A Sexy Ultramodern Amalgamation Of Erotica & Science Fiction
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Alienated by by Isis Malone

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When Kaitlin is abducted by a mysterious space alien, it's all she can do to keep her composure. Fighting is futile, and on a ship among the stars there's no where to run. But escape is far from her mind once she gets to know the dark and confusing alien called Variose, who has taken her hostage out of no ill will, but out of pure necessity. 

He promises to take her home when he no longer needs her, but danger is around every corner in space, and Kaitlin's return to Earth seems constantly postponed. Her end goal is to get back to the safety of her apartment but after fleeing from authorities, getting arrested, and experiencing more love than she's known in a lifetime, she wonders if she can really assimilate back into normal Earth life.

This adventure, whether it ends her life, keeps her forever, or is cut short by her safe arrival back on Earth, is something she must accept. Returning home is the last thing Kaitlin could be thinking about as she thoroughly explores the difference between a human man and a Cas man.

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Alienated - Chapter Read

Chapter One



 I was running down an alley, scared, alienated from the world. At first I was running from my life, but then I was running for it. The noises I heard were horrifying, and I had to get away from it. Finally, I spotted help. There seemed to be police officers in the distance. They shined flashlights on me and made it hard to see. I beckoned to them but as they came closer I could see them clearly in their helmet and uniforms and knew they were more than police, or at least more than beat cops. I still saw them as authority figures, and tried to catch their attention, but it was a mistake, a horrible mistake.


Something came out of the shadows from behind me, clutching me tightly, and holding something to my head. It must have been a man. I could feel his lean muscles gripping around me.


I knew I was in terrible danger. Something in the air told me so, and yet I was strangely numb to it all. I almost didn't want this man with the swimmers arms to let me go, even if he did hold some sort of weapon against my head.


I heard a strange guttural sound come from the man who held me so close on the darkened street that I could not look at him. And the sound returned from the police officers. They were feigning calmness, I could just tell somehow, and the man behind me was trying to sound very angry and serious. The officers raised their guns, rounded and strange like no gun I'd seen before, but a gun, no doubt in my mind.

 At first I was afraid. It finally hit me that I could die when I saw their weapons, but then I felt him tighten around me, and the officers hesitated. More guttural sounds, and the man backed up with me as his hostage, and soon, we were running.

 He had my hand and I could've let go, I could've struggled, I could've tried to run, but I didn't. I only tried to keep up with my kidnapper.

 In the end, I couldn't. He was too fast for me and I slipped and fell. Then I saw him standing over me, just his silhouette in the darkness, the gun shining in the dim light, and I had the thought, maybe I had trusted him because he was my angel of death.

 And then he shot me.

 When I awoke, I saw a bright light above me and thought for split second I was in heaven. Then it registered. This was artificial light, and I was on a hard surface. My mind went to all kinds of crazy things, and horrible images. Damn those late night crime dramas.


But then my captor came into focus and my mind went straight for the silliest of the theories. Alien probing. Somehow I knew it was him. The man from last night. I smelled his smell and saw his silhouette come to life.

 He was humanoid at least... Well sort of. He had a head and arms and legs, but he was so tall and lean like no human I'd ever seen.

 Not so tall that he was taller than any human that ever lived, but tall enough that I figured his species was generally tall, rather than being the one alien that happens to play basketball.

 As he came further into focus, I saw his features, or lack thereof. He had black skin. Literally black, and smooth and shiny like a whale. Like a beautiful orca. He was muscular like an Olympic swimmer and his face was somewhere between a human and a blue whale, but the skin and eyes of a beautiful porpoise.

 Somehow he was a frightening mutant and a blessedly beautiful creature to me all at once. When he opened his mouth, I expected the guttural sounds from the night before but instead I heard English, plain as day. Sure, it sort of sounded like he had an accent somewhere between middle eastern and Yiddish, but it was somehow also soft and slow, building in the pit of my stomach like a whale song, like a mating call.

 “I don't mean to scare you. I offer you my friendship. My friendship.”

 “I...” I could barely speak. I was strapped to the hard surface, and he was reaching a hand to me, with long slender fingers. He reached under my skirt, and I shook with fear. I knew I should scream and fight, and try my hardest to stop him from whatever he was doing, but I couldn't find my voice. My body started to tingle, as my mind went places it only went in nightmares, and the worst of wet dreams, and then his hand was in my underwear.

 “I... I'm a human being,” I said like an idiot. Why I couldn't get a sentence out that made sense, I do not know, but thought just seemed beyond me. There was a smell in the air like French cologne and Italian wine. Like fresh rain, and clean seas. My mouth was open, and my mind was blank. I stared into his steady eyes. They were a pinkish red, but they were small and soft and didn't look threatening at all.


I felt his fingers brush along my lips, slowly finding their way to softer more sensitive skin. I quivered, my mouth dry with anticipation, and I thought, my brain must not be functioning properly.

 Had it really been so long since I'd had a good time that the mere suggestion of sexual activity had me wet? I should be screaming, struggling, running.

 Then it occurred to me, my brain was working perfectly. There was nothing I could do, nowhere I could go. I was strapped to the surface I was on, with no escape in sight with an unpredictable alien. My brain was functioning at top capacity to protect my life, and my fragile psyche.

 This is how Stockholm syndrome begins, I thought. Can you have Stockholm if you're aware it's happening? All these thoughts raced through my mind. My body fluttered with fear and fight or flight. But then I felt the tip of his finger on my clitoris, and I knew it was over. No more thoughts of whether I should be reacting the way I was. No more wonder why or how I got here or what was going to happen to me. I wanted him to touch me.

 He glided his middle finger back and forth between my opening and my clitoris before putting a tantalizing pressure on that sensitive little area. I could feel blood rushing to the area, and he circled the tip of his finger around it easily, as my clitoris is on the larger side.

 Maybe his fingers caught slightly for just a moment, but I was admittedly producing lubricants before he touched me, so before I could even take a breath he was sliding back and forth like an ice skater.

 I arched up to his hand, and this caused something like a smile on his face. His features were hard to read due to his animal like appearance, but I was almost sure he was pleased. He may have slipped over my opening a few times, caressing my hymen area as he passed, but he never entered, and I found myself wondering when he planned to, and if there was something he was preparing for, possibly buttering me up.

 I found myself praying for him to hurry up and get on with it, but then contradicting myself as I wished for him to just stay at my clitoris where I was the most sensitive. I felt him press harder and I shivered. Usually men were very gentle in that area even when supposedly getting rough with me. They just didn't know how much worse they could do. It wasn't that he was abrupt or hurting me, but he was slowly pressing harder and harder, and I was beginning to let out a soundless moan in the form of a breathy sigh.

 Then he clicked his finger to the other side. He didn't jump over; he didn't go around the skin. He had found something, deep under my clitoral hood, hidden in the sensitive protective skin, and I could hear it clicking in my body like turning on and off a light switch.

 He forced it back and forth repetitively, and now I could hear the clicking outside my body, the sound of my moist skin moving back and forth, and now I was humming, moaning softly, almost crying, my body so tense and shaking with pleasure. I couldn't remember the last time I'd gone this crazy over being touched. I mean, for God sakes, he wasn't even fingering me.

 Dear God, what would the rest be like? I was just getting excited for it to continue into the day, when there was a strange noise.


 Was that... a phone ringing?

 He stopped. I could've wept as he drew his fingers away, and picked up a small remote off a nearby table, clicking it.

 Suddenly the room filled with the guttural language I heard the night before. At first it almost disgusted me in its foreignness, but then he responded in it. He had a smoother deeper voice than the person on the line, and it vibrated through my body, making me want him to come back to me more and more.

 He clicked off the call, and looked back at me.

 “I'm so sorry,” he said, his accent thicker than before as he readjusted to English, “but I'm going to have to cut this short.”

 My face fell, as I thought he was going to leave me hanging like a book with so much driving action, but no climax and no sequel. But then I was distracted by his hand, which he lifted, looking at his fingers like he might be inspecting his nails (though he had none). Then I saw them begin to glow, just slightly, unnoticeable if one wasn't paying close attention. It was a purple luminescence that was barely lighter that the soft black of his fingers.

 He lurched toward me, his hand out, and I was afraid, but hopeful, and then he slipped his hand back in to my underwear and pressed his finger against my labia, and instantly everything tingled, instantly I was back to where I was before as though he'd never stopped. The quiet moans began escaping from my lips once more, and my mind started to numb, he wasn't even touching me deeply.

 But then he slipped further and pressed where he had before and I screamed out. It was fire, it was intensity, it was impossible.

 There was something on his fingers, there had to be. How could he do this to me? I could barely breathe; I was hyperventilating. I bucked and arched and thrust into his hand, moaning hysterically, tears rolling down my face, and all he did was hold his magical fingers against my clitoris.

 “Oh, holy mother of Jupiter!” I yelped, letting out a scream reminiscent of my own mother giving birth, my head rolling back and my eyes snapping shut.

 My whole body vibrated like every cell in me was fighting not to fall apart and then everything slowed, and I was floating.

 I hummed with my own ending. He laughed I think. Maybe smiled, I don't know, I was seeing double, and before I knew it, he was walking away.

 “Waaaaaitt,” I moaned like a sad child. I think I was still orgasming to be honest. He turned back to me pleasantly.

 “Oh, where are my manners?” He said walking back over to me and undoing my restraints. “Those were just to keep you from moving around when we went into high speed. I didn't want you to get hurt. I have some business to attend to, but if you go through there,” he pointed to a door, “there's a sitting room on your left. If you get bored, there are books in Earth English on the shelf, and a few TV shows by the television. There's Seinfeld I think, if not there's Friends. English speaking humans usually like one of those, right? Anyway, if you'll excuse me.”

 And he was gone. Walking through a door on the opposite side, and I dare not follow him. I could barely move anyway. I was still coming down off the high of my orgasm. I lay there for a good ten minutes with my eyes closed before getting up to explore the sitting room he spoke of.


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