Free Alien Caged by Tracy St. John

that appeared with her smile.  She acknowledged them with sad acceptance.  No, she was not pretty anymore, if she ever had been.  It was still nice to hear someone say she was, though.  Sometimes Elisa believed the falsehoods Clan Zemos spoke, simply because they offered them with such warmth.  The three men were always kind to her.  Was it any wonder she’d fallen for them?
    Elisa liked all the Kalquorians that had been taken prisoner.  Even the ones in the general population brig had been unfailingly nice to her.  They bowed at her approach and thanked her for bringing their meals, as if it wasn’t a part of her duties.  Despite the fact the alien species was without many women, they never acted untoward with her.  There were no ugly comments, like the ones Remington made.  Sure, their gazes might contain a certain amount of heat, but Elisa thought that was to be expected.  Even with need in their expressions, the Kalquorians managed a measure of reverence at her presence.  She never got a sense of violation around them.
    Elisa had entertained fantasies of the Kalquorians breaking free and escaping, of them taking her with them as an adored prisoner.  It was no surprise her dream had depicted Clan Zemos as being so demanding and forceful.  Her body always warmed to think of being held helpless by the aliens.
    Her favorite fantasy involved being bound naked in a dungeon-like setting as man after man came to her, taking his pleasure with her body.  They would ignore her pleas for mercy, intuiting she wanted them every bit as much as they wanted her.  Those visions made her stomach churn with ticklish warmth and her sex grow wet.  She imagined the Kalquorians made her acknowledge her animal lusts before granting the ecstasy she’d only experienced with her own fingers.
    Elisa was used to such feelings, as strange as they were.  Before the capture of the Kalquorians, she used to daydream about other men getting her alone, of them demanding her to surrender to their passions.  Those fantasy men had never had faces or been anyone she knew.  No one on the ship had interested her in that way, especially since she was afraid one of the men might end up raping her.
    Elisa had long given up trying to understand why she fantasized about forceful encounters with the men.  She didn’t know why she found the idea alluring, particularly when it came to Zemos, Oret, and Miragin.  How could she imagine such things yet still despise the threat that came from men like Remington?  Was it because she sensed the underlying goodness of her objects of affection, rejecting those who looked only to their own desires with no thought for hers?
    Elisa made no sense to herself, especially since realizing Clan Zemos had turned into more than a delicious and decadent fantasy to be served in her lonely virgin bed.  She was aware their seeming kindness could be a lie.  Yet it never felt like a falsehood.  Every time they asked after her welfare, it was with the sense that they truly cared to know she was happy and healthy. 
    It was crazy that Elisa had fallen head over heels for the trio, yet she had.  She was convinced she was in love.
    She combed back the forward part of her hair, fixing it in a pink bow barrette.  Her shoulder-length mahogany tresses flowed down her back.  That part looked pretty, but Elisa grimaced at her reflection.  The frilly bow made her look as if she was trying hard to look younger than she was.  The frown lines at the corners of her mouth elicited another sigh. 
    “Old spinster,” Elisa muttered at herself, unfastening the bow and letting her hair tumble down.  The funny thing was, she didn’t feel like she thought a woman in her late forties should, especially not around Zemos, Miragin, and Oret.  Their smiles and warm gazes made her feel young and girlish, full of hope.  They were the reason she powdered to take the shine off her forehead and nose, why she brushed on mascara to make her