A Sex Slave To Alien Masters (Erotica)

I was allowed out in the evening, with my bleeding nether regions wrapped up tight in a towel. The first night I couldn’t sleep, so more cream was used. By the time I stopped bleeding I was a drooling mess and could barely hold my own head up.

I was sent back to the Keepers and I terrified Rose. I stumbled into the compound and sat dully in the sunshine outside. The light broke through the fog that seemed to have permanently invaded my mind.

My friends found me and brought cushions to me. We sat in the light until I could at least speak.

“Where have you been?” Fuji asked once it seemed my answers were making more sense.

“At my Master’s home,” I slurred.

“What happened?” Rose asked stroking my arm.

I stared blankly at her. I remembered vaguely that I had had a period. My brain was full of snapshots of my fake owners cleaning bloody towels off of me.

I did remember one thing quite clearly. That morning, they had threatened to sell me if I discussed the bleeding with anyone, including Master Damien. What had happened the last many days would never pass my lips.

They had been very blunt with me. My fake owners did not ever see Master Damien and his Brothers. They passed messages to one another. If I got my them in trouble they would sell me, Master Damien could not stop it.

“I missed earth,” I lied. “I was anxious. My owners would not let me out until I calmed some.”

“Ah,” Rose said satisfied, “it happens to many of us, the realization you will never leave can cause great distress. I’m sure changing owners made it worse for you.”

“Yes,” I nodded.

From days of laying in the box, I was weak. My friends helped me inside and decided I needed to do something. They brought the drums over and asked me to play. It took an amazing amount of energy to tap the familiar rhythms on the drums.

“You seem… strange,” Fuji said. “You have no strength.”

“I was agitated,” I told her, “they kept me in the box.”

“You have been gone ten day cycles, Ciara,” Rose said. “How much of that time was in the box?”

I didn’t answer her, but she seemed to understand.

Rose’s breath shuddered out. “You must be active to get your strength back,” she told me. “Come with us; we will walk.”

Fuji did not understand the walking I did with her and Rose. We just paced the compound. My balance got better and I got stronger as the morning wore on.

The lunch bell rang and we were on the wrong side of the compound. I’d never make it in time.

“Go,” I told Rose and Fuji, “I’ll get there.”

The girls ran off and I was left to stumble toward the lunchroom. The men were all feeding their slaves by the time I made it. I moved as quickly as I could to stumble and kneel before my owner.

The other men asked him what was wrong with me. He gave them brusque and noncommittal answers.

“You were not trained,” Basin hissed. “I’m not sure why Damien chose your family. There were better choices, there still are.”

“Mind your own slave, Basin,” my Master said in his regular dismissive tone. “No one needs your opinion on the matter.”

The men in the compound found my obvious illness to be horrific, an insult to my owners. I heard them speaking about it when we left the Keepers. I tried desperately to look strong and normal, but ten days of a forced coma had taken a toll.

The took me to the bathhouse and sat me in their alcove. Since my first meeting with Master Damien and his Brothers, they no longer plucked the mark. I knew they were keeping it hidden. I sunk into the familiar cushions and waited for them to be done.

When we were in the bathhouse, I’d taken to looking around. I draped my hair over my face and looked at the world through my shield. No one ever seemed to notice me, since I’d gotten quite sneaky.

Tonight all the men were looking at me. It was worse than when I’d been at the posts. I heard them talking clearly and they discussed what a poor job my current owners were doing.

“Would you sell it?” a man asked one of my owners as they bathed.

“No,” was the disdainful answer.© 2024 Nôv/el/Dram/a.Org.

“You were not trained, that is now very obvious,” another man said. “How is it you were able to buy a slave?”

“This is not your concern,” my owner said stepping out of the pool.

For the first time, my owners seemed uncomfortable. I judged it was due to the amount of negative attention they were getting. Usually everyone just ignored them or was put off by their cold, contemptuous answers. Their usual tactics to evade the attention of the other Warriors were not working.

I watched as they came toward me. The other men had not let up and were actually following them. When they got close enough to me, I spoke up.

“Masters, I am so glad you returned. I missed you so much,” I said as authentically as I could.

In truth, I imagined how I would sound when I saw Master Damien and his Brothers again.

“Of course you have missed us,” one of them said, as he bent down and scooped me up.

The interaction seemed to surprise the surrounding men. I suddenly realized I never spoke to the men I called Master and they never touched me. Using the moment of confusion, my owners exited the pool and walked me upstairs.

They sat me down once we were inside and never mentioned the bath house. No one ever said it had been a good idea. I don’t think these men could admit someone else had a good idea.

The men took out the plug and then returned to the eating area. A man brought food to the table and we sat to eat.

“Slave,” one of them addressed me, “you said your men-stru-ation comes each lunar cycle on your world. How long is a lunar cycle?”

“Twenty eight to thirty days, Master,” I told him, “but the bleeding usually only lasts for four or five days.”

“Things are different here,” the man said directing his comments to his Brothers, “time is different here. We can anticipate it will not follow the lunar cycle we are expecting it to.”

The men talked so long at the table, I thought the conversation would never end. Having learned not to interrupt, I just sat as they determined what they would do with me when the bleeding came. Eventually, they came to a decision.

The men decided fairly rapidly they couldn’t put me in the box every time. I was weak and obviously ill from that experience. Men with human slaves had told them using the box for too many days caused that problem. It was a well known issue for men who kept humans.

“It has told us it cared for itself at home,” they kept repeating. “The Keepers are not necessary.”

“Do you know what happens to slaves that run?” one of them asked me suddenly.

“Yes, Master, I was spared the whip, but taken to the village once I was found,” I answered.

“What if your Masters had not found you?” another asked pointedly.

“The men that found me could have used me however they wished,” I shuddered. “They could have sold me or had sex with me, Master.”

“Or killed you if it pleased them to watch you die,” the man added. “Many that do not keep slaves would find it interesting to watch a slave die. It would be too expensive to invest in a slave for the entertainment, but to use another’s…”

My horrified expression stayed on my face and the men watched it.

“So you understand, slave? You know there is no escape. If you wish to survive, which I believe you do, you will listen to us,” he said.

They spoke to me then, in a way I’d never been spoken to on this planet. They told me what I would be doing and explained no one would be watching me. If I did what they told me wrong, I would suffer.

My fake Masters were smart men. Their apartment was full of their studies and experiments. When I bled they would tell the men that cleaned they could not enter. They would say their work could not be disturbed by other men touching it. Me and my bleeding would be left in the apartment alone until I was done.

“If you are unable to care for yourself, we will reconsider the box, perhaps without the creams,” I was told.

“I will do as you ask, Masters,” I said solemnly.

The men retired and started to tinker on a small device they had been working on. I was ignored. Knowing it would anger them, I had to ask just one question.

“Masters, may I please ask a question?”

They were upset. If they hadn’t been afraid of more weakness, they’d put me in the box. I knew not to ask questions.

“Perhaps it will interest us,” one of them finally said and gave me permission to ask.

“Why am I bleeding now and not before? Why can’t anyone know?” I asked.

They were silent. I couldn’t tell if they were irritated or pondering the questions.

“We don’t know why you bleed,” they finally told me. “It isn’t normal for an Earth slave here. No one can know, because it happens to no other slave. If you were taken for study, Damien and his Brothers would no longer pay us for our service. We have come to enjoy the money this endeavor has brought us.”

I thanked the men and knelt down in the room they were in. They continued to play with what they were doing, completely uninterested in me.

The day had been long and I was still weak from the box. Despite my best efforts I ended up leaning on the furniture, sound asleep.