Chosen

by Raquel Taylor

  Chosen

  By

  Raquel Taylor

  A Silk’s Vault Electronic Publication, in arrangement with author Raquel Taylor.

  Copyright © 2007 by Raquel Taylor

  Cover Design and Art by Carmel St. James, © Copyright 2007

  Edited by Pat Sager

  Silk’s Vault Publishing

  www.silksvault.com

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in part or whole, in any form or by any means, without permission from both the author and publisher. All characters, incidents, situations, institutions, governments and people are fictional and any similarity to characters or persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  Halen was in a chamber that was made of glass. On three sides and underneath him blackness, stars, and distant planets danced in front of his horrified eyes. Earth became smaller and smaller before him until it was little more than the size of a child’s marble. He crushed his naked form against the glass, his hands splayed across its crystalline surface. The collar around his throat made a garbled noise as a voice started to come through and then faded back into the silence of the cold, empty chamber in which he was contained.

  He stared at his own horrified manifestation in the glass, wide tear-filled amber eyes, blond hair that ran down his back in a satin wave, the collar around the whiteness of his throat, too tight, threatening to choke off his air. It glittered with throbbing ruby lights, the blinking slightly hypnotic, so that he had to drag his gaze away from its reflection in order to look back at the earth, memorize it, embed it’s blues and greens forever in his memory, because he would never see it again. He’d been kidnapped from his bedroom in the middle of the night by means of a crimson beam of light. According to the thing around his neck, he had been gifted to one of these creatures. He had been chosen by the alien race he had never even seen. For what, he did not know.

  The collar issued another sound, but again, no words came out…just a harsh and angry sounding crackle-bark that caused him to jump. The sputter of the voice from within utterly distorted from its usual disinterested monotone. Generally, the collar communicated in a strange, clipped vocalization that he knew he should not be able to understand—that was not even remotely human in tone and inflection. Yet, he understood it when it chose to speak to him, his mind interpreting the harsh alien speech as if he had been born to hear it. He touched the tight, flesh-warm metal about his throat and wondered what was wrong with it and what it was trying to tell him.

  A sudden sob escaped him as the fourth wall of the chamber slid open and a thing walked into the small room. He turned around, pressing his back against the glass as the monster invaded the little chamber. The alien was humanoid and its skin was a deep cerulean blue much like the brilliant glittering waters of the earth…an earth that was falling away from Halen in favor of the blackness of space. The alien was incredibly tall, standing over eight feet, its body clothed in hard body armor that looked to be an intermingling of leather and steel. The chest plate of the armor ended just above its ribs and Halen could see the hard muscled flesh that marked its stomach and its complete lack of a navel. Tousled raven hair that began with an incredible widow’s peak slid cascading down its shoulders in an inky waterfall that ended at its waist. The alien regarded him with liquid black eyes that would have seemed human had they not lacked the white.

  The alien crossed the room on long, muscled legs and crouched down before him. One of its big, powerful hands grasped his chin and brought his face up so that it could study him carefully. Halen’s flesh tingled from the contact, and then a violent wave of pleasure coursed through him that was so strong it lifted his ass from the floor and caused his back to arch in a manner that was almost painful. The fingers that clutched him were cool, casual; the brush of the nails against his flesh faint but insistent. For some unknown reason, his flesh flooded with heat until he felt like his skin was on fire. An inferno of sensation rushed through him so fierce and uncontrollable that his body went into violent spasms in the face of it. Gasping, feeling his cock harden to something like stone, he tried to draw away and couldn’t. The thing that held him had no intention of letting him go. The alien seemed to be drinking in his confused moans—moans of a pleasure so great it crossed the line into agony increased in intensity until Halen was screaming with it. His mind and body tried to absorb the raging, unadulterated pleasure the creature’s mere touch seemed to bring. He realized that he had never been so turned on in his life. The sheer force of his desire in the face of the blue-skinned terror brought forth both feelings of fear and shame in him.

  The monster smiled and let him go abruptly. Halen collapsed on the glass floor, struggling to regain some modicum of control as his body twitched and contorted from the creature’s manipulations. He was gifted with a view of perfect white teeth framed by curved, elongated canines. Barely able to breathe for the stunning, unnatural sensations running through his slight frame, he found himself studying the thing in return. Save for the blue tint to its skin and the oddity of its eyes, the alien looked like a man and an extremely handsome one. Arched raven eyebrows rose over its black eyes. The alien had a straight nose and its bottom lip was fuller than the one that rested on top.

  The alien leaned in and touched him again. It was a simple touch, a burning finger trailing across the line of his jawbone. Pleasure radiated from that touch, and Halen thought that if the flesh of his cock constricted any further in reaction to the blood gorging it, it would simply explode. His consideration of the absolute reality of that thought horrified him, and he whimpered as the pleasure flooding his dick did a slow tango with pain.

  “I told my father that I did not want one of you things,” the creature said in perfect English, turning Halen’s head from one side to the other. “Perhaps I was wrong. You disobeyed the collar. Why?”

  Halen was amazed by the fact that the thing before him could speak English. He saw himself, very small and naked reflected in those inky eyes. He also saw a certain measure of barely contained anger.

  He didn’t know what the creature was talking about; the collar had never ordered him to do anything. In an eerie mechanical tone the collar had told him exactly where to touch the smooth glass walls in order to find the lavatory. It had told him how to draw down a swinging bed that hung from the ceiling when he needed to sleep—which he had not done yet so great and consuming had been his terror. The collar had told him of the silver metallic button that called for sustenance, another thing he had avoided, because somewhere in the back of his mind he had chosen to die instead of becoming an alien slave…or food…or whatever they wanted him for.

  “Why?” the alien repeated again, reaching out and flicked the hard flesh of his cock with an idle blue finger. Halen screamed, his body flooding with sensations that were all centered on his dick. For a moment he could only stare wide-eyed at the thing that had touched him. He came so hard, so violent and furious, the world went as black as the alien’s liquid eyes.

  * * * *

  Shutter-click images flooded through Halen’s mind. He saw his small apartment in San Francisco, he saw his cubicle at work, and he saw a steady train of meaningless relationships, the faces melding, flickering…interchangeable. He saw the sun, the blue of the sky before it turned gray and cloudy with a coming storm, and the ripples of the waves on the ocean.

  “I would have given you more time to adjust,” the thing was saying, drawing him out of the dream, and painting itself over the images in his mind in stunning cerulean blue. “I wasn’t even sure that I wanted you. Your disobedience, however, intrigued me.”

  “I didn’t disobey you,” Halen mumbled face down in the odd round pillows of the swinging bed he had previously shunned. He tried to turn around and address the creature d
irectly but found that he could not. He was bound, arms and legs, pressed hard into the thin mattress.

  “You didn’t?” the thing said, a cool mockery in its tone. Halen found that he could turn his head and he looked in the direction of the thing. The alien was pulling the chest plate over its head, exposing wide shoulders and a hairless, nipple-less chest. Ink designs decorated its skin. There was the black depiction of something like a panther wrapped around the alien’s neck, its mouth open in a toothy snarl complete with wicked red forked tongue.

  The alien watched him carefully as the leather and steel that covered its legs dropped to the floor after the chest plate. Halen gasped as he took in the two large, erect, and royal blue cocks that jutted from between the thing’s smooth muscled thighs. Several steel balls glinted in the flesh of those erections. The balls twinkled like the stars in the galaxy behind the glass that the naked alien stood in front of.

  Fear caused him to whimper, but there was an excitement that even he had to recognize in that soft sound of distress. The alien approached and then slid in next to him, causing the bed to sway gently from side to side. The creature’s intimate nearness had a strange effect on him, as extraordinary as its touch. He felt intoxicated suddenly; the world taking on the bleary tones he usually associated with wild nights spent carousing bars. A pleasant, out-of-control sensation suffused him, fought his terrible fear and won. He was calmed, as if by magic, and the blue, handsome nightmare lying beside him evoked less fear.

  The thing’s hand slid over his back, causing a thousand uncanny but pleasant sensations. Helplessly, Halen found himself arching into the touch as the fingers slid over the rounded cheeks of his ass. His cock hardened to a near unbearable hardness that began to throb and ache with need. The alien never took its liquid black eyes off him and soon he began to see pictures in those twin onyx orbs, images of war. The thing beside him stood on the battlefield of a desolate world. Amethyst fires raged in the distance as the blue-skinned, humanoid creatures fought a race of hulking monstrosities that seemed to be composed of stone and amethyst fire. The battlefield was littered with jittering blue corpses as the things of stone and fire cut a swath through the opposing humanoid force. Halen’s alien raged and ordered his forces to draw back. All obeyed him but one. That one, frenzied by battle, insane with the desire to kill the invaders, waded into a group of the terrible stone monstrosities, a curious weapon that was half gun and half sword attached to his shoulder and dealing death to all that stood in his path.

  Halen felt a panic and a pain that was not his own as the stone monstrosities surrounded that lone blue alien and cut him down.

  “He belonged to me,” the alien said softly. “He died because he did not obey. You must always obey.”

  The pleasure came to Halen again from the alien’s fingers as they slid between the crack of his ass, but it was too much pleasure and, therefore, crossed the border into sensual agony. He didn’t know what to think, couldn’t think as the sensations washed over him, threatened to drive him mad with pure sensory overload. And then the alien’s blue lips were on his and the kiss was savage, dragging the breath from him. The elongated canines drew blood, but that slight pain was nothing compared to the fire in his cock, driven by the thick blue finger in his ass, teasing, torturing.

  “You will not eat,” the alien said, pulling its mouth away from Halen’s and raining hot kisses down his neck and shoulders. “You will not sleep,” the alien said, dragging its elongated canines down the flesh of his back hard enough to cause Halen to cry out. “These things are not disobedience?”

  “I-I wasn’t aware I w-was being ordered,” Halen managed to say.

  “Perhaps,” the alien said, and there was a measure of dark amusement behind the seriousness in its tone. “But ‘stand up,’ is rather unmistakable as a command, don’t you think? Stand up is what I said to you a moment before entering this chamber. I said it twice, human, and I am not used to having to repeat myself.”

  “I did not hear,” Halen said, his pleasure soaked mind latching onto the memory of the static garble that had issued from the collar before the creature had appeared and this terrible pleasure-torture had begun. “The collar must be broken.”

  “It must be,” the creature chuckled.

  Halen could feel the hard velvet invasion of one of the thing’s cocks at his asshole. The other cock languished ready and at attention between his legs, teasing his balls. A sudden hot spray of liquid slid down the crack of his ass. He didn’t have time to wonder what it was before the monster that had kidnapped him was inside of him. The wave of all consuming pleasure was more than he could stand, though he tried to ride it as long as he could, felt the full weight of the alien on top of him, felt the bite of its teeth in his shoulder as it drove him into the bed. The cock teasing his balls, battling his dick, while the other was pumping madly into his ass made him scream, scream for mercy, scream for more. It was too much for him. With a delicious cry of ‘fuck me,’ on his lips, his world exploded in shuddering waves of silken blackness.

  * * * *

  “You will become accustomed to me, human,” Xaiser I, war-prince of the Sylvian Cluster said, removing the malfunctioning collar from the throat of his new lover. Usually, the alien sexual conquests of those born to the three worlds that he defended died at climax. The lie of the human’s disobedience had been inspired in the moment that Xaiser realized that he could not simply observe the beautiful creature any longer…that he had to have him whether the experience killed the little man or not. Since the human lived, they could be lovers without him ever having to know how close he’d come to death.

  With a thought, he corrected the malfunction he’d caused in the collar. With another, he severed the thing’s individual link with the human and opened communications with the ship and its crew.

  “My Lord?” a voice cackled from the collar.

  “How many of these human things did we take?”

  “Three hundred or so, my lord. King Coor refused to allow us to take more. Just in case…just in case we killed them all.”

  Xaiser reached into the thick golden waves of Halen’s hair and pulled. Some part of him wanted to make sure that the human was still breathing. When Halen stirred, he spoke again into the collar.

  “Turn the ship around. There were thousands on the The Three Planets who were left mate-less by the war.”

  Xaiser thought that if the rest of the humans were all as good as this one that would more than compensate for the lovers his race had lost in battle.

  * * * *

  The voices were in low monotone, and before he stirred completely to wakefulness, they seemed to be in that harsh, guttural language that spewed from the collar of his captors. As he slid out of the sanctuary of sleep, the closer he came to daring to open his eyes, the more sense the voices began to make.

  “We can not train these things in warfare, my Lord. They are weak…easily broken.”

  “But train him you will, Ogema-Aziel.”

  “There are stronger races, more fitting--!”

  “I have chosen.”

  Halen awoke to the scent of food and his stomach jumped eagerly in anticipation. He found that he was no longer bound just as the recollection of what had happened to him flooded over him in a white-hot wave. His entire body shuddered in one long inferno spasm of sensual reaction. He felt the blistering heat of the blush that came to his skin as gentle fingers left a questing trail upon his back starting at the place between his shoulder blades and then trailing down—bumping along the ridges of his spine—leaving fire in their wake.

  He stopped breathing, all his focus concentrated on the hot flesh on his. His hands curled into fists above his head, his toes curled. He bit his tongue to keep from crying out as the delectation rode him. His back arched into the touch of its own accord, seeking more of it. Simultaneously, and just as urgently, he felt the need to get away. The sensations that crawled over his skin in little ripples were like tiny living things set lose
from those fingers. It was like they didn’t know what they wanted to do, please him or hurt him. They carried on with a consummate mindless abandon in both directions. He felt the hard gentle flick of a fingernail as it raked a teasing furrow over the skin at the small of his back; he almost came in the wake of it. The gasp was torn out of him. His world went dizzying spiral gray. The hand drew mercifully—and yet, very unmercifully—away from him.

  “You are awake,” the now all too familiar voice of the blue thing that had enslaved him said. “You should eat.”

  It was undeniably a command, barely masked in kind enough phrasing.

  Halen did not know how to react to the absence of touch for a moment—a moment that he spent desperately trying to remember how to breathe. The distinct heat from the body next to him drew his attention. Hesitantly, he turned his head that way and met the inky black gaze of the blue-skinned monster. The alien was stretched out on the bed alongside him, close but not touching, a bare inch between their bodies in the space they shared.

  The alien smiled at him, perfectly sculpted lips drawing back from white elongated canines. “I am Xaiser, Crown Prince of the Sylvian Cluster,” It…he…said. “How are you called, human?”

  It was a reasonable question, but Halen found that he couldn’t answer. He was drowning in liquid black eyes. So beautiful, he thought. He saw a multitude of shimmering stars and planets in them for the instant that it took Xaiser to blink them away.

  One arched raven eyebrow rose over the other in expectation of an answer. Somewhere in those fathomless black eyes, Halen recognized the slow dawning of annoyance. It occurred to him in that instant that this was a spoiled creature and one very used to getting his way.

  Obstinance rose up in him from nowhere, just as the picture changed in Xaiser’s eyes again. He saw himself reflected back. His hair a tousled platinum halo on his head, his own eyes wide and mesmerized and oh so embarrassingly appreciative of that which he was looking at. A little groan of humiliation escaped him and he scrambled away from the awed submission in his own reflection and almost fell out of the bed. His desperate scramble setting the thing to slow-rocking in the open air.