Alien Caged

by Tracy St. John

  Oret bit the back of her neck, taking care to not damage the skin. He rumbled a growl that shivered down her spine all the way to her tailbone. The sensation made Elisa more aware than ever of his rigid flesh buried in hers, giving a deep, dark pleasure that she couldn’t quite name.

  As their mouths feasted on her, Zemos’ fingertips trailed down her abdomen, combing through the swirls of hair on her mound. He found her clitoris, swollen and greedy to be touched. When he seized it between his fingers, Elisa jolted upward, making Oret slip a little way out of her ass. The Nobek’s hands on her hips forced her back down once more.

  They held her still as Zemos continued the sweet assault on her breasts and clit. The Dramok captain licked and sucked, turning her nipples red as he stroked up and down her pleasure button, inflaming it as well. Oret’s thighs beneath her pussy went slick as honey gushed from her core. Her stomach twisted and turned. The ferocity of arousal stunned Elisa; indeed, it scared her.

  “Please. Please,” she whimpered, shaking as the men urged her body to greater need.

  “Such a sweet girl to ask so nicely,” Zemos said as he took his mouth off her breast. “All right, my Nobek. I believe we’ve all had enough torment this time.”

  “It is difficult to hold back when I’ve waited for this moment for so long,” Oret muttered against her neck.

  “Indeed. We will ease the worst of our anticipation at last. Perhaps later we can enjoy her properly without need riding us so hard.”

  The Dramok let go of Elisa, catching hold of his larger dick. He also handled Oret’s secondary cock, urging it to one side, out of the way so he could position his at the entrance of Elisa’s pussy.

  “It’s going to be a bit awkward, but I think we can make this happen. Wrap your legs around me, Elisa. Straighten up a bit, Oret. If you’ll come to the very edge of the desk ... that’s good. That will work.”

  Elisa found herself sandwiched between the two men, Zemos’ cock spreading her pussy open to allow him entrance. She sobbed an eager welcome as he pressed inside her, filling her to an exquisite fullness. Her body experienced an eager shock as he found the sensitive part of her interior. It felt as profound as standing within the hollow of a church bell as its clapper struck. The reverberations galvanized her whole body. She tensed all over, and the two men inside her groaned.

  “If I was any younger, I would have lost it already,” Oret panted.

  “The feeling of her convulsing is enough to undo any man,” Zemos agreed in a strained voice. “Easy, little one. By the ancestors, she’s so soft!”

  “Soft and sweet. Sweet little girl,” Oret breathed.

  He slid outward, emptying her with delicious care. Elisa shivered at how easily he moved within her, making it seem she’d been made to absorb him in just this way. Oret thrust back in, slipping like a sword into its scabbard.

  As the Nobek sheathed himself once more, Zemos’ hips arched back. His cock slid out, well lubricated by their combined juices. The extreme fullness also delivered mind-stealing friction to that wide-awake part of Elisa’s sex. Her head fell back on Oret’s shoulder as she cried out, thick pleasure roiling through her core.

  Her pussy and ass spasmed around the moving flesh of the men, clutching and squeezing without her conscious control. Their groans joined her breathless cries as they filled her over and over. That they were fighting for control over their need to climax was apparent to even a neophyte like Elisa; they’d establish a rhythm for a few luscious strokes, one heading in as the other emptied her. Then one would jerk and freeze, interrupting the movements. If it was Oret, his entire body would tense, and his hands on Elisa’s hips tightened almost painfully. If it was Zemos who had to stop, Elisa would see the veins strain against the skin of the Dramok’s throat and his teeth clench as if battling to keep some inner demon encased within.

  For her part, it was these frequent pauses that kept Elisa from tipping over into carnal oblivion. They’d bring her close, close enough that she felt the hottest point of elation, the sensation of hanging in space before tumult could open the heavens wide. Then one of the men would stop, causing the other to pause, and the looming orgasm would ease down instead of cresting as they recovered.

  She clawed at Zemos’ shoulders, leaving red stripes on his mocha-colored skin. If Elisa had possessed the presence of mind to think, she’d have been grateful that her fingernails were so short that she couldn’t make the man bleed. However, the fact that she was trying to rip the flesh from him in her anguished need made no impact on her at all. All she knew was the rioting of her guts and the inability to relieve the harsh pressure.

  At last the Dramok conceded. “I can’t hold off any more, my Nobek. I will attend our lovely here, and then we will enjoy our own.”

  “Thank you, my Dramok.” Oret’s voice was that of a man who’d just finished running a marathon.

  “All right, my lovely,” Zemos said to Elisa. “Keep leaning back against Oret, and I’ll give you your reward. Good girl.”

  He reached down to where he joined with her. The Kalquorian grasped her clit and rolled it between finger and thumb.

  Elisa’s entire body jerked into paroxysm, straining as his touch shot her straight up to the pinnacle of fever. Heat bloomed as if sparks had come from his fingertips. It billowed into outright flame and exploded. Her body streamed fire. Elisa burned and burned, flaring brightness greater than any sun.

  As the pulses slowly dimmed, she became aware of Zemos and Oret moaning in bestial bursts, their cocks pulsing within her. The pair rocked back and forth and from side to side, barely maintaining their balance as they gave themselves over to pleasure.

  It was Miragin, watching and waiting all this time, who managed to separate the depleted trio. He took Elisa from the two men, laying her down on the desk and using cleansing wipes from the office’s attached bathroom facility to wash her. As Zemos and Oret put themselves back together, the Imdiko dressed Elisa and then sat in one of the office’s chairs, cuddling her on his lap. She snuggled against him, drifting in a fog of satisfaction and exhaustion.

  She didn’t try to think. Thinking would lead to second-guessing. It would engender worry and guilt. Elisa simply wanted to exist in the ebbing tide of fantasy realized while she could, held safe and secure in Miragin’s arms.

  It was like being a child again, except this time she was a beloved child, sheltered by adults who would keep her protected from the dangers of life. She drifted in the joy of that unrealized contentment, wallowing in the freedom of no responsibility.

  She thought she must have dozed off, because Zemos’ voice close by started her awake. “I know what I want in lieu of survivor’s pay.”

  Elisa blinked. Miragin still held her on his lap, and the Imdiko smiled down at her as she returned to the real world. Zemos knelt at his feet, his gaze riveted on Elisa’s face. He also smiled, but his eyes were serious and she detected an air of determination from him as well. He stroked her hair back from her face, as caring and concerned as she had only dared to dream of.

  Oret stood to one side of him, his expression calculating. “The non-forced clanning policy be damned, my Dramok?”

  Zemos’ brows drew together for a moment. “Perhaps force won’t be an issue. Not if we can convince her we would take very good care of her for all of her days.”

  Miragin’s voice was gentle. “What do you think, Elisa? Can we entice you to come to Kalquor to live as our Matara?”

  Her heart stuttered and then beat very quickly. “Your Matara? You mean to be your clanmate for life?”

  The Imdiko nodded. “I would enjoy having some company at home while these two defend the Empire for another fifty years.”

  Zemos added, “You would come to visit us with Miragin when our duty permits it.”

  Elisa’s first instinct was to scream yes at the top of her lungs. It was all she had wanted for the past weeks, everything she had dreamed of. Yet she saw again Oret coming into the cargo bay, his hands stained with b
lood. Earther blood. The thought that he and Zemos had killed members of her own kind choked off her instant glad acceptance.

  There was something else as well, something that bothered Elisa even more. It left a mar on her happily-ever-after fantasy and closed off her voice.

  None of the men seemed troubled when she didn’t answer. Zemos only nodded, as if he’d expected the hesitation. “Think on it. You don’t have to make such a momentous decision right away. At least not until reinforcements arrive to rescue us from the clutches of your companions.”

  Had they proclaimed their love, Elisa would have accepted the offer to clan without another second’s hesitation. Despite the fact Oret and Zemos had killed fellow Earthers, she would have agreed to be theirs forever. Yet they had only said they wanted her, and that was not the same as loving her. Would it be enough, especially since she could not offer them children? Was she enough on her own to be a lifetime companion?

  Elisa said, “You really want me, for the rest of our lives?”

  Miragin’s smile split his face. “We’ve gotten to know you a little over the months of our captivity. Sharing our bodies has only reinforced our regard for you.”

  Regard. Not love. Not what Elisa felt for the three men. Could she join their clan, turning her back on other Earthers for less than what she’d hoped for? If she didn’t and the clan escaped, leaving her behind, where would she go after having experienced all these overwhelming discoveries of the last hour?

  No matter what happened, Elisa’s time on this ship was irrevocably done. She would die, escape with Clan Zemos, or flee the ship to make her own way out there in the galaxy. After having shared everything of herself with the men, there was no going back to marking time here. It had been only sex on the surface, but a new and, in some respects, even more terrifying future had opened up before her.

  Chapter 12

  “...and now we are doing a level-by-level search of the ship to track them down.”

  Joseph took a breath, having spent the last few minutes reporting the Kalquorians’ escape to the Holy Leader. He sat in his office, speaking via vid communications to the as-always serene countenance of the Voice of God.

  The captain had put off contacting Browning Copeland for as long as he felt he could get away with it. In truth, Joseph had hoped to re-capture Zemos and his men or find a way to escape the ship himself before having to make this call.

  After several hours, the Kalquorians remained at large. As for making a run for it, Joseph found he couldn’t abandon the more helpless members of his crew to the questionable mercies of Chase and Robards. In particular, he couldn’t leave without knowing if Elisa Mackenzie still lived.

  During the captain’s recitation of what had happened, Copeland maintained his usual unaffected attitude. If he felt any concern for the outcome of Joseph’s emergency, it didn’t show on his ethereal countenance.

  In quiet, melodious tones, he said, “I am sure you are doing all in your power to regain control of the situation. Re-capture as many of the alien vermin as possible, but kill them if you must. My connections can always find us more to capture and sell.”

  Joseph debated his next words. In the end, he decided he had to hear Copeland’s verdict on the entirety of the problem, if only to confirm things in his own mind. “They have a hostage, Holy Leader. They have taken a female crewmember prisoner.”

  At long last, the Holy Leader showed evidence of something beyond otherworldly indifference. For a bare instant, he looked scandalized. “You have a female on your ship?”

  “A dietician assigned by the military. She has conducted herself with impeccable piousness throughout her service to Earth. I count her as one of my best crewmembers.”

  Copeland had already resumed his familiar quietude, tinged with impersonal regret. “That is too bad. She was taken by the demons against her will?”

  Joseph used his most adamant tone. “Absolutely, Holy Leader. I know her well, and I can assure you, she would never aid the enemy by choice.”

  Copeland tsk-tsked. “Poor girl. No doubt those despicable creatures have spoiled her virtue. It probably happened the first moment they got the opportunity.”

  Joseph thought of Zemos and his clan. He couldn’t imagine those men forcing themselves on a screaming woman. Even Nobek Oret, as primal as he appeared at first glance, was not one to suffer harm to the innocent and helpless. The three Kalquorians had been noticeably upset over Remington’s treatment of Elisa when they filed their complaint against the ensign.

  Zemos would never countenance any of his men raping Elisa. It was unthinkable. Her virtue was no doubt intact.

  Knowing how suspect his defense of Kalquorians would sound, Walker chose his words carefully. “I have reason to hope the escaped prisoners would not cause Mackenzie any harm. Despite his heritage, Captain Zemos is not an animal. He is a very intelligent, compassionate man, judging from the conversations I’ve had with him. I can’t imagine—”

  Copeland cut him off with a dismissive wave of his hand. “No, you can’t imagine it because you are not the vile animal those Kalquorians are. I assure you, that race is no more than filth that wallows in their sin with such delight. Between us, Captain Walker, I feel defiled every time I deal with that Basma, and he at least has some virtue to him. At least as much as a damned soul can claim, anyway.” The Holy Leader leaned back in his chair and regarded Joseph as a caring father might a prodigal son. “I know you feel sorry for the woman, but do not let your kindness blind you to what has most assuredly happened. She is polluted. Perhaps even beguiled by her captors as those descendents of Eve often are.”

  Joseph knew where the conversation was headed, and he tried to deflect it from reaching its destination. “Holy Leader, Elisa is a good person, through and through.”

  Copeland nodded. “I believe you. Your impassioned defense of her has convinced me of that. It is imperative that you save her from those monsters. Her body has been defiled, but her soul perhaps remains pure. You must see to it that it remains so, so that it may reach the Kingdom of Heaven. Let her die with those villains you kill and send her to rapture even as they descend into Hell.”

  The pronouncement was made, and Joseph knew it was final. Yet, he could not help but try one last protest. “Holy Leader, it’s not her fault.”

  Copeland nodded, his smile unfaltering. “I know. That’s why you must release her from the tyranny of lust; theirs and hers. She will have been awakened to mortal sin. You must kill her to save her.”

  It was that moment that finally shut the doors on Joseph Walker’s faith for good. He had wrestled with it since childhood. He had done his best to be the man the Church demanded of him. He had prayed with tears streaming from his eyes and agony in his heart, knowing deep down he only pretended to be what he was not in hopes of salvation.

  And for what? So he could be told to kill an innocent woman for the wrongs of others? It was one thing to demand obedience from himself for thoughts and desires he had not chosen to have. He could not condemn another for things equally out of her control. No.

  No.

  Apparently mistaking Joseph’s silence for struggle rather than sudden decisive conviction, Copeland said, “God calls only the strongest to fight for him. I know he has placed a great deal of faith in you, and rightly so. Be blessed, Captain. Report to me as soon as you have dealt with your situation.”

  Feeling numb, Joseph replied automatically, “Yes, Holy Leader. God be with you.”

  “And with you.”

  The vid-transmitted image winked out. For a long time, Joseph sat in his office chair, seeing nothing.

  The time had come to declare himself separate from the Church, from Earth’s dead government, from the rules he had tried so hard to live by for thirty years. He would not declare such to his crew; oh no. Chase and Robards would see him dead within the hour if Joseph dared such a thing. Yet he could declare it to himself. He could acknowledge it in his heart at least. He could admit that he’d never be
en what he’d been taught he was supposed to be.

  Copeland had ordered Joseph to kill Elisa. However, no one else knew about that. That information belonged to only Joseph, the Holy Leader, and presumably God.

  The captain allowed himself to contemplate long and hard about whether or not Browning Copeland was the true Voice of God. He had definite doubts – oh, more than a few. In fact, he was pretty damned sure the man was a fake. Yet there were key members of Joseph’s crew who would walk off a cliff into a ravine of flaming spikes if the Holy Leader told them to. Those same men would kill Elisa without a qualm if they knew Copeland had ordered it. They’d probably do it with smiles on their faces.

  I have to get her off this ship somehow. I have to get her away from the Kalquorians and save us both.

  The war was over. It hurt Joseph to know he’d be leaving behind other innocents, men no more guilty of sin than Elisa Mackenzie. Some of those men, if they found no way to escape on their own, would become casualties in Browning Copeland’s long-lost war. It hurt, but he knew it couldn’t be helped.

  Joseph wasn’t sure he could even save himself at this point. Saving Elisa Mackenzie put survival in the realm of near-impossibility. Yet if he could rescue one other person besides himself, maybe he would someday be able to look himself in the eye.

  There was always the chance that Browning Copeland was the Voice of God. It could be that Joseph damned himself by turning his back on the Holy Leader. Yet the callous demand that Elisa Mackenzie die, as so many other innocents had under the Church’s control, at last separated Joseph from all he’d been taught.

  Joseph thought he could live with being damned. He’d felt it was his fate for most of his life anyway.

  * * * *

  The hour arrived that Oret believed to be the best time to strike. Zemos looked over the remnants of his crew: they were a scattering of Imdikos and several Dramoks among the largest number of survivors, the ever-hardy Nobeks. Almost all of them showed injuries that had been sustained when their ship had been overcome, plus more that had been dealt during their captivity. It was a battered but unbowed group.