Art by Alucard’s Spirit
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I stood there glumly in my failure, half-naked and held at gunpoint in my own bedroom.
My carefully laid trap for the alien rogue hunter ‘Grime’ had been discovered; my junior agent had been captured and was being tortured by his crew, and I was soon to join her.
With a little luck, I might be able to rescue her and find a way for both of us to escape. If not, my hope was to win her freedom by taking her place as a prisoner aboard the boglins’ ship. That, of course, depended upon my captors honoring their agreement.
Grime was also known as ‘The Chef’ for his practice of turning his captive human women into food-themed works of art and sexually tormenting them for the amusement of himself and others. Soon, I would join the list of those he’d humiliated and degraded.
I was also about to find out what was worse than being half-naked and held at gunpoint in my own bedroom – to be fully naked, collared, shackled, and transported elsewhere!
Despite my promise to ‘go quietly,’ Grime and his boys insisted I be restrained first. Brat, the smallest and youngest boglin – and the most enthusiastic – came bouncing back into the room holding a set of high-tech restraints with glowing lights. “Gots ‘em, boss!”
“Can I do the stripping of her, boss?” asked Gorman, the boglin holding the gun on me. “Long time it’s been since a prisoner shot-got! Reeeeeel good I’ve been! Pleeeease?”
“Wait, you don’t need to strip me,” I cried. “C’mon, at least wait ‘til we’re on your ship?”
“You’re right, we don’t need to strip you,” Grime said, looking me up and down.
“You don’t?” I replied, surprised. “I mean, no, you don’t! Yes, thank you!”
Grime chuckled. “No, I mean you should strip yourself!” His crew laughed loudly, too.
“You guys suck,” I muttered while I lifted my crop-top over my breasts. As soon as it was over my head, I looked around and saw all three of them staring at me hungrily. Gorman actually licked his lips. Their eyes bulged as I wriggled my panties down over my hips.
“Hanns back, hooman agent girl,” said Brat from on the bed behind me. I grudgingly placed my wrists in the small of my back, resting my hands on my rear. I felt Brat’s cold hands grip my arm and then a cool surface wrap around my wrist and latch tight.
After he placed the second one on me, I heard a soft click and the shackles pulsed. I looked over my shoulder and noticed the lights on them had turned green. I also found I could move them slightly. I could twist my wrists and arms, but not pull them apart!
With my wrists restrained, Gorman finally holstered his alien pistol. Brat tossed him two shackles and Gorman knelt before me to attach them to my ankles. His slimy fingers gripped my lower leg and lingered there far longer than they needed to.
Brat tossed the last restraint to Grime so he could collar me himself. In different circumstances, I might consider the act of him collaring me symbolic of him claiming me. In this case, though, I considered it simply him keeping his prisoner in control.
He looked up at me, our height difference suddenly quite significant. He wasn’t going to be able to collar me without my help. He pointed to the floor in front of me. “Down.”
I laughed. “No. There’s no way I’m kneeling for you, you nasty woman-poacher. What are you, like three feet tall? Or three feet short?”
Grime frowned but didn’t reply. He plucked a gadget from his belt and pressed a button. With a buzz the shackles at my wrists and ankles snapped together with a ‘clack’ sound.
I could no longer twist my wrists around; the parallel shackles held them together rigidly. I could see the lights on my ankle shackles had now turned a glowing red.
“Brat, if you will, please,” Grime said, motioning toward me with his fingers. Brat gave me a firm shove in the back, and with my ankles locked tight, I had no choice but to fall forward onto my knees. “Thank you, Brat,” he said with a grin.
Grime stepped forward with the collar open and reached out toward my throat. Despite my instinct to resist, I knew it was futile. The collar was going on, one way or another. I lifted my chin up and exposed my neck to him in a sign of my submission.
The rigid outer shell of the collar had a softer rubbery material inside. It felt cool and smooth around my neck. Like the shackles, it adjusted to make a snug fit on my skin.
Grime pressed a button and the shackles unclasped from each other while staying firmly about my ankles. I looked down and saw the lights had switched back to green. Another button press, and the collar itself seemed to be propelling me upward. I had to scramble to my feet to avoid having the collar choking me. I could see its red glow.
“I believe you now understand you are utterly within my control, Agent Katie?” he smirked. “I could make you dance like a puppet if I wished.” He chuckled. “Perhaps later. But now, I believe it is time to transport you to my ship.” He gestured toward the door.
I was able to take short steps in my green-lit ankle cuffs, while the red-lit wrist cuffs kept my arms pinned behind me. The red-lit collar tugged and nudged me along as Grime wished, through the house and out the patio door into my backyard. He positioned me in the center of the yard before pressing the button that snapped my ankles back together.
I looked around expectantly, waiting to see what would happen next. I didn’t have to wait long. With a low hum, a column of green light enveloped me from above. Nothing else happened for a moment. Then I suddenly felt weightless, and began rising into the air!
The sensation of floating while tightly bound was so unnerving! I wriggled and thrashed briefly until I relaxed and gave myself over to the force lifting me up into the light. I glanced down to see Gorman and Brat high-fouring each other.
“Agent Girl Dessert tonight!” they cheered triumphantly.
The last, lingering image I saw as I ascended into Grime’s ship was my captor’s smug smiling face while he watched his prize being loaded into his ship. I didn’t know yet exactly what his plans were for me, but I knew I likely wouldn’t enjoy them…and that whatever they were, they were completely, utterly out of my control.
to be continued…
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