Sold to the Alien Cartel: An Alien Menage Romance

  Sold to the Alien Cartel

  An Alien Menage Romance

  Corin Cain

  Contents

  Foreword

  Prologue

  1. Juliana

  2. Korgath

  3. Juliana

  4. Juliana

  5. Juliana

  6. Korgath

  7. Juliana

  8. Juliana

  9. Korgath

  10. Juliana

  11. Juliana

  12. Korgath

  13. Juliana

  14. Korgath

  15. Juliana

  16. Korgath

  17. Juliana

  18. Korgath

  19. Juliana

  20. Korgath

  21. Juliana

  22. Korgath

  23. Korgath

  24. Ella

  25. Korgath

  26. Ella

  27. Korgath

  28. Ella

  29. Korgath

  30. Ella

  31. Ella

  32. Epilogue

  Foreword

  As with my debut novel (also available in Kindle Unlimited), Sold to the Alien Gladiators, this book is for adult audiences, containing BDSM elements and submission. While this alien menage romance can be read as a standalone novel, it does happen chronologically after Sold to the Alien Gladiators and has spoilers for my debut novel.

  I truly hope you enjoy this alien menage romance!

  Prologue

  Present: Juliana

  I will never submit.

  The thought burns in my mind as I force back my fear.

  “Undress.”

  I’m standing in a tiny cell – one that seems even smaller still, because of the towering, seven-feet-tall alien I’m sharing it with. He looms over me, an expectant silence hanging in the air. I shiver. My tattered clothes were the last shred of dignity I had left, and now even those are about to be taken from me.

  The alien who collared me resembles a towering, marble statue. His muscles are lithe and mean, almost as if they’re carved from his stone-like flesh. There’s no emotion in his face – and the coldness in his slate-grey eyes matches the chill of the Orb-Collar around my neck.

  That damned Orb-Collar. I know a single thought from this alien bastard will send agonizing pain through every nerve-ending in my body.

  It means I have no choice but to comply

  With trembling hands, I pull my ripped shirt up, over my head. I stand there in only my drab, practical bra – nothing between me and this inhuman beast except a thin layer of microfiber. I know there’s no alternative – nothing but the agonizing pain of the Orb-Collar – but even still, I’m hesitant about removing my bra.

  We’ve all heard the stories of the fierce mating frenzies that Aurelians succumb to in the presence of a human female. The all-male species is on the constant hunt for their so-called ‘fated mate’ – a singular, bonded female; the only woman capable of mothering a specific Aurelian’s heirs…

  But those towering alien bastards aren’t averse to sticking their dicks in other human females in the meantime.

  Is that what this stone-faced beast plans to do with me?

  Well, he’s in for a shock. The moment I get this collar off, I’m going to show the Aurelians who they’re fucking with.

  I’m reassured somewhat when I look up into the towering alien’s slate-grey eyes. There’s no lust in them – not for the flesh, anyway. This alien bought me from a slaver, and apparently his only desire is to find out how much profit my virginity will bring him at the auction.

  I almost wish he’d look at me like a woman – and not simply an object.

  Still, I hesitate to remove my bra. I’m in a tiny cell with no weapon. If the sight of my naked body does send him into a frenzy, I’ll have to fight the horny, seven-feet tall monster off with my bare hands.

  As if reading my mind, the Aurelian shakes his head. “I don’t want you. Your clothes are filthy. Take them off. All of them.”

  I swallow my pride, my cheeks burning red as I peel off my bra and the remnants of my remaining clothes. I just do it – knowing that if I hesitate, my shame will overwhelm me – and this alien will be forced to ‘motivate’ me with the Orb-Collar.

  Eventually, I hand him the tattered remains of my outfit – filthy and shredded from my battle with the slavers. The alien wrinkles his nose almost imperceptibly as he takes my filthy clothes.

  I spent days in a cell without food, water, or a shower. Don’t you dare wrinkle your fucking nose at me, you arrogant bastard.

  Still, it’s his first show of emotion. I’m glad I got that out of him.

  I stand there naked, covering myself with my hands – trying desperately to preserve the illusion that I have any dignity left to protect.

  But he’s not having any of it.

  “Lower your hands,” the alien commands, and then he looks pointedly at the collar around my neck.

  It’s an unspoken reminder that disobeying him will result in jolts of pain arcing through the collar into every cell of my body.

  It’s time to get real. I can’t protect my dignity – not that I had any left.

  But I can still keep my pride.

  I jut my chin up, staring coldly into the alien’s eyes. I don’t break his gaze as I lower my hands, wordlessly mocking his command. He might be a seven-feet-tall, deadly warrior – but I’m not going to let the bastard get inside my head. I will not tremble or quake in his presence.

  Besides, he’s not the one I need to be worried about. I’m just merchandise to him. The real danger are the people attending this auction. The richest members of Titus business society are gathered her today, all about to bid for the privilege of getting between my legs.

  But the joke’s on them. That’s what they think.

  They’re going to get my blade between theirs, first.

  As I lower my hands, the Aurelian breathes in sharply. He studies the sight of my fully naked body, and it’s clear that he appreciates it. A jolt of fear suddenly hits me, as I wonder if he’ll be able to control his desire for me long enough to sell me. Glancing around, I try to find a weapon in the tiny room – but there’s nothing in here but make-up brushes and beauty supplies.

  I’m screwed.

  I glance up and confirm my suspicion. The alien is staring at me hungrily - judging the plump firmness of my breasts and the subtle curve of my hips. Suddenly, he isn’t just thinking about profits and costs any more. Suddenly, I’m so much more to him than an object.

  His muscles flex, and I realize that even this cold, calculating bastard finds it difficult to resist a naked human female. His breath quickens, and I look in horror as his cock swells in his pants – huge, thick, and throbbing.

  I’m naked, collared, and alone in a room with an alien warrior – one who even now is deciding whether my virginity is worth more sold to an alien trillionaire, or taken from me roughly by his hardening alien cock.

  “I have three slaves of my own,” the alien growls. “Daily, hard spankings are the only thing that keeps them in line – and by the time I’m done turning their bottoms red, their cunts are always wet for my cock. It’s such a shame they’re not bonded to me… But that is a rare gift indeed.” He laughs mockingly. “Your species is truly a submissive one.”

  Not all of us. If you think you’re going to cow me, you’re wrong.

  I could have lost my virginity a thousand times over on the mining ships where I’d previously made my living – but the cost would have been losing the respect of the roughnecks I worked with; who’d suddenly have seen me as a prize to be bedded, rather than a trusted colleague.
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  That I couldn’t have endured. I’ll never let any man touch me if he doesn’t respect me. And that’s where this alien is so wrong. There’s no way to earn respect when you’re over a man’s knee, being spanked like some unruly little wench – so my cunt will most definitely not be wet if I’m subjected to such humiliation.

  Not that it would matter to him. Aurelian cocks are famously self-lubricating, and he could take me whether I was wet for him or not. I shudder at the thought. I can only hope that whoever I’m sold to will be merciful than this stone-faced bastard.

  I hate that Aurelians think of themselves as better than us human. That they think punishing, spanking, and whipping human females is doing us a favor. Whoever buys me is in for a nasty surprise. I’m not the kind of woman to let myself be put over anybody’s knee – Aurelian or otherwise. I’ll not be spanked until I cry – not without a fight, that is.

  But therein lies the problem. These Aurelian bastards are so fucking huge. Whatever happens at the auction, I know I’ll only get one chance to kill my new owner before it becomes obvious that I’m not the chickenshit human female he expected to buy, and I’m a deadly little spitfire instead.

  And spitfires get caged.

  If I even get that far. The Aurelian putting me up for sale looks like he’s on the verge of losing control. Maybe my virginity won’t make it to the auction block. My eyes dart around the room, looking desperately for a weapon.

  The mirror! If I can smash it, I could get a shard of glass and kill him. In the mating frenzy, he won’t be thinking straight enough to use the collar against me.

  As if reading my mind, the Aurelian warned: “I know you killed men when you were taken – but let me be clear: You will not try to escape. This is what’s going to happen to you: You’re going to be beautified. You’re going to be put into a pleasure slave’s dress. And then, you are going to be sold. I’ll make no secret on the auction block that you’re an unruly, treacherous little bitch. Whoever buys you will be fully expecting to have to train you – harshly – if he plans on taming you.”

  The first hint of true doubt hits me. I’d anticipated that this Aurelian would try to fob me off as another docile human slave, eager to serve. I’d hoped he wouldn’t reveal the bloody details of my capture; because that might lower my value. But I’d been wrong. The Aurelian who buys me will be on guard, knowing how dangerous I am.

  Fine. If I can’t lull him into a sense of security, and drive my blade between his legs… He’ll just find my blade in his throat, instead.

  The Aurelian reaches out, and I force myself not to try and resist him. That would mean instant agony courtesy of that Orb-Collar.

  The alien takes my chin in his huge hand and lifts my eyes to meet his emotionless, grey stare. He’s trying to remain implacable, as all Aurelians do – but this towering bastard’s breathing is ragged, and I can tell lust is building in his huge, powerful body.

  “You are used to your body being your own. Lose that thought, little one – and life will be much easier on you.”

  I gulp dryly.

  “Your master will own you,” the Aurelian warns. “Your pussy, your asshole, and your mouth. They will all belong to him – to be used at his pleasure. Your species find themselves naturally submissive to Aurelians – so simply give in to those instincts. Surrender to the deep desires we all know you have, and everything will be better for you.”

  I try to shake my head. I have a horrible realization that this monster thinks he’s helping me. He thinks he’s giving me good advice – that he can save me an onslaught of punishment if I just let some arrogant alien trillionaire use me like a fuck toy.

  Not. Going. To. Happen.

  They can lock me up for days without food and water. They can collar me, take my freedom, and even hurt me to the point of breaking.

  But they will never claim my soul.

  The Aurelian stares into my furious eyes. His voice is soothing, yet dangerous.

  “I am not a cruel man, little one, so do not test me. The pleasure dress I’ll adorn you with will excite your body. Succumb to that lust, and everything will be easier. A beautiful virgin like you is a prize. You’ll be sold to a wealthy Aurelian – one with the means to treat you well. After that, it will be up to you how your life will be. If you obey, and follow orders, you’ll come to understand the sweetness of submission.”

  I say nothing, staring up hatefully.

  The Aurelian ignores my glare, and continues to instruct me.

  “Keep your eyes down on the auction block. Once your leash is in your new master’s hand, you become his property and his problem. Until then, however, I expect you to be docile – by whatever means necessary.”

  I shiver, feeling the coldness of the Orb-Collar around my neck, and the unspoken promise of pain if I disobey.

  “Be proud,” the Aurelian murmurs. “One way or another, you’ll meet your new master – but today’s auction is being honored by the presence of the great Korgath himself. Perhaps he will purchase you.”

  Korgath.

  The name hits me like a slap.

  The brutal crime-boss is the richest man on Titus. He’s killed dozens of rivals, clawing his way to the top of the criminal cartels. If he gets his hands on me, it’ll be the hardest fight of my life. The thought of the seven-foot tall behemoth owning me is utterly terrifying.

  The Aurelian releases my chin and steps back. I realize he’s conquered his overwhelming lust. He’s pushed all thought of using me into the back of his cold, calculating mine – apparently finding more excitement in the thought of the coin I’ll bring him, than of emptying himself into the tightness of my virginal slit.

  “You will wait here for the beautician,” the Aurelian growls. “She is valuable, so if you cause any harm to her, I’ll punish you with such agony that you’ll wish you were never born.” Despite the seriousness of his warning, the alien has no emotion in his voice. He’s regained total control of himself, and takes only one last look at my body before he shuts the door on me.

  I stand, naked and alone, in the tiny cell.

  So, that’s it.

  I’m going to be marched onto the block in an alien auction house, wearing the traditional garb of a pleasure slave – whatever the hell that is.

  That alien bastard told me I’d be aroused when I’m wearing it. Fat chance.

  If he thinks I’m going to be aroused while I’m being sold like chattel in front of a crowd of the most elite businessmen and gangsters on Titus, he’s dead wrong.

  I can play the part of a submissive little slave girl…

  I can moan when I’m expected to moan, grit my teeth and bare whatever bare-bottom spankings and rough whippings the dominant aliens decide to give me.

  I’ll play the part, that’s for sure…

  …but only until the moment I have the opportunity to cut my new master’s throat.

  1

  Juliana

  One week earlier

  An elephant-sized chunk of spinning rock and metal whizzes past the tempered glass of my cockpit.

  That had been close!

  If I hadn’t made a last-second adjustment to our trajectory, that careening hunk of space debris would have hit us full-on – and sheared a path halfway through to the engine compartment as it did so.

  But that’s just one near miss out of many today. It’s a full time job keeping my crew alive, even if just for a few seconds more each time.

  My heart is pounding, and the controls are clammy beneath my palms, but a grin splits my face as I fire the mining beam towards the asteroid we’ve been pursuing through this storm.

  I’ve been sticking to that lump of space rock like a fly on honey, and it hasn’t been easy. This asteroid storm is at full fury, and one wrong move will see us all dead.

  But that’s half the fun, isn’t it? There’s nothing more satisfying than the glint of precious metals as you brave an asteroid storm. There’s nothing more thrilling than each near miss, as you keep you
r eyes on the prize and stay alive by nothing but the grace of your own skill at the helm.

  When I’m flying, I focus only on the here-and-now. On avoiding the worthless chunks of deadly space rock, and pursuing the invaluable ones. It’s like being able to switch off half my brain. Like this, I can forget everything. My past. My future.

  All that exists is now.

  I arc my beam against the asteroid. The careening meteor dwarfs my little ship, but the beam lands true. I’m rewarded with the glint of pure platinum, deep beneath the surface.

  Suddenly, a shudder rings out across the ship. I curse as a fridge-sized asteroid smashes hard against our right shield – nearly breaking through.

  “Jenson! You need to switch shields faster!” I yell at my shields operator.

  I know Jenson will obey without question. The two men on my crew might have given me a hard time at first – after all, roughnecks don’t like working for a woman in her early-twenties – but that was only until they’d seen me pilot.

  Sure, sometimes, I wish I paid the black-market surgeon extra to make me look older when he changed my face – but once I’d shown them my skills at the helm, Jenson and Adam gave me the respect I deserved.

  And I did deserve it. I know my worth. I’m like a surgeon with a mining beam, and like an artist behind the helm. In this world, you have to earn respect – no man will give it to you for free – but my skills were undeniable.

  “I’m on it!” Jenson yells back from the shield room. His voice quivers with exertion. We both need to be 100% on our game, or the next rock we hit is going to punch right through what remains of our shields and obliterate us.