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He took everything from her ... and she found the only thing she ever really needed.
For Alisse Southwick, the problem wasn't just the musclebound 8 foot tall alien who'd taken her from everything she'd ever known. No, the problem was she was seriously contemplating trading the knowledge that unlocked the secrets of the universe, in exchange for her freedom — sexual and otherwise. She was a woman of science, yes, but why did the alien holding her captive have to look like something out of her darkest wet dreams?
From the moment he'd set eyes on her, Lukanos knew only one thing: he had to have her. But there was one minor problem — she was a human. To even show himself to a human — let alone abducting one — was against every law of his people. But each time he looked at her, those sparkling, keen eyes, the long, sable hair, and the lush, shapely body human females were notorious — and celebrated — for, his resolve to follow the law, to obey his people's sacred Directive, was in serious danger of crumbling. He knew he wasn't supposed to want her — but he knew somehow, some way, she would be his ... whether she was ready for it or not.
Taking a human being was much more than an abduction though — it was a taboo act. Fearing he'd lose more than his commission in the Survey Corps, Lukanos quickly learned he was far from the only one of his people obsessed with human females. He wasn't the only one keeping a female slave.
The repercussions for capturing humans were serious, but Lukanos was prepared to endure them. He'd endure almost anything to make the gorgeous human his, in every way.
But what's a captor supposed to do when he begins to fall for his captive? Does he keep her as the only thing she'll ever be on his world — a sexual plaything? Or must he — for the first time in his life — do the right thing?
Publisher's Warning: This science fiction dark erotic romance is intended for mature audiences. 18 and over only!
This novel contains the following themes or activities: pervasive BDSM, capture fantasy, intense and explicit sex, spanking, anal play, TPE, and other acts of unequal power dynamics. If any of these might be offensive to you, please do not buy or read this book.
Word Count: 70,578 words
Note: This title was originally published as a short novella (21K words) in the USA Today best- selling anthology, Bound, Spanked & Loved.
The story has since been GREATLY expanded from 21k words to over 70k words. For readers who read the original story, this is a much deeper, richer story and, in many respects, is essentially a new book.
Bent over the side of a bed so tall her toes just brushed the cold floor below, her fingers trembled as she spread her buttocks apart for him. Long, painful training had ensured she always pulled them wide such that she felt her crease might split. Only then had she demonstrated the required level of compliance with his dictates.
It was made worse this time by the way her ass ached, the still visible marks from her punishment three days prior just beginning to fade from her skin, if not from her heated memory. He’d made her stand in front of the huge mirror afterward, the tears still drying on her face, forcing her to look at the swelling welts left behind, a testament to his handiwork with the hated cane.
In the glass, she’d watched his heavy cock rise as he’d ordered her to trace the deepening wheals with her fingertips, until he was hot and hard, jutting against her hip. It hadn’t taken long before he’d made her kneel, her tongue lovingly paying homage to the congested veins along the shaft of that big penis.
He stood behind her now, looking down upon her prostrate form, drinking in her surrender as she knew was his way. Hers was but to be silent, and listen for his next order. Her well-flogged breasts throbbed below her as she waited obediently, the soft mounds pressed into the silky bedspread. The punishment was her penalty for refusing to be walked around his property attached to his new leather leash. She already wondered if the pain had been worth being spared that particular indignity.
When he’d finished painting the lines of flame upon her helpless flesh, her fresh tears dripping onto the slopes of her burning, heaving breasts, he’d told her eventually she’d come around to seeing things his way.
She knew he was right.
Now though, other things were required — and as in all else in his great house, she was required to submit to them. In this place, obedience was the only thing that mattered, the only thing that might keep her ass from getting even sorer as the day wore on.
“Your little plug — it looks so cute tucked in between those trembling cheeks of yours. Does it hurt still, girl?”
Swallowing hard, she knew an answer was expected. “No, sir.”
A huge palm caressed her bottom, squeezing her welted flesh, thick fingers exploring the presented cleft to press on the stout smooth steel spreading her anus uncomfortably wide. She couldn’t help but tighten reflexively upon the hard plug, reawakening the slight tenderness in her well-stretched bottom hole.
A fingertip flicked her blatantly exposed, still-swollen clit. “Make sure none of that drips on the bedspread, slave. If I have to have the blankets laundered again, it’s going to be worse for this big bottom of yours.”
He slapped her ass sharply, and she jerked, but thankfully managed to keep her buttocks spread wide for him.
Her well-used pussy still dripped with his semen, a rough fucking her reward for her standing obediently still as her breasts had bounced and wobbled under the fiery rain of the flogger’s tails that morning. Her punished nipples still ached, their steel hardness not abating one bit, no matter how much the merciless leather implement punished them.
The bed dipped at her side as he sat down next to her. “Let’s have it out then,” he murmured, tapping the steel between her bottom cheeks. “Come… push it out.”
She grunted, squeezing her eyes shut, the most mortifying part of the process upon her. She willed her bottom to open, to push out the intruder she’d become almost used to over the past two days.
“There you go,” he said in a soft voice, patting her bottom again as she finally expelled the body warm steel, his fingertips tickling the edges of her labia as he held his palm open, waiting for her shaming offering. “That’s a good girl. You’re learning control now, aren’t you?”
He pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of one of her buttocks, then her plug in hand, he stood up. Her stomach sank when she heard the unmistakable sound of something being lubricated. She craned her head around, looking at him over her shoulder, careful not to break position.
The sight of the gleaming steel of the heavy plug — an even bigger one this time, the next size up in the set — made her mouth go dry, her heart in her throat.
Blue eyes narrowing, his handsome smile faded instantly. “Face forward, bad girl. You know better.”
She pressed her face into the covers, her cheeks burning hot against the cool fabric.
Already trembling as the cold gel was rubbed into her presented crease, his finger pressing more of it just inside her stretched opening, she yelped as the heavy, icy steel was presented to her anus.
“You know what I expect. Be a good girl now.” It pressed forward, slowly, inexorably, a long gasp drawn from her as her flesh spread impossibly wide.
“Please… I can’t…”
“Shh, you can do this. It’s only a little larger. Just push out, let it in.”
His hand gently stroked her quivering thighs, his palm easing up and down soothingly. “That’s good… more. Good girl.”
She whined as the widest part pressed her still wider, her bottom hole aching around the unforgiving steel.
“Almost there, sweet girl. One last push.”
Her whole body shuddered as she exhaled a long breath, the widest part of the plug swallowed up by her body, the stretching of the tight muscle easing.
“There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”
Her breath was little more than quick panting.
“I knew you could do it.” His palm slapped her hip. “Now, you may let go of that cute little bottom and kneel down.”
She slid to her knees, turning to press her back to the side of the bed as she knew he demanded.
Spreading her sore ass on her bare heels, she thrust her shoulders back, her hands laced behind her head, gaze upon his as she knew he liked.
He snapped the leash to the stout silver ring embedded at the front of her thick collar, his deep blue eyes sparkling, his grin bright.
“Ready for that stroll we talked about, my beautiful slave girl? Or do you have any other silly ideas about refusing me?”
With a hot blush, she shook her head. “No, sir.”
Why did the tears streaming down her smooth cheeks make her even more beautiful?
It wasn’t the first time he’d found her weeping, though it wasn’t any easier to bear witness to it.
Being a member of a Yaanfahr Survey Team meant excitement, but it also sometimes meant witnessing the sadness and heartbreak that so often was part and parcel of the human condition.
His comm unit buzzed at the base of his throat and he clicked over, moving away from Alisse’s house. Though such a gesture was completely unnecessary — his spoofing mechanism ensured he stayed invisible to human eyes — he felt a need to leave her alone with her pain.
“Report, Lieutenant,” the voice of Captain Maerata rang in his ear.
Though his comm unit was quite capable of transmitting unspoken thought, the Lieutenant spoke aloud, confident he was out of ear shot of Alisse’s open kitchen window.
“Situation normal, Captain. Subject is”—the Lieutenant winced—“upset.”
The Captain’s sigh was plainly audible over the channel, but his voice held a welcome note of understanding. “You watch her too much, you know.”
“What Command doesn’t know, won’t hurt them.” The Lieutenant looked back at Alisse’s compact two-bedroom bungalow. “I haven’t exceeded parameters, nor violated The Directive.”
“Not yet, anyway.”
“Have reassignment orders come through yet?” Lukanos tried to keep the dread out of his voice. Like so many others before him, the prospect of leaving Terra — and a certain alluring human female — gnawed at him. Not for the first time, he fought against the sense of unfairness — and strange possessiveness — that rose within him at the thought of never seeing her again.
He knew it was stupid… but he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t contemplated it.
It had been done before.
The image of Alisse’s curvy, naked form, on her knees, gazing up at him, sprang unbidden into his mind. It should have disgusted him. The sudden tightness between his legs said otherwise.
You’ll be cashiered — if you’re lucky. You know the penalty for taking one of them.
“Maybe another week,” Maerata said. “But you know it will be soon. I’ve proposed as many mission extensions as I dare, Lieutenant. It’s time.”
His Captain was well-aware of Lukanos’… distraction. Though he never missed an opportunity to admonish his subordinate for his fixation on the human female, Lukanos knew the Captain had done his best to have their time on Terra extended far past a typical Survey Team’s term of duty.
There was a reason Command rotated Survey Team members from Earth assignment within two Terran years. It wasn’t anything as concrete as danger, or the particular prestige of such a duty — Terra was little more than a backwater in the galactic scheme of things. The reason was a base emotion, one most Yaanfahr believed was but a vestigial urge, something they’d evolved beyond as an order eons ago.
And Lukanos knew intimately the power of such a thing, why they’d been warned. Knowing and doing were two different things though. He knew interference, fraternization, or even simply appearing before a human was strictly prohibited.
Now though? He understood quite well why he’d been sternly warned about duty on Terra. The beauty, the allure of them was something long whispered about in the academy, though never openly spoken of. The idea that anyone might actually find human females sexually attractive was an embarrassment at best, something never admitted to, and at worst, a taboo that might result in the early end to a career, a quick disciplinary hearing, and a long, lonely trip back to one’s home system.
None of that was stopping him from seriously contemplating the unthinkable though.
What might happen, if he took Alisse for his own?
T he coffee burned her lips as she sipped it, the faded white fabric of the translucent curtains waving in the unusually warm evening breeze. With the heel of her hand she swiped away the sticky tracks of her tears. It was stupid — and futile — to cry about what could never be. About what she’d ensured would never be.
The first Valentine’s Day since she’d left Phillip didn’t make moving on any easier for her though.
She walked to the sink, and dumped the rest of the coffee down the drain. She stared out the window at the full moon, the breeze making her swollen eyes sting. The quiet nights were the double-edged sword of living so far outside the city. You weren’t disturbed, but on nights like this one, being disturbed by someone, anyone, would be a blessing.
Solitude focused the mind — and deepened the sorrow.
“At least today’s almost over, Alisse,” she muttered as she padded out of the kitchen, flicking off the light and plunging the space into moonlit shadow.
Phillip Brandeis, head astronomer on the OLA project, was someone who should have been her perfect match. Handsome, brilliant, and charming, he was — but inside she’d known all along that those qualities weren’t what she really needed. How long had she hidden that truth from even herself? Nobody knew, of course — there’d be scandal, gossip, a quiet closing of numerous doors in the scientific community if anyone ever discovered the shameful truth about Alisse.
Intellect and attractiveness should have made him ideal for her. Two scientists, two keen minds, both young, in the prime of life. Well, Phillip was young anyway; forty loomed much closer for Alisse than she wanted to think about.
Still, they had tried to make a go of it, and for a time, it had worked. Happiness, the possibility of something more, seemed within her grasp. But something was always missing, a piece that never quite fit right.
And that piece was Alisse, what she really needed.
For any other woman, Phillip’s gentle, attentive lovemaking might have been the stuff of dreams — but not her dreams.
She’d admonished herself countless times as selfish, shallow, horrible. But the fact remained that he left her cold. Gentle and attentive weren’t the constant stars in her fantasies.
Not by a long shot.
She slipped on the threadbare gown she still wore, the one that clung to her body in a way that made it impossible to ignore the curves and planes of her form. Though she didn’t particularly like her body — her hips were a little too broad, thighs a trifle heavier than she’d have liked — the gown didmake her feel, if only in her mind, sexy. Feminine.
Phillip always desired you, Alisse — gown or no. Yet you rejected him, the man who adored you.
She couldn’t help but picture his deep brown eyes welling with tears, the snow falling in a swirling, chaotic storm all around them, as she’d broken it off. They’d been attending a conference at the Smithsonian in DC, and he’d suggested going over to the mall and walking up to the Lincoln memorial, a snowy Washington something Phillip always found indescribably beautiful.
Right there alongside water as smooth as a mirror, she’d broken both their hearts. How the relief that it was over had flooded through her then, even as she’d wept at the bitter pain of it, even as Phillip had held her, despite her rejection. A gentleman to the last.
If only a gentleman had been what she’d wanted.
She slipped beneath the cool down of her comforter, the warmth of the night doing nothing to thaw the icy cold gripping her heart. The truth was, she still hated herself for it, no matter how necessary it might have been. It would never have worked between them, and despite the awful pain of crushing a man who deserved anything but, it was far better to close that door sooner rather than later, when the pain would have been infinitely worse.
For both of them.
She might never find what it was she needed — if it even existed. How could she? What she wanted… was wrong. It didn’t make sense. Yet it haunted her darkest dreams, her most fevered fantasies. A fascination with the cosmos, with what made up the world around her, wasn’t the only obsession Alisse Southwick harbored.
“This is stupid,” she murmured, turning over, trying to ignore the rising heat between her thighs. How long had it been since she’d had an orgasm? The very fact that she had to ask that question illustrated what a disaster her sex life had become.
Just think about work. About the project.
That might suffice for a short time, but it wouldn’t forever. Eventually, she would need to try again, attempt to put herself out there once more — before it was too late.
But who could possibly give her what she needed? Maybe the fantasy could never be made real?
Alisse dreaded the idea, but she knew inside that sometimes life frustrated, confounded — and simply didn’t work out. Could she live the remainder of her years not fully living that part of life, that sexual journey that made the rest of it worth living?
Perhaps she was doomed to being on the outside looking in, so close, yet so far?
The fabric of her blanket brushed against her nipples, the sensitive tips as hard as steel now despite her melancholy.
She blew out a breath. “Are you serious? Horny? Now?”
Reaching for her nightstand, she bit down on her lip, frustrated, for the millionth time lamenting the utter lack of control over that one part of herself. She’d mastered everything else in life, so why did her desires and fantasies prove so stubbornly resistant to it?
Because you can’t change what’s a part of you, idiot. Maybe it’s not you who’s supposed to master it?
She opened the drawer and retrieved her e-reader. Perhaps just having a quick read would help. Maybe she’d even masturbate. Would an orgasm help banish the darkness, if only for a little while?
“At least I won’t have to think about my train wreck sex life.”
Swiping through the carousel on the reader, she found the latest obsession: a science fiction smut fest that had just the thing she kept coming back to over and over again: alpha males who saw nothing wrong with bending their women to their will — no matter what it took…
Commander Rill Faran strode through the dusty bazaar, the central market on Pseiti IV. It was one of his favorite haunts on the Graylan run, a three parsec nightmare of Colonial cruisers, hopelessly corrupt Gate control officers, and a veritable graveyard for freighter captains like him who thought they could slip one time too many past the ever-watching eye of the brutal internal security agency, the CSS.
“What about that one?” His ensign, Markov Corsun, normally a taciturn, icewater-in-the-veins pilot, always perked up when they made their regular refueling stop in the Pseiti system, the slave markets of Pseiti IV being some of the most popular — and infamous — in the entire galaxy. Though slavery was illegal — in theory — in the Colonies, the authorities, hopelessly addicted to the kickbacks from slavers and smugglers alike, turned a blind eye to most operations. It was only when a particular market became just a little too obvious that the CSS would step in — and an instructive lesson meted out.
Keeping one’s head down was always a good idea when it came to CSS thuggery.
Rill stopped along the line of cages stretching along one wall of the flesh market, a most popular section of the Pseiti IV bazaar.
“The one with the dark hair?” Rill took a step closer, the filthy naked creature confined behind the steel bars peering up at them, her eyes wide with fright.
“Yes, good plump sex on that one,” Markov said. “Should take the whip — and cock — well, I should think.”
Rill grinned at his ensign. Markov rarely used vulgarities of any kind. The flesh pits of Pseiti IV brought something out within him, it seemed.
A stocky man dressed in brown sack cloth criss-crossed with decorative leather straps awaited their choice. The man’s gaze darted to and fro in a way that made Rill uneasy. Typical slavers.
The Commander nodded to the waiting attendant. “Let’s have that one out. I’d like a look at her.”
In moments, she was standing between the three men, her petiteness emphasized by their comparative great height. Her luminescent eyes flicked from Markov then back to Rill, as if by keeping tabs on both, she could ensure her safety.
Rill touched her cheek and she jerked away, snarling in the distinctive high-pitched gibberish he’d only heard once before.
“Terran? I should have guessed.” Rill shook his head, even as his cock began to rise. He’d never actually seen a Terran in the flesh, and though significantly smaller than his species, the Terran females were indeed as beautiful as the rumors said. They were exceedingly rare, even in the teeming central bazaar that prided itself on having just the thing to match any appetite.
“Price for her will go sky high as soon as she hits the block,” Markov growled, stroking the growth of thick black beard at his chin. “I don’t think most of the slime who crawl about here really understand what a Terran is.”
“Or how valuable one of them can be to the right buyer,” the attendant said, inclining his head with a wink. “She was brought to us not two weeks ago.”
Rill frowned. “You let her get this dirty in two weeks?”
“She has had many… suitors in that time,” the attendant quickly added. “But no buyers, as yet.”
Commander Rill grunted. A Terran with ripe, heavy breasts like hers would draw more than her fair share of “suitors” indeed. He doubted the bazaar would allow one of the punters to lay with her, but he could imagine many hands had fondled and weighed those buoyant globes, assessed them for softness, pliability. Her deep brown nipples were standing up nicely, perhaps out of fright, but the keenness he saw in her gaze made him suspect that wasn’t all.
Markov dropped to a knee, taking a fistful of her hair, and wrenching her head back, until she was forced to gaze up at the sky. She moaned just a little as his gloved hand investigated between her lush thighs, splaying the sex open, exposing the bright pink of her core. He smacked her plump, shaven mound once, then again, and she jerked each time, her bright white teeth gritting.
“Why have you shaved her?” Markov asked. “I would have liked to have seen the pelt on this one. Should be nice and dark like her hair, I would think.”
“Diseases, sir.” The attendant cleared his throat. “We find that depilation is effective against lice and the like.”
“You could try washing her once in a while too,” Rill muttered, stroking the grime on her cheek with his thumb. “She looks like she’s been rolling in muck.”
“We bathe them once a month, sir, but it’s been… dusty, of late.”
Markov rose to his feet, using his grip on her hair to spin her around until her back faced them. Her bottom shuddered with the pair of hard blows Markov’s palm laid down across each lush buttock, the SPLAT SPLAT sound echoing against the mud brick walls of the flesh market—
“What the hell was that?” Alisse hissed, her breath coming hard as she extracted her fingers from between her legs. Dropping the reader to the mattress, she quickly rose to her feet.
It had sounded like her front door had opened.
Calm down. It’s probably the wind.
She needed to close the window anyway. It was a good excuse to check things out.
Her heart rate picked up pace as she made her way down the hallway. Suddenly afraid to flick on the light — and silently admonishing herself for acting like a frightened child — she took a deep breath and turned the corner into the living room.
The front door appeared to be closed, just as she’d left it. The gray tile of the tiny foyer showed no strange footprints, no signs of forced entry.
She looked down, shaking her head. “You… are an idiot.”
“Why do you call yourself this?”
Alisse screamed, clapping a hand to her mouth as she spun toward the voice. Her heart jumped into her throat as she beheld the man standing in her kitchen. He was the biggest man she’d ever seen; based on her eight foot ceilings, he had to be over seven feet in height. The kitchen was still cloaked in deep shadow, the curtain at the window continuing to wave gently on the breeze.
Then he turned on the lights, and she took a stumbling step backward. He wore a white, form-fitting tunic with a high collar, the cut-out at the base of his throat exposing the tendons of the neck, the hollows of his collar bones.
The shoulders of the man seemed to go on forever, bespeaking immense strength — something the snug tunic did nothing to contradict. Heavily muscled, he appeared to be devoid of hair with the exception of thick, dark eyebrows. His eyes, slightly larger than one would have expected, were blessed with long lashes, a feature of strange — and not unappealing — softness that contrasted with the hard, super masculine face. The strong brows and heavy, square jaw appeared hewn from granite, the eyes peering out at her like twin pools of blue flames. They didn’t quite glow, but seemed to gather and reflect every bit of available light. The tunic swept down, emphasizing the broad back, the narrowness of the hips. The clothing seemed to be one long garment, extending down the legs, ending just short of the tops of heavy shoes resembling stout boots the color of slate.
Alisse stared at him for a long moment, her higher reasoning apparently shutting down in her fright. Then she swallowed hard, holding her throat, unable to peel her eyes away from that brilliant gaze.
“Who… are you? What do you want?”
“I am called Lukanos.”
His voice was strange, very deep, with a timbre that seemed to vibrate in her chest, the sound of his words resembling two stereo channels that weren’t completely in sync.
One thing was for sure — it wasn’t a human voice. Not in the least.
“L… Lukanos?” Her mouth was so dry her lips threatened to stick together. She cleared her throat, willing her heart rate to slow down from scared shitless to merely frantic. “Why are you in my house?”
“I’ve been watching you, Alisse.”
“How the hell do you know my name?” Her voice squeaked on the last word, her pulse now pounding like a drum in her head. She was in trouble here. Her phone was on the far side of her bed. It was time to call 911. Like yesterday.
“Need to get my coat. Freezing in here with the window…” she said, as she took a step toward the hallway, wincing at the absurdity of her words. If she could get to her room, she’d have a chance. Lock the door, call the cops. Tell him to leave while he still had time.
You think your little bedroom door’s going to stop a man as big as him?
“I do not think you want to do that, miss.”
He moved faster than she’d have ever believed possible, crossing the spacious kitchen in an instant, looming even larger up close, towering over her. A hand the size of a dinner plate took hold of her forearm with a power that seemed to drain the strength from her limbs. A sharp point of heat flared at the base of her neck and she looked up into his face, her lips moving soundlessly, her vision already beginning to gray. She dropped to her knees then, his hand still gripping her.
The last thing she saw before the blackness swallowed everything up, were the fingers of his hand.
They were long, and thick, and veined.
And there were six of them.