Page 36 of Sold to the Alien Smugglers

He’sboughtme – and now he plans to do whatever he wants to me.

The irony is that Marcel doesn’t even need the leash – it’s all for show. One of his huge hands could wrap around my neck with room to spare – or crush it just as effortlessly.

Yes – Marcel could end me with a squeeze.

The leash binds me to his wrist – and it symbolizes that now he has me. The collar is merely a formality. I couldn’t escape one of these huge, dominant warriors if I tried – much less three of them.

But the public symbol of his ownership of me apparently pleases Marcel, and I wonder if that shows my plea fell on deaf ears. I feel like an idiot for pleading with the Aurelians to save Tessa. Why would they?

I look up, into Marcel’s cold, slate-grey eyes – searching for even the slightest trace of humanity in his grey, emotionless eyes.

There’s none.

Dismayed, I lift my hands to cover my exposed breasts – and that’s when I get a reaction out of him. Marcel’s jaw clenches – and I don’t need to hear his command. I know what he wants.

I lower my arms slowly to my sides – exposing my breasts to the room.

There’s nothing I can read in Marcel’s eyes. There’s no mercy there – no humanity. All I see is smoldering, alien desire and a deep, possessive glare. He drinks me in with those impassive eyes – as if he’s searing my features into his memory.

Marcel knows that within minutes, he could have me in his private chambers – leashed to his wrist, pulling at my collar, and forcing my head down against his manhood. He could effortlessly force me to take his cock deep down to my throat – and then he’d make me swallow every drop of his seed when he exploded; pressing me down against his thick, heavy balls as he empties them into my obediently sucking mouth.

He knows he could descend into the mating rage at any time – losing himself utterly in the ecstasy of breaking in a new slave. My imagination races as I envision the way he’d press my body down beneath him, wrenching my resisting legs open, and then forcing every inch of his swollen manhood deep inside of me while I struggle – writhing and flailing uselessly beneath him.

What else could I do? Against five-hundred-pounds of swollen, dominant alien warrior, I’m as helpless as a kitten. There’s nothing I could do except submit to his inherent, overwhelming dominance.

As he looms over me, Marcel breathes in, flaring his nostrils. I stiffen, feeling violated as I realize he’stastingmy scent right there in front of me.

“Please,” I whisper again – and for a second, I’m not even sure what I’m begging for.

Then, rationality returns, and I gesture towards Tessa once again.

The last shred of my pride melts away. I’d rather humiliate myself and save Tessa than allow my stubborn pride to let her be taken by that Bullfrog.

Besides. I’m leashed to this Aurelian’s arm. There’s nothing I can do – nothing except hope beyond hope that even Rogue Aurelians retain a tiny shred of their species protective instincts.

IknowAurelians. I know they lose control of their minds – surrendering to their cocks. They’re addicted to dominance, and to taming women through their harsh punishments and rough mating.

Despite that, though, the Aurelian species has a long-established history of protecting those weaker than they are; especially humans. Aurelian warriors are even more highly protective of the women in their harems – calmly risking their own lives to protect them.

At their core, Aurelians are a noble race – and the Aurelian Empire has protected human settlements and planets for countless generations.

But that’s the Empire – and these three Aurelians are Rogue.

What does that mean? I don’t know. All I can decide about these three warriors is that their defection occurred recently. The Orb-Blades of the three warriors prove that they spent a hundred years of service to the Aurelian Empire, as all of their kind do, and that shows how they’d been raised with a commitment to protecting humanity from danger.

I pray to the Gods there are still some shreds of those protective instincts left.

I meet Marcel’s gaze once again, and murmur:

“Please,Master.”

I’m begging – using a word I know will trigger something deep and instinctual in the proud warrior. My cheeks burn with shame as I humiliate myself in front of this towering alien, but it’s all I can think of at this moment.

Marcel’s eyes widen, staring at me. That raw hunger in his eyes peaks. He towers above me and I hope – desperately – that this hunger could be used to bargain for Tessa’s life.

My helplessness and this act of subservience fills me with hot shame – but much to my surprise, something else stirs in me as well.

Oh, Gods!

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