The aliens collar, p.1
The Alien's Collar, page 1
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Epilogue
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The Alien’s Collar
By
Loki Renard
Copyright © 2017 by Stormy Night Publications and Loki Renard
Copyright © 2017 by Stormy Night Publications and Loki Renard
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Published by Stormy Night Publications and Design, LLC.
www.StormyNightPublications.com
Renard, Loki
The Alien’s Collar
Cover Design by Korey Mae Johnson
Images by 123RF/artistrobd, 123RF/mik38, and 123RF/Evgeny Ustyuzhanin
This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults.
Prologue
“I can’t… it’s too much… please…”
A blonde mewled desperate words, her throat raw with the effort of crying both her desire for and rebellion against the alien who held her prisoner. The only thing she was more afraid of than what he was about to do, was the possibility that he might not do it. She tipped her head back, her face lifted to his, her eyes locked in a pleading gaze as she simultaneously begged for and writhed in fear of what he would bring out of her.
She had been a modern woman. She had owned a smart phone and sipped iced coffee through a straw and sent little snippets of video filtered with panda bear ears through to her friends who replied with glittering abbreviated phrases. She had spent hours lifting her phone up to just the right angle and looking at herself in various digital lights until she found a version of herself that was good enough to share.
Now she was naked under the glow of a thousand stars, the curves of her body displayed in an arch against the masculine frame that made hers seem so soft, so small, so very tender and vulnerable. The alien male who held her was nearly twice her size, his large hands roaming her body, cupping her breasts, finding the plane of her stomach and rounding the curve of her hip to clasp her bottom.
She was stripped of everything. Her clothes, all the trappings of the world from which she had been taken, her very sense of what it meant to be woman. He had taken everything and left her with nothing but the elemental truth of her animal nature.
His cock pushed between her legs, the shaft finding the wet line of the seam of her swollen lower lips. His rod was so thick and so hard that it practically acted as a fulcrum on which she perched, her pussy gliding against him in an instinctual rut. There could be no denying what her body wanted. Her abundant juices made him slick as she moved over that hot ridge, her clit grazing against the head of him over and over again as he took hold of her hips and began to guide her motion, stoking the need that threatened to make her mad with desire.
Her curves were fuller now than they had been back where there was such a thing as a dress size. She felt no shame for that. He ran his hand over the curve of her belly and let out an animal growl. “You’ll soon be growing here, pet.”
Before him her sex life had been one long parade of pills and little foil packets, obsession over ensuring latex barriers remained unbroken. There was no protection now. Her pussy was bare and there was nothing stopping the hyper virile alien man who owned her from filling her a hundred times over.
“Ask me nicely, pet.”
The command shattered the last illusion of her resistance. He would make her complicit in her own erotic undoing. She would have to ask for her ravishment, or be teased until she could no longer stand the ache.
The necessary word left her lips in a whisper.
“Please…”
The alien’s arms flexed as he lifted her up and impaled her on his cock, his thick rod plunging deep inside her clenching sex, the head of his member pulsing against the neck of her womb. Her cries began as whimpers but rose to shrieks of ecstasy as she was taken, trained, and bred.
Chapter One
Splash!
Kelly pushed her hair back from her face, water beading over her flushed skin as she tossed the contents of a water bottle toward her dirty visage. This was the last clean water she owned and wasting it on washing herself in a gas station bathroom was probably ill-considered, but she couldn’t stand the thick grime that seemed to cover everything these days, including her once clear skin. As the water ran in red trickles of dust down her cheeks, she looked at herself in the spotted mirror. Its grotty old surface marred her features unpleasantly, her dark blonde hair and wide blue eyes somehow mocked by the dilapidated surface.
“Life’s hard,” she lectured herself. “Get over it already.”
She was lucky to be alive, and she knew it. Even deep in the outback of Australia, recent events were having an inevitable impact.
The world had been its normal self a few weeks earlier when she’d departed from Los Angeles, taking a fifteen-hour flight to Sydney, Australia. Back then, her problems had been much smaller. Travel-sized, even. The lady with the blue gloves had been short with her, insisted on putting her through two different scanners and Kelly had muttered to herself about the world having gone to hell.
She’d had no idea at that point that the world was less than sixty minutes away from real hell. The plane had taken off without incident and she’d fretted over the length of the journey, the fact that the guy in the seat next to her kept trying to impress her by listing various facts she didn’t care about while audibly passing gas, and the way that even with fifteen channels on the little screen in the back of the seat in front, there wasn’t anything worth watching on it besides the view of the plane imposed against the globe, with interesting numbers indicating height and speed and such.
They were forty-five thousand feet above the Pacific Ocean when the first ‘meteor’ struck. A few passengers claimed to see a bright red and orange glow coming from the sky toward the rear of the plane. Some even took pictures of the glorious sunset.
The dark cloud that followed it was hidden by the gathering shadows of night, blanketing the chaos. They had flown on, totally oblivious to the disaster in the country they had just left. Kelly’s last moments of normalcy had been aboard an airliner, fiddling with little trays of food.
When they landed in Sydney, the illusion disappeared. The pilot had kept things quiet, including the fact that the landing was done manually rather than by auto-pilot. It came out afterward that a great many collisions were only narrowly avoided thanks to the radar being out of operation, but at the time Kelly and her fellow travelers had been blissfully unaware of that too.
“Now folks, there’s been some disturbance back in the States,” he’d said over the intercom. “You’ll be hearing about it as you enter the terminal. We’re going to ask you to stay calm and obey all instructions given by crew and security as you make your way from the plane into the terminal and beyond.”
That was the first crack in the veneer of normalcy, and as Kelly had disembarked, those cracks grew like a fault running through an ice sheet. The airport television screens were not showing any signs of the chaos. They were showing an absence of anything. She never knew how strange it would be to see all the screens in an airport completely blank.
People were milling around with confused looks on their faces, trying cell phones that didn’t seem to be working and generally behaving in an utterly bewildered fashion. The baggage conveyers weren’t working, a fact that didn’t affect Kelly as she’d chosen to travel light. Everything she had was in her carryon bag, including the printed verification of her car rental paperwork.
Fortunately for her, the desk agent had handed over the keys to her rental car based on that paperwork. Unlike thousands of other travelers arguing with airport staff over their lack of luggage, and their inability to pay for anything as all the currency exchange kiosks were closed, she was able to leave the airport and make her way to her hotel on the outskirts of the central city, where once again, her penchant for printing out everything to do with her trip enabled her to book into her room.
Everyone was apologetic for the inconvenience, saying the systems would be back up any moment. The ‘disturbance’ wasn’t elaborated on to any great extent, largely because nobody knew what had actually happened. It was as if the entire Northern Hemisphere had simply blinked out of digital existence after takeoff, leaving an electronic hole in its wake—and for some reason, all of the essential systems in the Australian continent were affected too. Electricity was intermittent and new media broadcasting was affected too. There was no internet. No way to communicate except through small mouth noises.
Kelly hadn’t left anybody she loved behind, so was saved the panic so many other international travelers found themselves in. Families had been split up, and with the airlines refusing to fly anywhere out of the country, they were stranded in Australia.
The public response was warm and welcoming at first at least. People opened their
For most of the people she came across in those early days, the sense of isolation was palpable. Without internet, phone, radio, or television, all anyone had was the person physically nearest to talk to. As nobody truly knew what had happened, conjecture and speculation ruled the day—along with their close neighbor, conspiracy.
Some said that there had been a coup on American soil. Others said that a terrorist attack had taken out the entire satellite system. Still others claimed it must have been a massive missile or meteor strike. There were other theories even further out of the realm of likelihood, like alien invasion, but of course, scoffs aplenty greeted anyone espousing such a theory openly. The Australians were solid, down-to-Earth people who favored simple explanations.
“Well, it’s buggered, isn’t it,” a fellow hotel guest had said five days after the event. He was a man in his late thirties from Perth who’d flown into Sydney to make a presentation on internet security. Now the planes weren’t flying and there was no internet to bother to secure, so he was doing what everyone else was doing. Drinking.
“Buggered?” Kelly smiled into her cocktail.
“Buggered, mate,” he said. “I mean, capital F fucked.”
He wasn’t wrong. Something was in the air. Something everyone could feel. There had been a massive shift, and even if everything was all fixed up, they knew it wouldn’t be the same. The world of two months prior now felt as old-timey as 1950s picture books.
“You know what we should all be doing?” He’d asked the question before taking a swig of beer, and answered it directly after he’d swallowed. “We should be going bush.”
“What does that mean?”
“The aboriginals, they know how to go bush. They still live out in the outback, some of them. They survive without any of this modern stuff. They probably haven’t even noticed anything’s gone wrong.”
That was a good idea. It sparked Kelly’s imagination and it offered some option to escape the increasing chaos of the suburbs. Day by day, things became a little more incoherent. People tried to keep calm and carry on, but they were disturbed by the lack of connection. Little things like being unable to make a call whenever they wanted, wherever they wanted caused obvious distress. More than once, Kelly saw people have meltdowns at realizing they would have to actually go and find the people they needed to speak to. A society accustomed to instant communication did not adapt well to the sudden yawning, hollow sense of being utterly alone in the world.
It didn’t bother Kelly as much as it might have. She’d come to Australia out of a desire to get as far away from the place she’d called home, a place where she no longer had friends or family of any kind. Her friends, such as they were, had drifted away into their own lives. Women who had once been her constant companions had transformed into people she didn’t really recognize anymore. People who cared about things like cornices and throw pillows. The same people she’d watched practically suck wine out of carpets now filled sippy cups and panicked over small spills.
It was part of growing up, she knew that, and she wished them well, but it seemed to have passed her by somehow. Her own attempt at marriage had failed miserably, to say the least, and she missed the old days. The camaraderie of being part of a group of a half-dozen bright, eager young women going out into the world to take what was theirs. At twenty-five, that already felt like ancient history. And now here she was, on the wrong side of the world during an international emergency, and suddenly, she didn’t feel alone anymore. Everyone she met was bonded by their strange circumstances. There were no strangers anymore, only people trying to make it.
The idea of going bush rattled around in her head for another week or so. The hotel was still comfortable, and she still had the rental car. She figured staying put made more sense. But then things became truly strange. People had been saying from the beginning that it was only a matter of time before the power got sorted out and the internet came back. Soon everything would be back to normal. Soon.
Thirty-three days after the first impact, it suddenly became abundantly clear that there would be no more normal. Not soon. Not ever.
Unbeknownst to the general public, the Australian government had managed to get a plane out toward the US continent. It had taken them that long due to extreme microwave interference that turned the multi-million-dollar craft into paperweights. In the end it was a single prop plane Amelia Earhart would have raised a brow at that made it far enough to see what was actually happening.
What that plane came back with was a series of images nobody wanted to believe. They were distributed over small local networks, printed out and hung in windows. The newspapers that still ran on hard physical presses managed to get the images to spread. Over a period of panicked hours and days people started to become aware that the impacts that had knocked out international communications had not been meteor strikes, but the vanguard of an alien invasion.
Kelly didn’t believe the stories. Just because the newspapers printed something didn’t mean it was true. The pictures didn’t improve matters in the slightest. People started to panic. The camaraderie that had held society together faded into hostility as people began to hoard rather than share. Looting and lawlessness erupted across the city—and Kelly had decided it was time to head into the outback.
All that took her to where she stood now, bunking down in a gas station several hundred miles away from the last vestige of civilization. It was typically used by long haul truckers, but it had seen quite a bit more road traffic lately. She was not the only one with the idea to get the hell out of Dodge.
With the last of her bottled water dripping from her chin into the dusty sink below, Kelly dried her face off on a small paper towel and set out to join the caravan to the wild.
Most everyone else had already left for their day’s journey. She found herself alone on the forecourt with a gnarled older man, the gas station attendant who insisted on being called Skippy. He had long greasy gray hair, skin tanned to a leathery wrinkled expanse by the harsh sun, and eyes of twinkling blue that spoke to a kind character.
“Heading out?”
“Mhm,” Kelly said. “I guess there’s not much else to do now, is there?”
“You’re going to want to keep going south, mate. Or maybe southeast,” the gas station attendant said. “There’s people out both ways. Don’t know how happy they’ll be to see you, or if you’re going to escape any little green men by coming all the way out here.”
“They didn’t look very little or very green to me in the papers,” Kelly said, handing over the last of her Australian dollars in exchange for a full tank of gas and a precious little bottle of water.
“Strewth, mate! Don’t tell me you believe that stuff. It’s all bull. Shit stirrers, you know. Don’t you worry. There aren’t any aliens coming to get you. Once they get the cables fixed, everything’ll be fine. Just enjoy the bush.”
Boom!
Suddenly the earth beneath their feet rumbled as a sound like the very sky being torn apart heralded a vast shadow in the sky to the west. Kelly and Skippy stood together on the forecourt and watched a massive object come burning through the atmosphere with a lithium white flame.
“Looks like we got ourselves a meteor!” Skippy shouted over the commotion. “Get down!”
Kelly threw herself to the ground along with the old man, her heart pounding as she watched the massive object hurtle across the sky. It wasn’t a meteor. And it wasn’t crashing. Her shocked gaze beheld what could only be described as a spaceship coming in for landing, an angular blue and black gleaming scimitar slashing through bushes and kicking up dust.
