Teasing Tilly (8 page)

Although they had long since finished eating, the women were still gathered around the table  in the area they had come to refer to as the harem when they heard the tramp of booted feet—many booted feet—as if the entire squad was approaching the lounge.

They fell silent as one, turning toward the doorway with varying degrees of fear and anticipation.

The approach of the men enmass, they’d learned over the days they’d been allowed the freedom of the lounge, usually meant one lucky recipient was about to be screwed almost to death by the entire squad.

No one really understood that ritual.  They still wore what the aliens referred to as their nano training suit—which meant they were fully under the control of the men—and there wasn’t one of them that hadn’t learned that resistance was not only futile, it could be fatal—or very close to fatal, which was almost worse.  Why did they continue the show of force when it was no longer necessary?

Were they concerned the women might relax and forget they were sex slaves if they got together?  That the women might try to overwhelm them?

As ludicrous as that sounded, Tilly, for one, wasn’t completely resigned to being a slave and it wasn’t beyond the realms of possibility that they might rebel in her book, however useless resistance was.  She suspected she wasn’t the only one that felt that way.

In point of fact, she’d begun to get the sense that there were some trying to convince her to lead a rebellion.

She felt for their plight, but she wasn’t about to lead an attempt that would only result in more of them getting jettisoned into space.  They couldn’t win.  There might be four times as many women as there were men, but the men weren’t just hulking huge.  They were
very
strong.

There was absolutely zero possibility of overwhelming them physically.

There was also absolutely zero possibility of overwhelming them technologically because of the suits alone.

And beyond that, there was the useless factor, because if they
did
manage to overwhelm the men and take control of the ship they still couldn’t fly it or navigate it back to Earth—which made even attempting to win their freedom an exercise in useless stupidity.

The only chance they had, and that was a very big maybe, was to escape after they were sold, but even then they had nowhere to run to—not home, anyway.  Not to people and places they knew, which meant they could be escaping to a worse fate than the one they left.

As depressing as it was—as much as it went against the grain to give up her freedom without a fight—Tilly was beginning to accept that it wasn’t likely she could escape, could ever go home again—or achieve the one thing that had gotten her into the mess to begin with.  She wasn’t going to find Emily and get her home.  She couldn’t even get herself home.

The commander surveyed the harem and made the choice—Marcia—the bitch that was constantly making snide comments to her.

A suspicious lump rose in Tilly’s throat.  She swallowed against it with an effort and looked away from the commander quickly, hoping no one had read her feelings in her expression.

His second strode across the room, signaled for her to follow and led her to the closest mound of pillows.

As he had done with her, he commanded the suit to arrange her and settled, giving her oral sex with a vigor and enthusiasm that couldn’t be faked.

Tilly didn’t want to look, but she couldn’t seem to tear her gaze from the live porno being played out in front of her. 

She’d never believed men actually enjoyed doing that—getting it, absolutely, but not giving.  When they did it at all it seemed to her that most of their enthusiasm was in getting through with it.

Except second seemed to really enjoy it—to the tune of he didn’t care if the woman was enjoying it or not.

The forlorn cries Marcia was making made it clear that she wasn’t allowed to come—only to feel the escalating sensations until she thought she would go up in flames or lose her mind.

Tilly tried to ignore the heat rising in her own belly as she recalled how it had felt when he’d done that to her, but with indifferent success.

He sucked and licked and bit at her fragile flesh until
Tilly
thought she was going to lose her mind.  Finally, panting for breath and showing every evidence that he was about to come himself, he withdrew and stepped back.

Tilly had expected that the woman would be removed to another place while the others took their turn at her.

She discovered she was wrong and that discovery was crushing—taking her to the final level of understanding.  All of them to that place, she supposed, removing whatever illusions they’d been nursing that they were ‘different’ or ‘special’ in any way.

They were all slaves—period.  And their continued good health rested upon them
completely
understanding their situation.

The commander took the second’s place.  Aligning his cocks with her body openings, he thrust into her and continued to thrust until he’d expended himself.  When he got up, his second took his place, speared into her and pounded into her punishingly until he, too, expended himself.

The other three men took their turns after them, apparently in ranking order, but Tilly had withdrawn into her own world as soon as the commander drove his cock into Marcia.

Tilly thought, even if she hadn’t hated the woman before she would’ve hated her after that.

Which only showed how screwed up her head was because Marcia hadn’t enticed them, hadn’t offered and couldn’t even fight them off if she’d wanted to.

She should be furious with the commander.

And the second if it came to that!

Her sense of possessiveness finally cleared her mind somewhat.

Neither of them belonged to her—none of them.

Maybe this was the new lesson?  They were slaves, toys, and they belonged to their masters, not the other way around.

She had
known
that it was likely that everyone else was getting exactly the same ‘training’ that she was. 

She was a complete and utter fool to feel hurt—jealous!  She should feel sorry for the woman!

When the last man had screwed Marcia until he came, he staggered off to rest while the others took a second shot at her.

Tilly had followed the other women to one side of the lounge and settled there on the pillows when it had been borne in upon them that this was a different kind of lesson—a show, she supposed, to convince them they were slaves and their feelings meant nothing to the men.

And if she assumed that to be the case, then pretty much all of them were feeling much the same as she was right now.

The mysterious knot rose in her throat again.

She’d thought she was too smart to fall for their mental manipulations, and yet she had—so easily it was downright sickening.  She recalled almost nothing about the night the commander had taken her to his room—due, she thought, to whatever he’d given her—but she’d remembered enough to feel special.

Even though she’d woken in her own cell, she’d convinced herself that that was special, too.  He’d carried her in his arms.

Very likely he’d simply commanded the nanos to return her and she’d been too out of it to recall—might not even have woken up at all.  That thought
had
occurred to her, but she’d dismissed it because she was always completely aware when the suit was moving her around like a puppet and she’d managed to convince herself she
had
to be awake for the nanos to do that.

Stupid!

When the men finally left, she spent hours berating herself for her stupidity and trying not to hate Marcia for being the focus of their attention when she knew, whether the woman had wanted it or not, it hadn’t been a choice.

The others didn’t seem similarly inclined.  Their remarks and behavior proved that Tilly was right—they were all hurt and jealous.  Even pointing that out to them did no good.  They were so nasty to Marcia that Tilly could almost feel sorry for the bitch.  She thought she would’ve except
stupid
thought she was special because they’d chosen her over all the others and preened about it.

The next day the men marched down the corridor and into the lounge and chose another woman and they all got to watch her get screwed half to death.

She supposed there was a lesson in that.  They were there for the pleasure of the men, period.  And they would be used to the full extent of their desires even if it meant the women were half dead when they got done—because half dead didn’t count.  The men wanted to thoroughly expend themselves and once wasn’t enough.  They had to have at least two shots at the ‘stuff’ and there were five of the skunks, soooo ….

By the time roughly half a dozen of the women had received the same treatment, they ‘got’ it.  They stopped picking on whichever woman was chosen because none of them felt special anymore.  There was no reason to be jealous.  They knew they were going to be chosen.

The heck of it was that although none of them had been used to being screwed raw before they were captured, they
became
used to it, and it was a new form of torture when they were completely ignored. 

At least it was to Tilly.

She hadn’t even known it was possible to crave being gang banged—whether she was allowed to come or not—meaning the climax, apparently, had little to do with the craving.

She had an uncomfortable suspicion that at least part of the craving was a twisted sense of affection she had developed for her captives and the belief that she was receiving affection of some kind from them.

And maybe that was some sort of survival/defense mechanism?

She supposed it was a good thing, for her, that she was the last chosen in the new lesson.  She’d had plenty of time to have it rubbed in her face that she meant absolutely nothing to any of them beyond a paycheck at the end of the road and an object to slake their lust on in the mean time. 

Otherwise, she might have done or said something stupid.

On the sixth day, she discovered she was the chosen.  Dismay, not joy or anticipation, was uppermost in her heart and mind when the second approached her and commanded her to present herself.

The commander was always first except when the second wanted oral sex—which he had only performed on the first to star in their week long live porn.

Bracing herself the best she could as the nano-suit carried her to the pillows and arranged her, she closed her eyes since the dang thing wasn’t accommodating enough to mask her and at least give her the sense that she was alone rather than on display.

She tried to convince herself none of the others would watch anyway. 

Well, not the women.  The men always watched.  She supposed it was part of their enjoyment—watching and planning what they would do when it was their turn.

There was another aspect that dismayed her that she didn’t discover until she was displayed.

She hadn’t been touched in well over a week and her flesh had apparently forgotten what it was like to be stretched to its limits by giant aliens with giant everything.

Her thighs and tendons protested when they were stretched so wide they felt like they would come unhinged.  And, due at least partly to nerves,  her natural juices had dried so that it burned uncomfortably when the suit peeled the outer lips of her sex back and then spread the mouth of her sex as wide as it could.

She discovered she hadn’t braced herself nearly well enough.

It was way worse to experience than it had looked like it could possibly be.

Chapter Eleven

Except for certain, unexplainable, circumstances, many of the women had almost become convinced that they were being duped with some weird, elaborate hoax by the time they arrived at their destination. 

That ‘rumor’ arose weeks into captivity when the women had gone through despair, terror, a false sense of worth—meaning some or maybe all of them had stupidly convinced themselves that they were girlfriends—and then ugly enlightenment.

After the final lesson in ‘you are a toy/ a slave and nothing more’, they settled into a routine of sorts.  There
were
no favorites.

Women were chosen at random.  The men came together, picked one woman or sometimes two or three and took them off to do whatever they wanted to them.  Apparently, as long as they didn’t cause any permanent damage it didn’t matter what they did, and maybe it was actually encouraged that they do their worst so that the women completely understood their situation.

Sadly, the rumor had arisen (the author completely ignoring the physical differences between the aliens and humans) and become very popular just about the time they arrived at their destination and discovered that, not only was the situation completely authentic and not a hoax, but their nightmare was just beginning. 

They knew something was up when they were all herded down the corridor to the processing room.  Most of them were terrified to the point of slobbering idiots by the time they realized where they were going and they didn’t improve a lot when the nano units were removed and they were placed in chains and manacles.