Stolen (Alpha's Control Book 1) Read online

  Stolen

  Alpha’s Control, Book One

  Addison Cain

  Blushing Books

  ©2017 by Blushing Books® and Addison Cain

  All rights reserved.

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  Cain, Addison

  Stolen

  EBook ISBN: 978-1-68259-157-4

  Cover Art by ABCD Graphics & Design

  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 Blushing Books' or the author's advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  What’s Inside

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  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

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  What’s Inside

  She was trapped in her mind while her flesh did as it pleased. Only a spectator.

  Bit by bit, her body conformed to the Alpha’s unspoken will. Her lips would sigh while her brain would scream.

  He’d take a nipple to be suckled, her spine would arch… the small Beta voice inside her powerless to make her listen.

  Someone else inhabited her body when Jacques played his games.

  She was possessed.

  And that was why she’d cried over breakfast. That was why she’d flown into violence when he thought to take her away from herself again.

  Because he had a new weapon. A thing he’d slipped inside her and called her prize.

  What did he call it? The name had sounded scientific, important, nothing like what it should have been called. He’d called it a pliarator. She knew better. It was a mind obliterator.

  It slipped in easily enough the day before, so smoothly she wasn’t sure what had replaced his fingers, and then it had latched on. Discomfort grew in the form of a muscular ache, distracting, embarrassing, and enticing, Jacques manipulating how the thing sat in her pelvis while she tried to sit up and see what he’d done.

  There had been no warning before the buzzing clicked and a soft nodule landed on her clitoris. The vibration had set her to yelp, urged her to press her legs closed against it, and encouraged a pool of slick to gather under her body.

  He’d allowed her rebellion because it had made no difference. Even with her legs together, even rolled over on her belly as if she might squirm away, it could not be unseated. Deep inside her body it changed shape again. It stretched her, Brenya keening in pain.

  Except, she wasn’t sure if it had been pain at all.

  A warm hand on her back, the other still fixed to the device inside the squirming Omega, Jacques smiled. “When an Alpha male chooses to mount an untried Beta female there is a certain protocol that must take place before he can possess her. Had you been optioned for the breeding banks, you would have undergone this practice years ago—just as Annette delighted in these moments with Ancil. Sharing this with you was her idea, and seeing you this way, I can see it was an excellent one. Relax and enjoy.”

  Mouth agape, sucking in deep pants of air, Brenya stared forward at the distant wall and saw nothing. She could do nothing. Was reduced to nothing.

  All by a single pulsating machine.

  A machine designed for one purpose: to prepare a Beta female's sex organs to accept the far larger, far more powerful Alpha cock.

  The way it squirmed and milked the slick from her tunnel curled her toes. The horrid thing had a life of its own, though she might claw the sheets and fight against its intrusion.

  Jacques may have pumped it in and out of her, he may have forced it deeper into her cunt when she tried to push it out, but the robot sensed her struggles and redoubled its attack.

  The first orgasm had hurt; the machine had torn the pleasure right out of each nerve.

  Immediately it altered its shape, sprang into action when her passage clenched as if to grasp an Alpha knot. Shape bloating, manipulating nerves with shocks, with rotary aggression, it had expanded near the base… and made her groan until drool hung from her lips.

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  Dedication

  For Jen and Myra

  Chapter 1

  Bernard Dome

  Mid-morning sun reflected off the glass so sharply, even squinting, Brenya’s eyes began to water. Gloved hands to the East Sector solar plate, she twisted in her rigging, searching out the perfect angle so light might distort and show hidden danger.

  Right there… refraction.

  Helmet flush with the damaged pane, she traced over the almost imperceptible feather-like cracks marring the clear amorphous metal.

  Routine maintenance scans had misclassified why K73-2554’s solar collection was malfunctioning. It was not a wiring issue; the pane was about to shatter. Damage of this nature led to serious ruptures, evacuations of sectors, and the po
tential death of everyone inside.

  Speaking evenly, she catalogued all she’d found to the tech team supporting her climb behind Bernard Dome’s glass. “Unit 17C to terminal. Pane K73-2554 is damaged beyond original assessment. The structure is badly cracked and will need replacing once fabrication is complete.”

  There was a hiss of white noise before her tech’s radio communication came through. “Copy, unit 17C. An urgent status notation has been logged into the repair queue. You are granted clearance to patch while we wait for fabrication. Manufacturing posts a three-hour timeline.”

  According to her oxygen reserves, that would give Brenya just under an hour to complete install. It would be a close call. “Roger that. Commencing emergency repair.”

  A patch on fissures might postpone catastrophic failure… then again it might not. Though she could not see them, someone on the inside of that reflective glass was scrambling to install metal sheet reinforcement even as Brenya reached for the tools at her belt.

  The human race had learned long ago that risks were no longer an option. In order to survive, there had to be layers of safeguards and regulation.

  Swaying in her rigging, dangling high above the ground, she tiptoed around the damaged section’s frame. With the aid of a heat gun and strong epoxy, Brenya endeavored to reinforce what would ultimately be a fatal crack. It was delicate work that required patience and a light touch. Too much heat, and the whole panel might shatter, too little, and the epoxy would fail to set. One had to account for the sun, the changing outside temperature. One had to adjust to the blinding glare engineering grunts were trained never to turn their head from.

  Grunts tasked with the dangerous job of outer Dome repair were never to let their eyes wander. The verdant, creeping wilderness could not be a distraction. Staring at the open skyline, the distant tips of a dead, crumbling city’s tallest structures were said to encourage mental instability. It endangered all those who relied on them inside to maintain absolute focus.

  Those caught looking were grounded and banned from making the descent again.

  Failure of so grave a nature led to social ostracizing from the very corps one had been raised with, the family one worked with. Colleagues would find you suspicious; friends would demand one submit to reassignment.

  Never would Brenya risk it.

  Being selected for the external repair program had already placed her in a less than favorable light amongst her peers—even if the work she did kept them all alive.

  Every citizen had heard the stories of engineering grunts who grew obsessed with what languished outside the Dome. Some had even tried to leave, or purposefully harmed the structure that protected them all. If rumors were true, there was even a growing faction of dissenters who quietly questioned if the virus was really a threat.

  In the five years she’d routinely made the descent, Brenya had seen things outside the Dome people inside would never lay their eyes upon. She was privy to what her colleagues considered temptation. Once a butterfly alit beside a ventilation duct she was reconstructing piece by piece. The insect had been spotted orange and lightly fluttered its wings as it rested so near her fingers could almost brush it. She had wanted to watch that insect, to marvel at nature as her ancestors must have done before the plague. But it was forbidden.

  Before the increase in her heart rate might signal to her tech a break in protocol, she’d shooed it away. As far as Brenya knew, no soul in the Dome had ever known that, for a matter of seconds, she understood why some grunts grew obsessed with all that lay outside.

  “Unit 17C, weather forecasting warns an 18 knot gust will arrive from the north in twenty seconds.”

  “Roger.”

  With skilled movement, she reached for the magnetic handholds stored in the utility belt around her bio-suit. Swinging her rigging to the left, they were locked into place on an undamaged panel. By the time the wind rushed past her, she was secure, pressed to the side of the Dome, and safe.

  It was the second, undeclared gust five minutes later that was her ruin.

  While dangling upside-down from her harness in an attempt to finalize the last portion of her repair, tearing wind slammed her straight into the pane so hard she lost her breath. It shattered just like Brenya had reported it would, right before she felt a sudden loss of gravity.

  Her rigging had failed, the snake-like hiss of rope slipping through her belay loop attachment pulley.

  She didn’t have time to scream.

  Plummeting head first toward the ever encroaching vegetation, the backup catch snapped.

  She was going to die.

  Twisting in the cables as she fell, a sudden sharp wrench left her in screaming pain. Jerked to stillness, her arm was caught, her shoulder joint torn from its socket.

  Sounds of misery gurgled in her throat, the smallest of breaths almost impossible. The world was upside down. She had fallen so far, hundreds of meters, her dangling arm almost touching the ivy scaling the concrete foundation of Bernard Dome.

  Blood rushed to her head, vision going to a pinpoint.

  Amidst the crackling call of her tech for a status update, she found herself distracted. She could see them, diminutive simple flowers, her arm reaching towards their vines as if they were a rope and she might pull herself to safety.

  She could smell them…

  Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes, hot drips running into a damp hairline.

  “Unit 17C, your vitals register as erratic and your bio-suit is broadcasting damage to your helmet’s visor.”

  She wanted to answer but couldn’t move her lips. She could do nothing but stare at the nine-petaled flowers and try to breathe.

  “Report, Brenya!”

  Hearing her name, the break in protocol, startled her out of waning consciousness.

  One croak, the sound of labored breath, that’s all she could offer.

  It was as her tech had claimed. More than her body had been damaged; a massive chunk had been knocked from her visor. Brenya had been exposed to open air—could smell the world, the dirt, her sweat. She could even smell her blood where it trickled from a split cheek and into her eye.

  “Brenya… you know procedure.” There was a hedging desperation the tech tried, and failed, to keep out of his voice. “Without a status report, you’ll be cut from the rigging. I need you to talk to me.”

  She had one final thought. I’ll miss you too, George…

  Her stomach roiled and unconsciousness won out.

  It was dark by the time her swollen eyelids blinked apart. Body rocking in the breeze like a spider at the bottom of its silk, Brenya hung limp. She couldn’t see from her right eye, it was too gooey with blood, but if she squinted, she could just make out shapes in the moonlight.

  Warm air brushed her cheek.

  For the first time in Brenya’s life, she recognized what real weather felt like. It was humid and soft. She could even taste it when she swallowed around a fat tongue.

  Teeth chattering despite the heat, she managed one word. “George…”

  Nothing.

  Sweat saturated her hair, dripping up pounding temples. “Thiiis is… this issss Unit 17C. I require assistance.” She tried to move to see if she might turn her body right-side up. “I’m caught in the rigging, and I can’t move my left arm.”

  It was a different voice that cracked through the static. “Your suit shows an increase in body temperature. Exposure to outside contaminants must be considered.”

  The Red Consumption?

  No…

  She’d slipped midday. That infamous disease killed in a matter of hours. It was night now. If she’d been exposed to Red Consumption, she’d already be dead.

  Another, blessedly familiar voice interjected. “Sir, her temps were up prior to the climb. Unit 17C is documented as running hot.”

  Oversight would never believe she was uninfected if her every breath continued to rattle. She had to get herself stable if she wanted to survive. She had to prove she was v
iable, that she could still serve.

  Shoulder aching, she could feel how swollen it was, but in a very unnerving way, it didn’t hurt. With a left arm that would be useless and a right arm caught to her chest, only her legs might set her free. Straightening them was harder than expected. First her right leg wrapped around the traitorous cable, left leg pushing off from Bernard Dome’s foundation.

  She unrolled so fast, Brenya was in a scramble to find a grip before she fell to her death. Bloated fingers caught air, tore at her suit, and finally, finally, a glove found the friction of sliding rope. Where the strength came from, she could not tell, but she found herself holding on with one hand so close to the ground, her boots could feel the spongy give of the white flowered ivy’s leaves.

  The sound of her own heavy breathing echoed through her earpiece, a strained grunt all she could offer the team listening in on the other end. Feet to the wall, Brenya began to climb, one handed, until she found a way to loop her only lifeline back through the harness.

  Arm burning, panting in huge gulps of tainted air, she let go. The moment she sat back safely in the rigging, the strangest thought crossed her mind.

  It was jasmine… the white flowers were jasmine.

  She’d never smelled anything so beautiful.