Alien Slavers I: Taking Tilly Read online

  ALIEN SLAVERS I:

  Taking Tilly

  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 well enough, might take it way too seriously and actually harm you.

  Chapter One

  Tilly was way too tense as she stood in line to pay to get in to appreciate the ‘good vibrations’ rumbling through the floor beneath her feet and the air around her. It didn’t help her resolve that it took a good twenty minutes of shuffling and then stopping before she reached the register. She hadn’t been completely convinced her idea wasn’t insane when she’d come up with it. She was about ready to turn tail and run when she got to the counter.

  “Fifteen.”

  Outrage flickered through Tilly. She didn’t even want to go in!

  “Fifteen,” the woman said louder when Tilly merely gaped at her as if she was mentally defective.

  Tilly hesitated and then dug her wallet out of her pocket and handed the woman a twenty dollar bill. The woman handed her a five and looked over her shoulder at the next patron.

  Dismissed, Tilly turned toward the vibrating interior door. The bouncer was waiting with an inked stamp. He stopped her before she could slip inside, demanded her hand and stamped her wrist.

  Tilly stared at the black mark in dismay. It was a stylized depiction of two whips crossed. Beneath them were the letters BDSM Club.

  Shit! She was willing to bet that damned mark wouldn’t wear off anytime soon! What the hell!

  Oh this was just fucking glorious!

  Sighing, shaking her head at herself, she pushed past the man and entered the darkened ‘cave’. She could see the dance floor the minute she got inside. There were a couple of shadowy clusters of people gyrating on the floor, but most of the patrons seemed to be clustered around the bar or sprawled in chairs—and on each other—in the darkened area near the walls.

  Tilly’s stomach instantly knotted with fear and revulsion. She struggled for several moments with the beginnings of a panic attack.

  Even considering the way Emily dressed these days it was hard to picture her sister feeling at home in this sort of place.

  But then, maybe she really hadn’t been? Maybe little sister had been playing a part—like she was tonight?

  Except she wasn’t doing it to fit in with this crowd.

  Emily was missing and the cops didn’t give a shit because she was ‘weird’ and liked to hang out at places like this.

  She knew that bastard had been suggesting Emily was a prostitute, but that was a damned lie!

  Emily had just … gotten a little confused and turned around on her way to adulthood.

  God only knew how or why or when she’d decided that being tied up and beaten was exciting, but apparently that was a phase she was going through—her latest—Gothic hair, makeup, and clothing, plus kinky sex.

  Six months earlier, she’d been a member of some kind of ‘Mother Earth’ cult.

  Shaking her thoughts, Tilly tried to decide the best place to start asking around—because she hadn’t had a game plan worked out for after she got in!—and finally decided to start at the bar.

  She needed a drink to steady her nerves anyway!

  She had the wallet sized photo out when the bartender finally got around to waiting on her. “Have you seen her?” she asked flashing the picture.

  “Do you want a drink?”

  “Can you just look at the picture?”

  He flicked a look at it and then took off down the bar to wait on someone else.

  “Bastard,” Tilly muttered, frustrated, angry, and trying to ignore the stares of the people around the bar. She had their attention, though. Nerving herself, she started around the bar, flashing the picture and asking everyone if they’d seen her sister.

  It was so damned dark most of them never actually saw the picture, she was sure. They just told her they hadn’t seen Emily without really looking. A couple of the men took the picture and angled it toward the light and then shook their heads.

  The bartender that had snubbed her before caught her attention when she was almost halfway around the bar, motioning for her to hand the picture to him. Reluctantly, suspicious, she finally handed the photo over. He looked at it cursorily and handed it back. “One drink minimum,” he said.

  Tilly gaped at him. “What?”

  “You have to buy at least one drink.”

  After the highway robbery at the damned door? Instead of arguing with the bastard, though, she ordered a screwdriver. He motioned her down the bar with a jerk of his head. Feeling her heart hammering with sudden hope, Tilly followed him to the end. He mixed her drink and then slid it across the bar. “Ten.”

  What the hell? “You can’t be serious!”

  “Do you want it or not?”

  Tilly glared at the thieving bastard and dug a ten out of her wallet.

  She didn’t add a freaking tip! If it wasn’t included in the outrageous price, he could just go fuck himself.

  “She was in here.”

  Tilly instantly forgot her anger. “When? Do you know who she left with? Did you see her leave?”

  “She went with hulking giant that called himself Mord. Or Mork—something like that.”

  A coldness swept over Tilly. The word was just too close to the Latin word for death to suit her. Beyond that, it sounded more like a nickname or something made up than an actual name. “Who?”

  “The alien slaver.”

  Tilly gaped at him in shock at the bald-faced, absolutely ridiculous lie. The bastard didn’t even crack a smile!

  She wanted to crack a bottle over his head. “Oh that was funny!” she said tightly.

  Before she could stalk off, he pointed to a door she hadn’t noticed at the back of the bar. “Through that door, down the hall—second door on the right. Wait there. He’s supposed to be here tonight to pick up a group.”

  Tilly blinked at him, stared at him, trying to figure out what the hell he was telling her. It was almost as if he wasn’t even speaking English—that’s how little sense what he’d said made to her. Was it some kind of sick joke? Was it a trick to get her into some kind of trouble? Or was there some truth to it?

  Maybe the slaver part hadn’t been a joke?

  Oh god! Emily had been taken by the sex slave trade!

  Her first thought was to rush out and call the police and tell them everything she’d discovered, but she dismissed it fairly quickly.

  They’d ignored her when she’d gone to them before. How likely was it that they were going to respond to a call from the bar?

  Or that they’d find out anything even if they did?

  What if this was the one and only chance she would ever have to find her sister? And she blew it by calling the cops and the slavers just packed up and went somewhere else?

  She hadn’t planned to take this kind of risk, though. What if she put herself in harm’s way and got snatched and it didn’t even lead her
to Emily?

  She moved away from the bar, staring at the door he’d indicated, thinking about the puny little pocket knife she’d brought. And the lipstick size bottle of mace.

  Her instincts were screaming at her to run and keep running.

  Instead, she took a big gulp of the drink she was still holding and then took a step toward that door. Then she took another step. When she reached the door, she glanced back.

  The bartender was staring at her intently, his expression totally blank and unreadable.

  It wasn’t a joke, she was abruptly certain.

  Her fingers were cold when she curled them around the handle and pulled the door open.

  A single bulb in the ceiling lit the area and not very well. It was creepy with shadows and she felt a shiver race along her spine as soon as the door closed behind her.

  She took another sip of her drink and a wave of dizziness hit her that nearly took her to her knees.

  Holding the glass out, she stared at it suspiciously.

  She wasn’t a drinker—might not have a single drink for a year or more and then have one or two—but the liquor shouldn’t have hit her like that after only a couple of sips!

  Stupid!

  But how could he have slipped anything in the glass? He was right out in the open!

  The bar was surrounded by people who’d been drinking.

  She couldn’t see what he was doing because he’d mixed the drink on a counter lower than the bar.

  He could’ve done it, she realized. If he was brazen enough, he could’ve spiked her drink and nobody would have noticed.

  She shook the thought. She hadn’t tasted anything funny. Surely she would have?

  It was just nerves.

  And a little alcohol.

  She decided not to drink more, though.

  Was she too woozy, now, to go on? Should she turn back?

  Maybe she was scared enough she’d hyperventilated and that explained the dizziness?

  She hesitated about halfway down the hall, listening to see if she heard anything suspicious or threatening. Deciding after a few moments that she didn’t and that she was actually feeling far less dizzy, she glanced around and then headed toward the door the bartender had indicated.

  She felt like she’d stepped into a wind tunnel when she pushed the door open and stumbled through … and found herself standing in the darkness at the rear of the damned bar! Before she could turn around and head back inside the door slammed shut—and locked!

  “Son-of-a-bitch!” she growled, feeling stupid and humiliated. “That asshole!”

  Whirling on her heel once she’d accepted that the damned door was locked and she wasn’t getting back inside that way, Tilly stalked away from the building, trying to decide whether to go back in when she got to the front or leave before she ended up in jail for trying to kill the bastard for playing the dirty trick on her.

  She hadn’t gotten far when a blinding light came on.

  “Good god! That’s bright enough. Stupid bastards ….”

  She didn’t get the thought finished because when she looked around to locate the security light, she discovered she hadn’t been spotlighted by a security light at all. The light was above her.

  And oddly enough the helicopter wasn’t stirring up any wind or deafening her with the motor and prop blades.

  Because it wasn’t a helicopter.

  She blacked out just about the time her vision cleared enough that she realized it definitely wasn’t a helicopter above her.

  Chapter Two

  Tilly woke to find herself inside … something. She was moaning and groaning.

  And she wasn’t the only one.

  Disoriented, terrified for some reason that she couldn’t pinpoint at that moment, she lay where she was, barely breathing, cracking her eyes just enough to peer around.

  She couldn’t see a hell of a lot from where she was lying—which seemed to be a floor. But of what? The surface she was lying on felt cold like metal, but she could see that she was in a sizeable area, not contained in a trunk or the back of a van.

  Metal, but not a vehicle.

  Something scary scratched at the back of her mind, but she ignored it.

  She wasn’t alone. She couldn’t see a lot beyond a few shadowy shapes, but she could hear the moaning—from feminine throats.

  It shouldn’t have comforted her, but it did.

  She wasn’t alone.

  There were other captives.

  A memory flitted through her mind—walking out of the club, being spotlighted, looking up ….

  Horror swallowed her at the memory, her heart slamming so painfully against her chest wall that she couldn’t hear anything but the frantic hammering for many moments. She must be tripping!

  They’d put LSD in her drink! He had drugged her drink! She was hallucinating.

  “The alien slaver.”

  He hadn’t meant alien, though! He couldn’t have! Maybe illegal aliens like Mexican slavers or Russians.

  He’d planted that suggestion in her mind and drugged her and then she thought she’d really been picked up by aliens when it was actually just some horrible thugs!

  The bastard had drugged her and then delivered her right into their hands and she’d walked into it like a complete moron!

  Looking for Emily.

  With that thought, she sat up. A wave of dizziness washed over her, but it wasn’t disorienting enough for her to dismiss her perceptions and put everything down to drugs.

  Which was a pity because that would’ve been some comfort for a little while anyway. That would’ve allowed her to think that all the horrible would go away and she’d wake up in her bed at home, safe and sound.

  She saw she’d been right about the women—the room was full of them—a lot of women—all sprawled or curled up on the floor as she had been, maybe conscious, maybe unconscious.

  She still didn’t know where she was but, to her amazement, she saw that there was a row of windows along one wall and they weren’t covered. She could see the night sky beyond! Not much else but that, but that was enough to tell her she could see out of whatever she was in and, maybe, figure out where she was and where they were going with her.

  Her mind had instantly connected the row of round windows with a plane even though she sought, in vane, with her perceptions for the sound of engines, the feel of motion, the bump and rattle of air resistance and turbulence.

  But she wasn’t ready to accept that. She struggled with the sense of hopelessness trying to take hold of her and turn her into a blubbering pile of spineless terror, rolling over and pushing herself to her hands and knees.

  It took an effort to get to her feet. She felt heavy—as if she’d been swimming for hours and gotten so used to the buoyancy her body was almost too heavy for her to lift.

  The drugs, she told herself, fighting the pull of gravity as she strained to get to her knees and then to push herself to her feet. She felt light headed when she’d managed it, but she didn’t blame that on drugs lingering in her system. In point of fact, absolutely nothing went through her shocked mind for several moments after her gaze fastened on the view beyond the windows.

  Her stomach took a freefall.

  All she could see was the night sky.

  As if she was looking up at the night sky.

  Unable to compute that bit of information, she staggered across the room, stepping on body parts as she tried to navigate the minefield of prone women around her. She tripped and virtually fell against the outer wall, plastering her face against the frigid glass.

  Earth looked like pictures she’d seen from space—a beautiful sapphire against black velvet and twinkling diamonds.

  “Oh god! Oh my god! This … this can’t be real!” she exclaimed to no one in particular, barely aware she’d actually spoken out loud. Shoving away from the window, she moved to the next and then the next and the next until she’d made it all the way to the end, expecting the perspective to change as her angle of
view did.

  When it didn’t, she couldn’t decide whether that meant the view was some sort of elaborate hoax or maybe just a poster—or if it was what it looked like it was—a view from a space ship heading away from Earth.

  “Wait! We aren’t weightless! Shouldn’t we be weightless?”

  Drawn by the voice, Tilly dragged her gaze from the view, her heart thumping, briefly, with hope. She couldn’t tell which woman had spoken. By that time, although she’d been too shocked to notice the commotion, it looked like all of the women in the room had raced to press their faces against the windows. “If it was one of ours, we’d be weightless,” she muttered. “But I haven’t heard anything about NASA abducting women to send them into space.”

  “Bitch!” someone muttered.

  “You don’t have to be sarcastic!”

  Anger flickered through her. “I was just pointing out the flaw in her logic!” she snapped. “If it offends you … kiss my ass!”

  She was scared shitless and that had been gut reaction without engaging mental function. Unfortunately, the other women were in the same state and might have turned their fear into rage and targeted her if not for the circumstance of the door opening at the other side of the room.

  “Come!”

  The command brought every bulging, wide eye in the room to fix on the mammoth being who stood in the doorway.

  His size alone was enough to make him a commanding presence, because he looked every bit of seven feet tall and about four feet wide.

  He was wearing something that made Tilly think ‘uniform’ even though it didn’t look like any uniform she’d ever seen. The being wearing the uniform looked human and male and actually rather handsome, she thought in a detached sort of way, but exotic and not like anyone belonging to any race she was familiar with.

  It was a comfort that he looked so human-like, though. She thought she might have died of fright otherwise.

  He glared at the gaping women and abruptly clapped his hands together and took a step toward them. “Come!”

  As one the women screamed and raced toward the far side of the room.

  He pointed at the door.

  They looked bug-eyed at the door, but they didn’t move. They remained huddled in a pile as far from him as they could get.