Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81280 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81280 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
“So good,” he praises again. “And now I’m going to come inside you, baby pet. Now I’m going to fill you all the way up…”
Those are the last coherent words he forms for a while. What follows is a series of grunts, lowing, and bellows as he pulls me down on his cock as deep as I can possibly go and comes inside me, filling me up with so much alien seed it drips out of my pussy even before he pulls all the way out.
I am equally incoherent as he slides from me, leaving me wide and open and completely ravaged and satisfied. My eyelids feel a little heavy now, like he took all the anxious energy, converted it to sex, and let it go free.
Boss notices this, of course. He pats my butt gently as he sets me down. “Do you want to have a nap while I graze? Want to curl up in the grass like a sweet little calf and sleep?”
I snuggle down into the undergrowth like the little animal he has always treated me as, feeling safe and secure and so fucking loved. In this moment, with warm sun falling through leaves, casting dappled shadows on my body, I feel a kind of peace I have rarely experienced.
Boss stays close, feeding himself on wild forage. I can hear his heavy body moving across the ground, and then the rustle of leaves as they are taken, and then the slow grinding chew of their mastication.
Not all my mates are mad at me. Not everybody expects me to be a good little captive pet. Boss’ quiet acceptance of me from day one nourishes me so deeply, I let go of my worries for a perfect moment and fall asleep, his cum sliding slowly out of my well-bred pussy.
Sometimes, progress in life happens because of hard work, perseverance, and a can-do attitude.
Other times it happens just because it happens.
I’d like to say I concocted a cunning plan to get up to the city above, but the truth is one afternoon I’m on my own and I’m grabbed by a couple of men wearing helmets and masks and put in a small helicopter. They snatch me up so efficiently I’m up in the city before it really hits me that I’m being kidnapped.
“Bring her in here,” a male voice says from inside an office, which is inside the building we landed on, and just across from the external stairs we came down.
I don’t get the sense I am being kidnapped in a bad way. It’s funny how once you’ve been kidnapped a few times you start to get a sense of these things. The men who take me are particularly polite, which is nice. They seem invested in my comfort, and they call me ma’am.
“What’s happening?”
“You’re being brought in, ma’am,” one of my captors says. “It’s been a long time, don’t worry, everything will be clear soon.”
I’m taken into a room and sat in a chair. It’s pretty dark in the room, but I know someone else is here, more as a silhouette than as a whole person. He approaches me and waves a tool of some kind near my head. I feel myself beep like a self-checkout machine.
And then it’s all clear.
All of it.
He turns the lights on and addresses me by my name.
“Agent Mills.”
I look into the face of a man with gray hair. “Mr. Brown,” I say.
“Good,” he says, fiddling with a little box in his hands. “You’re back.”
I nod curtly. “I am.”
“You have managed to get all three of them to Earth this time,” he says. “Very good work. You’ll be receiving a commendation for this.”
“Three who, sir?”
“One moment,” he says. “We’re restoring the rest of your memories. Just… one… second… I always forget the last code. Sorry. Let me see. one, two, three… oh four. I should really remember that. And then the hash key…”
There’s an audible click inside my skull, and all of a sudden I remember everything.
I remember a briefing room the day before my boss tried to have me killed years ago. I remember this man. I remember that his name is Mr. Brown, and that’s not his real name, but it’s the only name I will ever know him by.
I am wearing a polyester blouse and slacks and shoes that are sensible. My hair is tied back in an efficient ponytail. When I look down, my nails are nicely manicured in a way that makes it look like they haven’t been manicured at all. Short French tips. Classy. Modest. Very professional.
Mr. Brown has called me into the briefing room where there’s usually a dozen people at the very least, and at a hundred at the most. It’s just me today. I sit three rows back, because that strikes me as slightly funny.