A Sex Slave To Alien Masters (Erotica)

That single thought gave me a plan and a purpose. They liked to feel special, so I would give that to them. Their happiness was the key to my survival and I was determined to live.

In the bathhouse that night I washed Master Damien as usual. He seemed to like me to rub along his lines, so that’s usually how I organized myself. I ran my hands over his chest and back softly massaging and cleaning. He was so well proportioned.

“Do you have an arm you favor, Master Damien?” I asked as I scrubbed down his left forearm.Content property of NôvelDra/ma.Org.

He had been sitting with his eyes closed. Opening them, he looked quizzically at me. His expression seemed to be warring between curiosity and irritation.

“There is no end to your questions,” he commented, “and no, I do not prefer either of my arms. They work equally well.”

That explained why he was built so equally. He didn’t preferentially use one arm when he trained and fought. My attention moved to his fingers and I cleaned each one.

“The callouses are thicker on this side,” I said running my thumbs over his left palm and fingers.

“Yes,” Master Damien said looking slightly uncomfortable, “but I am trained to use both hands,” he insisted.

“But you prefer to use this one,” I whispered watching his face carefully.

His features hardened slightly and I looked away. I hadn’t meant to anger him.

“Wash me, Ciara,” he said, “and no more questions.”

Well, I had tried and I made up my mind I would try again. Evidently some things they didn’t want me to notice.

It was still on my mind when they put me to bed that night. I curled up on my side between Master Damien and Master Evan. There would be mistakes, I soothed myself, but they wanted me to notice them, so I should continue.

I started when I felt Master Damien wrap around my back. He pulled me flush to his chest and was breathing into my ear. When he spoke his breath tickled.

“My brothers know I prefer my left arm to hold my sword,” he whispered into my ear. “No one else has ever seen that.”

“Yes, Master Damien, I apologize,” I said softly.

It wasn’t really the appropriate response, but I wasn’t sure what was.

He was silent behind me for a short while, but he didn’t release me.

The arm across my middle shifted and he started to lightly pluck at my nipples. I bit back the moan in my throat as he fondled my chest.

“I find,” he said low into my ear, “my left hand to be more accurate for detailed work… like this. Other men have no such preference. My brothers have no preference.”

Squirming under his ministrations I grasped at his arm and felt the play of muscle beneath my hands.

“You are very talented with both of your hands, Master Damien,” I whispered.

The chuckle rumbled from his chest and into mine and that tormenting hand thankfully ceased it’s chore.

“Go to sleep, Ciara,” he said tucking the blankets around us.

I sighed and settled down quite satisfied with myself. Master Damien wasn’t angry I had noticed, perhaps it would even make him happy I paid them that much attention. Tomorrow I would continue at the task I had set myself. It was a plan.

It was strange, but it was the little things they liked me to see. They wanted me to notice the details of their lives and personalities. It was like they wanted me to read their minds and react to whatever they were feeling.

I understood why the girl in the restaurant had been staring at her owners. It was the only way to keep up with them. With five to look after, their changing moods and desires, absolute attention was necessary.

Once I learned what the men needed to be happy with me, life settled into a rhythm. Being at my new home in the compound was consuming, but I enjoyed my time at the Keepers. It was my time to relax. Most days were like that: relax at the Keepers during the day and please my owners at night.

My musical talents made me very popular when I was at the Keepers because the other girls really liked to dance. Fuji told me we would probably end up entertaining our men together. Her men loved to see her dance and she wanted to make them happy.

Fuji said I should dance, too. She started helping me practice while someone plucked at a stringed instrument. It seemed the right thing to do, although dancing embarrassed me.

I did have some experience. Mom and I had taken a belly dancing class for exercise one year. It was one of those New Year’s Resolutions about losing weight. I’d never been particularly good, the teacher said I was too shy. I loved the feel of the moves, though.

When I showed Fuji belly dancing I thought she’d hit the roof she was so excited. We worked on it every day, since I started to practice I got a lot better. I wasn’t as shy about my body and that made a difference, too.

Still I preferred to dance with just Rose and Fuji. They thought my modesty was kind of silly. Considering what was expected regularly of me when I was home, I knew they were right. Modesty was something I no longer had the luxury of.

At home, I was the embodiment of sex. For the men that owned me, I was a living, breathing sex doll. It was obvious I was their favorite toy.

My owners were meticulous in caring for me. I had my daily vitamin drink, which I had heard them say was expensive. They washed me with the finest soaps and rubbed my body with creams, so my skin was soft and pliant.

Thanks to their care I looked like a different girl. My hair was healthy and shone in the light. Even my palms, which had stared out looking so bad, were now satiny to the touch. They spent money and time on me the way no one ever had.

My care did not stop with that. Although my outfits were mostly gauze and see thru, I had a limitless supply of them. The room they stored their clothes was now packed with my flimsy ornamentation. Every day I was dressed up in a different outfit and paraded around like a prize. They took good care of me and were proud I belonged to them.

They shared in all my care and my use, except Christof. He seemed to keep to himself and didn’t fit in with the other men. The difference was most apparent during sex. He didn’t use me with them.

Christof never took part in the wild group sex I was the focus of. He would wait and watch quietly, deferring when they asked him to join in. It upset my other owners, but they couldn’t seem to talk to him about it.

Instead, Christof would awaken with me in the middle of the night and ‘take his time’ as he said. He was so sweet and gentle; it was like he was my boyfriend. We spent hours on the chaise cuddling, talking, and sometimes making love. What we did was always my choice and I loved Christof deeply for giving me that. My time with him at night was my favorite time.

Lunch was my second favorite time of the day. Most afternoons Christof came to feed me. We had completely given up eating in the lunchroom and instead walked in the forest. It had become so common the Keepers left my kneeling pad in the courtyard and I waited for him just inside the wall.

Just like at home, Christof didn’t treat me like a slave, but like an equal he could talk to. When we were alone together, we were just friends. I fed myself from the bowl and usually chose what direction to walk in. He just accompanied me as I explored different places in the forest. Christof just seemed to need someone he could relax around.

I got comfortable with Christof. He encouraged me to talk about home and listened curiously to all of it. Stories about my prior life intrigued him. How humans lived together, males and females in the same place, it amazed him.

Christof never minded my questions and told me all about this world. One day he showed me how to hold a sword. I had to use a branch, I couldn’t even lift his sword off the ground. We played ‘warrior’ with the branches frequently.

“Who do you fight with?” I asked swinging my branch the way he had taught me to.

“Lighten your grip,” he instructed before answering. “Too tight a hold and you lose maneuverability.”

Once I had fixed my hands and released my death grip he answered my question.

“Men from the other villages close by. Sometimes there are raids and men come to take things from the shopkeepers. It is our job to protect them,” he told me. “We patrol around the surrounding area to keep the raiders out.”

“Sounds stressful,” I commented wrinkling my nose.

“It’s fun!” Christof laughed. “I love it when the other men come. We train hard to best them. The skirmishes are exciting. My brothers also look forward to them.” His face darkened and he looked different suddenly, “We enjoy fair battles we can win with skill and strength. ‘They’ are not all like that.”

I tried to ask about the last comment, but Christof distracted me. It was an odd comment and I wasn’t sure who ‘they’ were. He didn’t want to talk about it, though. Instead, Christof asked about my mother. He knew he could distract me by asking about her.

I rarely spoke to him long about my mom. The subject made me too sad and I would cry. I could never resist talking about her, so despite the tears that came, I spoke freely.

As I talked, I remembered the good and the bad times. That still confused Christof greatly. He had never understood family the way I described it.