Taken and Mated Read online

  Taken and Mated

  By

  Samantha Madisen

  Copyright © 2020 by Stormy Night Publications and Samantha Madisen

  All rights reserved. No part of this 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.

  Published by Stormy Night Publications and Design, LLC.

  www.StormyNightPublications.com

  Madisen, Samantha

  Taken and Mated

  Cover Design by Korey Mae Johnson

  Images by Shutterstock/Andrii Medvednikov, Shutterstock/bolong Indonesia, and Shutterstock/Algol

  This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  More Stormy Night Books by Samantha Madisen

  Chapter One

  Lana’s jaw was starting to ache, saliva gathering in her mouth and dripping around the sides of the ball gag strapped tightly across her cheeks. She was almost grateful for the itchy cloth thrown over her head, even though it was doing its job of making it impossible for her to see where they were going, and also set her skin on fire. Her hands were bound at the elbows and wrists with thick leather straps, and there was no way to scratch her itching neck or forehead. It was hard enough to lean forward just enough to balance between being jostled painfully against the back of the hard bench she was tied to, and falling too far forward, causing the leather straps to cut into her arms and legs.

  She would not have been able to see much from the back of the transport van, anyway, but she had no way of knowing that. Her keen sense of sound and smell told her that they had crossed a body of water after several hours. The damp smell, like the inside of a full clay pot, triggered thirst in her, and fear. She had never been so far away from her home that she had seen a river. A river was a fairy tale told by travelers, and while she knew of one far to the south of their home, there was no guarantee that south was the direction they had gone.

  Her heart was pounding. For many hours, she had been ready to pounce the moment she was released from her bonds. She would bite, claw, chew, and kick her way to freedom. She had been caught and exchanged several times now. Surely no one who now held her captive knew where she was from or where her family lived. Now she could escape, without bringing repercussions down on them.

  But the journey grew longer and longer. The security grew tighter and tighter. The amounts of money being exchanged, which she could barely understand, became enormous. She assumed the exchanges were for large numbers of slaves; she had no idea that it was mostly for her.

  The vehicle came to a halt, and her body collided with the metal cage that encircled her, though she had not known it was there. She could only feel that she was bound by the ankles, the wrists, and the elbows, and gagged.

  She heard the sound of doors opening, and of an exchange in a language she did not understand. There were several human speakers, communicating with the aliens. The voices became louder and more fierce. After several minutes, the conversation was pure yelling, and then there were the sickening sounds of laser guns, and the dull thud of bodies.

  Each thud sent a sickening knife of fear into Lana’s gut, and she twisted her hands furiously, trying, but knowing it was useless, to free herself. She breathed so heavily through her sackcloth that the material scratched her face with each inhalation. She could hear the others making noises of struggle; like her, they were bound and gagged.

  The heavy clomp of boots and a shift of weight signaled the arrival of at least two heavy bodies in the back of the truck.

  “Take the hoods off, confiscate the females. And find the Atrix.”

  Lana’s heart fluttered in her chest. While she was relieved that the humans had prevailed in the skirmish outside the transport, she was also terrified by the words they were exchanging. They were almost certainly Slavers, and they seemed to be after females, which meant only one kind of sale.

  To a very specific kind of slavery.

  She strained against her ropes, though she knew it was futile, as the clomping boots came closer. The voices discussed which of the slaves to put in their transport, or another. At last they were near her. The hood was pulled from her head with a whoosh, and her mahogany-red hair clung to it for a moment before falling to her sweating face.

  A bright light coming from something beyond the doors of the transport blinded her to all but the silhouette of the figure standing in front of her—it was unmistakably the form of an Imperial guard.

  Lana’s stomach plunged to her feet. The war was real, the invasion true. And she was an illegal, as illegal as could be: an undocumented, unlicensed, untested female human of reproductive age. The reputation of the Imperial Guard was of ruthlessness, particularly for illegals.

  Her knees shook as her mind raced; she would head-butt this soldier when he leaned forward to take off her restraints. It was her only chance. It might mean execution but doing nothing would mean the same thing. Might as well take the chance.

  His voice was metallic, piped through a helmet, when he said, “That’s her, we have her, command, we have secured the Atrix.”

  Lana didn’t know what an Atrix was, so she had no reason to start thinking they were talking about her. She figured the voice was coming through a radio, close enough to her head that it sounded like the man in front of her, and so she assumed it was in regard to something else. His laser gun was hot—she could feel the radiating heat on her cheek as he leaned forward to release her from her restraints.

  She was ready, and she took a quick glance around, plotting her moves. There were only two guards, and once her wrists and elbows were free, she could head-butt this one, reach down to untie her ankle restraints, grab the laser gun, and go out shooting.

  When she felt the restraints easing on her elbows, she acted. She knew enough about knots and the traders who tied them to know that the knot on her elbows was a reverse kiel, which could be loosened by pushing it together, and the one at her feet required a tug of the center bight in a coiled bundle facing the back.

  But she underestimated the attention they were paying to her. She made her move and managed to crack her skull with skill against the head of the guard in front of her. His helmet stopped him from being too hurt, but he stumbled backwards, giving her time to wriggle free of the elbow restraints, reach down and loosen her foot knot. She started to stand up.

  But that was as far as she got. The man she had assaulted was already speaking into his radio as he stumbled backward. “The Atrix is escaping! Maneuver 12.”

  And the transport was filled very suddenly with more guards than she could count, a darkness engulfed her, and she felt her body paralyzed yet again by numerous restraints and hands. She was being lifted, and then she was on the dusty ground. They set her there fairly gently, and hands continued to hold her down as she was hog-tied with what felt like much heavier shackles. Her arms and ankles were bound together, pulled toward each other by a magnetic force: the unbreakable bonds of the Imperial Guard.

  “Don’t damage her,” she heard someone say. “But get her in the back and keep two on her just in case.”

  And then, she was being li
fted and placed in another transport, struggling and screaming into her gag, but all to no avail.

  The next trip was in a shuttle, and long. A tide of panic rose and fell inside of her as she felt the vehicle lift from the ground. In all her life, she had never been in one of the sky vehicles, and she had intended to keep it that way.

  Despair overtook her several hours into the trip, as an undeniable reality she must face settled over her: she was not going back home, not any time soon. Probably never. She didn’t have any idea where she was being taken, but it was being done by space transport, and so it could be almost anywhere.

  A guard crouched next to her midway through the journey. The onyx-colored scales of his outer ‘skin’—the high-tech, almost impenetrable armor of the unbeatable Imperial Guard—reflected the dull red lights of the room where she was being kept.

  “I am going to loosen your gag,” he told her, close to her head. “And give you some water. Do not test me.”

  Lana’s mouth was so dry by then that she had no choice but to cooperate. He removed the gag, and she gulped at the air, closing her aching jaw. And then, feeling utterly helpless and quite humiliated, she sucked on the metal straw he brought to her lips, unable to do anything but drink the water greedily with her aching arms and feet bound above her.

  * * *

  The remainder of the journey seemed much longer than it probably was, but she was given no relief from her shackles or the uncomfortable position she was placed in. Fury mounted inside of her, and she resolved to fight her way out of whatever predicament she arrived in.

  By the time the guards came for her, however, her arms and legs were so tight from the contorted position they were in that she knew she would have to wait for a better opportunity.

  A guard blindfolded her, and then she was lifted again, as though she weighed no more than a feather, by two guards, who carried her for about five minutes through a labyrinth of turns, past the systematic clacking of boots and the hissing of doors. She knew from the sounds that she must be at a military installation, a place with many soldiers—she could tell by their orderly marching.

  She was set upon a table and left alone, still gagged and bound, for several minutes. When she didn’t hear a sound, she started to fight against her restraints. When this proved utterly futile, she began to scream into her gag, thinking the slew of curses she wanted to say, even if she could not pronounce them with her mouth so oppressively stretched.

  But as soon as she started to scream and writhe with fury, a heavy hand rested on the crown of her head. It startled her, but then instantly had a calming effect: the hand was firm, steady, and left no mistake—she was to settle down.

  She panted through her nostrils and ceased struggling, wondering who was in the room with her, and then suddenly frightened by the prospect of being alone, shackled, in a room with an Imperial Guard’s hand on her head.

  Curiously, however, she felt something else stir inside of her, something other than fear, something she preferred not to think about.

  “I will ask the guard to release you,” said a voice, too far away to be the voice belonging to the firm hand on her head, “if you resolve not to misbehave as you evidently did when you were rescued from the transport ship.” She heard the tap of something, the timbre of the materials unfamiliar to her. “As you were perhaps unaware of your acquisition at the time, we will make an exception for your behavior, but you are warned that effective immediately all resistance on your part will be considered disobedience, and you will be punished accordingly.”

  Lana breathed heavily and remained still as stone. Her situation, it appeared, has just gone from bad to worse.

  But the promise of being released from her shackles, and restoring circulation to her limbs, was more appealing at that moment than any thoughts of escape. How could she make this known to the person speaking to her?

  “Remove the gag,” the voice intoned. “I must obtain verbal confirmation from the subject that she will comply.”

  The ball was ejected from her mouth when the straps on her cheeks were loosened. It was covered in saliva, and she imagined she was quite a sight. She breathed heavily.

  “Will you behave properly if the restraints are demagnetized?”

  Lana gasped for air and lowered her head. “Y-yeah, yes,” she said, though her tone was more defiant than she had hoped to muster.

  “You are the property of the Imperial Guard and a trainee. When affirmation is requested you will address your superiors—which are all males—properly. I will excuse the disobedience this one time. Respond: ‘Yes, sir.’”

  Lana’s temper flared, in spite of her desire to restrain it. Yes, sir? Her belly stirred, and the back of her neck burned. She was trying very hard to muster the humility to say the words he wanted her to, but as usual, her mouth was way ahead of her brains. She heard herself, almost as though from another planet:

  “Just who the hell do you think you are? I’ll say sir if—”

  Her speech was cut off by the voice’s sharp command in another language she did not know, and the very sudden release of her restraints, which almost immediately clanged down to the table, stretching her legs out flat behind her, and her arms in front of her. The relief felt beautiful for a moment, stretching out.

  Until she felt her leggings and her tunic being tugged roughly in opposite directions. The skin of her bottom was struck by the cool air of the room, cutting her diatribe short.

  She barely had time to be so much as curious about what was happening before a sharp sting ripped across her buttocks. Her skin turned hot as an iron, shocking her to silence. The heat gave two sharp pulses, then began to spread across her whole backside. “Hey! What the!” she exclaimed, but another stripe of white heat rippled across her bottom, the waves of heat crashing into each other as they traveled across her skin.

  The sound of her skin being slapped reached her ears, but another hot strip landed before she was able to comprehend what was happening to her: she was being spanked.

  “That hurts!” she screeched, and she tried desperately to kick against the restraints, but they were far too strong. She was laid out on the table, utterly helpless to do anything more than turn her head wildly and wail as two more slaps ripped across her bare bottom.

  Did she have this right? Was she actually being spanked on a table? Her bottom felt as hot as sitting on the roof of the house at high light in the hot season.

  The slaps ceased, and she panted, trying to turn her head and see where they were coming from, to no avail. Her eyes had grown wet with stinging tears, and her cheeks burned with humiliation as the image of herself—the way she must look to anyone who might be viewing this spectacle—filtered into her mind. Her naked bottom, her restrained hands, her skin welted red.

  And—much worse—her most private parts were... were... getting wet.

  She closed her eyes, as though she could close out reality further by doing so behind the blindfold. She was indeed being humiliated, spanked in public—but as humiliating as that might be, she was also slick between her thighs, and her inside throbbed with an unfamiliar craving.

  “Now,” the voice continued, closer to her ear, but still too distant to be the guard who had palmed her head just moments before. “Shall we try again? Address me properly and affirm that you will be compliant. A simple, ‘yes, sir’ will do nicely.”

  Stunned, humiliated, Lana said nothing. Two fat tears dripped from her eyes into the loose blindfold.

  “Further punishment can be provided if you care to be disobedient,” the voice told her.

  She took a breath, resigned to do as requested, but before she could get the words out, her bottom was stinging again with another sharp smack.

  “No! No! No! I will... yes, sir. Yes, sir! Please!”

  Four more sharp slaps rained on her hot, stinging skin. She strained against the shackles that held her and then collapsed on the table, sobbing, until they stopped.

  “Let’s try again,” th
e voice began.

  “Yes, sir,” Lana replied quickly, because her bottom, while almost numb from the spanking she’d received, was growing hot and needled, and she could not imagine intensifying that pain any more. “Please,” she breathed. “Please, sir. Yes. I will be obedient. Sir. Please.”

  The pain that was burning across her cheeks was nothing compared to the wave of humiliation that washed through her as she groveled with those submissive words.

  She felt her pussy throb with a sensation unlike any other she had ever felt, and it only added to her supreme humiliation that she felt it grow wetter.

  The voice was very close, and she felt the heat of a human hand caressing her bottom, adding to the warmth, stimulating the stinging pain and at the same time caressing it to a disturbing new and different heat. “Very good. This is how things work. Behave, and address your superiors properly. If you do not, you will be punished.”

  There was a pause, as his hand caressed her bottom and brought her skin to a half-pleasurable boil. “Obedience, however, can be very rewarding.”

  Shame swelled up inside of her as Lana mumbled, “Yes, sir.” Her nose was running and her lips were wet with saliva. Her bottom burned. Worst of all, though, her legs quivered as her insides throbbed with stimulation.

  The shackles, utterly immovable until that moment, released suddenly, and her body collapsed on the table. She felt someone tug at her blindfold, and light peered around the corners of her eyes.

  For a moment, she was too ashamed to move.

  “Sit up,” the voice said sternly.

  Lana’s cheeks were hot as she rose, awkwardly, to a sitting position. Her leggings and tunic were still flipped down and up, respectively. But when she reached for the material the voice cut in, “Leave them.”

  She paused, considering her options to disobey, but with her bottom stinging so fiercely, she let her hands drop to her sides in resignation. She opened her eyes.

  The bright light stung her for a few moments, and she wanted to rub her wet eyes, but did not dare move her hands. She sat, hunched, trying to make herself smaller, and looked around, keeping her head hanging low.