The Goddess-Queens of Pudendor - The Abducted - Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The Slave Ship

I awoke lying on my side, knees drawn up, on the cold metal floor of what I, for lack of a better description, must call a ship. At first I thought I was in the back of a large truck, for there was the distinct feeling of motion. But as my eyes adjusted to the light it became clear that the chamber or compartment I was in was much too large for a road vehicle. The walls, a neutral coloring vaguely suggesting metal or possibly some sort of plastic, sloped inwards to form a dome, the room itself being elliptical.

My brain was still somewhat fogged by whatever had caused me to lose consciousness, but the thought of a flying saucer suggested itself. I dismissed it. That was absurd. Maybe we were in an underground chamber. The domed roof suggested that to my desperate mind. Or maybe we were onboard an ocean-going ship. Had we been kidnapped by white slavers who were hauling us off to Saudi Arabia or some such place?

I realized my clothes were in the state that they’d been when I blacked out and I lay there, tits and ass hanging out. I quickly pulled up jeans and panties, straightened out my bra and buttoned up my blouse. My shoes and socks were nowhere to be found.

I struggled to a sitting position and took a better look around. There wasn’t much to see beyond an odd device, a large piece of metal tubing formed into an inverted U, taller than it was wide, standing in the middle of the floor. Boxes of various sizes, mounted on the floor or hanging from the ceiling, surrounded it. What it was for I had no clue.

I saw Stanley, lying on the floor, starting to stir, a few feet to my left. I reached for him, but half way there the air seemed to turn into a gel. I could see nothing but I felt resistance. The harder I pushed, the greater the resistance became. I found that I could barely force my hand half an inch into whatever it was. I felt left and right, up and down, like a mime exploring the bounds of his imaginary glass box. My box was roughly five feet square. Too small to stand up in, or even stretch out full length on the floor. The walls seemed absolutely clear, but if I looked closely and squinted a little at the corners where the invisible walls met I could see a slight distortion. Slavery must be damned profitable if they could afford technology like this.

Looking past Stanley I saw that we were not alone.  There were three more of these invisible cages, or at least three more people occupying them. Without an occupant how would you tell if there was a cage? Like us, they were starting to stir. Another man occupied the furthest. Next to him there was a woman who, as far as I could tell, was Asian. A slender blonde woman was between her and Stanley. They all appeared to be in their late teens or early twenties.

My theory about where we were and who had snatched us suffered a major reassessment when a door at the far side of the chamber slid open. Two figures walked in, backlit so their features weren’t at first distinct. They had a vaguely human aspect to them, symmetrical bodies, two arms, two legs, one head, but the proportions were heavier, squatter than the average human.

When they came closer and we got a better look at their faces screams erupted. I’ve always told myself that panicking only made things worse and tried to act on that advice, so I’m embarrassed to admit that I was screaming as loud as the next one.

Their faces, while they were essentially humanoid, resembled nothing quite as much as one of those faces sculpted into a pumpkin for a fancy Halloween jack-o-lantern. Not the spiky toothed type with the triangles for eyes, but the ones where some artsy type actually carves an old man or a witch’s face into the pumpkin. Only these guys were even more squished looking, and instead of pumpkin flesh their skin color was more like putty. In fact, their skin color was not much different from the color of the baggy jump suit garments they wore or the color of the walls. Given the drab décor of our prison, I had to wonder if maybe they were a race of color-blind aliens.

If I harbored any thought that these were guys in costume playing an elaborate joke one look at their hands dispelled that notion. Instead of opposable thumbs, each hand had three pairs of opposed fingers. I watched them manipulating objects. The hands could flatten out with fingers splaying in opposite directions or close up forming something like a clamp. The fingers were prehensile, able to wrap all the way around things.

They went to the furthest cage. One of them carried a wand or baton of some sort. The other had something in his hand, a smaller device than the baton. Standing a few feet from the cage the alien pointed the device, a remote control I assumed for that’s what it looked like, and a faint blip of light appeared defining the bounds of the cage. The other alien made the universally understood “come here” motion with his apparently boneless hand.

Cautiously the man rose to his full height. He was tall and quite muscular. The alien motioned again. The man took a tentative step, then another. And then, with a cry that sounded distinctly Slavic, he raised his arms and launched himself towards the alien. He barely made it halfway to his target when the other alien rushed forward and had the baton pointed at his neck from a foot and a half away. The man froze in place like a statue, a look of agony on his face.

Good thing to know, the rational part of my brain, the part that wasn’t quivering in fear, said. The aliens have very fast reflexes and that baton thing hurts like hell. Resistance is futile, at least if the plan is to overpower them.

The threatened alien took a few steps back and to the side. His partner, and I assumed they were both male since I knew not what they were, backed off with the wand. Slowly the man relaxed, then bent over, hands on his knees, breathing heavily. They gave him a minute or so to recover himself, showing neither anger nor impatience. Like good little animal trainers, I thought.

When he straightened up they waved him towards the apparatus, the baton held threateningly at his neck.  He glanced back and forth at them, muttering something guttural and unintelligible, but he walked forward until he stood under the inverted U-shaped tubing. One alien pantomimed standing in a spread eagle position. Reluctantly the man complied, constantly glancing from one alien to the other.

From boxes at the base of each end of the tube frame and the upper corners four arms zipped into place. Cuffs at the end of each wrapped around his wrists and ankles and retracted slightly to hold him tight. The baton-wielding alien hung his weapon on his belt and removed a smaller wand shaped device from a pocket. He approached the man, who I was now starting to think of as “The Russian” from the sound of his speech. He held the wand out and traced a line up each leg, down each arm, and then down the torso. The Russian’s clothes fell away. A pair of small arms with graspers on the end popped up through hatches in the floor, gathered up the rent garments, and whisked them away.

The aliens stepped back while a pair of bars descended from above. Rippling waves of violet light played over the Russian’s body from head to toe and back. When the scan, as I supposed it was, had finished one of the aliens approached the Russian, reached out, and lifted up his penis. It was uncircumcised. The alien made a comment to his partner and released the organ while the Russian glared at him. I suppose decency should have made me look away but I was fascinated with the scene the way one is at an accident. I believe I mentioned that Stanley was quite generously endowed in the male member department. The Russian made him look just average.

The alien stepped back again. From the floor below and to the front of the Russian a mechanical arm arose. Two metallic canisters were mounted on it, one at the very top, the second about a foot below it. The device rose until it was in front of and about level with the Russian’s genitals. Seeing where it was aimed the man let loose with a stream of what I took for curses and threats.

He screamed as the upper canister shot a spray of liquid at his crotch. Apparently the process was not painful, for he quickly stopped screaming. A small cloud of droplets engulfed the Russian’s midsection, to be sucked in by the lower canister. When the mist cleared it was apparent that the device served a depilatory function, for his crotch was as bald as a baby’s. The device then serviced his underarms before retracting.

My eyes almost popped out of my head when yet another arm rose up between and slightly behind the Russian’s legs. The arm ended in something that looked for all the world like a dildo. Was this one of the infamous anal probes of alien abduction legend? I held my breath in horrid fascination as the device ascended, changed its angle of approach and violently entered the Russian’s anus. He had not seen it coming and bellowed what certainly must have been some choice Slavic obscenities.

No sooner had he been impaled than another device, another arm with a large cylinder on the end, rose up in front of him and unerringly made for his genitals. He swore some more and tried vainly to break away from his restraints. The cylinder literally sucked in his cock and balls. What it did then I could only surmise from the Russian’s reactions. His verbal abuse continued, but quickly abated, to be replaced by what seemed to be signs of sexual arousal and then actually, within the limits of the situation and his bonds, he was humping the cylinder. He orgasmed rather quickly, and sagged in his restraints, panting. The cylinder pulled away from his glistening member and descended into the floor.

A second cylinder, not unlike the first, rose up. It too moved unerringly towards the Russian’s still slightly turgid member. The Russian watched, bemused and perhaps expecting a second helping of fun as it engulfed the organ, though it didn’t take in his balls, as the first had done.  For a few moments the Russian was quiet, with an odd look on his face. Then his entire body stiffened and he let out a scream such as I had never heard before. I was certain the device had amputated the man’s penis. I glanced at Stanley. His face had gone deathly pale.

The cylinder withdrew, leaving the Russian’s member still attached to its owner, but with a red, angry mark around it. He’d just been circumcised. I glanced again at Stanley. He wore a profound look of relief. He’d been circumcised as an infant. He had on occasion complained bitterly that his parents had had no right to do that to him when he was unable to give his consent. I sensed that his opinion on the subject had just changed.

The aliens weren’t quite done with the Russian yet. One of them walked up behind him and held yet another small cylinder against the Russian’s right butt cheek, just briefly. The Russian yelped and tensed his body. The cylinder left a small, dark mark, like a brand. The alien followed up with a quick spray of something which seemed to give the Russian instant relief.

The restraining clamps released their grip. The Russian’s hands immediately went to his injured private parts. He meekly followed the aliens’ gestures directing him back to the invisible cage.

Then it was the turn of the Asian girl.  She’d watched the results of the Russian’s effort to resist. When the aliens came and released her from her cage she went meekly, perhaps fatalistically, but the fear on her face was evident. The procedure was the same as it had been for the Russian, clothes falling to the floor, the scan and body hair removed. Some changes of equipment were necessitated by the change of gender.

After the anal probe inserted itself a different implement rose up between her legs, a curved devise that planted itself firmly against the girl’s vulva.  As it maneuvered into position I noticed the suggestion of a protruding element near the lower end of the device. A double arm descended from the ceiling, bearing two bowl-like devices which planted themselves over the girl’s small breasts. Within a couple minutes she was having a very intense orgasm. Again they finished with the small brand on her buttock.

Keeping one eye on our abductors I had noticed one of the aliens appearing to check an instrument. I began to suspect the point of the exercise, at least one of them, was a test of sexual responsiveness.

The slender blonde girl was more of a problem. One of the aliens had to literally drag her from her cage. They had more of a struggle getting her to the machine. One of them had to hold her while the various clamping cuffs fastened themselves around her wrists and ankles. I wondered why they didn’t use the wand on her. In fact, with the noise she was making, I almost wished they would use the wand. And the screeching she made when the probe went up her butt! The alien with the little control box fingered something, an arm with a large red ball at the end came down and rudely shoved the ball in the girl’s mouth. I’m sure it must not have been pleasant for her, but it made things more pleasant for the rest of us. The rest of the procedure went as usual, though I’m not sure if the girl actually orgasmed or not. For one reason or another she seemed nearly passed out at the end.

Stanley’s turn came. He went meekly enough, looking at me and giving a little shrug as if to say “What the heck.” He went to the machine without any prodding from the aliens. It proceeded as it had with the Russian, except of course for the final operation. I have to say, Stanley didn’t seem in any great distress. So, when they brought him back to his cage and opened mine it was like, hey, let’s get it over with. Besides, like my roommate Jill always says, never turn down a free orgasm.

The clamps wrapped themselves around my wrists and ankles. They were firm but not uncomfortable, though the position was a bit of a strain. The scanning ray felt literally like nothing. I was a bit apprehensive about the hair removal. I’d had some unhappy experience with a chemical product once that left me out of action for a week, but it produced nothing more than a mild tingle. If the aliens were smart they’d own the market for hair removal products.

And then it was time for the main event. I jerked slightly as I felt the probe poking into my butt, but it was more from surprise than discomfort. It seemed to be self-lubing. I was more surprised when it started to vibrate softly. None of the alien abductees I’d ever heard about mentioned that about the anal probes.

The cup planted itself against my vulva, surprisingly gently. I felt something pressing lightly against the opening of my vagina. It too was self-lubing. The breast cups planted themselves over my boobs. I felt a slight suction, and then hundreds of little fingers massaging me, plucking at my nipples which rapidly became erect. I was so focused on that that I almost forgot about the crotch thingee. Suddenly something was thrusting up inside me and more tiny fingers were playing with my labia and, especially, my clit. Whoever these guys were, they had their human anatomy down pat.

Well, it didn’t take long before I climaxed and was ready to beg for more. Forget the Hitachi, I wanted one of these things in my bedroom. I was so distracted that I barely noticed the devices pulling away and then one gawdawful pain on my right butt cheek. I’d forgotten about the branding iron thing, but almost immediately I felt a cooling spray on the affected area and the pain disappeared. Once again I had to marvel at their technology.

I was in a bit of a daze when the clamps released and the aliens guided me back to my cage. Stanley was crouched in his, with his right side towards me. Having been reminded about the brand I took a good look at his. The brand was small, maybe an inch and a half across, and consisted of three interlocked circles in a triangular pattern.

The aliens fussed around with their machine for a few minutes, then left the chamber.  

Stanley looked at me. “Damn! Put one of those things in a frat house, you’d make a fortune. Except maybe for that branding bit at the end.”

Continued in Chapter 3