Taking Tilly

ALIEN SLAVERS I:

Taking Tilly

By

Stacey St. James

( c ) Copyright by Stacey
St. James February 2015

Cover art by Jenny
Dixon

ISBN
978-1-60394-881-4

Smashwords
Edition

New Concepts
Publishing

Lake Park, GA
31636

www.newconceptspublishing.com

This is a work of fiction. All characters,
events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be
confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is
merely coincidence.

Author Note: I’ve used BDSM in this book to
try to please readers interested in such things—I don’t recommend
it as something ‘exciting’ to try in real life. Sex games between
consenting adults can add spice and excitement, but it isn’t
something safe to try unless you know your partner very, very well.
A stranger, or someone you don’t know well enough, might take it
way too seriously and actually harm you.

Chapter One

Tilly was way too tense as she stood
in line to pay to get in to appreciate the ‘good vibrations’
rumbling through the floor beneath her feet and the air around her.
It didn’t help her resolve that it took a good twenty minutes of
shuffling and then stopping before she reached the register. She
hadn’t been completely convinced her idea wasn’t insane when she’d
come up with it. She was about ready to turn tail and run when she
got to the counter.

“
Fifteen.”

Outrage flickered through
Tilly. She didn’t even
want
to go in!

“
Fifteen,” the woman said
louder when Tilly merely gaped at her as if she was mentally
defective.

Tilly hesitated and then dug her
wallet out of her pocket and handed the woman a twenty dollar bill.
The woman handed her a five and looked over her shoulder at the
next patron.

Dismissed, Tilly turned toward the
vibrating interior door. The bouncer was waiting with an inked
stamp. He stopped her before she could slip inside, demanded her
hand and stamped her wrist.

Tilly stared at the black mark in
dismay. It was a stylized depiction of two whips crossed. Beneath
them were the letters BDSM Club.

Shit! She was willing to bet that
damned mark wouldn’t wear off anytime soon! What the
hell!

Oh this was just fucking
glorious!

Sighing, shaking her head at herself,
she pushed past the man and entered the darkened ‘cave’. She could
see the dance floor the minute she got inside. There were a couple
of shadowy clusters of people gyrating on the floor, but most of
the patrons seemed to be clustered around the bar or sprawled in
chairs—and on each other—in the darkened area near the
walls.

Tilly’s stomach instantly knotted with
fear and revulsion. She struggled for several moments with the
beginnings of a panic attack.

Even considering the way Emily dressed
these days it was hard to picture her sister feeling at home in
this sort of place.

But then, maybe she really hadn’t
been? Maybe little sister had been playing a part—like she was
tonight?

Except
she
wasn’t doing it to fit in with
this crowd.

Emily was missing and the cops didn’t
give a shit because she was ‘weird’ and liked to hang out at places
like this.

She knew that bastard had been
suggesting Emily was a prostitute, but that was a damned
lie!

Emily had just … gotten a little
confused and turned around on her way to adulthood.

God only knew how or why or when she’d
decided that being tied up and beaten was exciting, but apparently
that was a phase she was going through—her latest—Gothic hair,
makeup, and clothing, plus kinky sex.

Six months earlier, she’d been a
member of some kind of ‘Mother Earth’ cult.

Shaking her thoughts, Tilly tried to
decide the best place to start asking around—because she hadn’t had
a game plan worked out for after she got in!—and finally decided to
start at the bar.

She needed a drink to steady her
nerves anyway!

She had the wallet sized photo out
when the bartender finally got around to waiting on her. “Have you
seen her?” she asked flashing the picture.

“
Do you want a
drink?”

“
Can you just look at the
picture?”

He flicked a look at it and then took
off down the bar to wait on someone else.

“
Bastard,” Tilly muttered,
frustrated, angry, and trying to ignore the stares of the people
around the bar. She had their attention, though. Nerving herself,
she started around the bar, flashing the picture and asking
everyone if they’d seen her sister.

It was so damned dark most of them
never actually saw the picture, she was sure. They just told her
they hadn’t seen Emily without really looking. A couple of the men
took the picture and angled it toward the light and then shook
their heads.

The bartender that had snubbed her
before caught her attention when she was almost halfway around the
bar, motioning for her to hand the picture to him. Reluctantly,
suspicious, she finally handed the photo over. He looked at it
cursorily and handed it back. “One drink minimum,” he
said.

Tilly gaped at him. “What?”

“
You have to buy at least
one drink.”

After the highway robbery at the
damned door? Instead of arguing with the bastard, though, she
ordered a screwdriver. He motioned her down the bar with a jerk of
his head. Feeling her heart hammering with sudden hope, Tilly
followed him to the end. He mixed her drink and then slid it across
the bar. “Ten.”

What the hell? “You can’t be
serious!”

“
Do you want it or
not?”

Tilly glared at the thieving bastard
and dug a ten out of her wallet.

She didn’t add a freaking tip! If it
wasn’t included in the outrageous price, he could just go fuck
himself.

“
She was in
here.”

Tilly instantly forgot her anger.
“When? Do you know who she left with? Did you see her
leave?”

“
She went with hulking
giant that called himself Mord. Or Mork—something like
that.”

A coldness swept over Tilly. The word
was just too close to the Latin word for death to suit her. Beyond
that, it sounded more like a nickname or something made up than an
actual name. “Who?”

“
The alien
slaver.”

Tilly gaped at him in shock at the
bald-faced, absolutely ridiculous lie. The bastard didn’t even
crack a smile!

She wanted to crack a bottle over his
head. “Oh that was funny!” she said tightly.

Before she could stalk off, he pointed
to a door she hadn’t noticed at the back of the bar. “Through that
door, down the hall—second door on the right. Wait there. He’s
supposed to be here tonight to pick up a group.”

Tilly blinked at him, stared at him,
trying to figure out what the hell he was telling her. It was
almost as if he wasn’t even speaking English—that’s how little
sense what he’d said made to her. Was it some kind of sick joke?
Was it a trick to get her into some kind of trouble? Or was there
some truth to it?

Maybe the slaver part hadn’t been a
joke?

Oh god! Emily had been taken by the
sex slave trade!

Her first thought was to rush out and
call the police and tell them everything she’d discovered, but she
dismissed it fairly quickly.

They’d ignored her when she’d gone to
them before. How likely was it that they were going to respond to a
call from the bar?

Or that they’d find out anything even
if they did?

What if this was the one and only
chance she would ever have to find her sister? And she blew it by
calling the cops and the slavers just packed up and went somewhere
else?

She hadn’t planned to take this kind
of risk, though. What if she put herself in harm’s way and got
snatched and it didn’t even lead her to Emily?

She moved away from the bar, staring
at the door he’d indicated, thinking about the puny little pocket
knife she’d brought. And the lipstick size bottle of
mace.

Her instincts were screaming at her to
run and keep running.

Instead, she took a big gulp of the
drink she was still holding and then took a step toward that door.
Then she took another step. When she reached the door, she glanced
back.

The bartender was staring at her
intently, his expression totally blank and unreadable.

It wasn’t a joke, she was abruptly
certain.

Her fingers were cold when she curled
them around the handle and pulled the door open.

A single bulb in the ceiling lit the
area and not very well. It was creepy with shadows and she felt a
shiver race along her spine as soon as the door closed behind
her.

She took another sip of her drink and
a wave of dizziness hit her that nearly took her to her
knees.

Holding the glass out, she stared at
it suspiciously.

She wasn’t a drinker—might not have a
single drink for a year or more and then have one or two—but the
liquor shouldn’t have hit her like that after only a couple of
sips!

Stupid!

But how could he have slipped anything
in the glass? He was right out in the open!

The bar was surrounded by people who’d
been drinking.

She couldn’t see what he was doing
because he’d mixed the drink on a counter lower than the
bar.

He could’ve done it, she realized. If
he was brazen enough, he could’ve spiked her drink and nobody would
have noticed.

She shook the thought. She hadn’t
tasted anything funny. Surely she would have?

It was just nerves.

And a little alcohol.

She decided not to drink more,
though.

Was she too woozy, now, to go on?
Should she turn back?

Maybe she was scared enough she’d
hyperventilated and that explained the dizziness?

She hesitated about halfway down the
hall, listening to see if she heard anything suspicious or
threatening. Deciding after a few moments that she didn’t and that
she was actually feeling far less dizzy, she glanced around and
then headed toward the door the bartender had indicated.

She felt like she’d stepped into a
wind tunnel when she pushed the door open and stumbled through …
and found herself standing in the darkness at the rear of the
damned bar! Before she could turn around and head back inside the
door slammed shut—and locked!

“
Son-of-a-bitch!” she
growled, feeling stupid and humiliated. “That asshole!”

Whirling on her heel once she’d
accepted that the damned door was locked and she wasn’t getting
back inside that way, Tilly stalked away from the building, trying
to decide whether to go back in when she got to the front or leave
before she ended up in jail for trying to kill the bastard for
playing the dirty trick on her.

She hadn’t gotten far when a blinding
light came on.

“
Good god! That’s bright
enough. Stupid bastards ….”

She didn’t get the thought finished
because when she looked around to locate the security light, she
discovered she hadn’t been spotlighted by a security light at all.
The light was above her.

And oddly enough the helicopter wasn’t
stirring up any wind or deafening her with the motor and prop
blades.

Because it wasn’t a
helicopter.

She blacked out just about the time
her vision cleared enough that she realized it definitely wasn’t a
helicopter above her.

Chapter Two

Tilly woke to find herself inside …
something. She was moaning and groaning.

And she wasn’t the only
one.

Disoriented, terrified for some reason
that she couldn’t pinpoint at that moment, she lay where she was,
barely breathing, cracking her eyes just enough to peer
around.