Alexis Daimon, A Slave in Space — Erotic BDSM Sci-Fi Novella — Chapter 3 (Serialized)

WARNING: This post contains sexual content! Read at your own risk ;)

Hello, and thank you so much for reading! This is the third chapter in a serialized novella I'm writing here on Steemit. If you'd like to catch up and read the first couple of chapters, you can find them here:

Alexis Daimon, A Slave in Space — Erotic BDSM Sci-Fi Novella — Chapter 1

Alexis Daimon, A Slave in Space — Erotic BDSM Sci-Fi Novella — Chapter 2

Thank you so much for following along! Enjoy! :)

It was a fucking palace.

At least that's what immediately came to mind as I was guided off the ship into an extremely ornate foyer. It seemed like something straight out of seventeenth century France, which added to the already surreal strangeness of the entire experience. I felt incredibly small as we walked down a grand corridor lined with gilt-framed paintings, sprawling whimsical frescoes, and marble busts displayed on pedestals in alcoves.

I didn’t remember anything between being drugged on the ship and waking up at our destination, which, I thought, was a shame. It would have at least been interesting to know what it was like to travel through space. I wondered how long the journey had lasted. Half an hour? An entire day?

Something niggled at the back of my mind as I took in all of the strange sights around me, like a movement at the periphery of my vision, but when I tried to look straight at it, it was gone.

Where am I again?

Little snatches of reality started returning to me as I was roused from my dreamlike state.

I remembered that I was naked and exposed.

I remembered that I was someone’s property now.

Would I ever even see Earth again?

It hit me like a fist to the gut, and I was suddenly very awake. I didn’t know where I was. I didn’t even know what was happening to me. Or rather, I had a pretty good idea of what had happened so far, it was what was going to happen that had me worried.

Now that I was more aware of my body, I realized that I was sore all over, extremely hungry, and more tired than I should have been, considering how many times I’d been drugged unconscious. My arms were sore from being held behind my back, and the cuffs had begun to cut into my wrists. I could feel metal rubbing against flesh, the sensation growing more and more painful with each step I took.

We continued walking for some time, and I slowly allowed myself again to take in the sheer magnitude of the place—which gave me a temporary distraction and reprieve. The owner must be a history buff, I thought. And a rich one at that. The cost to have something this elaborate built off planet would have been astronomical.

I found myself appreciating the creator’s taste as I admired the artwork and architecture that surrounded me. Were those authentic antiques? How much of this was real and how much was reproduction? I’d visited Versailles before, and this place seemed to rival it in both beauty and grandeur.

Who is this guy.

We finally came to a huge doorway that led into a seemingly tiny room in comparison. The ceilings were much lower here than in the corridor, and a large fire crackled at one end of the room, giving it an entirely different, and almost cozy feel.

Closing the doors behind them, the guards then set to work about the room, opening cabinets, flipping switches, moving things, as I stood and watched helplessly. It gave me some time to survey the room around me, which felt a bit like a cross between a palace drawing room and an exotic beauty spa.

It was a long, narrow room, the walls lined with mirrors, massage tables, beauty stations like you'd see at a hair salon, and racks of long silk and velvet robes, ribbons, and tassels. There were also several chaise lounges and overstuffed sofas, a few bookshelves with leathered and weathered tomes of various sizes, tables for serving tea, and persian rugs to cover the rustic wood floors.

After a few moments, the pretty blonde guard led me over toward the fireplace, where, to my surprise I discovered a steaming bath, recessed into the floor.

Blessedly, she removed my handcuffs. It felt wonderful and terrible at the same time, and I gingerly rubbed the raw skin. I flexed and rolled my wrists, closing my eyes for a moment, silently hoping I wouldn’t have to be cuffed again.

“Please, get in,” the woman said in her matter-of-fact tone.

Without much choice, I decided to comply. It did also look very welcoming. I hadn’t realized how cold I was, but when I looked down I could see that my nipples had become hard and goose bumps covered my skin.

The water felt very hot at first, but I adjusted to it quickly, allowing my muscles to relax as I sank deeper into the tub. I felt safer and less exposed when I was hidden beneath the surface of the water.

I tried to think of something else as she began to wash me. It was a strange thing, to be washed by someone else, but how could I protest? I didn't want to make things more difficult for myself at the moment. I was too exhausted to resist.

I had closed my eyes, but I felt a second pair of hands begin massaging some kind of hot, sticky liquid into my scalp. The heat and hands felt good on my skin, and I let out an involuntary moan, then stopped myself short, blushing furiously with embarrassment. The guards said nothing, however, and soon I found myself relaxing again.

For three full hours—as I watched the tall grandfather clock tick, tock, tick away on the wall opposite the fireplace—the women bathed, waxed, oiled, massaged, and otherwise “prepared” me for my first meeting with my master. That is how they had put it, at least, when I had tentatively ventured to question them as I grew more comfortable with their presence. They would say nothing more, only that their job was to “prepare” me for him, and when I felt bold enough to continue questioning them, "Mistress Muscles," as I'd dubbed her—the tall, buff brunette—had simply activated the collar for one second—an excruciating second that was just a small taste of what was possible. It was enough to make me think twice before speaking again.

I took this time to observe the guards, whom I'd already decided were much too disciplined to be civilians. I imagined that they'd been recruited somehow from the military—perhaps offered a deal that was too good to pass up. I considered for a moment the possibility that they were also slaves, but I soon abandoned that theory. Not only did that seem unlikely based on them having weapons, the authority to pilot the ship, and no visible collars, but they also did not seem like slaves, whom I would have imagined to be dejected, despondent, or otherwise broken in some way. Instead, they appeared to be stern, yet calm, and they did their work with the thoroughness and care of those who take pride in what they do.

When I didn’t think I could be prepared anymore, one of the guards—a shorter, stocky woman with a buzz cut—brought over a small tabletop device with a hose attached. Before I could protest—not that I would have after a moment's consideration, the collar so fresh in my memory—the woman slipped a mask over my face that covered my nose and mouth. This mask was attached to the hose, which was attached to the device.

“Breath,” the woman told me flatly. Her voice was deep and her tone gruff.

A piney, resinous vapor filled my nostrils and burned my lungs, but a firm hand held the mask in place and another rested heavily on my shoulder. All I could do was sit there and allow it to happen.

Fuck, I’m being drugged again, I realized belatedly. The taste and smell were familiar, but much more potent and concentrated than I’d ever experienced.

After the mask was removed from my face, I felt myself being guided up from the couch and out into the long corridor again. This time I wore soft slippers on my feet and a heavy silk robe.

My body felt soft and smooth against the silk, and my hair hung down past my shoulders in loose waves. They had put makeup on me, too, waxed nearly my entire body, and oiled me with some kind of heavy fragrance that smelled less like perfume and more like incense.

This was it. They must be taking me to meet him.

I felt dizzy and weak, but four sets of strong arms towed me down the hallway. After a moment I realized that we had stopped walking.

Where were we? I couldn’t see. Someone had placed something black over my eyes, and now something large and rubbery was being inserted into my mouth. It filled my mouth, and I felt a strap being fastened behind my neck to keep it in place. Then I was being lifted and laid face down on a cold, hard surface.

Before I could react, I was secured tightly to the surface, arms stretched out over my head and legs spread wide.

Something like a large cylinder rested beneath my pelvis, and I could feel that my ass was lifted, leaving my pussy fully spread and exposed.

I realized with sudden panic what was happening, but it was too late. I struggled frantically to escape, but I was so tightly secured that I began hurting myself as the restraints cut into my wrists and ankles.

I screamed but the noise was muffled by a mouthful of gag. Several sets of hands ran across my body, rubbing my back, arms, legs, and ass. I squirmed even more now, but it was no use. One set of hands pulled apart my buttocks to further expose my ass, and I felt a painful surge of concentrated sensation rush into my lower pelvis. I spasmed involuntarily and felt wet hot pleasure between my legs.

Why am I reacting this way? My panicking mind raced, trying to think of a way to get out of this.

The hands left me alone, and my breathing slowed.

I waited. It was completely silent now. With my vision gone, my hearing was heightened. I listened for any traces of sound, but could hear nothing.

I was very aware of how exposed and vulnerable I was, and I could feel the heat still burning between my legs. I knew my pussy was already wet with the anticipation of what was to come. I could feel the wetness dripping out of me, and I let out a soft whimper.

It was only a matter of time before he would come in. And what then? I knew he was going to fuck me. But what if he wanted to hurt me as well? I was powerless to stop him.

I knew this was no ordinary man. He was an obscenely rich, eccentric man who lived in a palace somewhere in space, and if I was being entirely honest with myself, I was extremely curious about him. Did he live all alone out here in this huge palace? Why did he create this place? What did he look like?

As much as he intrigued me, there was still the small matter of him purchasing me to be his sex slave. Only a monster was capable of something like that. There was no way of knowing what he had planned for me.

A distant sound made me freeze.

Yes, those were footsteps. Slow, deliberate footsteps. Calm, calculated footsteps. The footsteps of a predator, I thought.

To be continued...

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Thank you so much for reading :) This is the third chapter in a serialized, erotic sci-fi novella. I'll be posting a new chapter once or twice a week until it's finished, and then I will compile it into an ebook and give it away for free download here on Steemit!

Please feel free to leave your thoughts, feedback, constructive criticism, etc., below in the comments.

Much love,
~xx~
Dina