Alien Comfort Women: The Complete Bundle

by S. L. Hadley

  Fortunately, it was extraordinarily warm for the middle of an April night. Chloe didn't even need to grab a jacket before heading out. She simply locked the door to her snug studio apartment, gave a small yawn, and set off toward the 24-hour coffee shop a few blocks away.

  Chloe walked almost mindlessly, both because of her exhaustion and because she was so familiar with the road she could've made the trip in her sleep. Perhaps that was why she didn't notice the changes until it was too late. An almost imperceptible hum filled the air, buzzing with energy and making her hair stand on end. Then, a handful of dim streetlights began flickering and going dark. But it wasn't until the illumination that Chloe noticed any of it.

  A beam of light, as broad and brilliant as a spotlight, suddenly burst to life around her. Chloe flinched and lifted a hand to shield her eyes. She squinted, searching for the source of the blinding light. An unexpected wave of weariness hit her like a truck. Chloe's vision began to swim and she opened her mouth to yawn--or perhaps scream.

  In either case, she was unconscious before her body even hit the pavement.

  ***

  When Chloe awoke, her head ached and pounded with an intensity she hadn't felt since pledge week. She gave a weak moan of pain, but the sound came out muffled. She winced, then opened her eyes as the memories came rushing back.

  It was dark--perfectly, utterly, impossibly dark. Chloe panicked, briefly, until she felt the gentle pressure of something pressing against her face. Not blind, then, just blindfolded.

  It was around this time that she realized she was naked.

  Then the real panic began.

  Continued in Abduction: Human Resources!

  Everything has a price.

  This bundle contains the entire Co-Ed Plaything trilogy, over 20,000 words of steamy, submissive excitement!

  College is expensive and naive freshman Jessica Brown only has one thing left to sell: Herself.

  She's not a fan of frat parties, but when a friend makes an offer that's too good to refuse, well.... It's only three hours, after all. Three hours surrounded by eager, well-equipped studs. Three hours spent catering to every whim and perverse desire.

  What could possibly happen?

  Click here to check out

  Bought and Sold: The Coed Plaything Series

  Jessica Brown had expected loads of new experiences at college, but this had not been one of them. She paced the three steps it took to cross her cramped, studio apartment, pausing each time she turned in order to adjust the bottom of her extremely small, black party dress. It only extended to about mid-thigh, so unless she wanted to spend the whole night flashing her panties, she needed to learn to master walking modestly.

  In heels, no less.

  Someone knocked on the door and Jessica flung it open before they could even rap their knuckles a second time. Katie, a friend from high school that Jessica had not seen in months, stood in the doorway with one hand lifted. She wore a look of surprise, along with a simple tank top and jeans.

  "Well, look at you!" Katie gushed as she scurried inside the apartment and shut the door quickly behind her. The second they were alone, she donned a conspiratorial smile and gave Jessica's rear a playful smack. "You are going to drive the boys wild!"

  Jessica sighed and straightened her dress. She was doing this for a lot of reasons--mostly involving money. Arousing a bunch of frat guys was not one of them.

  "Hey, cheer up!" Katie ordered. "I come bearing gifts!" She fished through her purse and retrieved a slender envelope.

  Jessica snatched it out of her hand and immediately withdrew the cash inside. She thumbed through it, then frowned and eyed her friend.

  "Where's the rest of it?" she asked.

  Katie gave an apologetic shrug. "That's the first half. I'm not allowed to give you the rest until after... you know."

  Sighing again, Jessica hastily stowed the envelope beneath her mattress. She'd expected as much, but experiencing the cautious down payment only served to confirm her worst fears. Whatever happened this evening, it was highly unlikely she'd enjoy it.

  "Hey," Katie said. The energy and enthusiasm had left her voice and Jessica could actually detect a hint of concern in what remained. "Jess, you okay?"

  Nodding, Jessica turned and flashed an inauthentic smile. "I'm fine," she lied. "Just a bit nervous."

  Katie chuckled and took her hand. "Trust me, you'll have the time of your life. Ready?"

  Swallowing hard, Jessica nodded.

  ***

  The frat house was already packed by the time the two of them arrived. Jessica shivered involuntarily as she felt dozens of eyes ogling her as they approached from the street. It was almost a relief when Katie grabbed her arm and led her around the side of the house, away from the crowd of drunken men and beer can littered front lawn.

  There was a sandy-haired man waiting for them around back. He leaned heavily against the side of the porch but straightened when they came into view. His eyes roamed across Jessica's body as well, but since he was the only one, she found herself blushing instead of shuddering.

  "Is this her?" he asked, glancing at Katie. When the girl nodded, he returned his stare to Jessica. "Did she explain how this works?"

  Jessica opened her mouth to reply, but found that her voice had failed her. She nodded, fighting down a wave of panic.

  "Three hours," the man explained, as though she hadn't just nodded. "One at the gloryhole, one in the stocks. Then, you spend an hour with whoever buys you at the auction. It's your job to keep track of time on the last one. Any questions?"

  She shook her head.

  "Good." The man fished around in his pocket for a second then tossed something at her. Jessica caught it instinctively then glanced down and felt her eyes go wide.

  It was a collar. For a second, she actually thought that's where it had come from, until she noticed the name tag and what was engraved on it.

  Slut.

  "Put that on," the man instructed. "If you take it off before the night's done, you won't get paid."

  Jessica frowned. "No one said anything about--" she protested weakly.

  "It's for your protection," the man said, sounding impatient. "Think of it like a safeword. If you need to stop, take the collar off. We'll let you go, no questions asked."

  Reluctantly, Jessica slipped the collar around her neck. It felt like real leather and, to her surprise, was actually rather comfortable against her skin. After a few seconds of fiddling with the buckle, she turned and adjusted her hair to let Katie finish adjusting it.

  "Let's go," the man said, unlocking the door. He held it open--an ironically chivalrous touch--as Jessica cautiously ascended the three wobbly, wooden stairs that led to the porch.

  To her surprise, Katie came with her. At first, she thought it was nothing more than a moment of moral support, but Jessica turned to look at her in confusion as the girl entered the frat house right behind her.

  "You're coming too?" she asked.

  "That's what she said," the man mumbled as he brushed past them, jerking his head to indicate they should follow. Katie rolled her eyes as she gripped Jessica's arm and shepherded her along.

  "Of course!" she said. The pounding electronic music was so loud that she had to half-shout directly into Jessica's ear to make herself heard. "You think I'm going to pass up that kind of money?"

  Relief so palpable it made her legs go weak flooded through Jessica in a heartbeat. She wouldn't be alone, after all! As embarrassing as the prospect of prostituting herself was, she'd much rather have Katie beside her the whole time.

  The first thing to strike her as the man led them into the room was the odor of weed. The whole place reeked of it and left Jessica almost lightheaded. Her second realization is that they were alone. Despite the chatter of voices and the pounding, screeching music, the cramped, windowless room was abandoned. Which meant this was either the frat's designated hotbox... or the nauseating scent had something to do with the third thing she noticed.r />
  Three holes, each approximately the size of Jessica's fist, had been cut through one of the wooden walls. They were interspersed several feet apart, but it still took her several seconds to realize their purpose. When she did, a furious blush and a trembling fit of nervousness came over her.

  "There's a couple bottles of water in the corner," the man said, gesturing. For some reason, Jessica had no difficulty hearing him over the music. "Want anything stronger?"

  Jessica shook her head, but Katie spoke up at nearly the same instant. "Bottle of Jack, if you've got one, Mike."

  The man--Mike, apparently--nodded. "I'm sure we do. I'll go let the guys know you're ready and grab whatever we've got."

  "You're a peach!" Katie called as Mike departed, closing the door behind him. She flashed Jessica a wide grin. "And you're a cherry."

  Turning nearly as red as one, Jessica scowled at her. "I am not!"

  Katie shrugged, still grinning. "Might as well be."

  "Why don't you have a collar?" Jessica asked, desperate to distract herself from what was about to come.

  "I do." Katie gestured toward her purse. "Don't need it, though. I'll grab it for the auction, though."

  "So how does the--" Jessica started to ask. She fell silent, eyes going wide as one of the gloryholes was suddenly put to use.

  Katie whirled, letting out a giggle. "Mine!" she exclaimed, literally skipping toward it. She sank to her knees, giving Jessica a significant look as she did so.

  Kicking off her heels, Jessica slowly made her way toward the adjacent station. To her immense relief, it remained unoccupied, allowing her a chance to observe her friend. The sight that greeted her left her speechless.

  One of Katie's hands was wrapped tightly around the base of the nameless man's shaft. Her eyes were closed and her jaw wide as she bobbed her head enthusiastically. Though the music drowned out most of the wet, sloppy sounds, Jessica could have sworn that she heard her moan around the cock between her lips.

  A second later, a flicker of movement in the corner of Jessica's eye made her turn. It was a good thing she did, because it was only sheer reflex that kept her from being jabbed in the eye by a thick, rigid cock. She gasped, recoiling before she could help herself.

  For a few seconds, Jessica couldn't think, much less move. Then, slowly, she began to recover her wits and hesitantly reached up with shaking hands. She cautiously curled her fingers around the base of the shaft, mimicking what she'd seen Katie do. The flesh was stiff and smooth beneath her fingers and she gave it a curious tug. The cock grew firm in her grasp, angling slightly upward. Despite herself, Jessica gave an embarrassed smile.

  She'd given head exactly once in her life and the experience was not one she'd been keen on repeating. The backseat of her prom date's rented Cadillac was cramped and left her neck and shoulders aching afterward. Plus, hours of dancing had left him sweaty and smelly. That, paired with the forceful hand he'd placed on the back of her head, meant she'd gagged and sputtered for the better part of two minutes before he'd squirted his bitter seed down her throat.

  This was completely different. Here, Jessica was the one in control. She could tease and explore, taking as long as she liked, with no one to rush or neglect her. The realization left her suddenly energized, as though she'd downed a half-dozen shots of espresso.

  Taking a deep breath, Jessica took the cock between her lips and sank forward in a single, smooth motion. The differences were immediately obvious. This man was clean and left nothing but the warm, tasteless flavor of skin on her tongue. He was larger too, by far, and Jessica was astonished to discover she could take barely half his shaft into her mouth before she felt a faint, ticklish irritation in her throat.

  That was okay, though. She had time to practice.

  Continued in Bought and Sold: The Coed Plaything Series

  For an alien, sometimes No really does mean Yes….

  Lieutenant John Archer has a bright future ahead of him. He's young, handsome, and looking forward to a promising career as a surgeon. But when fate strands him on an alien planet, it all takes a backseat to survival.

  At least, until he meets Friday.

  She's a winged alien, from a society of bronze-age savages, and doesn't speak his language. But that doesn't mean she has nothing to offer.

  Because Friday is far more than just John's alien lover. She's the key to his future.

  Click here to check out The Reluctant Lover!

  John Archer sat alone in the mess hall of the FSC Odysseus, pretending to study his data slate. Every so often, he stole an envious glance past its semi-transparent screen at the uniformed marines bantering two tables away. A part of him wanted to rise and join them, but some things just weren't done.

  If such a thing had been possible, he'd have traded anything to be one of them. Well, not anything--that'd already been made clear--but enough that the longing made his chest ache.

  It was a foolish thought, and he cursed himself inwardly for it. Another six months and he'd graduate. To be a field surgeon meant prestige, respect, and purpose; any one of the marines would surely trade places in a heartbeat. The only thing missing from his picture-perfect life was camaraderie. Oh, he'd make a difference, serve his planet, and be saluted by three-quarters of the service. But he'd never be one of them. Not really.

  Of course, that was why he was here in the first place. Only Gen-Mod lifers and specialists such as him could afford off-world leave such as this. Though, truthfully, if it weren't for his fiancé, Lexie, he wouldn't have bothered.

  As if on cue, an alert light on his data slate began to blink. John stared at the flashing amber glow for a few seconds before idly thumbing it away. Guilt welled up almost at once. The last two weeks had been like something out of a dream. Spending carefree hours in Lexie's arms, he'd even found his melancholy nearly vanished. But the thought of talking to her now, midway through the return journey, would be like trying to doze with the morning sun beaming on his face.

  "Eyy, Doc. Doc!"

  John looked up at the sound of the voice. The marines were leaning in close to one another, one half-turned in his seat to face him. As their eyes met, the man glanced around the mess then stood and wandered over. He did an admirable job of looking nonchalant as he slouched into the seat opposite.

  Eyes flickering to the name sewn on the breast of the man's uniform, John set down his data slate and flashed a weak smile.

  "What can I do for you, Evans?"

  Leaning forward slightly, the marine spoke in a hushed voice. "You got officer's access, Doc?"

  Despite his best efforts to the contrary, John tensed. If Evans was coming to him, it meant he wanted something the Corps didn't approve of. That alone was reason for caution. And by choosing to omit John's nominal rank, Evans was making it clear this was far from an official conversation.

  Keeping his face expressionless, John leaned forward to mirror the marine. He nodded slowly.

  "Any word about the Oldies? We're flyin' awful close and our CO swears there'll be shootin' any time now."

  Giving a crooked smile, John straightened. "I'm not much for shooting, Evans. What would I know that your CO doesn't?"

  Evans shook his head emphatically, eyes never leaving John's. "Plenty. They blocked our access two days ago. No explanation. No messages in or out. Captain won't say a word about it. Heard anything?"

  Frowning, John slowly shook his head. Truth be told, he'd scarcely done much of anything the last two days. If his access had been restricted, he likely wouldn't have even noticed. Only the earlier notification from Lexie confirmed it had not been. "I'm afraid not."

  "Could you check now?" Evans asked, growing more insistent. "It'd be a big help, Doc."

  A thought occurred to him and John's frown deepened. Had Evans only approached him after spotting the request from Lexie? Almost unintentionally, he tightened his grip on the data slate.

  "I don't think I have access to anything of that sort," John said, diplomatically. It wasn't
true and they both knew it. There were any number of things he could find--flight and maneuver records, medicine shipping manifests, even outright news alerts--any of which could be evidence of an approaching conflict. Or start a rumor that spread like a wildfire. But John was making it clear that he wasn't sharing and giving the marine room to save face.

  Unfortunately, Evans didn't take it. His expression hardened into a scowl and he leaned forward until he loomed almost threateningly. "Why don't you double-check?" he growled.

  John stood. Despite the anxious churning in his stomach, it gave him satisfaction to see the surprise on Evan's face. He stood nearly a half-head taller than the marine and, despite the rather academic reputation of doctors, John had just enough strength in his arms to make him the exception. Sometimes, being young had its advantages.

  Struggling to keep his voice even, John picked up his data slate and tucked it into the pocket of his pants. "I suggest you ask your CO instead, Private," he said. He added just enough arrogance to the words to make it clear that the conversation was over.

  For a split-second, John thought the marine was going to hit him. Or at least continue to argue. They did have a certain reputation, after all. But after a moment of scowling, Evans sighed.

  "Sorry, Sir. I suppose I got carried away. We've got a bit more skin in the game, after all."

  The words struck, as intended, like a punch to the gut. John watched, silent, as Evans walked away and returned to his fellow marines. They leaned in close again, more than one shooting dirty looks in John's direction.

  Glancing down at his tray of untouched food, John regarded it for a moment then turned and left the mess. He kept himself together just long enough to return to his cramped quarters. The second the door closed, however, he let out a deep, shuddering breath and sank to the ground, trembling and heart pounding. His empty stomach tightened, threatening to be sick.