Alien Slave

Alien Slave

By

Tracy St. John

(C) Copyright Tracy St. John, February
2012

978-1-60394-678-0

Published by New Concepts
Publishing

Smashwords Edition

Lake Park, GA 31636

www.newconceptspublishing.com

This is a work of fiction. All
characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and
not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or
events is merely coincidence.

Chapter 1

Reggie’s hypnotic trill lulled Dani as
he slipped his penis into her. The swing that held her suspended in
the air creaked as it moved back and forth in the middle of one of
the brothel’s playrooms.

Dani barely felt the thin appendage as
she floated in a calm sea of contentment. Sex with the Isetacian,
one of her regulars since coming to Dantovon five months ago, was
always pleasant. Reggie wasn’t much to look at, but that sweet
warbling song that indicated his arousal made up for his lack of
physical attractiveness. For all she knew, he was the handsomest
man on Isetac. She’d found rating manly charm a futile exercise
given the strange bodies and faces of the aliens who visited
Dantovon.

Her large brown eyes half-lidded in
trance, Dani traced the hard ridge of bone along Reggie’s back. It
broke through his gray skin, a purplish-black lumpy crest. The
first time she’d seen an Isetacian she’d thought the creature had
been horrifically injured, its skin flayed to expose the skeleton
along the spine and joints. When she’d discovered that was the norm
for the six-legged race (or six-armed … with Isetacians, it was
impossible to tell), she’d been both fascinated and
repulsed.

Becoming a sex slave to get off the
ruined hulk of Earth had been rife with surprises, good and bad
alike.

For now, Dani was content to let Reggie
sing to her while he plunged in and out, her long, lanky body
suspended in the black straps of the swing. She’d gotten almost
halfway through tonight’s shift at the brothel, and this was as
good an intermission as she could hope to get. Isetacians didn’t
require much from the sex slaves. Stroke their spines and the
crowns of their bulbous heads, let them do their thing, and they
were happy.

She let herself drift, Reggie’s trill
taking her deeper still until her eyes closed, shutting out his
face with its toothless mouth. She felt better not looking into the
deep pits from which his tiny eyes peered. They circled his head in
sets of two.

Dani’s closed eyes also shut out the
small, dark playroom with its assortment of harnesses, restraints,
and pleasure devices. She was grateful that Reggie was so easy to
please. He had left it up to her as to whether she would hang in a
suspension field or sit in the swing. For some reason the swing had
appealed to her tonight.

A pair of Reggie’s hands/feet gripped
her knees, holding her wide open. Another pair held the parts of
her buttocks not covered by the swing’s straps. She possessed
plenty of flesh for him to hang onto. For such a spindly woman, she
thought she had a lot of backyard real estate. In contrast, her
smallish breasts, while well-shaped, disappeared beneath the
Isetacian’s three-fingered grasp. At almost six feet tall, Dani was
an elongated pear when she didn’t think of herself as a big,
galumphing horse.

Her customers didn’t seem to mind her
awkward frame. Not that she cared about what they thought. As long
as they paid her fee, lessening her contract in the too-small
increments that meant she’d spend the next three to five years as a
sex slave, they could regard her in any way they liked.

Dani sighed and made her mind
contemplate things other than the contract that she’d signed
impetuously, desperate to get off Earth. At the time, it had seemed
a good idea. Guaranteed meals, safe shelter, and escape from being
captured by the Kalquorian race that had destroyed her home world
were a fair trade for sex, which she’d always been ambivalent
about. Besides, Dani on Dantovon had a cute ring to it. How could
it not be fated?

Reggie, whose real name was impossible
for her to pronounce, deepened his voice, signaling he was close to
climax. His scent intensified. He smelled like musty old books, the
antique type with paper pages one turned. Dani sighed again. Her
break was almost over, and she’d have to get back to real work
soon. Like the Earther men she’d bedded, Reggie got done way too
fast. She barely had time to enjoy herself.

Reggie’s hands tightened on her various
body parts, and his tone deepened to a bass note, held for a good
ten seconds as he spurted cold seed that ran down her thighs and
dripped to the floor. The moment he was done, he scrambled down.
Sitting back on four of his six limbs, he solicitously helped her
from the swing. She stood, swaying from the aftereffects of his
song. After a moment, the hypnotic trance he’d put her in faded.
Dani shivered in the cool air. Putting on her smile with
professionalism, she asked, “Did you have fun, Reggie?”

He gave her a gummy smile, peering up
at her with two pairs of deep pitted eyes. “Ep, ep, you are always
fun.”

“
See you next week?” She
wished the restful alien could visit more often.

Reggie shook his back end in
affirmation. “I will book my appointment on my way out. Hopeful
ship still run.”

Dani shook her head, her tousled red
hair tumbling over her shoulders. “You have the most trouble with
your transport.”

His rear shook more. “I fix all the
time. Old ship, few parts.”

With a final goodbye, Reggie left. Dani
washed her legs clean of his watery spend and yanked her clothes
on. Like all humanoid sex slaves on Dantovon, her gray skirt,
almost a color match for Reggie’s skin, was transparent from mid
thigh down to its knee-length hem. The matching bra pushed her
teacup breasts up. Dani thought it accentuated how small she was
rather than enhancing her décolletage. Oh well. Big galumphing
horses didn’t have boobs anyway. Clients were always more
fascinated by the pert pink nipples than the size of her
breasts.

Out of habit she tugged at the collar
on her throat, the half-inch wide silvery metal that proclaimed her
slave status. In actuality it weighed no more than any piece of
jewelry Dani had owned on Earth. In her mind, it felt like an anvil
hung from her neck.

She checked the chronometer. She was
exactly halfway through her shift. It’s all downhill from here, she
thought, trying to face the remainder of the night with
optimism.

The door slid open, admitting Dani into
the long hallway that ran the length of the brothel’s playroom
area. Lights flickered here and there. They wouldn’t be changed by
money-grubbing Pob until they went out entirely.

Dani kept to the center of the hall,
mostly out of the reach of the guards positioned at regular
intervals. Pob’s security wasn’t allowed to have sex with the
prostitutes without paying for it, but they could grab the goods
for a passing feel if they were so inclined. A side benefit of
working in the house. Dani didn’t like to give anything away for
free on principle.

As she absentmindedly dodged the
gauntlet of hands, paws, claws, whatever the guards’ grabbing
implements happened to be, the clamor of sex emitted from the
closed doors, creating a web of sound. Sometimes the noises were
happy, sometimes pained, but mostly it just sounded desperate to
Dani.

She reached the lounge, her long legs
covering the distance with quick efficiency. The light was brighter
in here. Mirrored walls allowed the workers check their appearances
before heading off to the next client. Couches of varying degrees
of cleanliness and wellbeing scattered across the floor. Females of
various species lounged on them; still others slept on the floor,
grabbing rest between clients. Chatter was sparse, as if the air
filled with colognes, perfumes, and the musk of alien sexual parts
was too heavy to allow speech.

Dani checked the schedule, the
red-lined vid suspended in the air near the door. A spark of anger
made her snap at the attendant seated nearby.

“
My next client is
now?”

Husta, a native Dantovonian, rolled her
lidless eye at Dani. The brothel owner’s sister’s segmented face
didn’t allow much expression, but she managed to convey her dislike
for Dani anyway. “We’re busy.”

Dani looked around the lounge where
every available space was crowded with sex slaves. “Then why are so
many lying around?”

“
They’re not Earthers.
You’re popular for whatever reason.” Husta’s long, cylindrical
tongue flicked out of her tiny mouth. Dani knew the tongue scented
the air, tasting the various aromas. Dantovonians looked like a
science experiment gone terribly wrong, as if some mad laboratory
had bred amphibians and insects with each other. Not
pretty.

After testing the lounge’s questionable
bouquet, Husta turned her head away dismissively. She knew as well
as Dani did that Earthers as sex slaves were a rare commodity. Dani
was the only Earther that worked in this brothel. For all she knew,
she was the only Earther who worked on Dantovon. Most of the
females of her race were far too repressed by their former home’s
fanatical regime to sell their services.

Dani’s novelty kept her from having to
work hard to please clients. Most were thrilled to have the
opportunity to stick their stuff in the notoriously uptight Earther
species just so they could brag to their peers.

Dani grumbled as she stared in a
mirror, dragging her fingers through her wavy copper hair. “If he
wants me bad enough, he can wait a few minutes.” Reggie’s song had
left her loose-limbed and lazy.

“
And here I thought you
wanted to pay your contract off. That group paid extra.”

Dani glared at Husta. “Damn it,
multiples? More than two?”

Husta radiated smug amusement. “Better
get moving before they come looking for you.” She hop-crawled away
on spindly stalks of limbs before Dani could ask who her clients
were.

Bitch, Dani thought uncharitably. Even
knowing extra money was involved couldn’t salve her irritation.
Only three species she knew of tended to have sex in groups:
Bi’isils, Solns, and Kalquorians. Bi’isils required intricate
rituals with sexual intercourse and considered it within their
rights to kill the brothel’s worker and owner if a mistake was made
in those rites. The only reason anyone served them was because they
might pay off a contract within half a dozen visits. Bi’isils paid
obscene amounts to have sex with women not of their own
species.

Dani wasn’t trained in their sex
ceremonies, so unless Husta wanted her brother dead, she could
scratch that option off the list.

And since Dani’s contract stipulated no
Kalquorians that left the Solns. She sighed. Sex with the tiny
Solns didn’t require she actually do anything, just stand still
while they climbed all over her. Easy enough, but the cleanup
afterward was rigorous. Soln seed stuck to the skin and hardened
quickly. Damn straight they’d better have paid extra.

She consulted the room number and
frowned. Husta had put them in a fully equipped playroom, which
made no sense. Solns didn’t use restraints, disciplinary tools, or
arousing toys. Unnecessarily tying up one of the grand playrooms
might put Dani in dutch with another prostitute who could have used
it to chop off a sizeable chunk of her contract. Husta wasted no
opportunity to make Dani’s life more miserable than it already
was.

Putting a lid on her simmering
hostility, Dani yelled across the lounge. “Husta, I’ll need a full
break after this one.” She added under her breath,
“Bitch.”

With one final primp in the mirror,
Dani stomped out of the lounge in full pout. At least she could
wallow in her pique. The Solns wouldn’t care about her bad
temper.

Dani headed back down the hall,
absentmindedly sidestepping here and there to avoid the guards’
eager grabs. She wondered if she could get the Solns to relocate to
a smaller room, one without all the bells and whistles.

She had to snort at herself. Bells and
whistles indeed. The first time she’d seen the fully equipped
playroom, she’d thought of a medieval dungeon. The props and
furniture had seemed more like torture implements than pleasure
devices to an Earther raised in the repressed environment of a
religion-based government gone mad.

Fortunately, Dani had gotten away with
a lot more decadence than the typical Earther. Privilege and a
deep-pocketed father in politics had given her leeway most Earthers
hadn’t enjoyed. She’d been no trembling virgin when she’d come to
Dantovon. Once she’d gotten over the initial shock of blatant sex,
sometimes committed in full view of an audience, Dani had been more
curious than appalled by the strange apparatuses the brothel’s
customers used on their playthings.

She’d even enjoyed a few of the toys.
There was a table one could be strapped down on, a swing like the
one she’d entertained Reggie in, manacles in the walls, manacles
hanging from chains, a suspension field, straps, shock prods,
spanking boards, gags, blindfolds, and stimulant dildos of various
sizes and shapes to accommodate the anatomies of various
species.