Page 1 of Her Alien Guardian

CHAPTER 1

Tessara

When the battle station’s alert started to sound aboard theConqueror of Bresla, Lieutenant Jorg was about to drive his rigid penis into my whipped bottom at full length.

I gasped at the blaring alarms, the harsh noise piercing through the haze of pain and pleasure, as at the same time I felt Jorg run the head of his cock between my burning cheeks. For a moment, I thought Jorg might stop, but he merely grunted and tightened his grip on my hips, still preparing to thrust into my smallest hole.

“Don’t you dare move, girl,” he growled, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down my spine.

I whimpered, torn between anticipation of the burning stretch in my rear and the frantic energy suddenly filling the ship. Through the fog of arousal, I could hear hurried footsteps and shouted orders echoing down the corridors. What was happening? Had the war finally reached us?

Jorg pressed more firmly. I bit my lip, struggling to stay still as he’d commanded. My fingers curled against the hard metal of the punishment bench, seeking an anchor as pleasure and shame warred within me.

“Sir,” I gasped, “the alert?—”

His hand cracked across my already tender backside. “Did I give you permission to speak?”

“N-no, sir. I’m sorry,” I whispered, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes.

As Jorg continued to use me, seemingly oblivious to the chaos erupting around us, I couldn’t help but wonder what this new development might mean. Would it put a stop to our endless patrols? Or herald something far worse?

The uncertainty terrified me almost as much as it excited me. Jorg’s manhood pushed again. I fought to keep still, my body trembling with the effort. The alarms continued to blare, but they seemed distant now, drowned out by the sound of flesh meeting flesh and my own muffled whimpers.

Suddenly, Jorg’s comm unit crackled to life. “Lieutenant, report to the bridge immediately!” The captain’s voice was tense, urgent.

I felt Jorg stiffen behind me, his grip on my hips tightening almost painfully. For a moment, I thought he might ignore the order, lost in his pursuit of pleasure. But then he stepped back abruptly, leaving me feeling achingly unfulfilled despite the shame of that treasonous emotion.

“Damn it all,” he muttered, and I heard the rustle of fabric as he quickly straightened his uniform. “Stay right where you are, girl. I’m not finished with you yet.”

His heavy footsteps receded, and I was left alone, still bent over the punishment bench, cuffed at wrists and ankles, my bottom raised and offered to whoever came into the room. I shivered, torn between relief at the reprieve and a perverse disappointment that he hadn’t finished.

The ship lurched suddenly, nearly throwing me off balance. My heart raced. What was happening out there? Were we under attack? The possibilities swirled through my mind, each more terrifying than the last.

I closed my eyes, trying to steady my breathing as the ship continued to shudder around me. The alarms blared on, making it terribly difficult to think of anything but the unknown danger we faced. To distract myself from the growing panic, I forced my mind back to earlier that day, when my careless words had earned me Lieutenant Jorg’s wrath.

We had been on patrol for weeks, circling endlessly above Vion Prime. The once-proud capital of the Vionian Empire now lay in ruins, a testament to the Federation’s might. Our ship, along with the other battered remnants of the Vionian fleet, maintained a tenuous orbit around the planet. The days blurred together in a haze of monotony, tension, and painful, humiliating fucking, as my masters used my body to keep their morale up.

I had been cleaning the bridge, my eyes drawn again and again to the viewscreen and the scarred surface of Vion Prime below. The silence felt oppressive, broken only by the occasional beep of instruments and the low murmur of the crew’s voices.

“Do you think the war is truly over?” I had asked, the words slipping out before I could stop them. “Or are we just… waiting?”

The question had hung in the air, heavy with implications. Lieutenant Jorg’s head had snapped up, his cruel gaze locking onto me with predatory intensity. “What did you say, girl?”

I had known immediately that I had overstepped. A ship’s concubine wasn’t supposed to question such things. But the weeks of uncertainty had worn away at my resolve, leaving me raw and restless.

“I… I’m sorry, sir,” I had stammered, lowering my eyes. “I spoke out of turn.”

But it was too late. Jorg had risen from his chair, his powerful frame seeming to fill the entire bridge. “It seems you need a reminder of your place,” he had growled, grabbing my arm and dragging me toward the punishment bench.

The memory of what followed sent fresh shivers through my body. Jorg had bent me over the bench, securing my wrists and ankles with practiced efficiency. The whisper of leather had made me flinch as he selected the punishment strap, the anticipation building as he took his position behind me.

The first strike had stolen my breath, a line of fire blooming across my bare bottom. I had cried out, more in surprise than pain, but Jorg had shown no mercy. Again and again, the strap had fallen, each impact driving home the lesson I was meant to learn.

“You are here to serve, not to think,” Jorg had snarled between strikes. “Your opinions are worthless. Your questions are meaningless. You exist for our pleasure and use. Nothing more.”

Tears had streamed down my face, a mix of pain and shame and a too-familiar something else I refused to name. As the punishment continued, I had found myself slipping into the strange, hazy state that my corrections always seemed to bring on.

My mind, set free now from the alarm, drifted further, recalling how the punishment had shifted, as it always did when Jorg wielded the strap, into something else entirely. As the sting of the strap had faded to a dull throb, I had become acutely aware of Jorg’s presence behind me. The air, heavy with the scent of leather and sweat and arousal, carried the too-familiar charge of my masters’ seemingly ever-present need to take their pleasure inside their fuck toy’s body.

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