A Sex Slavee To Alien Masters

“You are right, Ciara,” he said sounding pleased. “You always wear our mark. Whether you have a collar or not, you may look at us.”

I looked up at the men and smiled. My hand drifted to the motif that sat so strange and proud on my stomach. No matter what, I was theirs.

It pleased me to know they had finally realized that.

Unlike my fake Masters, my real Masters did not Leave me once I was stripped. They waited with me beside the fire until the other men arrived.

The men greeted each other and Master Damien gave my fake Masters a large bag of the stones as payment. They talked briefly before I was put back into my green and gold outfit. After I was ornamented entirely, my fake Masters wrapped me in two brown Layers. Once all was ready, we Loaded on the transport. I snuck a last Look at Master Damien and his Brothers; it had to be enough to sustain me for who knew how long.

We flew home and I stared out over the distance. The men that surrounded me acted Like I wasn’t even present. They talked about which women they had liked the most and the places they would return next time. As they talked, I thought about Master Damien and his Brothers.

I hoped I had given my owners the right mindset. Perhaps thinking of things a different way would make them happier. If they continued to fight, there were only two outcomes and neither was good.

If the men physically fought the women, I feared the women would kill them. The men were obviously weaker. According to Master Kein the men were also outnumbered. I couldn’t imagine it would be much of a battle.

The other option I saw also led to death for my Masters. When they got too upset their bond was damaged. The men didn’t do well when they weren’t connected to one another. If they were left unconnected, I feared what would become of them.

Of course, I wished they could win a fight with the women and have their freedom. Except for Fuji, I didn’t know anyone that wanted to be owned and controlled. Freedom seemed to be the keystone of happiness for the sentient beings I knew.

Looking at my fake Masters I knew that was true. They lived where and how they were told to live, but they still maintained individuality.

A N G E L A ‘s L I B R A R Y

Some choices had been taken away, but not all. Binding a creature like either one of us in forced servitude bent our spirit to near breaking.

Why couldn’t the women see that? I wondered. Why couldn’t Master Damien and his Brothers see that?

I shook my self from the thoughts. It was not going to happen. I was weak and they were strong. According to them I could not care for myself. The men believed I needed them. They would never see it the way I did.

By the time we made it back to the compound I had chased the foolish dreams from my head. Wishing would only depress me, best to focus on the good things I had when I had them. Life would not change just because I wanted it to.

My fake Masters took me inside their dwelling when we got back to the compound. They stripped me and demanded I clean. They sat at their table and counted out the stones Damien had given them. As I washed the apartment they earmarked each stone for a different endeavor.

As I worked I made up my mind to count the day cycles this time. I wanted to know what the length of time was between my meetings with my real Masters. I didn’t understand how the different moons turned here and I couldn’t use them to track time. The days I could track, so I decided to do that.

Time passed and I counted, ticking off days on my imaginary calender. I wondered sometimes if I shouldn’t pretend I was on Earth and just pick a day as January 1. For some reason that just didn’t seem right. I just numbered the days and watched time pass.

The nausea started thirty one day cycles into my counting. I woke up, vomited, and my fake owners were upset. They fed me the root and made me stay in the apartment all day. Afraid of my illness, they called Keepers to stay with me.

I wasn’t sick again all day. Once the initial nausea and vomiting passed I was even hungry. To tell the truth, I felt guilty they had paid money for Keepers. If I had been left alone it would have been a better day.

Once the men returned that night they asked the Keepers how I had been.

The Keepers told the truth, I had been fine. My fake Masters watched me carefully all night, but I had no more problems until the next morning.

Again, I woke up and threw up. My head spun as I leaned over the lacquered pot in the bathing room. I hated to feel nauseated. Luckily for me, the sensations mostly subsided several minutes later. Still I didn’t want to eat and my stomach felt queasy.Content held by NôvelDrama.Org.