Free Milked by her Alien Master by Elsa Silk Page A

who no
longer seemed so bored.
    “Well
then, you are quite a specimen.” The doctor gave me a visual inspection from my
dirty feet, over my scarred legs, to my hair—the mass my mother had spent all
morning combing the knots out of. The doctor circled me, assessing me in a
clinical way that seemed edged with excitement. “I hope you took the criteria
seriously and really fit all the needs. You’d be amazed to learn that I
disqualify upward of ninety percent just at this initial exam. Most never enter
the inner room. But if you pass the exam, I know they will be pleased. It all depends
on if the serum works on you.”
    My heart
hammered in my chest. Surely I’d never pass the physical with my blood pressure
rising through the roof. Nobody had ever mentioned a serum. I glanced at the
door and fisted my hands at my side.
    “Stand
still.” The doctor stood in front of me. Her hair was short, cut nearly to her
head. Like the guards, she was fully human. Not many of the aliens came down
from the space station. I’d never seen one in person.
    She walked
toward me while viewing something on a board she held. Then she put aside the
board and picked up a large ring from the table. She put it around my neck. It
weighed nearly nothing and when she closed it, it let off a hum and a click. My
heart skittered inside my chest and my eyes stung. If they took me, would they
take this collar off?
    I gasped
at the pressure of fear and hope clogging inside my chest. The doctor put a
hand on my shoulder and squeezed. I swayed toward her, but she kept me
immobile. “Tell me now. Your application said the scars are from a fire
accident during a raid on your house. Is that the truth? I will know if you lie
from your collar.”
    “It is.”
    “Good. If
the dead tissue had been from poor health, we’d have to dismiss you.” Her hand
stroked down from my shoulder and over my arm. It was soothing and steadied me.
“This is even more important. When they broke into your house, did they rape
you? Have you had sex with a man before? Have you ever been penetrated by a
male? ”
    “Only by a
man?” I clarified. Not that I needed to. I’d never had sex. Or even kissed
another person with passion.
    Her
fingers tightened on my arm and her breath trickled over my neck in a stutter.
“Yes, with a man. Or a male.”
    “I haven’t
had sex. It was close. I think they meant to do that.” I coughed the pain away.
My father had died protecting me. He and my mother had already decided, but
hadn’t presented the idea to me, yet. They protected my virginity with their
lives because they planned on bartering it. I didn’t blame them because I fully
agreed with them—once I was old enough to understand. So here I stood on my
eighteenth birthday, three years after my father’s death and the pain still
raw.
    “And you
are healthy, passed all physicals?”
    “Yes.”
    “No
attachments?”
    “No.”
    “If you had
lied, the light on the back of your collar would turn red. Your health exam
from a month ago is in your charts. You appear to be fertile.”
    “Yes,” I
croaked. Did they care about that? I hadn’t known.
    “I’m going
to give you a shot. If you are lucky, it will make you feel things. Should it
do so, it’s a normal reaction. Don’t worry if nothing happens, either. It’s the
most common result.”
    She
grabbed a needle off a nearby table, checked it—probably to be sure it was what
she intended to give me—then wiped my upper arm with an antiseptic. She plunged
the needle in my arm. It pinched a bit and was warm going in. “The serum works
fast. You will feel it in seconds.”
    I didn’t
dare ask what she’d given me. I couldn’t seem to form the words.
    “So
lovely.” She stood there and stared at my throat before her gaze lowered to my
chest. She whispered in my ear, “If you aren’t chosen, come back to me. I’ll
take care of you. For a time.”
    Being
beautiful in the slums, I’d heard it all. And sure, I knew I