Never Submit! The Swarii Brides, Book One

  Never Submit!

  The Swarii Brides, Book One

  By

  Korey Mae Johnson

  ©2012 by Blushing Books® and Korey Mae Johnson

  Copyright © 2012 by Blushing Books® and Korey Mae Johnson

  All rights reserved. No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Published by Blushing Books®,

  a subsidiary of

  ABCD Graphics and Design

  977 Seminole Trail #233

  Charlottesville, VA 22901

  The trademark Blushing Books® is registered in the US Patent and Trademark Office.

  Never Submit!

  The Swarii Brides, Book One

  Johnson, Korey

  eBook ISBN: 9 978-1-60968-569-0

  Cover Design by Korey Mae Johnson

  Images Provided by

  © Can Stock Photo Inc. / kovalvs

  © Can Stock Photo Inc. / denisov

  Blushing Publications thanks you whole-heartedly for your purchase with us!

  There are plenty more stories such as the one you’ve purchased from Blushing Books! Visit our online store to view our might selection!

  http://www.blushingbooks.com

  This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.

  Chapter One

  The first time Ellie met a Swarii, it just happened to be Commander Graham Masterson. At that time she had been Jazeel’s prima, his favorite servant girl, for only a week. She had been his servant for much longer—ever since she was abducted from Earth, right out of her bed. Before then, she knew nothing of the Swarii, or Frians, or of any other alien culture, for that matter.

  Earthlings didn’t believe the universe revolved around them exactly, but they did have a deep-seated yet unfounded belief that the universe as they knew it was only as old as their planet, and more than likely revolved around their sun. They also had come to believe that other species existing in the universe was surely on the impossible side of improbable, and that the probability of seeing one alien species, let alone MORE than one of them, was so astronomically minuscule it wasn’t worth mentioning, let alone preparing for.

  Not that Ellie could have ever mentally prepared herself for the life of a prima, nor for a life as a simple maid. The moment she saw what she was expected to wear, she had wanted to crawl into a bag and die.

  She had worked in her father’s garage most of her life, and quit high school to do it. She wore jumpsuits every day—it was all about comfort. Even her panties were larger than need be, mostly because she’d known nobody would ever see them.

  Wearing what was all but a thong was something she knew she’d have trouble getting used to. It wasn’t actually a thong, but in Ellie’s mind the two types of clothing were close kin to one another. Her breasts were covered by light, white fabric, but her stomach area was completely exposed, her bare skin showing well below the top of her hips. Her only other garment was a gold-chain belt from which cloth panels hung down to cover both her front and her backside.

  The outfit was humiliating, to say the least, to anyone born outside of ancient Egypt. And even there it might have been considered indecent.

  She had been primped all morning—she had been scrubbed hard in a basin full of perfumed water by the other maidens. Her hair was conditioned, and all of her pubic hair was completely and most permanently removed, leaving her feeling more naked than she ever had before. And as if to intensify that awkward feeling, they even rubbed a soft layer of oil on her skin to make it glisten.

  It was the first time in her life that she actually felt attractive, and what an unfortunate time it was for that.

  She had seen her master before—he was tall, probably eight-feet in height, and he was humanoid, but he was also quite reptilian. He looked like something people were fighting in a video game somewhere. He had picked her right out of the line coming off of the merchant spaceship that very morning. She was actually frightened by all the deafening engine noise in the hanger. She could barely hear, only watch, and what she saw wasn’t any consolation. Her new master, Jazeel, had her led back to the palace by guards just as ugly as himself.

  She didn’t know why the lizard wanted her to dress so sexy, but she was determined to put her foot down about it.

  “Get into your clothes, lil’ girl,” the prime—the head man-servant, Peyton, told her when he opened the door and saw her wrapped in so many towels after her bath that he could barely see a bit of skin. “Jazeel wants to see you.” He walked to the nearby counter to pour himself a glass of water from a pitcher.

  “Tell him to go screw himself,” she grumbled. “I’m not wearing that. Lots of the other girls are wearing more.”

  He heaved a frustrated sigh, knowing that the girl was going to have a very rude awakening if that continued to be her attitude. Jazeel, nor any Frian he had ever met, was someone who would accept being told to screw off by anyone. “Those girls aren’t as pretty. Jazeel picked out this outfit for you himself. Wear it,” he ordered brusquely.

  “You wear it,” she argued, crossing her arms firmly across her chest. She had been caged for the last month in a pen that even a dog would have felt cramped in, antagonized and poked by a man who looked like he had descended from something the Earth naturally got rid of 20 million years ago. The last thing she was going to fear was a human, not even one like Peyton, who, back on Earth, was not the type you’d want to enter a pig wrestlin’ contest with.

  He slammed down his water cup and spun to point a firm finger in her direction. “Do it, little girl, right now. I can’t afford your disobedience.” It was true—he couldn’t. Jazeel wasn’t patient, and any of the girls’ disobedience was considered Peyton’s fault. He had the right and responsibility to force the girls to obey, which was not an easy task, but one that he had yet to fail at. If he wanted to stay in his house and in his privileged station, he needed to trust all the girls to cooperate.

  “These are barely clothes,” she cried, waving in the direction of the outfit. “It’s ridiculous. I’m not Princess Leia. What if somebody sees?”

  “Someone seein’ is the point. You have to the count of three.” Not that he had to bother counting—it was pretty clear that she was just going to glare at him throughout the countdown, as pointless as it was. Did she think she was going to be able to fight him off? Did she think that if she stuck to her guns, nobody would force her to do anything? Did she expect to get back to Earth this way?

  One. Two. Three. To her satisfaction, he turned away from her, seeming like he was going in the direction of the door. Instead, he walked to a closet; he disappeared for a second before he came back out with a leather strap in his hand.

  “Peyton…” she warned, her eyes widening with horror as he marched determinedly over to her. She backed up quickly until she hit the wall behind her. “Peyton!” she cried, as if she could wake him up from an evil trance. He grabbed her arm and forced her to the bed, easily plucking the towels from her body despite her struggles and letting them fall to the floor.

  After that, she was more concerned about covering her exposed parts than keeping herself from being hauled over Peyton’s tall, sturdy knees. She thought only one thing: no man had ever seen her naked before.

  CRACK. The leather came down on the soft, pale flesh of her
bare bottom.

  She screamed. She couldn’t have imagined leather striking her skin would hurt so much. She twisted around, trying to grab his arm to keep him from swinging the strap again, but he just pinned her wrist uncomfortably down with his other elbow. CRACK!

  This stripe seemed to hurt more, somehow, than the one before. And then that nasty leather started smacking her skin in a rhythmic procession. She fought and screamed until she was suddenly struck by the pure hopelessness of her situation—she was not anywhere near as strong as Peyton. She was hundreds of thousands of light years away from her home. She was a slave. And there was nothing she could do about it other than to submit.

  Whether because of this fact, or because of the pain, she began to cry heartfelt sobs.

  Still, Peyton continued on for a while, despite the sobs and despite the shrieks. He was driving a point home—she needed to learn to shut up and obey for her own good.

  It did end eventually. When it was over, he pushed her off of his lap and, grabbing her arm before she could nurse herself, shoved her in the direction of her outfit. “Dress,” he ordered. When she reached behind her to nurse her swollen cheeks, he snapped, “Don’t nurse yourself. Dress.”

  He wet a washcloth and brought it to her. It certainly didn’t take long before she dressed—there was hardly anything to dress with. When she was done, he was standing next to her with the washcloth. “Wipe your face,” he told her. His tone was hard, but not cruel. It almost sounded exasperated. “If you didn’t like that,” he continued simply, “then I suggest you do as you’re told, an’ right quick! I’m told that Jazeel has a far heavier hand than I do, and he will punish you if you misbehave in his presence.”

  His face softened a little as she sobbed. A true Texan, he didn’t like to see a crying woman; even if she did bring it on herself. “Wipe your face, don’t create new tears,” he specified. Then, after a moment of watching, he said, “It’s not as bad as all that. The workers in the mines barely see daylight, and don’t get to eat so well. The women in workshops are chained to tables. The farmers are sent out into the sun with no protection, and very small rations. We’re the lucky ones.”

  That didn’t seem like much solace. But there was nothing to be done. She did stop crying, and as soon as she did, Peyton dragged her by her arm in the direction of Jazeel’s chamber as fast as he could walk.

  “Peyton,” Jazeel drawled, looking annoyed as soon as the two entered. “I was beginning to worry that you’d forgotten my request.”

  ‘Maybe I should get rid of him. I’ve seen how the girls look at him—I should check their virginities again… It’s about that time, anyway, to see if he’s coupling with any of them. Though killing him would be too much of a waste—I’ll make him a bathhouse eunuch.’

  Although she wasn’t positive, she was sure she hadn’t seen the alien’s mouth move. Yet she was certain that the voice just speaking came from him. The words came very quickly, but they were exceptionally clear… “I’m sorry,” she said as Peyton was looking uncomfortable. “I was being difficult, my lord.” She thought about what someone in Star Wars, or StarGate, Star Trek, or even Prince of Egypt would say. Surely, his species wasn’t beyond flattering.

  ‘My lord! I like that—respect comes with that title, I believe. Like their royalty. Perfect. I shall have all my servants address me as such. The words were coming so quickly, she wasn’t sure she caught them right, but she did feel like Jazeel didn’t know she could hear them.

  Could she? Was she imagining it?

  “Difficult, were you?” Jazeel looked quite interested about this. ‘Hopefully he had to give her a spanking. I love it when he uses force on the girls… I love watching their little legs kick, their faces blush... Something about it is so gratifying.’

  “Yes, Sir…” she said, looking unsure. Her confusion was misinterpreted as torturous humiliation.

  “Do explain,” he drawled, nearly sounding like he was purring.

  “I…” She swallowed and made eye contact with Peyton, who looked aghast at her announcement, and how well Jazeel was reacting to her. “I wouldn’t put on my dress,” she admitted, lowering her head.

  ‘Look at her… Look at how remorseful she is. What a lovely sight.’

  “This dress… Is a little more revealing than I’m used to, and it was too humiliating to put on.” She looked at Peyton again; he looked like he was about to pass out. “So he spanked me with a strap of leather,” she went on. “That’s why I made him late on bringing me here.” She wiped an old tear out of her eye.

  “Did he spank you hard, my little pet?” he teased, still purring.

  ‘Oh, I hope she pouts. I love it when they pout.’

  “Yes, Sir…” She pouted prettily.

  ‘Delicious.’

  “He left marks.”

  The words coming into her head were so easy to hear now; she didn’t even consciously have to listen to them. It was as if they nestled comfortably through her ear and into her mind with such smoothness that they no longer had to make a sound. It was instantaneous, but not an actual voice. She seemed to know what he was thinking, and what Jazeel was going to do before he did it.

  He patted his knee. “Come let me see, my poor little pet,” he cooed.

  She hesitated—knowing how much Jazeel was going to enjoy this. The other maids had told her that the Frians loved to play sexually with their female slaves, and liked to ogle them because humans were strangely arousing to them, but they never had intercourse with their slaves. This was, the maids had guessed, because they didn’t have the same plumbing as the humans did, forcing them to only have sexual relations with their own species, much to the Frians’ obvious annoyance.

  Peyton put a hand on her back as if to remind her to respond to Jazeel’s order. Slowly, she put one foot in front of the other until she was standing in front of Jazeel’s alien body. He gently took her arm in his silky, reptilian hand and pulled her across his lap. Jazeel’s race was very slender and very tall, and as soon as she was across his knees, she felt like her toes were constantly reaching for the floor.

  He brushed the cloth panel which covered her bottom to the side and clicked his tongue with satisfaction. He dragged a finger across one of her welts, as if to judge how swollen it was. “Ooh, I bet that hurt.” He continued to trace along her bottom with his fingers.

  “It still hurts,” she replied miserably, knowing it was what he wanted to hear.

  “Mmm, yes, yes. I can see Peyton has kept you well in line. Very good, very good. I am very pleased, Peyton,” he congratulated sincerely, looking up at Peyton, who had been trembling mere seconds ago—Peyton was sure he was going to be punished for leaving marks on her flesh, thinking that the sight of it would not be pleasing to Jazeel. “I was beginning to think you were loosening your grip upon my house, not tightening it. I see that I was mistaken.” He put his hand across her bottom, luxuriating in the radiating heat.

  Slowly, he began to play with her bottom hole. Her toes pointed and her mouth formed into an “O” as he quickly stuck his index finger up her bottom to the hilt.

  She shrieked. “Please, stop…” Her face brightened red and she looked around. She avoided reaching back to stop him, although she knew he wanted badly for her to do so, to give him an excuse to spank her again. She hugged her arms pathetically around his knee. “Please, my lord! That hurts…” she whined, squinting her eyes so she wouldn’t even have to look at Peyton, who merely looked on, knowing there was nothing he could do.

  Jazeel was practically chuckling with his new-found glee. “Responsive little thing,” he noticed, dipping his fingers towards her cunt, feeling the body on his lap cringe when he did so.

  She began to sob again.

  Jazeel merely laughed and finally let her up. “I will tell you what, my dear little pet,” he cooed, enjoying her tears immensely. He pulled the girl down to sit on his knee, and she winced as her sore bottom was pressed onto his hard thighs. “You can wear anything you’d
like… But you must remove your clothing for punishment, always, and for me whenever I wish it, with no complaint.” He looked over at Peyton as he petted Ellie’s head and purred, “See that she gets whatever she desires, and that she learns how to serve all my meals to me.”

  Peyton’s face was unmoving. He didn’t want to show any surprise, and was doing a good job of it. He bowed his head. “Yes, Sir.”

  “Say yes, my lord from now on,” Jazeel said off-handedly, a small smile appearing on his reptilian mouth. “Direct the others to, as well. It does seem more appropriate.”

  “Yes, my lord.” Peyton bowed again. “I will do so promptly.”

  “Take my little pet with you,” he said, gently pulling Ellie off of his lap. “And make sure the seamstress makes her anything her heart desires. But remember, my dear,” he added, reaching up and petting her long hair. “The longer the rope I give you, the harder the jerk back will feel when corrected.” He was counting on this. Ellie could see the situations and scenarios already appearing in his mind—he wanted her to always blush, to never get used to punishments. He didn’t want to tame her.

  “You are most gracious, my lord,” she said softly, knowing the words would please him, and they did.

  “I know,” he agreed loftily, waving her away from him with his hand. She walked back to Peyton quickly and let him guide her out of the room.

  The two didn’t say anything until they rounded the corner towards the kitchens. “I don’t know what that was about,” Peyton muttered. Ellie couldn’t tell if he was angry, incredulous, or amazed.

  She rubbed her eyes, wondering whether or not she was dreaming what had just happened. It was too weird for words. “I know, it’s really hard to concentrate with all of that going on,” she agreed, hoping to hear some advice.