Page 24 of Her Alien Guardian

My eyes widened as I remembered the sheer size of Alpha’s manhood, how it had stretched Sala so impossibly. The thought of another man, equally well-endowed, coming here specifically to meet me… it felt overwhelming. I felt a rush of heat between my thighs, my body responding traitorously to the idea.

“When… when will we meet him?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady despite the tremor of anticipation running through me.

“Soon,” Alpha replied, his silver-violet eyes seeming to pierce right through me. “Very soon.”

Sala rose from the bed, the silken sheets sliding off her nude form like water. She moved with a fluid grace that spoke of confidence and poise, padding across the carpet to what looked like a blank wall.

“Come, Tessara,” she called, beckoning me with a warm smile. “Let me show you what we’ll be wearing on the surface.”

My curiosity piqued, I slipped out of the warm cocoon of blankets and followed Sala. At her touch the softly glowing metal slid aside, revealing a closet with a dazzling array of colors and fabrics within.

“Oh, my,” I breathed, my eyes widening at the sight.

Sala chuckled softly at my reaction. “Beautiful, aren’t they? These are traditional Magisterian gowns, specially designed for our visit to Prosperia.”

She reached in and pulled out two dresses, holding them up for my inspection. The garments were unlike anything I had ever seen before. They were long, flowing affairs that would cover the body from neck to ankle, made of a shimmering fabric that seemed to change color as it caught the light. The bodices were intricately embroidered with delicate patterns of stars and swirling galaxies, while the full skirts fell in graceful pleats.

“They’re gorgeous,” I whispered, reaching out to touch the fabric. It felt cool and smooth beneath my fingers, like liquid silk. “But I thought… I mean, on the ship…”

Sala nodded, understanding my unspoken question. “Yes, aboard Magisterian vessels, we wives and concubines typicallyremain nude. On Magisteria these dresses are for special public occasions when women are permitted clothing. But Prosperia has a different culture, one that values modesty in public spaces.”

She held up one of the dresses, a deep sapphire blue that reminded me of the depths of space. “The Prosperians have adapted many aspects of old Earth’s Victorian era, including their fashion sensibilities. They believe in concealing the body fully, but in a way that still entices the imagination.”

I ran my hand along the length of the dress, marveling at its construction. Despite the full coverage it provided, I could see how the fabric would cling to certain curves, hinting at the form beneath without revealing too much.

“It’s a fascinating balance,” Sala continued, her voice taking on a tone of admiration. “The dresses are designed to be both modest and alluring. They cover everything, yet the way they drape and flow can be incredibly sensual.”

She held the blue dress up against me, her eyes appraising. “This one will look stunning with your coloring, Tessara. The way it hugs the waist before flaring out at the hips… it will accentuate your figure beautifully.”

Sala helped me into the sapphire blue gown, her gentle hands guiding the fabric over my curves. The dress felt soft, but also tight against my skin, and I suddenly realized that I had not felt the touch of fabric in that way since the Vionians had stripped me when they had conquered my planet and sent all its young women into sexual servitude.

My heart beat faster as Sala touched the neck of the gown. I saw in the mirror that had appeared on the wall how the tiny pearlbuttons that ran up the back of the bodice fastened themselves of their own accord. I marveled at how the fabric seemed to mold itself to my body, accentuating my figure while still maintaining an air of modesty.

“There,” Sala said, stepping back to admire her handiwork. “You look absolutely breathtaking, Tessara. Prosperian clothes, like Magisterian ones, respond to the touch of the user—the authorized user.”

I caught something strange in Sala’s tone and I turned from the mirror to look at her quizzically. Her cheeks had gone slightly pink, and she looked over at Alpha, who was watching us with a smile on his face.

“The authorized user,” he said in his low, rumbling voice, “is often not the woman wearing the gown but rather her husband or guardian.”

My eyes went wide, and I looked back at Sala.

“And,” she said, with a very ambiguous smile, “Prosperian women wear complicated underclothes, too—unlike us Magisterians. Those work the same way.”

I frowned in confusion. “Complicated?” I asked. Dress on my home planet had been of the simplest variety. I knew that some cultures wore light clothing underneath their outer garments, called underwear, but I didn’t understand how it could becomplicated.

Sala laughed lightly and companionably—not at me, but with me. “I imagine you’ll be introduced to Prosperian lingerie in the not too distant future,” she said. “And I don’t want to spoil the experience.”

Lingerie.The word seemed somehow exotic, and—because whatever these garments were, they would obviously have close contact with a woman’s intimate places—very naughty. I swallowed hard, feeling heat creep into my cheeks once more.

Wanting to hide my confusion, I turned to face the mirror. My breath caught in my throat. The woman staring back at me was a stranger—gone was the downtrodden concubine, replaced by an elegant lady. The deep blue of the dress made my pale skin glow and brought out the green of my eyes. The bodice hugged my curves before flaring out into a full skirt that whispered against the floor as I moved.

Sala slipped into her own gown, a rich emerald green that complemented her black hair and bright blue eyes. As she fastened her own buttons, then put the finishing touches on her hair, smoothing it into a sleek style that framed her face beautifully, a chime sounded from the intercom.

“Ladies,” Alpha’s deep voice said, calling us out of our mutual admiration, “our shuttle is ready for departure. Shall we proceed to the hangar bay?”

Sala gave me one last appraising look, tucking a stray strand of my hair behind my ear. “Perfect,” she said softly. “Are you ready, Tessara?”

I took a deep breath, smoothing my hands over the silk of my skirt. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.

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