my legs, raising it gently above the floor.

  I managed to open my eyes.

  And found myself staring up into the big, deep, golden-yellow, very concerned-looking eyes of yet another Domann.

  I tried to pull away, out of instinct. But my head was resting against the floor. Which didn’t budge.

  The new Domann made a gentle cooing noise.

  “It’s alright,” he said. “You’re safe. I promise. I’m a medical specialist, and I’ve studied human anatomy extensively. I’m administering medical nanites as we speak, but you’ve got to lie still and let me hold your head like this. It’s likely you’ve suffered a hairline fracture to your skull, and you’ve definitely got a concussion, but the pressure I’m putting on the sides of your skull will keep the injury from becoming serious until the nanites can do their work. I blame Lenth for your injury - that’s the big fellow you were sparring against. Honestly though, the fact that you fought him and only suffered a bump on the head is really quite remarkable.”

  “He’s good,” I replied. I don’t know why I said that. I mean, it was true. I was beyond impressed with the big alien’s skill. It spoke to a dedication, mental sharpness, that I knew I’d never be able to match, even if I were to devote my life to training.

  Suddenly, the thing around my calf muscle squeezed.

  And... oh. Oh my.

  My entire leg immediately surrendered to that massaging pressure. The big alien - apparently named Lenth - hunched over me, with my right leg in his hands.

  “Hopefully this will take your mind off your head,” he said, as if trying to hide his embarrassment.

  “It was my fault,” I said. Again, I didn’t know why I was reaching out to my captors. Well… I mean… maybe I just felt like they had earned a little courtesy from me, from the way they were treating me now. Strictly temporary courtesy, of course.

  The golden-eyed one was taking away all my pain.

  Lenth was replacing that pain with pleasure.

  This was not how Domann treated their prisoners!

  Was it?

  An utterly horrifying thought crossed my mind.

  What if this actually was the way they treated all their prisoners? Back in the resistance, we never had any contact with those who were captured and sent off to the labor camps. Which we always assumed had to be horrible places.

  But... what if they weren’t?

  What if the women who became Domann mates really didn’t have it all that bad? They were possessions… but what if they were generally treated with respect, even kindness?

  What if the Domann had been telling the truth this whole time? What if all women who became Domann mates... were grateful for it?

  I shoved the treacherous through away. It was fucking preposterous!

  “I absolutely forbid you from raising your head off of this floor,” said the golden-eyed Domann, “for the next twenty minutes. After that, the nanites will have repaired any damage, and you’ll be your old self again. But move before that, and you could delay the healing process. And I will have my woman as healthy as possible, as quickly as possible.”

  His woman?

  “Don’t tell me you think I belong to you too,” I managed to groan. It still hurt to talk. But not nearly as much.

  The golden-eyed Domann’s fingers found a slightly new spot around my crown, and pressed even harder. Pressure leaked out from my ears, causing me to moan in relief again.

  “That’s right,” he said. “My name is Sandora. You will, of course, refer to me as ‘sir,’ just like Lenth and Karkan.”

  “How many of you am I going to belong to?” I asked, a strong
jumble of emotions threatening to overwhelm me.

  “I am the third of your three owners.”

  Three. Owners.

  The two words tumbled about in my mind.

  One alien with designs on me was bad enough.

  Three of them was approximately three times as bad.

  Or... a tiny, filthy part of me whispered… three times as good.

  No! It’s not good. It can’t be! I don’t want this!

  I wanted these aliens off my world. I wanted my own life, one in which I didn’t have to worry about being some alien breeder.

  Then again… that wasn’t really something I had to worry about anymore.

  Why worry about something you no longer have any control over?

  And dammit, if it really was my fate to end up as a Domann baby-maker… wouldn’t it at least be a nice silver lining if my alien-baby-daddies were as strong, gentle, confident, skilled, and downright red-fucking-hot as the three I’d so far met?

  They still didn’t seem to have identified me as being genetically compatible. Why, I couldn’t say.

  But if they ever did… I could probably do a lot worse than Karkan, Lenth and Sandora.

  Fuck me, but I was growing more and more emotionally conflicted by the moment.

  Lenth shifted to my other leg. The relaxation so deep it almost felt like sexual pleasure followed him.

  With a start, I realized that might be because he was rubbing his huge, strong hands all the way up my thigh!

  “Hey!” I said, pushing his hand away from my leg.

  Well… trying to. The effort didn’t have the desired effect. Or any effect. The big bastard was just so damn strong he basically just ignored my resistance. Which, admittedly, due to my aching head, wasn’t my best.

  “You will not resist,” Sandora informed me. “As my patient, and my woman, you will do as we wish.”

  “I don’t want you touching me there,” I insisted. Less than vehemently.

  But as soon as I said it, realization slammed into me.

  I was only saying what I thought I had to, in order to maintain the self-identity I’d built for myself during all my years in the resistance.

  The fact was that if Lenth had been human, I would very, very much want him touching me there. There, plus a whole lot of other places too. Hell, if the Domann had come to our planet in peace, I would probably have sought out a fucking sexy alien like Lenth to touch me there. Double hell, lots of people paid really good money for other people, perfect strangers, to touch them there!