Page 37 of Taken By the Aurelian Warriors

It’s normally done by subterfuge or betrayal – not relying on weapons or threats. The target is acquired, the deal is struck, and then the kidnapped victim is returned, unharmed.

These days, kidnappings on Marn are so common that the cops are rarely even notified about them; and such ‘business’ is conducted privately.

It shouldneverend in killing. Killing would put the whole process into jeopardy.

But these Aurelians didn’t care about process, and now they’ve thrown everything into chaos.

The bedroom door flies open again. There was no knock – but I guess I shouldn’t have expected one. I’m a prisoner, and these Aurelians feel they can barge into the luxurious bedroom that serves as my cell whenever they want.

I’m hardly in a position to argue - not unless I want to feel a firm palm across my bottom again. The leader of the Aurelians delivered just three spanks earlier, but my backside is still tender from them.

This time, it’s the Aurelian with the short mohawk who strides into my room.

My brain races. I remember all the lessons and classes my father insist I take – about how to react in situations like this.

For a start – I need to figure out the names of my kidnappers. It’s a psychological trick – so I can humanize myself in their eyes. If I do that, I’m less likely to fall victim to violence…

…or, given the lustful looks all three Aurelians are giving me, become victim to anyotherfate.

The Aurelian who has just swept into my bedroom has a brutal look to him. Whereas the leader has a cruel, arrogant face, this one looks more like a brawler – a sexy, surly fighter.

The long scar that runs from his left ear to his hairline demonstrates that death is an old friend to this Aurelian Warrior.

His eyes are hungry as he approaches the bed. I pull the covers up with my right hand, covering my body – but I can only cover myself so much with my left still handcuffed to the bedpost.

The looming warrior pulls something from behind his back, and I gasp.

In his hand is a ball gag.

“We’re going to move you,” the mohawked warrior growls. “If you speak, I use this on you. Nod if you understand.”

I fail this first challenge, by pleading: “Please, just tell me your name.”

The warrior winces at the sound of my voice, as if it physically hurts him.

I realize I’ve made a mistake.

“Wait!” I gasp out – but it’s too late. The warrior is on me in a second. He grabs me and forces the gag into my mouth. I feel it invading past my lips, and then wedged behind my teeth.

I can’t control my mouth any longer. I plead, but those pleas come out merely as gurgled moans. I stop talking the moment I realize how trying to speak just makes me drool and gurgle around the ball gag. The sounds I make are obscene, and I find myself both horrified and aroused at the sounds I make as I gurgle around the rubbery plug filling my mouth.

The huge alien clearly makes that connection too. He’s panting with need as he secures the ball gag around my head.

I struggle, and reach out to try and rip the gag from my mouth – but that’s a mistake.

Effortlessly – instantly – the warrior snatches my wrist and wrenches it behind my back.

I gurgle and drool as I struggle, but it’s useless. The warrior unclasps the other end of the handcuffs from around the bedpost, and then flips me over like I weigh nothing.

I struggle, face-first in the pillows, as the Aurelian wrenches both my wrists behind my back and cuffs them firmly.

I kick my legs and twist my body beneath him, but there’s nothing I can do. I’m trussed up – completely helpless. Even without the handcuffs, I wouldn’t have been able to escape this beast of a man – but despite that, I can’t stop myself from yelling out in protest. My cry of outrage emerges as a muffled moan.

Then, suddenly, the mohawked alien is still. He crushes me to the mattress beneath us, but he’s as still as a cat with a baby bird trapped between its claws. I shudder as I suddenly feel the alien’s fingers trail across my back. I shiver, feeling the firm pressure of his fingertips. The warrior’s breathing is harsh, and I fear he’s on the brink of losing control.

“Control yourself, Otho!”

A harsh voice rings across the bedroom. It’s the leader of the Aurelians, standing in the doorway with narrow eyes. His deep voice cuts through my fear, and I feel the Aurelian crushing me beneath him slowly retreat, coming to his senses from his lust-fueled fugue.

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