Alien Slavers II: Breaking Brandi Read online

  Alien Slavers II:

  BREAKING BRANDI

  by

  Stacey St. James

  ( c ) Copyright by Stacey St. James February 2015

  Cover art by Jenny Dixon

  ISBN 978-1-60394-881-4

  Smashwords Edition

  New Concepts Publishing

  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.

  Author Note: I’ve used BDSM in this book to try to please readers interested in such things—I don’t recommend it as something ‘exciting’ to try in real life. Sex games between consenting adults can add spice and excitement, but it isn’t something safe to try unless you know your partner very, very well. A stranger, or someone you don’t know as well as you think you do, might take it way too seriously and actually harm you.

  Chapter One

  The transition from the darkness that had scarcely even contained the occasional strange dream into stark awareness was so abrupt that it threw Brandi into a state of complete confusion and shock. One moment she was floating in the endless night that had enveloped her for what seemed like forever, that had deprived her of any sensory input since she’d been taken, and the next she was pelted with an overload to her senses that sent her mind reeling. Light exploded behind her eyelids, surrounded her. Sound thundered against her eardrums, rattling them. Cold air blasted her bare, heated skin as her cocoon was abruptly ripped away. A sense of falling was followed by a hard impact against a freezing metallic surface that sent shockwaves of pain throughout her entire body.

  She struggled to breathe only to discover that her lungs were filled with a gluttonous mass that produced the sense of drowning the moment she instinctively tried to fill her lungs with air. The thick slime erupted from her mouth and nose, seemingly self-propelled, streaming out of her until she managed to drag in enough air to begin to cough to expel the residue.

  Before she could get the coughing under control, she was seized and jerked upward by a boney, talon–like hand that banded around one upper arm like a manacle. Instinct saved her from landing on the hard floor again when he let her go almost as abruptly. She managed to get her wobbly legs under her, lock her knees, plant her feet in a stance to help her balance.

  Some of the others weren’t as lucky. Either they were weaker from their stay in stasis or just too muddled and confused to react quickly enough. Whatever the case, several of the women around her hit the floor a second time before they were rudely jerked upright again and given a shove in the direction of the door that slid open at the end of the corridor created by the pods that lined either side of the vast room.

  Brandi staggered toward the door when she was shoved, remaining on her feet with an effort, struggling to bring her mind into some kind of order.

  How, she wondered, could her mind be so blank?

  Where was she?

  How had she gotten here?

  What was happening?

  Cold tendrils of fear began to snake through her as she searched for the answers in her foggy mind.

  Around her several of the women voiced those questions aloud. Their thin, whining voices echoed around the chamber but the only response was guttural growls from the creatures that were herding them toward the yawning cavity in the far wall.

  Brandi glanced toward the creatures furtively, still too shocked to feel the stark terror she was certain she should have felt.

  Not human.

  Alien.

  They reminded her of nothing so much as … frogs.

  Well maybe snakes, except they had arms and legs—a body shape that was very humanoid—but skin that was splotchy, grayish, and pebbled—more like they were covered in warts than scales and certainly nothing like human skin.

  The eyes, though ….

  She shuddered and looked away quickly when she saw the one she’d been staring at move his head in her direction.

  Taken by aliens—although she had no comprehensible memory of how that had happened.

  Her last clear recollection was of climbing into her bed ….

  It flickered through her mind to wonder if she was dreaming—rather hopefully—but everything that was happening, had happened, was all too real to be nothing more than a figment of a sleeping mind.

  It was, however, without a doubt, a nightmare of a most horrendous kind she discovered when her and the other women had been herded down a bisecting corridor and finally stepped into an opening that looked out over a world so alien it stunned her mind back into a near frozen state of shock and disbelief.

  The sun was red and so huge in the sky that Brandi expected to burst into flames for the first few seconds after she’d emerged onto the gangplank leading from the ship to the stone platform it had set down on. The sky was pink and the landscape around her was bathed in shades of purple. The bare ground was the color of drying blood—the plants varying shades of lavender and blue.

  She squinted at them for several moments and finally looked down at her bare skin and discovered she’d become a peculiar shade of pink—almost lavender.

  Filtering of the red sun’s rays through the atmosphere then, she decided, wondering idly what color her surroundings really were.

  She supposed, after a moment, what they appeared to be since this was the light natural to this world.

  The question was, if the same thing was seen bathed in the Earth’s sunlight, would it still look so alien?

  She had little more than a glimpse of the city that surrounded the landing field and the huge, warehouse-like building they were led in to, but it looked run down—alien like everything else—but old enough to have been there a very long time and the ‘things’ walking along the streets bore little resemblance to humans beyond having two legs, arms—and she thought two eyes, one nose …. Humanoid and still so vastly different from human beings beyond being roughly shaped the same.

  The sense of heaviness didn’t abandon her altogether—or the struggle for air—even after enough time had passed she thought she should be adjusting from one environment to another. And she finally concluded that, perhaps, she weighed more on this world than she’d been accustomed to and that the air might be thinner or a slightly different chemical mix than she was used to.

  But she could still breathe—move.

  So it supported life forms similar to Earth people.

  Or maybe it was nothing more than the residual effects of being in the pod?

  She didn’t even recall being podded, but her mind shied away from probing too closely for an elusive memory that might be best left lost.

  The interior of the building was gloomy after being outside, bereft of any sort of artificial light that she could see beyond a glow at the other end.

  She had no idea what produced the glow since she was about mid-way of the group and the narrowness of the hallway they entered forced them into a single file.

  The women in front of her bolted into a run, however, and Brandi followed suit mindlessly—with no notion of why they were running, or where, but filled with a sense of fear and dread that encouraged her to force herself into a lope.

  She realized as she reached the other end why the women in front of her had run.

  There was light at the other end because there was a door that had been left ajar and that door led to freedom—led outside of the building, opened to a series of wide fields bordered by woods.

  She had just enough time to register the possibility of escaping captivity when something painful jolted through her and sucked
her down into a black hole. Her last conscious thought was that she’d been suckered into a hopeless bid for freedom that was going to get her dead when she’d had no real hope of attaining freedom.

  But then again there were worse things than being dead.

  * * * *

  Brandi’s first thought when she surfaced was that she’d been buried alive. The instant that thought entered her mind, she began to struggle, uttering mindless animal cries of effort and terror.

  Tried.

  She discovered she couldn’t move in any direction—could barely even twitch—which strengthened her conviction that she’d been buried alive and magnified her terror.

  Her own screams deafened her, rang painfully enough in her ears to force her to pause for breath and to reassess her situation. For several moments, all she could detect where her own heated, frightened breaths reflected back at her.

  And yet she felt icy air caressing her bare skin—everywhere.

  There was something over her face—over her entire head—she realized when she’d calmed enough to use her senses. Her nostrils felt almost frozen from the air she’d been sucking in and that made her realize that they were exposed.

  The remainder of her face, however, was wrapped snugly.

  Some sort of hood?

  It smelled like leather.

  The only way she could tell that she’d opened her eyes, however, was the brush of her lashes against the thing covering her head.

  Her mouth was also covered, which explained why her screams had echoed in her ears.

  Quiet now, she could hear muffled screams around her and realized she hadn’t been separated from the other women. She just couldn’t see them.

  Dismissing that for the moment, refusing to even attempt to analyze why the other women were screaming, she went back to trying to assess her own situation.

  Her torso felt warm like her head, felt as if it was confined in something tight enough she couldn’t fill her lungs completely without a great effort.

  Her joints ached—from strain—but she couldn’t figure out what kind of strain, whether she was prone, supine—or hanging. It was impossible to tell from the pressure points and the icy patches of exposed skin. She thought her bare buttocks were pressed against something, but she wasn’t sure.

  She sensed a presence close by a split second before something—fingers—begin to pinch and pull at her nipples. Her heart leapt into her throat. Confusion filled her.

  But, naturally enough, her nipples hardened and stood erect at the stimulation.

  Still, the pinching and pulling continued, bordering pain, but not quite there.

  Until abruptly the pinch increased and something seared one nipple. She’d barely had time to register the pain when a similar burning pierced the other.

  The second assault was worse, eradicating the notion that both nipples had gone completely numb. She felt something hard slip through the holes and realized after a few moments of searching her mind for an explanation that her nipples had been pierced and a ring pushed through them.

  She swallowed against the knot of fear and pain that rose in her throat, struggling against the urge to puke frantically because her mouth was covered and she feared she would suffocate if she gave in to the sickness.

  But then she felt the tug on her clit.

  She didn’t even have time to anticipate the pain more than a handful of seconds before the fiery piercing that was followed by the insertion of another ring.

  Thankfully, they moved away then, leaving her in her misery—struggling against the urge to scream and weep, but the painful throbbing of her clit and her nipples took a very long time to subside to a more bearable level.

  And just as it seemed the pain would subside completely, she felt a tug on the rings. She whimpered. She couldn’t help it, but apparently that satisfied whoever had pulled at it. The tension eased.

  She realized after a few moments that, at some point while she was too engrossed in her personal misery to really notice, others had moved into the room. Despite the hood, she could hear movements around her.

  A mixture of fear and curiosity distracted her from the residual throbbing in her most sensitive areas.

  She wasn’t left in complete ignorance of the reason for the increased presence for long, unfortunately.

  She felt something at the mouth of her sex and realized for the first time that she was spread wide enough she barely felt the brush of a cold hand along her inner thighs in warning before something hard and thick began to push into her.

  She flinched, but discovered she could do no more either instinctively or willfully.

  She had little moisture to ease the intrusion and what little there was dried up with fear.

  The hard object was removed. A moment later—now lubricated with something cold and slimy—it reappeared, was shoved all the way inside her until it bumped against her womb and then, after a brief, almost assessing pause, was withdrawn.

  As Brandi lay stunned, panting in pain and fear, thoroughly confused, another, similar object penetrated her channel.

  If it was sex, it was the most bizarre rape on record!

  After the third such intrusion, Brandi finally concluded that she wasn’t being molested, per se. She was being examined. For what, she didn’t have a clue, but she was fairly convinced that it was fingers being inserted—for whatever reason.

  To examine her for defect or disease?

  To size her up?

  Maybe all of the above?

  But what to make of that?

  She realized she’d been working very hard not to try to analyze why she might have been taken, what purpose they had for her.

  It seemed inescapable at this point, though, that she’d been taken for the purpose of sex or breeding or maybe both.

  And that she was a slave.

  She was still struggling to think up an alternative that seemed less threatening/ nightmarish when she was hauled onto the auction block, led by the chains attached to her nipples and her clit, and displayed in the leather corset that had clearly been designed to package her as a sex slave since it covered only her middle and displayed her breasts and her genitals.

  * * * *

  Brandi had been enveloped in darkness by the hood so long that it seemed to take forever to bring her surroundings into focus when it was finally removed. She blinked over and over, trying to rid herself of the blurriness and darkness while they pushed and pulled at her, releasing her, she finally realized, from the restraints that had been placed on her to keep her docile while they pierced her most intimate places and probed her.

  Or she supposed it might have been potential buyers probing her.

  A wave of dizziness washed over her as she was stood on her feet. She thought she might have gone to her knees if not for the grip on her arm by one of her jailors.

  She was almost grateful.

  He had a firm grip on the chains threaded through her nipples and her clit. It didn’t bear thinking on what might have happened if she’d fallen.

  She was forced into a tube-like corridor so tight she could barely move, sandwiched between two other women—one in front and one behind.

  There were frightened whispers all around her.

  “What are they going to do?”

  “What’s going on?”

  “What’s happening?”

  “Where are they taking us now?”

  Brandi thought she knew, but she didn’t see that speculating would help anyone’s feelings.

  “I don’t think they intend to kill us or they would have already,” she responded finally, keeping to herself the thought that they might all wish they were dead before very long.

  She cut that thought off immediately.

  She didn’t want to be dead! She wanted to live!

  That was the only thing she knew with absolute conviction.

  As they slowly shuffled forward, Brandi tried to divert herself from her fears of what was happening to the women in front of
her—soon to be her fate—by examining her surroundings.

  Her chains had been hooked into some sort of device that ran the length of the tube—one on either side of them. She was urged forward each time someone in front was removed by a tug on the chains that sent a twinge of discomfort through her nipples and clit.

  And yet she felt something snug to the point of discomfort around her.

  When her eyes finally adjusted enough to allow it, she looked down to examine the thing she was wearing.

  Her breasts, she discovered, had been squeezed into something cone-like, a sleeve of sorts that left the tips completely exposed.

  She had to suppose the bottom was similar. Although she couldn’t see it, her buttocks felt bare and exposed and the lips of her sex pinched in a way that she thought must have forced the inner lips and clit out and exposed enough flesh for the ring she could feel brushing her inner thighs with each step.

  It was a very effective control, but also displayed her in a way that increased her certainty that she was here to make money for her captives.

  Although she supposed it depended on who bought her whether she was simply used for sex or if she was to be bred for some purpose—whether she only had to worry about being used by one man/male or many.

  Or if any of the spectators/potential buyers might consider it worth paying a lot of money to get hold of her strictly for the enjoyment of taking her apart piece by piece.

  Cattle—food—flickered through her mind, but she resolutely dismissed that possibility as quickly as she had the first horrific possibility.

  It didn’t bear thinking on.

  She thought she could endure sex.

  She didn’t want to think about having to whether she wanted to or not, or having to do things she might not want to do.

  Being screwed. She could handle that—whatever ‘it’ might look like. She could just close her eyes ….

  She hoped she could …. As long as it didn’t include pain. She was allergic to pain.

  She thought she might even be able to stand it if she was used to breed.

  Surely it would be too expensive to transport all of them so far only to be sold as food?

  She was so preoccupied she found herself at the front before she knew it. As she watched the woman who’d been directly in front of her led away, she saw she was being controlled by the chain, unable to struggle without giving herself pain.