The Alien's Captive

by Ava Sinclair

  “Mature female specimen,” the man said as a colleague walked over.

  “She’s not a maiden,” he noted.

  “Hardly matters,” the other said. “They all need to be prepared either way.”

  “There’s no time.” The figure hanging in midair disappeared. “This one is to be part of today’s viewing.”

  “Today’s?” the second man said as the first turned away, and Phaedra could only listen as they spoke about her as if she weren’t even in the room. “She’s not even been fully processed.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” The first man had walked over to the wall to replace the wand among a display of other odd-looking medical instruments. “She’s to be put in with the last shipment.” He glanced over. “I processed the others and don’t expect this one to be picked, anyway. I fully expect she’ll be culled and sent to Savusia for the breeding program there. She’d be a good choice. She’s full of eggs.”

  Phaedra felt a chill run through her. When she spoke again, her voice was shaking with fear and anger.

  “Tell me what’s going on!” she cried. “Tell me who you are and what you’re talking about! What’s happening?”

  She was struggling, her upper body flailing as she tried to move the dead weight of her legs. The next thing she knew, she was flanked by both doctors. One held her by the hair while the other puffed more of the inhalant under her nose. Her entire body up to her neck went completely dead. She was laid down and found herself staring up at the two strange faces looming over her. Tears leaking from the corners of her eyes trailed down into the hair at her temples. She’d never felt more helpless or terrified.

  “Should we leave you like this?”

  Phaedra’s heart pounded in her chest. “No,” she said, surprised that she could speak.

  “Then you must obey.” It was a simple statement, matter-of-factly delivered. “Will you?”

  Phaedra knew the only way she’d be allowed to move was to comply. She had to get out of… wherever this was. And that wasn’t going to happen if she was paralyzed.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Breathe.” The inhalant was puffed under her nose again. She inhaled deeply and then felt a strong, almost painful tingling sweep down her body as the feeling returned. The two men took her by an arm on either side and raised her to sitting. It was then she realized she wasn’t wearing the clothes she’d put on after her shower, but some sort of shift made from a fabric she couldn’t even describe. When she moved, her nakedness showed through. When she stilled it was covered. She lifted her hand to touch it and gasped. It felt unlike anything she’d ever touched, like a combination of velvet and mist.

  Phaedra expected to find her legs shaky once they were back under her, but they weren’t. She felt surprisingly stable as she walked, flanked by the two doctors, to the door. It opened upward and the next thing Phaedra knew, she and her companions were descending in what looked like a glass tube.

  A hoax? A movie set? Now that she was on her feet, Phaedra struggled to make sense of it all. Someone had forced their way into her apartment, rendered her unconscious. Of that much she was certain. Then she’d been taken to… what was this place? It looked like a medical facility. Or a lab. A lab! That was it. This had something to do with Pinnacle. She’d been right! There was a connection between the missing women and the lab! And she had been abducted because she was close to the truth.

  Phaedra was trying to decide if she was terrified or elated when the descent stopped and part of the glass panel rotated, opening the tube. Her mind raced as she was led out. Okay, so that was it. But why the elaborate staging? The actors? The special effects? No way was this real. Whatever was happening, whatever they were trying to do was going to make one hell of a story.

  It was just a short walk down a hallway before Phaedra found herself entering a huge room that looked almost like a cathedral. At the front of the room was a sort of dais where four men were sitting. Three were older and wore ornate judicial-looking robes of purple or red. The other was dressed in a black kilt made from what looked like long leather strips, and wore what looked like a breastplate of some sort adhered to his massive chest. His huge arms were bare save for three metal bands that wrapped around one huge bicep. He had a close-cropped beard, and stared as she was led in. At the same time, a side door near the dais opened and a row of other women entered. They, too, were dressed in clothing fashioned from the same odd material, but where her shift was short, theirs were long and elegant. Where her hair hung loose, theirs was coiffed into elaborate styles, their faces painted in a manner to exaggerate their eyes and lips. Phaedra could not help but stare. She’d never seen such beautiful women.

  “As requested,” the doctor said as he pushed Phaedra so she was in line with the other women. “We had no time to prepare her.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” The man in the purple robe stood. “This won’t take long.”

  “Enough of this!” Phaedra’s patience had run out. But no one responded to her. They were staring at an empty space to the left, and she startled as there was a flash, followed by the appearance of a hologram. Phaedra instantly recognized the face that now loomed beside her. It was Alexander Greer.

  “The shipment arrived, I see,” he said. The hologram’s eyes scanned the women before falling on Phaedra. “Along with a spare.”

  “All right.” Phaedra broke from the line and spun around. “You’ve made your point, okay? I’m sufficiently freaked out and impressed by your little Hollywood soundstage bullshit. But enough. What the fuck is going on?”

  The two doctors rushed forward, but stopped as soon as the man in the purple robe raised his hand.

  “My apologies,” he said, looking to his left and right. “But this is how they are when they come in raw and untrained.”

  “Oh, fuck you,” Phaedra said. “And drop the act.” She turned to the hologram. “And you. Start talking. The way I see it, kidnapping is still against the law, even if it is for a bad hoax.”

  “It’s against the law on Earth, Miss Ellis.” Alexander Greer was looking down, amusement apparent on his face. “Then again, on Earth, humans have rights. But I’m afraid anyone who might defend you now would find your predicament—shall we say—outside their jurisdiction?”

  He sighed elaborately before continuing. “You’re a clever woman. And a nosy one. But your meddling ways were becoming a threat to the advancement of the human race, not to mention the very lucrative arrangement we’ve made with the leaders of Trao X39. That’s where you are, by the way. And don’t ask me to explain. I’m sure one of your new owners can show it to you on a star map, should you be a good pet and ask nicely.”

  Phaedra found herself getting angrier by the moment. She crossed her arms. “Do you think I’m stupid?” she asked.

  “Absolutely not,” Greer said. “In fact, I just observed otherwise. But in your new home, it’s not your intellect or journalistic acumen that’s prized, but your soft skin, wet mouth, and wetter pussy. You’ve been sold, you nosy little bitch—just another exchange in our ongoing trade with the Traoians. Exotic human females to warm their beds in exchange for the kind of advanced alien technology that will accelerate evolution on a home planet you’ll never see again.”

  Phaedra turned away from the hologram and stomped over to the dais. On her way, she stopped and stared at the women, realizing with a sudden unease that one of the blondes looked familiar.

  “Sophia?” she said. “Sophia Emerson?”

  The woman looked blankly back at her. “That is no longer my name,” she said. “I have no name until my master gives me one.”

  “You’re in on this?” she asked incredulously and then shook her head in disgust.

  She whirled around, facing the men. “I demand you let me go.”

  The men laughed. “That’s quite impossible, little one. Outside this chamber you’ll die.”

  Phaedra looked up at the window, which stretched far overhead. It was dark, and she wondered wit
h concern how long she’d been out if it was night.

  “I’ll take my chances,” she said. “Show me the fucking exit. Now.” When the men only looked at her in amusement, she repeated the command, her fists balled at her side. “I said now!”

  “We’ve humored this one enough,” the man in purple said, and ushered the doctors over. But they stopped when the large bearded man raised his hand.

  “Wait.” His voice was deep, and the way he stared at Phaedra sent chills coursing through her body. “The little Earth creature seems to think she has this all figured out. So let her go, senator.”

  “Let her go?” One of the men in red. “Are you mad, General Bron? Let her go? And risk her value? Even if she’s not pet quality, the potential embryos she’d produce…”

  “I’ll take full responsibility.” The tall man stood, and Phaedra was struck by his size. Where did the people who orchestrated this façade find such tall people?

  “The door is there.” The man identified as General Bron pointed toward a panel just a shade paler than the surrounding wall. Phaedra wasn’t sure what she’d find, but didn’t care. She was done with this game.

  When she reached the wall, the door slid up and she walked through. There was a hiss as it shut behind her. But she barely heard it. She was almost in shock as she stared out. A vast plain stretched before her, and a warm wind lifted her hair. This was not a stage. She was outside. She turned and her eyes widened. The three moons on the horizon were nearly full, casting an eerie orange glow across the craggy mountains beyond. She drew in a breath to scream and instantly collapsed, her hand clawing at her throat as it began to close up. She struggled to rise, struggled to breathe, her hands scrabbling at the loose rocks around her.

  She was dying. She could feel it. This was not like the loss of consciousness from the sedative. This was lack of oxygen, pure and simple. Her eyes began to water and burn, her nose to run. Her skin was tingling with pain.

  She wanted to scream for help but couldn’t.

  She rolled onto her back, arching at the waist, reaching up for… for what? For help?

  Just let go, she told herself, but something deeper struggled within Phaedra’s spirit, continued to cling to life in this place where her kind was not supposed to exist. And then she felt them—strong arms that lifted her as a child.

  Darkness was settling on her when she felt herself being lowered, felt a pinch on her arm. The breath she took was so deep she arched into it, her eyes flying open and meeting those of her rescuer. The man called General Bron was staring at her, studying her as she took another breath, and another.

  “Does she need another dose?” a voice asked.

  “No, her color’s coming back.”

  “Good.” The senator’s voice this time. “Get her back up and in line. It’s time for you and the others to make your choice.”

  “I’ve already made my choice. I choose this one.”

  “But general!” The senator’s tone was incredulous. “Are you sure? The other pets are of higher quality and more befitting a man of your station.”

  Phaedra felt her heart begin to pound as the large man kneeling over her tightened his grip on her arm. “This is the one. Once trained, she will be as fine as the others.”

  “Very well,” the senator said. “I’ll see that Otto gets her…”

  “No.” The large man’s eyes bored into her. “I’ll train her myself.”

  Chapter Three

  She was seated on the cushioned platform in the corner of the holding chamber he had prepared for her. Her back was against the wall, her legs drawn up. She was watching him over her kneecaps, and when he met her eyes he saw fear. But he noticed something else, too. Even with all she’d been through, this human still had the nerve to glare—glare!—at him.

  Defiance. Bron had seen that same look in the eyes of young soldiers. Military service for males on Trao X39 was mandatory, and Bron found the reluctant new troops to be the most difficult. His job was to take strong, strapping young males, break them down, and rebuild them as obedient soldiers.

  As an accomplished disciplinarian, General Bron enjoyed a challenge. He knew the appeal of such a battle was lost on a soft man like Senator Flavius Rue; that’s why he’d sent his pet to Otto for training. But Bron decided if he had to take a pet for political reasons, he’d train her himself, his way.

  Yes, some of the other prospects had been comelier. But he’d looked past the painted faces to see the fire in this little Earthling’s eyes, and when she’d turned to run he’d viewed the curve of her firm, plump buttocks and could imagine spanking those fleshy mounds until defiance gave way to tearful, quivering compliance.

  “This can’t be real.” Her voice broke the stillness of the room. “It just can’t be.”

  “But it is, and you are now mine.”

  She ignored this. “If this is an alien planet, then why do you speak my language?”

  “I don’t,” he said. “But before you awoke, you were implanted with a special device—through here.” He pointed to his temple. “That automatically interprets the language of any planet in any known system into your own. Even your eyes are tricked into seeing the speaker’s mouth form your words.” He watched as Phaedra’s hand moved to her temple. “Don’t try to dig it out,” he said. “It’s as small as a grain of sand.” He paused, allowing the words to register before continuing. “I am General Augustus Bron of the Traoian Iron Guard,” he said. “And you are now my pet, acquired to serve my needs.”

  “I won’t,” she said, and he almost smiled. The little thing was actually serious.

  “Oh, but you will,” he replied. “You’ll serve them willingly and without question.”

  He walked over to where she stood. “This is predicated, of course, on whether you can pass the final physical exam.”

  “Fine,” she said. “I’ll play along with your little sci-fi scenario. More special effects? I suppose you’ll knock me out again and when I come to I’ll be microchipped like a dog and look outside a window to see three fake suns to go with your three fake moons. And just what kind of gas will you be filling the outside chamber with then? Will I be breathing laughing gas this time?”

  He could tell by her tone that she was willfully sinking back into denial in spite of the mounting evidence against her self-delusion. But he was patient. In time, this spiky little female would be forced to face what was happening to her, and her helplessness in the face of it.

  “This is an entirely different exam,” Bron replied. “Before I can claim you, I must be sure that your woman’s sheath will stretch enough to hold my lance. You’ll be stripped, little one. Stripped and cleansed and assessed as any other pleasure pet.”

  As if on cue, the door to the containment chamber opened and a man in a long white robe appeared.

  “We’re ready for her,” he said.

  “Come along.” Bron held out his hand.

  While he didn’t expect her to take it eagerly, the last thing he expected was to be bitten. But that’s just what she did, sinking her hard white teeth into the heel of his palm and hanging on even as she shoved her foot out and caught him in the groin.

  His roar of pain filled the room. Bron pushed a forefinger into the corner of her mouth, pushing behind Phaedra’s teeth until she had no choice but to release. Then he sat down and pulled her across his lap, glancing at his palm as he did so. He was surprised she’d not broken the skin; it certainly felt like she had. But he decided by the time he was finished, his hand would sting more from striking her helpless flesh than from the bite.

  She was already screaming and kicking, her gyrations forcing the fabric of her shift to mold and accentuate the bottom he’d glimpsed earlier. Bron jerked the hem upward and took a moment to stare down at the perfectly sculpted nates. The human’s bottom cheeks jiggled and bounced as she struggled, and Bron found her struggles so delicious that he decided to change tacks. Lifting her, he sank his teeth into one soft globe of flesh. The little huma
n wailed, clawing frantically at the air as she kicked.

  He did not bite hard enough to break the skin—just hard enough to hurt, to leave his mark, to make her afraid. And he knew she was afraid because he could smell it, that sweet soft scent of vulnerability undetectable to Earthlings, but so obvious and intoxicating to his species. Bron felt his mighty cock harden as she began to beg him to release her. He smelled salt now, too. Tears. Good. Now that his defiant little bundle was helpless and scared, he’d introduce her to real correction.

  He reluctantly released his bite and dropped her to his lap before raising his hand and lowering it in a stinging slap right over the imprint his teeth had left on her creamy skin. A red handprint bloomed over the bite mark, and his captive shrieked at the sensation and tried to pull forward off his lap. But the small woman’s strength was no match for a Traoian general who dwarfed her. Bron gauged the effectiveness of his punishment not by her cries, but by the shade of her bottom cheeks, which flattened and rebounded with increasing levels of cherry redness. Not one inch of the surface was spared. He spanked from the top of the cleft down the center of her bottom before tilting her slightly left and right to redden the sides of her cheeks. But he reserved the fiercest blows for the soft, velvety skin just above her thighs. Bron tilted his little human forward for this, opening up the crease even as her position forced the parting of her thighs.

  As he reddened her lower bottom, the force of his blows caused his hand to impact the soft pouch of her pussy. He could feel the downy fleece, slightly damp, and could smell the unmistakable scent of arousal that was remarkably similar to the females of his own species. Only his pet’s was somehow sweeter, like the smell of her fear.