Captured By The Alien Dragon
Galactic Alpha’s Conquest: Book 1
Stella Cassy
Contents
Hey There!
1. Carissa
2. Tarion
3. Carissa
4. Tarion
5. Carissa
6. Tarion
7. Carissa
8. Tarion
9. Carissa
10. Tarion
11. Carissa
12. Tarion
13. Carissa
14. Carissa
15. Tarion
16. Carissa
17. Tarion
Epilogue
Chapter 1 Preview – Kidnapped By The Alien Dragon
Free Prequel!
Captured By The Alien Dragon
Hey There!
Cosmic Collector delves into the past, offering a glimpse of Tarion as a hatchling after the death of his birth mother. Through the alternating perspectives of Tarion's sire, Silea, and Alana, a human woman that captured his heart, readers will gain a deeper understanding of the Hielsrane dragons, from their possessive tendencies to their battle-hardened exteriors.
Click here to download your FREE Prequel, Cosmic Collector, by signing up for Stella Cassy’s Insider Club!
1
Carissa
Being a slave to the Pax Alliance isn’t what a normal person would consider a decent life, or even a tolerable one. The Pax are made of all the stuff sane folks would consider nightmarish and crude. The greedy little milk-white aliens have huge heads, black eyes and long, spindly arms. They creep soundlessly around, using tiny suckers embedded in their hands and feet. Naturally, wearing shoes would inhibit their movement. Therefore, they are the only species in the known verse who go barefooted. The Pax also have unusual olfactory senses. Their noses are mere bumps with tiny slits in the front of their faces. They love scents that other people find repulsive, thus they are normally found hovering around garbage receptacles, latrines and other places that smell revolting. Since I’m their slave, I go where they go.
They kidnapped me when I was still a babe in my mother’s arms. I can still remember clinging to my mother’s trembling body while the Pax captain threatened to kill the “stowaway”. Usually, the Pax had little use for children because it took years for them to grow into useful beings and until that happened, they were assigned one small chore after another. Children were seen as a drain of resources, always costing more in upkeep than they were worth. In any event, my mother covered my small ears and somehow talked them into sparing my life. They demanded that she keep me quiet and ensure that I was useful. Thus, I learned to be a slave at my mother’s side.
Our days were spent performing difficult, dirty jobs and my mother did her best to prepare me for the harsh life ahead of us, teaching me each task from start to finish. She did most of the work while I did my best to learn. Nevertheless, we were separated several years later. Once I was big enough to lift and carry, I was assigned back breaking tasks on a regular basis. No one made any accommodation for the fact that I was still a child.
I’ve been starved, denied hydration fluid and not called by my name more than once. There has been no shortage of abuse in my short life. One master beat me relentlessly and I have the scars to prove it. Most of my childhood was spent as a whipping girl for a princess, intended to inspire empathy in the privileged creature. Unfortunately, the spoiled girl didn’t seem burdened with such noble emotions.
Consequently, I’ve learned to survive in places that have never seen a human. Most beings thought I was unintelligent and practically feral. After dealing with a multitude of masters and varying levels of abuse, I learned that it’s far better for people to fear you than to be seen as weak.
Being sold from one owner to another became the only thing I could truly count on in life. Therefore, I began to dread being sold when I had a benevolent master for fear of ending up with an abusive one. On the occasions when I had a master who dealt more abuse than I thought I could withstand, my days were spent reminiscing about the kinder ones. For many years I didn’t dream about freedom, for it had slipped from my memory.
All that changed when my last master sold me back to the Pax. Her parting words to the slave trader will be forever etched into my mind. Make that one a brooder. She’s got the innards for it. Being bred was an awful prospect for a slight creature like me because most aliens were almost twice my size.
I once met a non-human slave who’d suffered through it. Luana had been bought by an aquatic named Da’balar and bred by our master. She had been coerced into breeding and the infant was taken from her shortly after childbirth. Despite being a little larger than me, she’d been traumatized by the act itself, including all the medical procedures it took to ensure a safe delivery. I felt her pain and grief for the missing child as I held her while she cried. That’s when I truly began to hate all masters, even the nice ones, for they joined their more ruthless brethren in securing the system of chattel slavery that kept us forever under someone else’s control.
Although I’ve had sex on occasion with other slaves of my own accord, I choose from among the smallest and most biologically similar. They were docile, and though eager for the experience, they would have never forced their needs at my expense. Formal breeding sounded like something else entirely. Masters are nearly always much larger than slaves. Whether it is the result of certain species being more dominant because of their size or the nutritional benefit they received at an early age because of being born into wealth, I do not know. From my personal experience, masters are not only larger but more demanding, and care little if they inconvenience or cause pain to slaves. The thought of being forced into a sexual act with one of them terrified me after hearing of Luana’s experience, for it bore little resemblance to the experiences I had with fellow slaves.
Maybe I’m naive about such things, but even though
