Human Surrender: Five Dark Sci-Fi Alien Romance Novellas

by Renee Rose

  “So pretty and pink and smooth.” He prods at my entrance, sliding his fingers around in my essence.

  Whimpers leave me as he goes deeper, until the intrusion begins to burn. I know why it hurts so much.

  He’s pressing against my hymen.

  “And so wet and so fucking tight.”

  “Please. You’re hurting me.” Isn’t that the point though? He wants to hurt me.

  “You’ve never had a cock here before, have you, little human?” He adds another finger, and I groan at the fullness stretching me.

  Despite the pain, I’m warm and achy between my legs, my wetness growing by the second. Little pulses of heat besiege me, and my face burns with shame that I’m responding to his touch. Again, I should be repulsed. I’m scared as hell, but somehow he still doesn’t repulse me, and my fear does nothing to hamper my burgeoning need.

  “Answer my question, Laylah. Have you ever had a cock in you before?”

  “No. I-I’m a virgin.”

  The air hisses between his teeth as he inhales fast. He continues his exploration of my sex, pushing in and out and spreading my increasing moisture over the bare folds of my pussy.

  “Is all this wetness for me, little human?”

  I don’t know if he expects an answer, but I’m so afraid he’ll hit me again, I say, “I can’t help it.”

  He chuckles and his hand leaves my center. To my utter mortification, I throb longingly under the absence of his touch. I might be a virgin, but I’ve brought myself to pleasure before, and I know without a doubt my clit is largely swollen. It pulses in tune with the rapid beating of my heart and I yearn to close my legs in order to relieve the building ache.

  Behind me, I hear footsteps and fabric brushing against skin. He’s removing his clothes.

  It’s probably better he takes me this way. From behind. I can hide my face in the covers and pretend he’s a human man and I’m back on Earth finally losing my virginity. Maybe I met a man during my first semester at Harvard and we fell in love. Or lust. It doesn’t matter, as long as I’m willing.

  The heat of his cock stuns me when it drags against my inner thigh. A little moan drifts from me as he trails his length over my wet folds, teasing me. But when he starts pushing inside my tight passage, I can’t cope with the thickness of his cock. I grab at the covers and frantically try to evade him.

  “Please, no.” I crawl up on the bed and face him, hugging my knees to my chest as I lean on the pillows. Shaking my head, I give him my most pleading look. Then my gaze travels lower and I gasp at the immense size of his manhood. He’s fucking huge. “Please don’t do this.”

  An ice cold look enters his eyes. “Get back in place, little human, or I will take the belt to your pussy before I fuck it.” He speaks so quietly he might have been telling me it was going to rain today, but instead he’s issuing a threat that makes my stomach roil. “I must claim you now. It’s imperative,” he then says, in a strangely encouraging tone, as if it’s a matter of life or death and what he’s about to do is for my own good.

  “Why, Kenan?”

  He sighs. “Trust me, it’s for the best.” His eyes gleam with compassion, and it’s as if he’s another man entirely. He swallows hard a second later and rearranges his face into a cold, hard, indifferent expression. “If you don’t obey and get back into place, Laylah, I will whip your pussy.”

  The angry welts on my breasts throb harder, and I scramble back to the end of the bed. I believe him. I believe he’s that cruel and I don’t want to ever experience the lash of his belt again. But I don’t want him to fuck me, either. I start crying, for the millionth time in his presence. I’ve never cried so much in my life, but then I’ve never been kidnapped by a huge scary alien either.

  “Spread those legs, human. I intend to impale you and make you mine.”

  The moment I part my thighs, he grips my hips and drives his cock deep into my pussy. I scream until my voice goes hoarse and I can’t yell out anymore. He pounds into me with abandon. Each thrust is a blazing stab of agony. It hurts so bad, I think I want to die. If he does this to me every day, I don’t know how I’ll cope.

  “I own you and this hole of yours, Laylah. I’ll claim you whenever I want, and you’ll bend over and take it like a good little mate.”

  Mate? My mind reels at this word. Does this act solidify something more in our roles than abductor and captive?

  He keeps thrusting in and out, and at some point the blinding pain fades to a dull ache, and slowly, very slowly, the heat of my shameful arousal returns until it’s burning with a vengeance. I’d rather each thrust hurt like hell than experience any bit of pleasure from his touch.

  The bed bounces with his rough movements as he pounds into me. Deep growls and moans rumble from his throat, noises that don’t sound human at all, making it impossible to pretend I’m back on Earth, losing my virginity on a college campus. As he fucks me, I’m ever aware I’m on Tallia and a huge, barbaric alien named Kenan is claiming me despite my protests.

  Each time he enters me, his heavy balls impact upon my clit, causing everything below my waist to ache desperately and pulse harder with need. I’m close to coming but trying damn hard not to surrender to that first wave of pleasure.

  I’m vaguely aware of the twin moons of Tallia rising outside the window, glowing bright orange against the backdrop of a brilliant starry night. The sound of the forest reaches me and keeps me grounded in reality. Insects buzz, screech, and sing in a chorus that doesn’t sound as chaotic as it should. The breeze picks up and cools my skin. Breathless and sweating, I welcome the refreshing night air, for it briefly distracts me from the reality I’m hopeless to escape.

  The pace of his thrusts increase, and he releases one of my hips to grab my hair. He gives a harsh yank, and I gasp. My scalp still aches from when he grabbed me earlier. “I can feel your muscles clenching around my cock and your little clit swelling larger and larger every time my balls hit it.” There’s a smirk in his voice, as well as a note of warning. “Stop holding back and come, Laylah. You have thirty fucking seconds to come or I’ll pull out of your pussy and fuck your ass instead.”

  He hasn’t issued an idle threat yet, so I close my eyes and allow the pleasure to sweep me under. Sharp pulsing waves crash over me and I come longer and harder than I thought humanly possible. The whole while, he keeps fucking me, claiming my innocence because he’s big and strong and I can’t fight him off. I shudder as the last remnant of shameful ecstasy pulsates through me, making my toes curl and leaving me panting for air.

  “Good girl.” He releases my hair and strokes my head for a moment, even pausing within me as he does it. It’s fucking perverse, but a sense of pride reverberates in my chest because he’s pleased I came on command.

  But he resumes pounding into me seconds later, breaking the spell and leaving me wishing I could build an impenetrable wall around my heart.

  His cock stiffens and he groans louder than before. Then his hot seed spurts into me, filling me up. He hovers over me, breathing hard, until he finally withdraws from my pussy. I wince at the soreness.

  “Stay right here.”

  I couldn’t have moved if I wanted to. When I hear running water, I realize he must be in the bathroom. He returns with a warm, wet cloth and dabs it tenderly between my legs. I want him to hold me again, but only because I need someone to hold me and he’s the only person around.

  Tears prick at my eyes and I blink rapidly. He’s probably going to throw me into the cage and go to sleep now. My stomach suddenly rumbles and I wonder if I’ll have to beg for my food, beg for a blanket at night, and beg for every little comfort and kindness for the rest of my days.

  An even darker thought strikes me. Will there come a point when I must beg for my life?

  He leaves me and opens the top drawer of a nearby dresser. Pulling a thin black, oversized robe out, he tosses it next to my head. The warm cloth is still between my legs, and numbness begins to spread over my previously sore f
lesh. He must have applied an ointment or medicine of some kind to the cloth.

  My mind spins. How can he grab me, slap my face, whip my breasts, and force himself on me, only to tend to me so gently in the aftermath of his brutality? It then occurs to me my lungs don’t sting with each breath and my throat doesn’t burn from the smoke anymore. Other than fatigue, I felt remarkably well when I awoke in the cage. He must have also tended to me after taking me from the Stargazer, after I passed out the last time. I’m no expert, but, even so, the amount of smoke I inhaled should’ve killed me.

  He helps me sit on the bed, with the cloth still tucked between my legs, and then he wraps an arm around me. He urges my head against his chest, and I don’t resist the comfort he offers. He strokes my hair and says, “Now you belong to me, Laylah. By the laws of my people, you are forever mine.”

  I’m quiet. What can I say to his pronouncement? I certainly can’t argue. Not only am I too frightened to refute his claim, but I’m weak in the aftermath of losing my virginity in the most brutal way imaginable. I don’t understand why his strong arms and the heat of his body feel like a refuge. How is that possible after the harshness he’s visited upon me?

  “Laylah, I want you to use the bathroom, clean up, even take a shower if you wish, and then put the robe on. Come downstairs after you finish, and we’ll have dinner.”

  He kisses my forehead then releases me and strides through the door without another word, leaving me alone with only my tormented thoughts as company. In a trance, I rise from the bed. The light gray covers are stained red with my blood, and so is the cloth, but the pain is completely gone now. The medicine he put on the rag worked wonders.

  This is not how I’d envisioned losing my virginity. Not in a million years.

  On shaky legs, I walk to the window and gaze into the night. There’s nothing to glimpse but darkness, stars, and the two orange moons. I stand there for about five minutes, wondering how far the ground rests below. But I’m not like the kickass heroines in the movies and books from my childhood. I’m too chicken shit to attempt climbing down or jumping out the window, so I obey Kenan and take a shower.

  It takes some time to figure out the controls and how to get the temperature right, but I eventually get it working and help myself to the fragrant bottles of soap to wash every inch of my body, including my hair.

  After I snatch one of the plush towels from a hook and dry off, I wipe the condensation from the mirror and gaze at my reflection. My eyes are bloodshot and red-rimmed from all my crying, and a faint pink mark tinges the left side of my face. My breasts look like hell, but I don’t think they appear as damaged as earlier. The welts are fading with no signs of bruising.

  I sigh and towel dry my hair as best I can then venture back into the bedroom in search of the robe. It’s way too large and drags on the ground when I walk, but I’m grateful Kenan has permitted me the item of clothing.

  Grateful. I shake my head. Maybe the trip through the wormhole made me delusional or off-balance. I don’t understand my odd desire to please him, or my automatic gratitude for the smallest kindnesses he bestows on me. I try to summon blazing hatred for the monster who stole my innocence, but I’m not convinced my dislike for him burns hot enough. I tell myself I’m in shock and the hatred and repulsion will come later, after the initial disbelief over today’s events wears off.

  I smooth my damp hair behind my ears and head for the door. As I descend the steps on the tall, wide staircase, I pray he leaves me untouched for the remainder of the night. And I pray he’s lying about the wormhole. I don’t want to believe I’ll never see my homeworld and my family and friends again.

  His house is obscenely lavish, beset with sparkling chandeliers, awestriking paintings and artwork, and extravagant moldings and arched ceilings with skylights. I come from a lower middle-class family and I’m not used to luxuries of any kind. Dad’s a construction worker, and Mom’s a medical receptionist. Oftentimes, they survive paycheck to paycheck. The only reason I got into Harvard is because of the recommendation of my father’s step uncle, who’s a tenured professor at the prestigious school. Oh, and one hell of a student loan.

  I wonder what Kenan does for a living. His home screams wealth and sophistication. Given his barbaric treatment of me, I would expect him to live in a primitive cave in the side of a Tallian mountain.

  “In here, Laylah. In the dining room!”

  I smell something delicious that reminds me of lasagna and my stomach rumbles again.

  Taking a deep breath, I amble toward the open doorway, praying I’m not the main course.

  Chapter Three

  Two servants attend to us during the meal. Neither of them speak, and I can’t discern whether they are male or female. They aren’t human or from the same race as Kenan. Short, bald, and with milky white skin, they move in and out of the dining room bringing in new courses and taking away dirty dishes.

  I’m so starved I eat everything placed in front of me. None of it is recognizable, but it’s all quite delicious. I also indulge in two tall glasses of what tastes like wine. It makes my head buzz and leaves me relaxed. When I ask for a third glass, though, Kenan shakes his head, says something in his native tongue which I don’t understand, and the servant instead gives me water.

  “I’ll not have you becoming inebriated, Laylah,” he says in a scolding, almost fatherly tone. “This yinsiza wine is strong stuff, and you don’t look like you weigh more than a hundred pounds. I doubt you can hold three glasses without getting sick.”

  I stare across the table at him as I sip my water. I place the cup down and clear my throat. “I’m a hundred twenty-five pounds, actually,” I reply boldly, as if claiming those extra twenty-five pounds would make him fear me, or respect me more. I’m ever aware of his great, intimidating size. Had I seen a man of his stature on Earth, I would have forgotten my manners and stopped to gawk. “So you know how to speak English perfectly, and you also know human standards and measurements?”

  His visage darkens and he puts his utensils down. “My father raised me until I was twelve, rarely letting me see my mother. I endured a rigorous human education at the facility I was kept in until I was freed. I know more about Earth and the history of your planet than I care to.”

  “I’m not your father, you know. Or any of the others who held you in that facility. What you did to me upstairs…” My voice trails off as my throat closes up.

  “Your people came to Tallia not long after we settled here. Our numbers were smaller back then and we were weak, still recovering from a terrible war that left our home planet uninhabitable. Then your people started capturing and experimenting on mine. We’ve spent the last few decades gathering our strength and rebuilding our last remaining warships in order to fight back against the human invaders. The resort town of Capital Acres has been demolished. All the human males have been killed, and the females captured will be used as slaves or mates. You ought to be thankful you survived the attack on the Stargazer.” He leans forward and his eyes glitter with madness. “You ought to thank me for saving your life, Laylah, and carrying you off the ship when I could just as easily have snapped your neck, or left you to die on the floor in your quarters.”

  I push back from the table and start to leave the room, but I pause in the doorway and clutch the intricate molding. The last time I ran from Kenan, he punished me. I spin around and make my way back to the table, glaring at him with contempt as I return to my seat. “I don’t want to be here,” I say slowly, deliberately, “so perhaps you should have left me to die on the Stargazer. It’s preferable to this hell.”

  He leans back in his chair and finishes off his glass of wine, his glowing purple eyes never leaving mine. A servant drifts into the room to refill his cup then quickly departs.

  “Or,” I continue, “you can finish what you should’ve done in the first place. Go ahead. Snap my neck.” I’m being dramatic, perhaps even a bit childish, but I’m pissed off and want nothing more than to storm out o
f this room and slam a door somewhere. Then I remember all the doors in this house slide open and shut automatically and I clench my teeth until my jaw aches. I finger the stem of my glass of water, imaging the satisfaction I’d gain from hurling it into his smug face.

  “If you throw water in my face, little human, I will turn you over my knee and spank your naughty bottom.” He’s using the scolding, fatherly tone again, as if I’m some errant child in need of correction.

  I don’t like the way my behind tingles at his threat, or the heat that gathers and pulses between my thighs. With a frustrated sigh, I set the glass on the table and put my hands in my lap, away from temptation.

  He dabs his mouth with a cloth napkin and nods toward the hallway. “If you’re done with your little temper tantrum, Laylah, you may be excused. There’s an invisible force field around the outside of the house, though, so don’t get any ideas about running away. You may sit outside on the patio for a while if you wish. Or go back to your cage. Your choice.”

  As I move to depart the dining room, he adds, “Do not attempt to speak with any of the servants. If one of the servants initiates a conversation with you, or touches you, I’ll expect you to report the incident to me at once. The only time it’s acceptable for you to speak to them is if they knock before entering our bedroom and you need to tell them to enter, or to come back later. Do you understand, little human?”

  “Yes, I understand.” I leave him and find the patio easily enough. It’s so pitch dark I can’t see the forest, but I hear it fine. The insects have grown louder and the occasional distant growl or screech carries over the singing bugs. Despite the force field, the breeze enters to caress my face and tousle my hair. As I’m about to question the effectiveness of the barrier, one of the servants from the dining room walks through it and onto the patio. He, or she, is carrying a basket of fruit, and the force field shimmers green as he passes through.

  He places the basket down on a small table and approaches me. I stare at him as he stands directly in front of me.