Chapter Four

 

 

“Stand up, human.”

I huddle on the floor, reluctant to rise when I’m not wearing any clothes. I gaze at the cage longingly, wishing I was still locked inside. The door is slightly ajar. It hadn’t shut the whole way, and I contemplate making a dive for it.

Gooseflesh rises on my arms, and I sit awkwardly with my legs half crossed and my breasts pressed against my knees. I’m hugging myself and fighting back more tears.

This can’t be happening. This can’t fucking be real.

“If I must repeat the order, human, I will punish you before I claim you.” He speaks slowly, drawing out each word. “Do not test my patience.”

Punish. Claim. My stomach flips at those two words, which confirm my worst fears about my captor. Did he carry me off the Stargazer and rescue me from certain death, only to keep me as some kind of sex slave? Will he keep me locked in the cage when he’s not using my body?

Beneath his stern and forbidding exterior, there are flashes of sadness in his gaze that I don’t understand, as if he regrets what he’s about to do. Or as if he pities me. This unnerves me further. I don’t want his pity. I don’t want anything from him at all. I only want to go home. Please.

I glance at the cage and then back at the darkly handsome, purple-eyed monster.

After a deep breath, I make as if to stand, only to propel myself toward the cage.

It’s stupid. I know it’s stupid. If I wanted to escape him, I should have run for the door. But I manage to open the cage and slip inside.

A disappointed sigh escapes him, and seconds later he’s dragging me out by my ankle again, this time with a force that makes my joints scream.

“Please please please,” I repeat until he jerks me upward, forcing me to stand while he holds my shoulders in a bruising grip. “Please don’t fuck me,” I whisper as my heart pounds in my ears. His promise to claim me scares me more than his promise to punish me, but perhaps if I appeal to his human side—if there’s a glimmer of humanity somewhere inside him—he’ll let me go. Please let me go.

He releases one of my shoulders to play with my hair, rubbing my long, chestnut brown locks between his fingers. His expression is intense as he meets my eyes.

“You are mine to do with as I please, little human. And I must claim you now.”

I smack his hand from my hair and hurry for the door.

“No,” I whimper when it doesn’t slide open upon my approach, as it had opened when the alien entered. No amount of banging on the door helps either. I’m absolutely fucked.

A hand delves into my hair and I’m tugged backward. He turns me around with a hand fisted in my locks and gives me a disappointed look.

Then he smacks my cheek.

It’s not a hard slap by any means, but still I cry out. More from the shock than from the pain.

My cheek smarts and tears burn in my eyes. Though I should’ve expected such brutality from him—he did put me in a cage, after all—I’m still shocked. No one has ever struck me before.

“You will never run from me.” His quiet tone contrasts with the rage in his eyes, as if he’s holding himself back from hurting me worse. He yanks on my hair. “Do you understand?”

“O-okay. I-I’m so-sorry,” I reply, my voice shaking.

He leans down until his face is level with mine and settles a fierce glare on me. He looks positively deranged. My stomach clenches tighter the longer he stares. Gradually, his grip in my hair lessens as the fire in his eyes dims, until he finally lets me go.

I rub the back of my head and wince when he raises his hand. But he doesn’t slap me again. Instead, he gestures to the massive bed.

“Lie down atop the covers, on your back.”

Out of options, I move toward the bed, though it’s all I can do to force one foot in front of the other. When I finally reach the bed, it’s so high I must place my hands on the mattress and jump to make it up. I slide away from the edge and lie on my back, my insides twisting as my pulse beats faster.

I’ve never been so terrified.

He joins me on the bed, still fully clothed—for which I am thankful—and proceeds to gather my hands above my head. Reaching for his waist with his free hand, he unclasps his belt and pulls it off his pants.

Oh no.

I start to struggle, but his weight restricts my legs and he has no difficulty keeping my wrists bound together.

Folding the belt in half, he stares down at me. Beneath his sternness, another brief flash of compassion softens in his dark purple eyes, but the caring gleam fades as quickly as it appears, once again leaving me confounded.

“I warned you not to test my patience.” He wastes no time in delivering the first blow.

Whoosh. Crack.

I cry out as the thick leather strikes my right breast. Before I can catch my breath, he slaps my left breast and continues on in this fashion, alternating sides and hitting my tender flesh. Whoosh. Crack. Whoosh. Crack.

“When you disobey, little human, you get punished.”

I twist around, but there’s no escape. No reprieve from the constant sting of lashes. I sob and beg him to please stop, but I’m completely at his mercy and he seems to have no intention of ceasing anytime soon.

All this because I tried to escape him? I can’t fathom it.

His face remains impassive and his gaze riveted to my breasts, as if he’s concentrating on each searing blow. He doesn’t care that I’m in agony.

I can’t believe he’s whipping my breasts as punishment.

He’s a ruthless, sadistic barbarian. And he claims I now belong to him.

He pauses and glowers at me. Tension radiates from his massive form, as if he’s a second away from snapping and whipping me to death in a blind rage driven by his hatred of humans, never mind that human blood also runs through his veins.

If it’s true humans experimented on his people here on Tallia, and true his mother was mistreated by his father, I could empathize with his disdain for humans. But I’m an eighteen-year-old girl from Florida who’s supposed attend college in the fall. I’m harmless to him and his entire race. I have no part in the tragedies that have befallen his kind.

My breasts throb, so swollen and tender. The tips of my nipples are on fire. I swallow hard and take a deep breath. “Is-is it over?” My lower lip quivers and I feel like the biggest coward.

As a child, I’d loved action movies and books with kickass heroines who saved the day, and I’d always thought I was as brave as those characters I’d grown up admiring. But I’m not. Not at all. This huge alien has reduced me to a sniffling mess of a girl who’ll agree to anything if only the big scary bad man doesn’t bring the belt down across my breasts again.

“What is your name, human?”

“Laylah.”

“Laylah.” His eyes glitter darker. “I am called Kenan.”

Kenan. His name bounces around inside my head as his molten stare intensifies. His eyes hold mine captive. Not even an explosion outside the window could make me look away.

“You will obey me in everything, Laylah, or I will make you hurt.” He growls, a dark animalistic noise that vibrates over my aching breasts and makes me quiver harder beneath him. “Well, I will make you hurt sometimes for no other reason than because it pleases me. But the times you are disobedient, I will make you hurt especially bad. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Ke-Kenan.” It feels odd uttering his name for the first time. He holds so much authority and brute strength over me I instinctively want to call him Mr. Kenan, or sir. “So, is-is it ov-over, then?” I sniffle, wishing my hands were free so I could rub the pain out of my stinging breasts.

“Not yet, Laylah. You’re repentant, I can see that, but not repentant enough.” His voice is strangely gentle, as if he’s trying to coax me into understanding that I’ve been a bad girl and I actually deserve this.

He shifts slightly and squeezes my wrists tighter. The belt trails over my sore breasts, like a dark seductive caress. He raises it up, and I start struggling anew and issuing incoherent pleas for mercy.

But he pays no heed to my begging and starts lashing my breasts again. Tossing my head from side to side, I bite my lip until I taste blood and try to endure this seemingly endless torture.

Whoosh. Crack. Whoosh. Crack.

As he beats me, I cry not only from the physical pain, but also for the profound loss of my former life.

Earth.

Earth is so far away it might as well not exist. I will never see my mother and father again, or Aunt Mabel or any of my friends. All my hopes and dreams are now nothing but dust.

Before our ships destroyed the Stargazer, we closed the wormhole. You are stuck on Tallia, little human, for the rest of your days.

His pronouncement still rings in my ears, along with his promise to claim me after he finishes doling out my punishment. A haze of pain consumes me. Each breath is a struggle. There’s no relief in between the slaps of his belt; the stinging throb persists even in the brief pauses before he hits me again.

At last, he stops the whipping and throws the belt down. It thuds to the floor, and I glance at my breasts and gasp at the red welts covering them. I feel brutalized and hopeless. And, yes, repentant because I’m so sorry I ran from him.

When he releases my wrists and cups my face, another sudden flash of tenderness in his eyes leaves me stunned. He wipes at my tears, and his touch is so gentle compared to the harshness I’ve endured, I find myself leaning into his caresses as if I’m hopelessly starved for affection. Perhaps I’m simply relieved the whipping is over.

“Shh,” he whispers. Before I understand his intentions, he has me seated on his lap and wraps his arms around me. He rubs my back, taking his time and handling me as if I’m a delicate flower, and lets me cry quietly against his chest.

I try to pretend he’s not Kenan, but a different, nameless man who’s rescued me from my tormenter and is comforting me.

He holds me for a long time. I melt against him, perversely grateful for each tender touch and caress. I can’t remember the last time I sat on someone’s lap. When I was a young child, I suppose. I fall into a lull of warmth and contentment, pushing away all my worries about what’s to come, though, in the recesses of my psyche, I attempt to understand how Kenan can switch from being brutal and sadistic to being tender so quickly. It’s as if he’s two completely different people.

What if I never escape this alien called Kenan?

Maybe this is the only sweetness I’ll know in my new life.

Maybe I’ll have to take beatings in order to receive a hug or a comforting touch. This thought pushes a new batch of tears to my eyes, but I blink them back and try to compose myself.

“Put your arms around me, Laylah.”

I obey, and God it feels nice to wrap my arms around his waist. My hands don’t meet, he’s that wide, all muscle-bound and huge, and I start to wonder if I’m going crazy. His mere presence, let alone his closeness, should repulse me. But it doesn’t. Not even a little.

Another peek at my breasts show none of the welts have broken. I’m not bleeding, but holy fuck they still hurt. I wonder if I’ll wake up to find my chest covered in bruises tomorrow, bruises inflicted by the alien who’s now combing his fingers through my hair and nuzzling his face against my head, all while he continues rubbing my back soothingly.

Then I detect the hardness beneath my bottom.

My eyes go wide.

I hold still, even stop breathing, in hopes the unmistakable bulge of his erection will wither. But it persists in growing larger and harder beneath me.

My heart leaps when he places me back on the bed. He flips me over and arranges me stomach down with my legs dangling above the floor. I bury my face in the soft covers.

I should run. I shouldn’t let this happen without a fight. But the pain of my punished breasts pressing against the bed reminds me of what happens when I disobey. I get beaten. I don’t want him to hit me again, with his hand or his belt or any other implement, so I remain in the vulnerable position.

He taps the insides of my thighs, forcing me to spread wider. The cool breeze dances across my exposed pussy lips and I start shivering.

“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, and deeper still, 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 mounting 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 swollen large. 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. Oh my God.

He’s removing his clothes.