General
Augustus Bron, Commander of the Traoian Iron Guard, has never approved of the
practice of capturing human women and training them to serve the rich and
powerful of his world. He knows, however, that success in politics is all but
impossible without the social status granted by ownership of a human pet, and
with his planet in desperate need of new leadership he sees little choice but
to obtain one for himself.
When
she pieces together a connection between five missing women, reporter Phaedra
Ellis knows she is onto something big, but before she can go public with her
story she is taken from her apartment in the middle of the night and brought to
a facility unlike anything she has ever seen before. To her shock, Phaedra is informed that she is no longer on Earth, and
more disturbing still, she is now the property of a huge, powerful alien warrior
who will not hesitate to bare her bottom and spank her soundly should she dare
to disobey him.
After an intimate, deeply humiliating medical
examination confirms her suitability as a pet, Bron begins Phaedra’s training. Though
taming her will require a firm hand and punishments much more shameful than a
mere spanking may be necessary from time to time, he has no doubt that he is up
to the task. But despite his efforts to remain stoic, his beautiful little
human has soon claimed a place in his heart. When Bron’s enemies seek to use
his growing love for Phaedra against him, can the battle-hardened soldier find
a way to protect both his planet and his pet?
Publisher’s Note: The Alien’s Captive is an
erotic romance novel that includes spankings, sexual scenes, medical play, elements
of BDSM, and more. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book.
“Today,” he said, “I teach you
control.”
Her heart was pounding. What did he
mean? He was completely silent as he loomed over her, but then a finger dropped
to her collarbone and trailed lightly down her skin, and something in so light
a touch from so huge a man caused a shudder to run through Phaedra’s small
body. When that finger reached her breast, the tip of it circled the areola,
sending tiny goosebumps of flesh on her skin and causing her nipple to harden
almost painfully.
She could feel the wetness starting
to form between her legs as his finger now circled the other nipple. Phaedra
scrunched her eyes shut tight and squeezed her thighs together, as if that
could stop the throbbing of her pussy. When she opened her eyes, she could see
Bron looking down at those clamped thighs, and when he drug his gaze up to
hers, she could tell he knew her body was already betraying her. The corner of
his mouth was curved up in a knowing smirk, and at that moment Phaedra’s anger
flared.
“NO!” She began to pull against the
restraints, to kick her legs, to arch away from Bron while calling him every
vile name she could think of. And he —the beast!— was perfectly calm as he
caught her, turned her over, clutched her by the waist, raised her ass and
began to spank her with hard, heavy blows.
“OWWWW!” Her protests and
profanities turned to sobs and pleas as her captor’s hard hand fell and fell
and fell. He did not spank her quickly, but methodically, carefully timing the
blows and letting her whimper in expectation of each one. He was suspending her
in a full state of helplessness, forcing her to connect with it.
Where the other spanking had been
corrective, this one sent a message: I have all the time in the world to spank
your bottom. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.
The burn of the spanks went
subdermal. Her bottom felt as if it were throbbing. Each spank echoed through
the room. When Phaedra looked back in one frantic, pain-filled moment, she
could see Bron staring between her kicking legs. This made her wail even
louder, for she knew what he saw—an exposed pussy glistening wet with need.
“Please!” Her voice was hoarse now,
and she could barely expel the word. Bron was rubbing her sore bottom, his hand
inflaming the burning surface with each pass. For good measure, he squeezed a
punished cheek before wordlessly turning her back over. Her bottom was so
tender that Phaedra arched away from the bed, but when Bron placed a hand on
her pelvis, his expression was so serious that she dropped her pulsing haunches
to the mattress, tears of defeat leaking from her eyes.
“Again.” It was a single word that
marked Bron’s intention of resuming his lesson, as if the spanking were merely
a trivial interruption. His finger went back to her nipples, circling one and
then the other. And despite the discomfort in her bottom, Phaedra’s pussy once
again clenched hungrily. She did not shut her legs this time; there was, she
decided, no use trying to hide what he could so easily reveal.
The finger moved between her
breasts, trailing down and down and down past her navel to the crest of her
Venus mound to the top of the deep cleft of her pussy. He ordered her to spread
her legs wide, and after weighing the cost of disobedience, Phaedra obeyed,
focusing on the ornate tiles of the high ceilings for want of distraction.
But there was no distraction great
enough to draw her attention away from what he did next. Bron parted Phaedra’s
labia with two large fingers and touched the little gold shield that covered
her clitoris. It all but melted away under his finger, and when the air hit
that little nub of flesh, she felt it pulse and swell and throb.
“You’ve drugged me.” She looked at
him accusingly, unwilling to admit that her arousal was a natural reaction,
given her situation.
“I’ve no need to drug a female.”
“You’ve drugged me.” Phaedra’s tone
was insistent, angry. “Why are you making me act like this?” She moved her
hips, desperate to dislodge the finger that was now moving on that sensitive
little pearl in maddening circles.
He laughed. “Oh, little human. You
seek to keep your dignity by denying the truth. You need no drugging. You are
under the sway of your own natural desires. You cannot control your passion,
whether it be the desires of your body or your urge to unleash your tongue when
you should remain silent.” He paused as his finger moved up and down, and
Phaedra moaned. “You must learn to curb your passions.”
Once upon a time, there was a young woman who found the only
way to get her kinky reading fix was to haunt questionable sections of the
bookstore and - when no one was looking - snatch up a copy of "Penthouse
Letters", which she proceeded to hide inside a magazine for camouflage.
She was a nice southern girl then, and nice southern girls
didn't read stories she craved - stories of domination and correction and
surrender. Or, at least, they didn't own to it.
Oh, how times have changed. No longer a young woman, Ava
Sinclair is pleased to live in an exciting time when all manner of erotica is
available at the click of a button. And she's so very proud to be one of the
writers her younger self would have wanted to read.
From her beginnings as a contributor to the first online
purveyor of female erotica, Bethany's Woodshed, Ava Sinclair went on to not
only write but to become an executive editor in the industry. In 2015, she
returned to writing fulltime when she published "Marshal's Little Girl"
with Stormy Night Publications. That book led to a string of a dozen
bestsellers, nine of which became #1 Amazon bestsellers.
From alien worlds to western towns to windswept Highlands to
shadowy government institutes where women are taken for training, Ava enjoys creating
detailed worlds and crafting believable plots that frame sizzling scenes of sex
and domination her readers have come to love.
She resides in the green hills of southern Virginia with her
family, an indecent number of cats, her little dog and an Eagle Owl named
Lucius. When she's not writing, she can be found reading, scouring antique
shops for vintage teacups, or riding her horses.
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