His Human Conquest Page 5

  “And what if I don’t?” I ask, suppressing the tremble in my voice. “What if I’d rather stay out of it?”

  Vol stares at me a moment, then motions for me to follow. He marches at a rigorous pace, and I have to trot quickly to keep up. He leads me all the way back to my room, though I don’t know it until we get there—all the corridors in the spaceship look the same to me.

  Once we’re inside, Vol swipes his finger against my singlet. The fabric separates at his touch, and he pulls it off me entirely, throwing it against the wall.

  “If you don’t cooperate, I may have to make your time as my liaison very… very… punishing.”

  The rings release my arms from behind my back, but before I can appreciate any freedom, they pull my hands to the floor, forcing me to stick my ass in the air.

  An hour ago I would have given anything to remove the device around my waist; now when it disengages I’m thankful, but nervous. I watch through my spread legs as the device floats away, leaving me utterly exposed.

  Caressing my inner thighs, Vol watches me shiver with anticipation. He crouches in front of me and strokes my cheek, brushing my hair from my face. He leans in for a kiss, giving me a chance to object.

  I don’t.

  My eyes close and our lips meet. He feels soft and warm; I moan, overwhelmed with need. I can’t tell what’s weirder: the fact that I’m making out with a purple-skinned alien who’s thousands of years old, or that I’m enjoying it. In truth, no human has turned me on like this. So what does that say about me?

  But why not? It feels right.

  I especially don’t mind when Vol reaches around and brushes my clit with his finger, slipping in and out of my wetness. As his dexterous digit makes me writhe in pleasure, I have to wonder if sex among aliens is pretty much the same as it here, or if the Dominars have some guide to human sexual stimulation or if they’re just fast learners. His finger circles, flicks, and rubs, at times in a pattern but often unpredictably. The technique is unlike anything I’ve experienced on Earth, and before I know it he’s plunging hard into my wetness.

  Even though it’s just his finger, it feels thick and hot, driven by an inexhaustible reservoir of power. His face lifts with mirth and mischief when I whimper, torn between conflicting sensations. I nearly beg him to stop, overwhelmed by his unrelenting attack on my pussy, but then his thumb caresses my clit, and I’m squeezing my walls hard on his finger, desperate to sate my sweet ache. Groaning, I begin working my hips, ravenous for more.

  “Don’t be greedy,” Vol warns, breaking our kiss. He withdraws his finger, ensuring my instant regret, but enforces the lesson by lightly pinching my swollen lips.

  My mewling fails to conjure any sympathy, as he regards me with stern, steely eyes and jutted jaw. If he’s expecting me to control myself at a time like this, I’m sorry but there’s no way. Still, the pinch brings me to my senses enough to stop. I have no doubt that he’ll do it again and again until I learn my lesson.

  “Sorry, sir,” I whine, blushing.

  Satisfied, Vol continues, using a second finger, driving his digits in and out, and keeps rubbing my clit with his thumb. Erupting with bliss, I quiver, my jaw hanging wide. I lick my lips to keep Vol’s taste on my tongue, and inhale deeply the musky scent coming off his body.

  “Do you want to come, pet?” he asks, driving his fingers even faster.

  “Yes, sir. Please,” I mumble.

  Vol stops, causing me to cry out in frustration. “You do not come without asking permission first,” he explains. “Understand?”

  “Yes, sir,” I gasp. “Please let me come!”

  Resuming his rhythm, Vol kisses my cheek and grins. “You may come, pet.”

  I scream, aware that I’m howling directly into his ear but unable to stop. Vol doesn’t appear to mind. Overwhelming ecstasy courses through me; I can feel it throughout my body. When Vol moves behind me to get a better position, I mumble incoherently, then continue screaming. A second orgasm swells as quickly as the first; when Vol smacks my ass with his free hand, I lose all control.

  “Beautiful, Jillian. Just like that.”

  Tears of joy run freely down my cheeks, and the slaps to my bottom somehow add to my pleasure. I barely have the presence of mind to ask if I can come again.

  “Permission granted,” he replies with a laugh.

  The orgasm he rips out of me goes straight to my head, and for a time I’m lost to the world—insensate. When I regain my composure, I don’t know how much time has gone by; wrapped in a glow of pure satisfaction, I don’t really care.

  Taking in my senses, I find I’m stretched out on the bed; Vol sits at my side, his hand resting on my ass. Noticing that I’m back, he gets up. After a second, the telerings around my wrists and ankles release and float into a small storage unit in the wall. The collar around my neck stays put, but for some reason I don’t mind.

  “What do you say, pet?” Vol asks.

  “Thank you, sir,” I reply, rubbing my freed wrists.

  “Good.”

  He takes a step back, not taking his eyes off me. After a second, a series of bars emerge from the frame of the bed, rising a few feet into the air and then tilting inward to join together.

  “What the hell?” I say, sitting up and wrapping my fingers around the bars. “Is this a fucking cage? Why?”

  Vol’s smile vanishes. “Because you’re still adjusting to the idea of being owned. This should help your new reality sink in.”

  “Screw you!” I shout, too furious to care about being punished.

  Vol frowns, but otherwise ignores my outburst. “Get some sleep, Jillian. You’re going to need your strength. We’ve got a world to conquer.”

  Chapter Seven

  Vol

  Redeemer flies over an endless expanse of roads and structures: human civilization. Though my craft hovers a thousand feet in the air, only a handful of waterways interrupt the sprawl of industry and commerce. When the Dominars created this world, the pristine landscape held a breathtaking beauty. Now it’s been built over, scarred, and pillaged.

  That’s not to say there isn’t any pleasing human construction; some of its cities are beautiful, and they’ve gone to great lengths to preserve many of their finest natural wonders. Yet, so much of what I see now is just ugly. Strip malls and apartment buildings that all look the same—ugly little boxes.

  If only this was Earth’s biggest failing.

  Our secret is out: cruising over a densely populated area in an alien starship will do that. Though we could have flown from the base where we landed to the destination we’ve chosen in just a few minutes—or faster than that, if we lifted into orbit—the ship has purposefully flown at a veritable crawl, giving those below ample opportunity to gawk and post videos, overwhelming the world’s wireless communications networks.

  Footage of our flight has dominated every news network and social media feed in the world for the last three hours. Human fighter jets and helicopters, as well as unmanned drones, have circled Redeemer nonstop, though none have been daring enough to try firing on us. We’ve received hundreds of communication requests, but have so far remained silent. The humans have no doubt attempted to analyze our trajectory and figure out our destination, so every few hundred miles we’ve changed course, curving our path like a hook.

  “Are you enjoying this?” Jillian asks me, watching the monitors on the bridge. Below us, humans who didn’t expect our ship to pass directly overhead are now scrambling for cover.

  “What do you mean?”

  “This… pageantry. Being the center of attention,” she clarifies.

  It’s a fair question; admittedly, I’ve been grinning at the humans’ behavior. “I’m glad that I’m having the desired effect, that’s all. I wanted the world to know we’re here, and now they do. This isn’t about being worshiped or feared. The eventual goal is for the world to respect us, but respect is earned, not taken by force.”

  Jillian snorts, rolling her eyes.

/>   Turning to her, I ask, “Did I make a joke?”

  “You took me by force and demand to be respected—how is that different?”

  Sighing, I clutch her bottom in my hand and give it a slight squeeze. “I’ve taken you, yes—but I demand obedience, not respect. Though they can go hand in hand, they’re not the same thing.”

  “Yes, sir,” she says, voice shaky as she shivers in my grip. She wears the dress I first found her in, though it has since been laundered. Dominar stylists have seen to her appearance, applying cosmetics and weaving her hair into ibb horns, which are said to be reminiscent on Earth of ox buns. Between her hair, the rosy glow of her cheeks, and her glossy pink lips, I’m dying to take her back to my quarters and ravage her. I still have not enjoyed her properly, and look forward to it happening soon. Having to sleep in a cage angered her greatly, but she will come around.

  Soon our destination comes into view: the coast. Jillian gave her input on several options, and after I added my extensive experience, I settled on a location.

  “Why did you choose the beach?” she asks as a light sandy shore comes into view.

  I smile, glad she asked. “For one thing, it’s a beautiful spot,” I reply. “The photos and videos will look good in your historical recordings. More important, however, is that it fits with Earth’s history: conquerors have always arrived by sea to claim the land for themselves.”

  Jillian shakes her head. “Those conquerors were known for killing the indigenous people.”

  Laughing, I pat her bottom. “Good point. Hopefully our actions will speak louder than our optics,” I say as Redeemer descends, coming in to land.

  This is it. We’re here. The conquest of Earth has officially begun.

  * * *

  The procession begins with my ship’s crew; unarmed, in full dress uniform, they march out of the aft hatch and form a line across the beach.

  Police officers have set up a perimeter around our landing zone to keep human civilians from getting too close; they do so at my instruction, the first official communication I have issued to the humans since we made our presence known.

  Next out of the ship are the many Dominar soldiers and fighter pilots stationed on Redeemer, including my honor guard. Wearing their battle armor, but keeping their weapons holstered, they look awesomely formidable: cunning and deadly.

  The following group in the procession is the biggest: the human prisoners we’ve taken. All of them have their hands bound behind their backs with piva resin, which is harder than cement now but will become brittle and breakable after a few hours of exposure to oxygen. The prisoners have been given food, medical attention, washroom access, and sleeping mats—they are not sick, tired, or hurt. In a little while, they will no longer even be prisoners.

  Jillian and I are the last to exit the ship. I wear my dress uniform, a uniformly black suit of woven cords and connected plates that contour around my body; though designed for its appearance, it is entirely capable of being worn into battle. Atop my head I wear a black band that projects a shield around me, though it looks deceptively decorative.

  With hundreds of Dominars dressed alike, and dozens of humans in military fatigues, I stand out, as intended—but Jillian catches even more attention. Not only is she a human standing by the side of a Dominar, her dress and heels show off her extraordinary beauty. Additionally, telerings have been fitted around her wrists, ankles, and neck; though they are not restraining her movement at the moment, if she attempts to run, the increase in velocity will activate the bonds and stop her in her tracks.

  At the edge of the perimeter I see minor scuffling; people are jockeying for position, wanting a good vantage point—chief among them are the reporters who have come to chronicle the scene for prosperity. Human eyesight is so limited compared to the Dominars’—fortunately, I have a solution: a series of orbs fly out of my ship and rise up in the air. They project in the sky holograms several stories tall; arranged in a semi-circle around the area, they create a perfectly clear view of our procession.

  “Greetings,” I say, my voice booming up and down the beach and across the ocean. “I am Commander Vol of the Dominars’ Forward Delegation. I have much to tell you, but I begin with a message of the utmost importance: we are here to conquer, but not to kill. We will rule, not oppress—and we will seek justice, not vengeance.”

  I pause, letting the proclamation sink in. Humans will be dubious, of course—but I’ll prove to them I mean it.

  “My goal is to bring peace to Earth, to provide humanity a center of stability. To do so, however, I will have to make fundamental changes to your world, and not everyone will agree with my actions—but I am confident that most will come to see their wisdom.”

  As much as I’d like to lie and say everyone will prosper and be happy forever, I credit humanity for its adage, ‘Honesty is the best policy.’ Not every Dominar would agree with this approach, but they are not here.

  “Right now, you are hopefully thinking, what do these travelers from across the stars really want? The answer is we want this world. We created it. We want to experience what it has to offer, and learn from it what we can.”

  I glance quickly at Jillian, who stares straight ahead, trying to look passive. A loose hair dances a little in the breeze, and she clearly wants to brush it from her face, but she seems frozen. The whole world is watching; that could make anyone nervous. What must the world be thinking of her now, standing at the side of this intergalactic conqueror? Is she a captive or a collaborator? Who is she, and where did she come from? I hope her people will not judge her until she has a chance to speak for herself.

  “You may also be wondering, why now? What brings the Dominars here today?” I pause before answering, shifting my expression from solemnity to anger. “You do. Humanity stands on the brink of its own destruction: poverty and war, greed and malice. The Dominars will not stand by and let you wipe yourselves out. We’ve seen it happen to other worlds, and refuse to let you meet the same fate. All you must do is submit to our rule, and humanity will live on for thousands of years, both on Earth and across the galaxy.”

  This time when I pause in my speech, all I hear are the waves crashing upon the beach. The crowd watches silently, most likely stunned or afraid. Jillian said it: humanity does not bow, and yet that is what I ask.

  They will learn, in time.

  “I urge you today to stay calm, and continue to live your lives. The sun will set tonight and rise tomorrow as it always has. If you have a job, go to it; if you have children, care for them. If you like to take walks, take one. The world is not ending—please do not resort to violence against others or oneself. That is what I am here to stop.”

  Does this help relieve the humans? I can’t tell, not yet anyway. I imagine they’re in shock—I’ve given them a lot to process, but I have a little more to say and do.

  “Before I go, I want to offer a show of good faith: the release of eighty-six humans captured during two recent encounters. All are military members, all are in perfect health, and none have been hurt or killed, as I hope they will honestly attest.”

  As I speak, my men gently nudge the humans forward, encouraging them to leave our ranks.

  “They will also hopefully provide accounts of their defeat; have no illusions—our technology is far superior to anything humans can devise. I hope humanity will not test this fact.”

  I reach out and set my hand on my pet’s shoulder; she watches intently as the human soldiers make their way into the crowd. Is she jealous that she’s not joining them? Perhaps later I’ll ask her.

  “This is Jillian Wexler,” I say. “She, too, is alive and well. She will be staying with me and learning about the Dominars so that she may pass on what she learns about us to the rest of humanity. It is my hope that this will make the transition to Dominar rule go smoothly.”

  Taking her hand, I begin to walk toward the perimeter line, Jillian keeping in tow behind me. As I get close to the line of reporters, I scan the faces
of the humans—some turn away, but others meet my gaze with a variety of emotions: fear and wonder, anger and curiosity.

  “We’ll take some questions,” I say.

  To their credit, rather than all begin speaking at once, the reporters’ hands shoot up in the air. I point to one and nod.

  “This is for Ms. Wexler,” the reporter says, holding out her microphone. “How long have you been with the Dominars, and how are you being treated?”

  Jillian blinks as if waking from a daze.

  “Go ahead,” I say, trying not to sound patronizing. “Be honest with them.”

  “Okay,” she mumbles. “In that case, the truth is I’m a prisoner. They let everyone else go, but not me. Last night, I slept in a cage.” Holding up her arms, she points to the telerings. “These are restraints, and they can do anything—these aliens can do anything! They’ve even put alien devices inside my body!”

  Her words immediately stir the crowd, no doubt raising their darkest concerns. I have to fight hard to find the right expression; I’m annoyed at Jillian, but I don’t want it to show. I also don’t want to seem pleased or unconcerned.

  “It’s all for her benefit,” I say, projecting my voice over the din of the crowd. “Thank you for your time.”

  I turn to walk back to my ship, but stare into Jillian’s eyes. Come with me, I say through our nanites. Do not make me drag you in front of everyone. You’re in enough trouble as is.

  Though she takes one last look at the throng of humans, she obeys.

  Chapter Eight

  Jillian

  My telerings activate the second we board Redeemer and the hatch closes shut. Pulling my arms together tightly behind my back and hobbling my ankles just a few inches apart, the rings make it nearly impossible for me to walk. Yet, Vol pulls on my collar as though he’s holding an invisible leash, forcing me along. My steps are so short and staggered that I feel as though I’m waddling more than walking, and my cheeks burn at the mental picture of how pathetic I must look.