Chapter 4
“They’re mad at me,” I say to Boss as he sits me down in the galley. It’s funny to me how even in an alien ship, the kitchen still manages to be the heart of everything. The universe loves a good kitchen.
“Yes,” he says.
“But you’re not?”
“I just got to kill dozens of my greatest enemies. That puts me in a good mood. Also, I understand your actions in a way Sharp and Kronos do not. Sharp comes from a place of almost pure logic. Kronos is oriented toward the good and the bloody. Neither of those perspectives have any room for taking psychedelics while under fire.”
“You’re really smart,” I say.
“Yes,” he agrees. “To a human, I am.”
“What does that mean, ‘to a human’?”
“Humans are quite close to us in many ways. Both species evolved in grassland environments. We both have herd tendencies, enjoy rituals, and explore consciousness.”
“What’s your species called? Did I ever ask? I feel rude. Sorry.”
“I am a Bovix,” he says. “And Sharp is a Draik, and Kronos is a Peladian.”
“How did you all meet?” I sip a little of my soup, which tastes like meaty flowers. Hard to explain it any other way, but it’s the right combination of sustenance and comfort.
Boss shrugs. “Circumstance. I fled after destroying the Harvesters. Sharp was looking for hands on his ship. Kronos… was not always our friend.”
“Oh, really?” My ears prick up at that.
“I do not want to tell his story for him,” Boss says. “Eat something. They’re going to come for you soon enough, and when they do, there’s no argument that will save you.”
“Don’t say that. That’s too ominous.”
He slides a glass over to me, filled with a fizzing red liquid. “Electrolytes, minerals, and vitamins,” he says. “Should be enough to settle your stomach and give you some energy for what is to come.”
“I specifically asked you not to be ominous,” I complain.
He just gives me a look and falls silent as I sip the drink. It tastes okay, and it does make me feel a little better. I wonder if I can talk my way out of this somehow.
I don’t know how long it is before Sharp comes for me.
Maybe it’s an hour. Maybe it’s ten minutes that feel like an hour.
What I do know is that when he steps into the galley and picks me up like I weigh nothing to him, I feel the oddest sense of relief at it almost being over, and fear at what is to come.
He carries me out of the galley and to his room, which is a severe space. These aliens don’t have a sense of home, I think. My room is the only one that feels like anywhere or anything.
He sets me down on my feet.
“Are you going to be sick again?”
“Maybe,” I say.
“I guess we will find out,” he says curtly. “You stole our escape pod, triggered a subspace distress signal that alerted not one set of hostile space pirates, but ended up throwing us into a Harvester battle.”
“I know,” I say. “Pretty cool, right?”
That’s the wrong fucking thing to say. There wasn’t really a right thing to say.
His expression darkens, and his features seem to become even more angular with disapproval as he strikes out at me while simultaneously dragging me over to the edge of the bed, where he sits down.
“You are in so much trouble!” he declares as he puts me over his knee like some juvenile delinquent. My head hangs toward the floor, and my toes don’t touch the floor on the other side.
His palm meets my ass in a hard slap that makes me yowl helplessly. I already told them I hate being spanked. How dare they do this to me! Surely there’s some other kind of discipline. Have they ever heard of time out? Or imprisonment? Or capital punishment?
“It was a mistake!”
“You are full of mistakes and accidents,” Sharp says. “This will teach you to be more careful, won’t it?”
He doesn’t wait for my answer, just whips my ass with his palm so long and so hard I can barely stand it, not that I have a choice.
I have to take each and every humiliating, painful, stinging slap because in his eyes, it’s bad to escape, get high, and get in pitched battle.
All I was really trying to do was go home, but that’s probably even worse.
These aliens are obsessed with me. The idea I might want to just leave is unthinkable to them.
That pleasure–pain thing is happening again, just like it seems to happen every time. The more it hurts, the wetter I get, and the more he spanks, the less stern he gets, until finally I am lying panting over his lap, with a painful, swollen ass and a dripping pussy.
He pushes my legs open and rubs his scaled hand over my sex.
“You need to be bred,” he says. “You need to be made to settle down and bear young. You are not a pet who can be kept without a purpose. You cause trouble when you are not busy, and we cannot keep you wrapped around a cock long enough to ensure you do not get into trouble.”
I moan in response. I don’t know what to say, because what he’s saying is so fucking hot, and because my mind is once more being flooded with a whole lot of natural chemicals designed to increase instinctual behavior and suppress rational thought.
My mind is a playground for desire, and I am the captive of it.
He rubs the pad of one finger down the length of my soaked slit and pressed the tip of his finger right into my tight, wet pussy.
“No more running from us,” he says. “Every time you go away, something terrible happens to you, and to us.”
He sounds quite sad, and suddenly I feel guilty.
“We missed you so much. We searched for you every day for three years. And the moment we get you back, you escape and lead us into pitched battle.”
“Sounds like you’re better off without me,” I mumble.
He smacks my ass hard, clearly annoyed at me for saying such a thing.
“You just need to behave yourself. You need to submit. If you had not gotten into trouble…”
“But I always get into trouble. You can’t train me. I’m a human. We’re not trainable.”
“Most of you are incredibly trainable,” he says, pushing two fingers inside my pussy and making me forget what I was trying to say.
“Most of you are able to be taught not only to enjoy obedience, but to need it. I don’t know what is different inside you, but you are ours and we are not going to let you go. ”
I grunt in response. I can’t come up with a whole word, let alone a sentence. He is making me feel so fucking good. He is turning my pussy into his own personal toy.
Every few minutes, he pulls out of me and smacks my ass hard. I can feel the heat and the sting, and I know that it hurts more than I feel it. When I am this wet, being spanked just makes me feel hotter and even more aroused.
“Please,” I whimper.
“Please, what?”
“Please fuck me, sir.”
The submissive words escape me, almost as if there is some secret well inside me, a part I’ve locked away and refuse to acknowledge, but which controls all of my sexual responses.
Sharp wastes no time in obliging me. He strips my clothes from me again, throws me down on the floor, spreads my legs and pulls me up toward his freshly freed cocks. He is kneeling above me, and my pussy and my ass are impaled on him in one rough, punitive stroke as he fucks me hard.
It should hurt, I guess, but my relationship to pleasure and pain is getting all the way twisted.
“Fuck,” I gasp. “Oh, my god. This feels so… this feels… oh, my god.”
I reach for his hands and cling to him with carnal desperation. It hurts a little, of course. There’s no way to have an alien fuck your ass and pussy without much in the way of foreplay and find it comfortable, but this is a punishment.
“Fuck, it… ow… fuck…”
“You’re being disciplined,” he growls. “In both your tight little human holes. You can do whatever you like. You can rebel. You can flee. You can cause a galaxy of trouble, and I will always hunt you down and fuck you until you come on both my cocks at the same time.”
With those words, a rough orgasm rips through my body, and I am left helpless in the wake of its power. My climax triggers his, and I feel myself being filled in both holes, his seed pumping inside me with so much power it’s like I am a vessel for his cum.
When he is done, he pulls me into his lap. He sits with his back against the bed, and me on his thighs, and he lets his seed run out of my ravaged holes and coat the both of us in a kind of sexual marinade.
I have nothing to say for myself. I don’t know what to think, much less what to feel. There’s something good about this, even though I know I should and do hate it. Make it make sense.
Sharp is quiet with me too, until he finally asks the question I know he is going to ask. It’s in the room with us, circling with the air in the room.
“Are you going to try to run again?”
“Maybe?” I whisper the response.
I still don’t know these people, or my mind. I know that the universe is dangerous and that I’ve been horny for these guys, but that’s not enough to base a relationship on.
I’m a captive. There’s no getting around it. They abducted me just now, and the first time around they kind of slow rolled my abduction. They might think they’re doing me a favor, but my free will is clearly an irrelevance in all of this.
He gives me a pained look, and I know he is about to give me a heavy dose of guilt.
“Why can’t you just understand that you are wanted here? That we love you?”
There we go. There it is. I fucking knew it.
He just wants me to feel the way he wants me to feel.
The fact that I’m not doing the emotions he wants is the problem.
It’s not going to work. He might have fucked me, and I might remember him fucking me in the past, but real relationships are a lot more than being stolen and mated.
“Because I don’t remember you, or this,” I say, not letting on that I have actually remembered some stuff. “And what I do remember is being claimed. And dominated. And that’s what’s happened here too. You talk to me about love? You don’t know what the fuck love is.”
There’s a pause, and then he snorts. “That’s what you said before you disappeared.”