Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 61982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
Rustle was right.
He was right about everything.
I am going to be taken prisoner by this alien. I am going to become his property. The illusion of boss was broken before it started. The moment he had me in the privacy of his shuttle, he started to take me erotically apart.
“You only just met me,” I say. “You don’t know how annoying and mediocre I can be. I always burn coffee. I’m not sure how to boil water. Pasta? I hardly know her.”
The joke doesn’t work.
Arkon gives me that long, dragon-eyed look.
“I do not need you for menial tasks,” he says. “I engaged you for your mind, and I will still be taking full advantage of that. You will do your work for me. And you will sleep at my feet, you will wear my collar, you will respond to my commands.”
I will get the hell out of here, is what I will do.
I don’t want Rustle to be right. I’d rather fucking die than let him have been correct about all of this.
My alien boss does not care about Rustle, or whether I can order manila folders. He wants something very different from me. Something I cannot help but give him as I writhe in the orgasm he is forcing me to have.
Lord Arkon makes me come. His fingers glow and they move inside me and they force me to the brink of pleasure in ways I cannot fight. I feel myself tipping over the invisible edge of pleasure as my senses overload, and then falling into the most beautiful oblivion.
* * *
“Hell of a day at work,” I murmur as he straps me back into my seat carefully. I feel soft and floppy and actually a whole lot better than I did before. I guess I needed an orgasm, though there are more ethical ways to get it.
We travel through space for some time. I’m not sure how long. I take a nap, I think, but I wake up with a jolt as the ship makes a sharp motion.
“Hold on,” Arkon says.
“What’s happening?” I ask the question just as the ship takes a hard jolt to the left.
“We’re under attack,” he says calmly. “It happens.”
Bright red flashes detonate around us as the ship performs a full three-sixty barrel roll. It’s like being on a roller coaster, but non-consensually.
The radio crackles, which strikes me as a very odd piece of anachronistic tech, but I wonder if it’s just hard to get voice comms across vast swathes of space.
“You’re showing company, Arkon,” someone on the other end says.
“Uhhhh, yeah,” Arkon gets onto the comms. “We’re experiencing hostilities at Delta Four. Just a few.”
“Looks like three, maybe four,” the other person says.
“Uh-huh. Yeah.”
He’s so relaxed. I start to relax too, until the ship judders and jolts as it takes enemy fire.
“Shields at thirty-four percent,” he says.
Thirty-four percent does not sound high enough to me.
“Twenty-eight,” he reads as another hit makes the ship shudder.
I don’t know if I am going to get out of this alive, but in spite of the dire readings, Arkon truly does not seem worried. His tone has about as much energy in it as someone reading a pizza menu. Actually, I sound more animated when it comes to pizza menus.
“Hold on,” he says again. I am holding. I have my hands on the straps as if that’s going to do anything.
He pulls the stick back and the ship shoots up, enters a reverse loop and then spins again. The lock is on and he fires his weapon for the first time in this encounter. The ship in front of us explodes in a fireball that is almost immediately sucked into the vacuum of space.
I am glad for the firm grip of the binding to the chair as the swoop around the forces makes me swirl out of my seat only to be sucked back into it.
The same move does not work twice. Two more shots impact the ship. I think I can smell smoke.
“Fourteen percent,” he reads off, his tone as flat as anything.
I don’t want to know what happens if we hit zero. At least I got to come before the end? There was so much more that I could have experienced. I never got to work on this side of the galaxy. I never got to see the wonders of the universe. I never got to get married and maybe divorced. And then the worst thing occurs to me—Rustle is going to know I died. He’s going to be so fucking smug about it.
He hits the controls and the ship hits a rotation that effectively mimics a J-turn in deep space. We are now facing the oncoming ships, and I don’t know if I’m making it up in my head or not, but I swear to god I can see the other pilot in the vessel before us for just a split second before Arkon blows the ship up.