Page 23 of Stolen Slave

I reached to prove it, but he caught my wrist and pressed my palm to my stomach. He said something low and slow again, patted my hand, then slipped his hand between my legs.

He smoothed his palm over my inner thighs first, tapping them and coaxing me to give him more room to work. I didn’t want to move. I wanted to clamp my thighs together like a vise. But he was patiently persistent, going so far as to grab a foot, lift it, and set it down a few inches over.

It felt like my heart was going to hammer its way out of my chest when his other hand cupped between my legs, coating me with even more cleanser-lotion, and slowly rubbed circles into the area. I focused on breathing rather than how his fingers slipped into my folds to ensure even my inner labia got their share.

When his touch drifted down my legs, I shook with relief.

The second time had been no worse than the first. Yes, he’d touched me far more personally than anyone else ever had. But he hadn’t hurt me. And more importantly, he hadn’t gotten angry, despite my lack of immediate cooperation.

When he finished, he tugged me into his arms, pressing me against his very naked self, and stroked his hand over my head and down my back. Soothing, petting caresses, not circular washing ones.

He spoke.

Again, I got the impression of praise, and a shuddering exhale escaped me.

Maybe this alien wasn’t so bad. Sure, bath time wasn’t the greatest, but it wasn’t horrible either. Just a little nerve-wracking.

As soon as the steam filled the room, he led me to the side again and tugged me into his lap. This time, I didn’t hesitate to relax against him and was rewarded with more of those praising pets over my head and down my back before he languidly rubbed my arm, returning to the circular motions.

My stomach growled before the lights finished drying us. He growled back, which made me laugh. When I realized what I’d done, I stopped and felt sick with myself. There was nothing funny about my situation.

I was in space, blind, and completely dependent on the creature caring for me. And I didn’t know why he was doing any of it. Was I a pet, or was he one of the aliens who would want something more?

He stood, set me down, then stepped away. This time when I heard the rustle, I knew it was his clothes.

Dressed, he returned to me and set his hand on my back. Before he could pick me up, I plucked at his shirt.

“Don’t suppose I can have this?”

He said something, and his shirt disappeared. I knew that because he pressed my hand against his bare chest.

Hiding my frustration, I sighed and let him carry me.

Oddly, the skin-to-skin contact felt too comforting to stay annoyed. I turned my head and breathed him in. What was it about his smell that reminded me of home?

He said something, and I felt his fingers moving against my thigh again. Was he trying to pet me while carrying me? My fingers lightly stroked over his chest in return before I registered what I was doing.

Instead of setting me on a chair to feed me, he put me somewhere less exciting. Feeling the familiar hard length of what I considered the examination table under my bottom, I shifted nervously.

“I really hope I don’t need another shot. Those hurt.”

He spoke to me, his tone a low, soothing rumble, and placed his hand on my chest to signal that he wanted me to lie back and keep still. The tinny voice talked to him for a few moments, and then I felt a tug on my bandages.

As soon as they were gone, I opened my eyes and took in the metal ceiling above me. I could see!

My gaze greedily drank in my surroundings. The arm of a machine extended from the exam table. A line of blue light swept over me from head to feet; then the tinny voice returned.

I didn’t really pay attention to it. My focus was on my skin. It shimmered like I was lightly dusted with fine opalescent glitter. It was beautiful. I lifted my arms, turning them in the light. I thought of the body wash-slash-moisturizer and grinned.

My keeper spoke, and I turned my head toward him for the first time. The sight of the huge alien stunned me. The muscled expanse of his caramel skin offset the pure blue of his eyes. As in the whole thing. Sky blue. His eyes no irises or pupils that I could see. Just two blue balls inside his head.

I made a choked sound, and the ears on each side of his head twitched forward. They weren’t curved shells like mine but looked sort of like dog ears. Not furry, though, and they didn’t protrude as far. They also moved independently of each other in the close-cropped, bright, silvery white hair that adorned his head and brows above his eyes.

My captor didn’t look old, despite the white hair.

My gaze swept over his high-cheek bones, looking for wrinkles, before returning to his hard, chiseled chest. He definitely wasn’t old. He had the physique of a beach bodybuilder times ten. So many muscles.

He smiled and held out his arms, turning slightly this way and that, for my inspection.

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