Broken by the Alien: A Dark Sci-Fi Romance

by Loki Renard

  “You’re a…”

  I don’t get to finish my sentence. His mouth comes down over mine, cutting the words off as he kisses me with a demanding passion that makes my mind go blank. Until this moment, he has been a careful caretaker. Now he is something more. A ravaging force flooding my body with heat, a hot tongue lashing inside my mouth, demanding submission and evoking a passion that makes me roil with conflict. I can’t help but want him. He’s everything my most primitive senses desire. He’s hijacked my body’s desire to mate with a strong, capable man. I can feel my hand reaching up to slide over his hard biceps, to his shoulder. I caress his muscle as it ripples under my hand and then—I find the strength to resist my own desire and I slap him. Hard. My fingers meet a cheek like stone and I yowl into his mouth.

  He breaks the kiss, seeming amused as I shake and suck on my fingers.

  “Soon you will realize that you cannot hurt me,” he says, resting his head on his hand, looking down at me as I clutch my fingers in my other hand and hate him with all my fury.

  “Show me,” he says. “You may have hurt yourself.”

  “I’m not showing you…”

  “Now.”

  His loud growl is so sudden that my muscles contract, my eyes widen, and I shrink away from him, frightened by his forcefulness.

  He reaches out and takes my wrist gently, his fingers moving softly over mine as his gaze runs over my face, looking for any sign of pain. They do ache, but I can’t express that. I’m frozen, like a rabbit finding herself faced with a wolf. I know what he is. I’ve known from the beginning, but in that growl he showed me a hint of his true self, and it is terrifying.

  “They’re swelling. You need coolant. Come.”

  He keeps hold of my wrist and I scramble across the bed to keep up with him as he leads me, naked through to the living region of his quarters. I discover that he has a great deal of space to himself, several times the size of the house I grew up in. Tripping after him on bare feet, I stare out into open space. There is a window running the length of the room that lies beyond his bedroom and bathroom, and it looks out into what I guess must be the Milky Way. It is a vast expanse of stars, so much larger and deeper than I could have imagined.

  Seeing the stars from space is incredible. For the first time since being taken from Earth, I have the sense of floating very far away, of being somewhere utterly other. When I used to stand outside and look up at the stars, I would feel a faint sense of connection. Here, now, being among them, my body is filled with a lightness that…

  “Careful,” he warns as I trip. I would have fallen, but for his strong hand bearing me up. I’ve totally forgotten about my fingers. I can’t stop staring at it.

  He stops, sighs, and leads me toward the window.

  “Wait here,” he says, parking me in front of all creation.

  I wouldn’t move even if an escape opened up right in front of me. Every breath I take, the view seems to swell, and the sense of being part of everything grows. He comes back and takes my hand and starts wrapping some cool gel-type thing around my fingers. I don’t look. I don’t care.

  I feel him move behind me, his large hands settling on my shoulders. He doesn’t say a word, but I feel him holding me. For the first time, I feel understood. He’s not talking over the view. He’s not trying to take my attention away. He’s letting me bask in it. He’s giving me… everything.

  As I stand and breathe and look, a strange sense begins to fill me. Something I haven’t felt in a very long time. Is this… peace? The fact that he’s taken me doesn’t seem to matter as much now. Nothing matters. How could I matter when there’s all this? When I’m a speck? I barely exist in comparison to all… this. Flooded with perspective, I feel my knees buckling…

  “Easy,” he murmurs, sweeping me up off my feet. “You need to rest. You’re still weak.”

  “No! Don’t take it away!”

  I reach for the stars as he carries me back, a low whine escaping my lips. I don’t care if I fall over. I just want to see the stars and feel their peace and know that everything is okay. Back inside his bedroom, the world becomes small again. Him and me. My weakness. His strength. It’s not fair. Before the stars we are equally nothing.

  “They will be there when you are stronger,” he says, sliding me into bed. I try to sit up, but he pushes me back down, his large hand practically covering my chest. The grand perspective is gone. I am small again, and he is once more the biggest thing in my world.

  “But…”

  I can’t get up. He holds me in place all too easily.

  “I haven’t dealt with you yet,” he says in a soft growl, his eyes consuming me. “You hit me, little human.”

  “So? It didn’t hurt you.”

  “You wanted it to.”

  He slides his hand from my chest and moves over me, one hand on either side of my body. I’m aware of his nakedness again—and mine.

  “You wanted to hurt me, little human, and you only succeeded in hurting yourself,” he says smoothly. “Apologize. Now.”

  “Apologize? To you?”

  “I’ll have to punish you if you don’t,” he says, lifting his fingers. He trails them down between my breasts, the touch not quite sexual, but very suggestive. My nipples harden. He’s toying with me, but I’m not going to say sorry, because I’m not sorry.

  “I wish I’d hit you harder,” I say, defiant.

  “I’m glad you didn’t. You probably would have broken your fingers,” he says, calm. “Punishment it shall be.”

  His hand covers my breast, his fingers finding my nipple. He pinches the bud just hard enough make me gasp as a bolt of sensation shoots through me, a bolt of electricity zipping directly to my clit. I hiss, but he ignores the sound and repeats the treatment on the other nipple, teasing my body with little peaks of pain. When I try to squirm away, he keeps me in place easily, toying with me casually, his fingers running down the plane of my stomach to the place where curls protect.

  This doesn’t feel like punishment, but I’m sure he has some sick, deviant alien way of making this hurt.

  He cups my sex, his fingers curling over my pussy. His touch is possessive and hot and I can feel my body responding again. I am a little meat machine, throwing out responses to his inputs, but this isn’t what I want.

  “You truly hate me, don’t you,” he says, smoothing his fingers back and forth over my pussy. “After all the kindness I’ve shown you.”

  “It takes more than a few days of food to make up for what your people have done to mine,” I say. “I’m not the forgiving type. And I’m not going to let you have me, not if I have any choice.”

  His fingers part my lower lips. I am wet and they slide easily beneath his hard digits.

  “This is how it has always been for human women.”

  “It really hasn’t. You think we’re used to being fucked by aliens?”

  “I mean your history has involved thousands of women over thousands of years being taken by stronger, more powerful men, usually from other tribes, cities, or countries. Capitulation is in your code.”

  “No,” I grit out. “It’s not. And even if it was, that applies to men, not… whatever the fuck you are.”

  He smirks and shakes his head. “The human species is a blend of earlier hominids. You, with your short memory, think that a human is a static animal, but in truth you are a hybrid creature. This, what will take place between you and me, is one more step in nature’s grand plan of evolution.”

  “Not all those women were taken,” I argue as he presses the heel of his large hand against my clit. “Some died rather than be taken.”

  “And those women did not procreate and their genetic material was not passed on. You are a species wrought from the fires of conquest. It is in every one of your cells. You believe you are fighting me, but truly, you are fighting yourself—and that is a battle I know you will lose.”

  I hate how he knows these things. I hate how his words make sense and yet twist i
n my gut. He is right, I am fighting myself. I am fighting every impulse I have toward him. But he is wrong in thinking that I will lose, because something greater drives me. I remember those I have lost. I mourn them with every breath. And that makes the fight easier.

  He is massaging my pussy now, so sure of himself as he stimulates my sex. There’s probably a manual somewhere, something he’s written up, instructions to seduce a human female.

  “What did you do with the men?” I growl the question as I push the pleasure away.

  “The men?”

  “The males of our species. They were all removed. Where did they go? Did you kill them all? Or did you just work them to death.”

  “They were not wasted.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “A human male can produce a billion sperm cells in every ejaculation. There are vast tracts of the universe where nothing exists. We are putting the human male ability to good use.”

  “You mean they’re off fucking alien women.”

  “They are enriching the genetics of other compatible species, as we are enriching yours.”

  He begins to slide a finger between my lower lips, finding the soft inner flesh that is already slick with unwanted desire. My mind is spinning. If what he is saying is true, then the men got the better end of the deal.

  “So this is one intergalactic universal fuck fest?”

  “It has been from the beginning,” he says with a rakish smile. “That is the purpose of life, to recreate itself.”

  He pushes his finger inside me, spreading me where I have not been spread in a very long time. I had a lover once. He was gone before the Rathkari came, for reasons that strike me as bitterly ironic now that I am being held and probed by this great alien beast of a man.

  “You are tight,” he observes. “I will have to work on you here.”

  His finger slides slowly into me and then back out again, drawing my inner moisture out, then sliding back in. I know he is intending to punish me still, but he seems to be in no hurry to do so. Instead he works on me gently, patiently, until my tense inner walls start to grip rather than resist his finger.

  “I must wrest everything from you,” he says. “You give nothing easily.”

  “I’ll never give you anything,” I say, my voice huskier than I like.

  “I think you will,” he smirks, drawing his wet finger from my pussy and circling it lightly around my clit. “I think you’ll beg for me.”

  I won’t. No matter what he does, I’ll never beg him for anything.

  His finger finds my clit and begins a slow circle, which torments me all the more. My pussy is quivering internally, my inner walls clenching, my clit tingling with desire, sending sparks rushing through my body with every swirl. I grit my teeth so as not to moan as he works on my body, his mouth covering my nipple, his tongue rasping against the sensitive bud before his teeth find it too, nibbling gently as he stirs my clit.

  Orgasm is building inside me. I haven’t come in… a very long time. Years. I’ve never been one of those women who can come easily on her own, and being enslaved to work the fields hasn’t left a lot of time for erotic self-exploration. He seems to understand my body better than I do, and he’s using that information against me.

  I want him to fuck me. I want him to fuck me so hard and so deep I forget everything. I want him to erase every bit of the last five years and give me a full dose of the pleasure he’s teasing me with. He could do it. I know he could—but I can’t let him know I want it. If I do, everything I’ve said and done, my resistance, it’s all been for nothing, because he’s right, dammit. He’s so right. He can use me as he pleases and I’ll spread myself for him. My pussy is aching for his thick alien cock, and there’s not a thing I can do to stop it.

  I let out a growl of frustration as I feel him winning, and I bring the last weapon I have to bear into action. Rearing up, I find his neck with my teeth and bite down as hard as I can, sinking into the muscle between shoulder and neck.

  He does not make a sound, but his fingers pinch my nipple hard enough to make me yowl. My teeth spare his skin, but he does not offer me the same mercy. His fingertips stay clamped around my nipple, keeping me in place.

  “You are not learning your lesson,” he observes calmly while I writhe. When he releases my nipple I fall back, clutching at my breast. The sensitive bud is throbbing in unison with my clit. He controls me so easily. Two fingers are all it takes, whether they’re inside my pussy or over my nipple or clitoris.

  I shoot him a rebellious look, which does literally nothing to him. He shakes his head briefly and stands up, leaving me lying on the bed. I grasp for the cover, but he pulls it off completely, leaving me without any defense as he opens a cabinet and takes out something long and coiled. It looks like thick black ribbon or something. He doesn’t say a word to me as he crawls over the bed, his shoulders powerful and rippling, his naked body a hot menace as I scramble backwards helplessly. He catches me by the leg and draws me toward him, my ass and back sliding over the smooth sheet as he takes me beneath him. His cock is rock hard, a thick rod bobbing against his belly. For a second, I think he is going to drive it inside me, fuck me against my will. But he takes the ribbon in his hand and shakes it out. He straddles me, his powerful thighs over my hips, his cock rubbing against my stomach as he holds me down, one strong hand over my neck. The other works to feed the ribbon, which is more like a rubber plastic fabric, around the back of my nape. And he begins to bind me.

  His bindings are thick and warm and they wrap securely around my body, crossing over the front of my neck then around and under my breasts, over my arms, pinning them to the sides, then wrapping back around to find my thighs, which are pried apart first by his hands, then held open by his careful application of the strong straps.

  He works with a particular concentration, ensuring that every strap lays flat against my skin. As he keeps wrapping me round and round he rolls me back and forth beneath him, always keeping me in the protective, captive space between his thighs. It is as if I am a toy for him to play with—one he is taking very good care of for the moment.

  When he is done, I am effectively harnessed, my arms behind my back, my breasts held up for display. The straps serve to pull my rear cheeks open and to keep my legs spread so that I am accessible for him.

  He looks at me with those mesmerizing alien eyes, and he is pleased.

  “Beautiful,” he murmurs, more to himself than to me.

  “Sick,” I growl, more because I think I should say something than because I am angry. For reasons I can’t understand, with every application of his bindings I have felt a little more safe—a little more held. Now that I can barely move, the choice to fight has been taken away. The strapping over my stomach and across my back makes me feel as though strong arms have me in their grasp. I am vulnerable, but I am also protected.

  “Stay,” he commands, getting up to leave. His cock is still hard, teasing me with its thick girth. I can’t help but imagine how it would be to have his powerful body pounding inside mine, but that isn’t his plan for me.

  I can hear him out there, preparing something for me. In his absence, I try to wriggle out of the bindings, but they hold me securely and there’s really no way out. My legs are lewdly spread in a way that embarrasses me even while I’m alone. I can feel a little trickle of moisture working between my lower lips. They’re swelling with exposure, with the thoughts running between my ears. He has barely said a word to me, but I have mental images of so many depraved, dark things. They don’t frighten me, though they probably should. They excite me. It was worth it, to slap him, to bite him. I would do it again, to assert my small amount of power—and to feel all of his.

  He returns and stands in the doorway for a moment, just looking at me. I feel his eyes sweeping over my spread body as I lie on my back, my legs spread, knowing he can see all of me. He emits a deep growl of desire and though I am his captive and I am bound, I feel the sovereignty of femininity cour
sing through me. He has come across lightyears to have me, to tie me, to make me his. He was drawn here across the stars because of something innate within me. In that moment, I am the very center of his world. I should be afraid, but I feel a perverted pride.

  “Now you will learn.”

  He has a small tube of some liquid, which he applies first to his fingers as he crawls up on the bed between my bound and spread thighs. I am open to him, unable to do anything at all as his fingers lubricate my pussy and then move to my bottom, applying thick gel to the little bud. I gasp as he presses his finger inside me there, taking that hole as if it is the same as any other part of me. There is no ceremony at all to the way he uses my body.

  I begin to squirm as my anus protests his firm handling, doing all I can, which amounts to rocking back and forth, essentially waving my rear like a white flag. My surrender is not accepted.

  “Settle,” he purrs gently as his finger probes me. “I am doing you a favor.”

  I let out a bitter laugh. His favors are always twisted in the end. This is no different. My pussy is aching with desire left by the few all too casual thrusts he pushed inside me before turning his attention to my ass, which is so much tighter and seems to excite him far more.

  “Look at me, Era.”

  He so rarely uses my name that I find myself looking at him almost out of surprise. His eyes are locked on my face. He wants my reaction. He wants to see my struggle, my shame as he pushes his thick finger deeper inside the tight ring of muscle, spreading that viscous grease inside.

  “You’re ready,” he says suddenly. Ready for what?

  He picks me up from the bed and propels me out of the room. I can’t really walk in the bindings, it’s awkward. He makes me walk anyway, though it’s more of a waddle out of the bedroom and into the great room where he keeps the universe. My legs are held out at an angle at which it is just possible to stand and that is it.

  Karlo has made preparations. I see them instantly, standing before the great bath of the stars that usually command all my attention. Not right now, not as he leads me toward what I can only describe as a contraption.