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.

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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

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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
, S
tar 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.
’