Alien Hostage
Authors: Tracy St. John
Clans of Kalquor 10
ALIEN HOSTAGE
By
Tracy St. John
© copyright April 2016, Tracy St. John
Cover art by Erin Dameron-Hill, © copyright March 2016
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.
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Tasha eyed her surroundings. She stood on an open platform near the top of a blue-leafed tree. The foliage was thick due to the late spring growth, shielding the wood-planked deck from any curious eyes that might be around. And yet she felt watched by avid gazes.
She took in the platform itself. It boasted little in the way of details but she saw evidence that it had recently been used. Cushions as long as her body made from furred animal hides lay scattered about. Depressions in their centers spoke of someone – or something – making use of them at some point.
Tasha inhaled deeply. She smelled the wood of the tree itself, of the deck beneath her bare feet. The leaves had a dusty yet distantly sweet fragrance, much as dried flowers might carry. There was her own light fragrance, a spritz of perfume that wafted from her body. Then there was another scent, something musky and spicy, with a hint of cinnamon.
She backed toward the trunk of the tree, where the improbable rough spiral staircase wound about its thick circumference. She had padded up its circular path less than a minute before, curiosity about what she’d find driving her forward. Now, feeling those unseen eyes upon her, she headed back that way. She concentrated on getting to the stairs, trying not to think of the dizzying height that she would have to descend to reach the ground.
Tasha turned as she neared the trunk, reaching toward the flimsy-looking railing that wound in tandem with the steps anchored in the massive tree. Her hand froze in midair as her gaze locked with that of a man standing a couple of steps down.
He was big, his naked torso made of granite muscle. Tasha’s breath caught to see the powerful swells beneath mocha-brown skin. Her gaze skittered down to the tan animal hide tied about his waist, revealing legs as strong as his upper body. His waist-length black hair drifted loose in the breeze, waving like lazy tendrils of midnight fire. His purple, cat-pupiled eyes were narrowed as he looked at her, as if he could drill into her soul with his very gaze. He had sensual lips in defiance of the carved masculinity of his face. They curled in a knowing smile.
Tasha took a step back from that ruthless leer. Her legs trembled with sudden weakness. The alien man drained strength from her with the power of that unblinking stare.
In response to her retreat, he advanced another step, growing taller. His eyes were at least three inches higher than hers now. He kept climbing, looming bigger. Then he stood on the deck with Tasha, towering over her.
Movement behind him alerted her to the second man on the stairs. Tasha took another step back, realizing she didn’t have much room to retreat to. She was going to run out of platform soon.
The first man’s companion mounted the deck and came around to stand at his side. This one was slighter but no less impressive. His dark face was long. The features would have been haughty had it not been for the warmth in his eyes and lust curling his lips. His shaggy hair brushed his wide shoulders, tousled locks that shone blue-black in the dappled light. He also wore a skin loincloth knotted low about his hips.
And yet a third man appeared. He held Tasha’s gaze more rapt than the first two. Her mouth went dry to see the heavy, brutal brow and the downward scar that started at one corner of his lips, making him seem to scowl fiercely even though she saw a definite smile on his face.
It was one of many scars which covered his masculine body. He was built slightly less bulky than the first man who’d gained the platform, and the jagged marks emphasized many of the curves of muscled flesh. Tasha’s gut squeezed tight as she eyed the brute, a savage-looking creature who seemed born to fight and take what he wanted.
“A Matara has entered our territory,” the first man said. He spoke slowly, as if relishing every word. His low, deep voice struck a chord in Tasha’s body. She shivered.
The scarred beast lifted his face, his wide nose flaring as he inhaled. “She is ripe for breeding,” he rumbled.
Tasha’s weakened knees shook even harder. It took all she had to not collapse to the planking.
The slightest member of the group’s eager smile grew wider still. “Then let us take her.”
Tasha gasped and stepped back. The three men in front of her disappeared into dark blurs, the smear of their passage racing straight for her. All at once they surrounded her, the sharp scent of them choking in its heavy aroma.
She couldn’t think how to form words as calloused hands closed over her arms, holding her prisoner and simultaneously supporting her. More hands grasped her blouse and the neck. The scarred man pulled the front of her blouse apart, his eyes staring intently into hers as he did.
The fabric purring apart was all Tasha could hear. Then air wafted over her bared chest, taking her breath away.
The marked beast-man growled to see her exposed. His face darted down, fangs appearing behind large square teeth. The sharp sting of his bite drove a cry from Tasha’s throat.
The other two men bit her as well, one at her throat. The other fastened his mouth on the ample swell of a buttock. Tasha knew about the venom they injected her with, how it would render her helpless to their desire to mate with her. Already the sense of warm euphoria crept over her, a sweet intoxication that overwhelmed any instinct for self-preservation. Her will weakened until she knew she would deny the men nothing.
They lowered her to one of the cushions on the platform, laying her down so she sprawled open to them. Their fangs slid out of her skin, leaving tiny punctures where drops of blood beaded. Tasha gazed at her captors, her vision hazy with intoxication.
The biggest man smiled down at her. “Now you will serve our needs. You will give us your body for our pleasure.”
A stab of hunger plunged deep into Tasha’s gut. “Yes,” she whispered.
Her skirt went the way of her blouse, pulled apart by coarse, demanding hands. She lay exposed beneath the three hulks. Her body lit with eagerness.
The scarred man pushed his companions aside, making them move so he could crouch between Tasha’s legs. They laughed at his enthusiasm even though their loincloths showed obvious arousal. He smirked in wordless reply. Then Scarred Savage grabbed Tasha’s lightly tanned thighs, his fingers indenting soft, malleable skin. He drew her plump legs apart. His breath caught as he stared at her exposed pussy, wet and blushing with need.
Scarred Savage liked what he saw. The pungent aroma that reminded Tasha of cinnamon rolled off him in a tidal wave. A rumble of a growl vibrated his chest. His purple eyes lit with fire. He half-swooped, half-collapsed down, burying his face in her crotch.
Tasha cried out as he mouthed her hungrily. His rough, raw silk tongue swept over tender flesh, scooping up the wetness that flowed. Molten pleasure leapt through Tasha’s body at the feeling of him there. She started to flail only to find the other two men held her pinned to the furred cushion. The vulnerable position fed her desire, making every cell light.
Scarred Savage licked and sucked at her womanhood, his enjoyment voiced through muffled chuffing sounds. He was frenzied in his oral pleasuring. The rough mouthing was what Tasha liked best – violent and demanding.
The other two men had been watching their companion enjoying his feast. They turned their attention to her, settling on either side of her, each imprisoning a wrist next to her head. Their wet, open mouths found other body parts to pleasure.
The slightest of the three sealed his lips to Tasha’s, his tongue sweeping into her mouth to taste her. He plundered her with the kiss, seeking every nuance with a knowledge that made her tremble. His hand squeezed her breast, first gently and then harder. She responded to the heady ache by thrusting the mound up into his hand, begging for more. He chuckled into her mouth. He pinched her nipple hard and she writhed at the pleasurable stab of pain.
The third man was at the other breast, sucking with abandon at the heavy tit that overflowed his mouth. His tongue, every bit as deliciously rough as his companions’, rubbed over the tip to turn it pebble hard. His teeth closed over the erect point, bringing as sweet a pain as the other man’s pinching.
Scarred Savage drew Tasha’s swelling clit into his mouth. At the same time, he pressed two thick fingers against her female opening. The big-knuckled digits shoved in deep. Tasha kicked the air as he filled her. His fingers drove in and out, fucking her. His wicked tongue lashed her clit, sending a tide of gooseflesh to cover her skin. Her whole body flushed with sensual heat as her pussy yielded to the invasion. A third finger pried her open further, demanding entrance as well. The added girth rubbed the most sensitive place in her feminine sleeve, sending roiling heat swirling through her belly. She screamed into the slightest man’s mouth.
He halted his passionate kiss to stare into her glazed eyes. He grinned at whatever he saw there. “You will come for us, woman. You will come for us many times. We demand it.”
The other man who led this group of wild jungle beasts added, “You will obey. You will come when told.”
Tasha could already feel herself succumbing to their demands. The venom they’d injected her with made her sensitive to their every touch. Their brute strength let her know she had no choice but to surrender. The frenzied attack and physical domination underscored that, leaving her helpless against their lust.
High in the tree, having stumbled into their territory where they ruled, Tasha knew she must acquiesce to all they wanted. In this wild place with its equally untamed men, she must give herself over to every demand put to her.
“I obey,” she whispered, surrendering completely.
The two fell on her again, more fervent than before. Meanwhile, Scarred Savage doubled his efforts. He drummed into her pussy with rough fingers. He sucked and tongue-lashed her clit harder than ever.
It was beginning, that gorgeous demolition powered by lust. Tasha wailed as desire overpowered her, its demands combusting her body and driving her to final immolation.
“Yes Matara, you are giving yourself over. You have no choice but to yield to us.”
They drove her on with steady thrusts, with nipping teeth, with hard hands, with burning kisses. The implacable taking shoved her closer to the edge by the second. Tasha’s head tossed from side to side as the excitement built. Deep, carnal longing erupted into brazen, unstoppable demand.
“Please!” she begged. “Please!”
“You may come for us now.”
Crescendo broke upon Tasha. Her pussy grabbed onto the fingers plumbing it, flexing to take them in deeper as the violent craving found its voice. Tasha’s body strained in the arms of her captors, fighting to release the gathered tension that unwound in shattering bursts. Fiery surges broke upon her body. She was torn apart and made whole all at once.
The last pulses had not yet faded when Scarred Savage withdrew dripping fingers. With bestial purpose, he pushed two of them into Tasha’s tightest entrance. She gasped at a fresh surge of passion.
“Now we will have our needs satisfied while we relieve more of yours,” he vowed. His fingers drove in and out, twisting and turning, opening her for what could only be a profane act.
