Wrong Place, Wrong Time (6)

Her asshole pulsed to the beat of her heart. Invaded, captured, punished.

She looked up at him,  her Uralian “owner” as she lay on the floor at his feet. Independent to her core, this was the hardest part to deal with, that of his “ownership” of her.

Yet hadn’t he just proven that he could, would and did have full control of her, shoving that tentacle up her ass that way? Holding her in place and making her take it up the butt was a pretty effective way of showing which of them was in charge.

She was grateful, in an odd way. Grateful that he’d not just picked her up and broken her. Picked her up and shoved her back into the anti-grav locks as she had been first held here.

She looked up at him with large, damp eyes, torn between a lingering anger at her situation, and the thin trickle of lust that being dominated insinuated into her body.

Apparently her Dom didn’t even need to be humanoid.

:attend your task :

yes, she started to speak then caught herself before she made “mouth noises” and got a smack for it. Uralians didn’t like auditory stimulation.

: yes, Sir:  she mindspoke softly to him, being more respectful now than ever before. As she would to an Earth ‘Master’, she supposed.

Rolling to her side, she slipped back into a single-legged kneel, one leg tucked under her. She searched the floor for the release tool, when his tentacle lay across her shoulder, offering it to her.

: oh, thanks :

She felt his satisfaction that she had responded appropriately, soft waves of amber warmth passing through her.

She released the lower panel, slowly, carefully. He reached out and helped her set the heavy panel to the side.

The interior of the bulkhead was dark, with coils and wires and the occasional running lights along fiber-optic lines.

:is there light? a flash-beam? :

There was a pause, and a moment later, his arm was back with a form of hand torch. Her hand fit inside imperfectly, it was designed, obviously, to sleeve over the pointed tip of a tentacle. By fisting her hand, she was able to secure it somewhat, though it left her one-handed as she began to ease her way inside the bulkhead.

As her foot slipped inside, she felt his tentacle wrap around her ankle. A warning? She felt nothing from him, in fact, she felt nothing from any of them, just a sense of …waiting.

The bulkhead curved to the right, and she tugged at her ankle. He’d have to let her go if he wanted her to fully check the integration of the inner panels to the cables that passed through them from the ships core.

There was a hesitation, then release. She kind of missed it, actually. It was cooler in here, with the coolant flow valves so close by, and she shivered.

Goosebumps peppered her naked body as she slid deeper inside the bulkhead. She had to be getting close to the main panel.

She played the beam of the flashlight ahead.


There it was, the dull black of the panel peppered with sinuous lines of data flow. She slid along the length of it on her ass, scooting along, identifying the feeds. Spectrometer. Thruster. Oh, the defense array. If she punctured that, they’d be sitting ducks.

Of course, so would she.

She bypassed that, and moved deeper.

The beam of light illuminated the very last juncture, a thick tangle of interfaces. Life controls, bio-feeds, this was the worst tangle of data tubes.

What the fuck?

She played the lights along the feed lines again.

She skootched forward. What the fuck was that entangling the lines?


The black cloud of fear hit her hard, fast.

She scooted back several feet, and came out of it. Her heart was racing, hands trembling. She was panting and sweating.

There was more. An undertone that frightened more than fear, an echo to that “loss” from Violet.

Entwined in the tubes and vacuoles of the inner workings was the smallest Uralian she had ever seen. He must be taking some sort of energy from the flow-tubes, sustaining him.

But he was weak.

Very, very weak. And suddenly she understood. A baby. Violet’s baby. How he had come to be here, inside the inner workings of the bulkhead was a mystery to be solved another day. A wave of empathy flowed from her.

:oh, poor wee baby: she crooned softly to him. She pushed the image of Violet, the blues and scents, as best she could remember, towards the young Uralian as she began to scoot forward towards him.

:helping, i’m helping Mama: 

Her inner voice was soft as butter, trying to pour it over him. That burst of fear he’d thrown at her had drained him. She could see the small mass of his body, the faint pulses of life-lights through translucent skin.

So weak.

Softly, slowly, gently, she slid up to where he hung, and eased the hand-light off her arm. Cupping her hands around him, she sent soft cooing thoughts to him, waves of his Mama.

It was, apparently, the right thing to do, for in a second, tentacles that had wrapped around the tubes had released, and wrapped around her in a tight embrace.

She could feel his faintness.

She skootched backwards, slowly, trying to not jar him. She scraped her left hip when she forgot a bend in the passage, and nailed her head when she didn’t bend low enough to make it below a thick pipe assembly.

She saw stars, but sucked it up, feeling the baby in her arms grow weaker, now that he’d separated from the raw feeds. He needed energy, she realized.

She stopped and took one tentacle and placed it over her belly. Breathing deeply, she focused on pushing energy towards him. His suckers latched onto her and she felt a rush of dizziness. Good. He could feed a bit from her.

She was near the entry, could see the light when she looked over her shoulder, even as her energy flagged. She needed to get closer, she was still out of reach here.

Every inch felt like a mile as the baby fed from her energy. She felt the growing blackness at the edge of her vision, and pushed, hard, hard backwards.

She never felt the tentacles wrapping around her as she fainted.

***   ***   ***

Sahara woke slowly.

She was warm and nestled and comfortable. Around her was a thick and silent blackness.

She raised her head and peered around. Too damn dark to see anything.  Totally disoriented, she lifted her hand to her forehead.  The last thing she remembered was…what?

“Quarter Lights” she croaked.

The lights came on in her cabin, dim enough to not shock her eyes. She was naked, and warm, yes. In her cradle, yes. What the fuck?

She cast through her mind.

“Position” she called out.

no response.

“Computer!” she barked, peremptorily. “Position!”


She cocked her head, listening to the engines. Silence.

She recalled then, turning everything to the bare minimum of life support so the Uralian ship wouldn’t find her as she mined diamonds in the edges of their sector.

She slipped from her cradle and padded out to the main room of her runabout.  The message light was blinking on her front panel, a soft and winking blue.

She flicked the toggle.

There was a rush of displaced air, tickling her still nude body, teasing her hair.

Transport surge, she thought, panicking.

“What the…”……..and suddenly, tentacles wrapped around her, heat, electric pulses,  and cool alien flesh dancing in trails around her skin.

One pressed into her mouth, gagging her to silence.

remember : a rich, markedly male voice chimed in her head. The tones were resonant, sending a response through her entire body. She was suffused in amber, warmed by violet, scented in caring and compassion.

It was almost a chant, one she felt as well as heard in her head.  There was a dazzling flow of memories, dark and light, being suspended, the blows to her body, the penetration of her ass; a child hugged safe between her breasts…..the flow went on for some moments.

She ceased struggling, but was still held tightly, wrapped in his arms.

Her owner, Os.

:remember, Sahara:

:i do. i remember. i remember all of it now:

:you have healed,and slept, while we kept watch for you here. your energies have been replenished. it is time for your choice. remember, Sahara, it is time to collect your reward:

She did remember. She had no idea what the reward would be. Free passage through the Uralian sectors? Somehow she doubted that. And she knew that she would be terribly disappointed in them all if that was their offer.

:i am listening, what is the reward:

: never before has one of your kind been allowed to remember encounters with us.:

Oh, wasn’t that an interesting tidbit. He didn’t say they’d been killed, just memory-wiped. That would explain some of those space-cases she’d heard rumors of, wouldn’t it? And certainly her own small dose of amnesia just now.

: never before have one of your kind proven useful, or understanding of our Kind:

: you saved a youngling. They are rare and precious to us. And he:

There was a pause, as if Os debated with himself. She sensed his innermost ‘shrug’ before he continued.

:He will be leader of us one day:

Somehow she understood he meant Leader with a capitol “L”, the one that would rule over the entire Uralian population.

: There is little that you could ask for that would be denied you.  Treasure, in the diamonds your kind uses for drive engines, or some other mineral you find pleasure in:

She felt the disdain there. What a snob!

: or pleasures. Pleasures  of my Kind, that you will never have experienced before:

She could feel it, he knew that she had found his beating her to be a painful pleasure. Geezuz, was there no secret keep-able around him?


She sighed. She knew what she wanted. But to ask for it…and wasn’t that the key?

She placed her hands on the tentacles that wrapped her, and projected her feelings to Him.

how alone she was

how it had felt to be emoted with, to feel those ripples of love, and compassion, and even the teasing

how it felt to be fully integrated with them, knowing that she was not alone, could not be alone, separate

adrift, even

He clasped her tightly as he absorbed her thoughts and feelings. How good it felt, even as she stood wrapped in his many arms, to finally let go.  To let him in, fully and willingly.

In being caught, she was finally free.

In the right place. At the right time.

***   ~  fini  ~   ***

nilla note…..

i could have. i want to. i left out the best part didn’t i?  but it seemed, in some fashion, to diminsh the storyline.  However…all that said. . . if you want more, want to see where this goes, chime in. i’m not sure i’m done with Sahara and Os yet…perhaps, as tis said, the best is yet to come? Do let me know if you want more (including the sex scene ya’ll are dying to read…i know you. (and i feel the same way, kinda…)