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  Surrendering to Her General

  Rise of the Sadecs - Book One

  Sadie Marks

  ©2018

  All rights reserved.

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  No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

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  Eclipse Press

  An imprint of

  ABCD Graphics and Design, Inc.

  A Virginia corporation

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  977 Seminole Trail #233

  Charlottesville, VA 22901

  * * *

  Sadie Marks

  Surrendering to Her General

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  EBook ISBN: 978-1-948140-49-2

  Cover Art by ABCD Graphics & Design

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  This book contains fantasy themes appropriate for mature readers only. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as Blushing Books' or the author's advocating any non-consensual sexual activity.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Sadie Marks

  To Nox, who inspired an idea I loved enough to finally dive into the alien genre. Thanks for helping get the ball rolling on this one!

  Prologue

  She remembered the day she became his so clearly it was like it had happened only yesterday, but since then, there had been so many changes. Her world had opened up to possibilities she hadn't even known existed. Who she was, her place in his life, those were things she was sure of now, but even with all that, he could still make her tremble when he wanted to. He could reduce her to that nervous slave kneeling on the floor and waiting to know her fate with just a look or a word—she hoped that would never change, but there was a certain worry that it would.

  She'd expressed that to him one time too many, and he'd decided to show her just how little had changed about their relationship. He'd brought her back to the holographic relaxation suite for a bit of a refresher, a reminder of her very first day on the ship; of course, she hadn't known that was his plan when he escorted her there.

  When she stepped inside, her eyes went wide; he'd programmed it to look exactly the same, and it sent a shiver down her spine that must have been visible because he kissed her neck and laughed. He ordered her to strip and then go to the center of the room and kneel without speaking, and when she hesitated, he encouraged her with a hard slap across her ass to get her moving.

  When she was exactly where he wanted her, he came up behind her, his legs pressing firmly against her back as he slipped a cold metal band down over the crown of her head. It settled just above her eyebrows and she wanted to ask what it was, but the order not to speak kept her mouth closed.

  "This is a memory stimulator. I'm going to turn it on, and then I want you to think back to the first time you were in this room. You'll relive the memories of what happened here. It will seem like it's happening at normal speed, but it will actually be just a few seconds, and then after, pet, we'll see if we can't build on them while you're still in that vulnerable emotional state," he explained.

  She tilted her head back to look up at him, and he brushed the back of his hand across her cheek. "Are you ready to be that nervous new slave again?" he asked.

  She nodded slowly, and his hand moved to press something at her temple. Suddenly, she was plunged deep into memory. Part of her knew she was experiencing something that had already happened; her current memories weren't blocked, but it felt so real and complete that it was almost like her present life was a dream and the past was all there was.

  She knelt on the stones and tried not to move. The room was warm enough even for her nude body, but she shivered anyway from nerves and more than a little fear as she waited. She knew the rules; she knew what she'd agreed to, but at the moment, she was facing a lot of unknowns. She understood that she was now a slave and would be for the next five years, by her own choice, but she didn't even know who her new owner would be yet. So much of her future was going to depend on that. She'd only just discovered that the rank of her owner would determine how much he'd have to share her with others and how many others there would be.

  Share. It wouldn't just be one person to yield to. Who knew how many would be able to play with her body and mind; she certainly didn't. She hadn't yet had time to even think about what that meant.

  Everything had moved so quickly since she'd woken up in her fresh new body. She'd been examined and prodded, and then there'd been a quick lesson on how to behave as a slave—but at no point had she been given any time to actually sort out how she felt until she'd been brought here to wait. Now all she had was time to think. Things weren't what she thought they were going to be, but she couldn't really say she'd been lied to. It was more that she'd gotten certain ideas about how things would go, and she'd been very wrong.

  Still, she had to remind herself that she'd signed up for this; she'd wanted this. The reward they'd offered had been enough temptation for most people; what was five years of her time in return for the perfect body? Not cosmetic surgery, no hiding problems with nips and tucks, but a brand-new body grown to her own specifications. It had seemed more than fair, and they'd followed through as promised. There'd been some doubt, of course. Despite their advanced technology, she'd wondered if it was some kind of trick, but she only had to look down at her naked, flawless skin to see that she'd gotten exactly what she'd asked for.

  As she examined that fresh new body, she still felt that same sense of wonder she had when she'd first woken up, well, perfect. It was almost hard to believe it was really true, but there was no denying the clear peach skin, not a scar or blemish in sight. They had drawn from her every nuanced detail, every fantasy she'd ever had about her appearance, and they'd been meticulous in providing it. Even her hair was so changed as to be unrecognizable. It grew differently now.

  No longer the plain brown mop of curls, the drab shade had deepened to a chestnut that was rich with colors and highlights she'd never had before. She used to keep her hair cut short because it was too much work to pick out the snarls constantly and it couldn't be brushed without turning into a frizzy mess. Now, it cupped her head and caressed her shoulders in a sleek, shining fall.

  When she'd looked in the mirror after she'd woken up, the only part of her that remained relatively unchanged was her eyes, because she'd always loved those. The lashes that framed them were thicker and longer, but the clear crystal-blue irises were the same. They were identical to her father's and when they stared back at her from the glass, she wondered what he'd think about her choices—about this choice. If he hadn't died when she was a teenager, maybe she could have asked him, but the decision had been hers alone.

  She remembered sitting through the questions, looking at the diagrams with embarrassment as she outlined the problem areas she wanted fixed. She'd felt greedy at first, like she was asking for too much, but instead of scolding her for it, they'd pushed for more. With halting, embarrassed words, they'd pulled descriptions from her, and where she lapsed, they offered her suggestions and full-colored photographs to choose from. It was apparently important that there was no buyer's regret on her part.

  She'd walked in ready to ask for less cellulite, scar removal, and if possible, a more compact shape without losing the curves—and she'd left with a thirty-page report that detailed e
verything from the shape of her toes and ring size, to the color of her nipples. She'd been shell-shocked, overwhelmed and panicked at the thought of looking like a super model, or her version of one anyway.

  She hadn't been the only one. People who felt betrayed or trapped by their bodies showed up in droves. Most were turned away in the earliest stages, but for the few who were accepted and went on to pick their new bodies, there were identical looks of stunned disbelief on their faces when they left clutching their copy of the file. Everyone wanted to feel secure and confident in their appearance, and ironically, some simply wanted less pain in their daily lives. For some few lucky ones, that wish might just be granted if they made it through the whole process. Seeing on paper what they might actually achieve made everyone even more eager to be accepted.

  But this wasn't a charity, and the technology couldn't be bought, either—at least not yet. They'd been told that, someday, it might be possible if the treaties and negotiations being arranged worked out, but a lot of that depended on people like her—Pain Receivers, they called them.

  It was funny; not that many years ago, masochists had been considered deficient or mentally ill; people no longer thought that. Those who enjoyed or needed pain, people who could turn pain into sexual pleasure, had become a hot commodity on Earth once they had arrived. Now many wished they had that ability. She wondered if, somewhere, there were little kids telling their teachers that they wanted to be Pain Receivers when they grew up, and the thought almost made her laugh. She barely cut it off in time to avoid making a sound and getting herself into trouble.

  She'd been told to kneel here and be quiet, and she had a suspicion it would be a bad idea to disobey because someone was probably watching from outside the room and hoping she would. They were allowed to punish her if she messed up, and they looked for any reason to do so, she'd been told. She was heading into five long years of that from whomever bought her, but hopefully there'd be a lot of pleasure from her new owner as well. That wasn't likely to be the case here in this intermediary stage, and she was scared to find out how much worse discipline would be without the sexual attention to soften it.

  During her final test, she'd had her first taste of punishment ever, but it had been purposely aimed toward arousing her, too. That was the point of the test, of course. To make sure she could not only bear the pain but become sexually aroused from it—and she had passed with flying colors, making her one of the few chosen out of the many who attempted to sign up.

  So many others would be desperate to be where she was now because the only way to receive the change was to fit the strict requirements of the Sadecs. They estimated less than one percent of the entire population would be eligible to volunteer and even fewer would make it to the end and be accepted as she had been.

  The government was fully on board to facilitate recruiting as many of those people as they could because the whole planet would be reaping the benefits of their service. A tier system had been negotiated that gave benefits for reaching each level, so the more who signed up and passed, the more alien gifts the people back on Earth would receive. But despite everyone who showed even the slightest hint of masochism being urged to volunteer, very few passed all the way through.

  It wasn't just the need to be masochistic, there were plenty of those around on Earth, though apparently, that made humans somewhat unique in the universe. For most, though, a touch of spice was all they wanted. Just a little pain mixed in with the sex, and not all the time, either. In order to commit to five years as a slave, a special kind of personality was needed, and Kenzi apparently fit the bill. At least she'd passed the personality and temperament tests with very high scores.

  She'd been surprised. She knew she had a submissive side in her because it colored all her fantasies. Thinking about being spanked, slapped, controlled and forced to her knees—those were the things that got her hot and bothered. Nothing turned her on more than the idea of being a slave girl to a dominant who wanted to cause her pain and pleasure both. Yes, that had drawn her like a bee to a flower and she'd eagerly volunteered as soon as the clinics opened, but she'd never expected to actually pass. Not with her stubborn streak and need to control things.

  Those traits were a good part of what had kept her from trying out submission before the aliens had come. She couldn't even date a man without trying to take over and run things. And of course, once her lovers sat back and let her be in control, she tended to lose interest in them, because she didn't want to be the one in charge. She dreamed of being able to let go of the reins, but most guys just seemed willing to follow her lead.

  Some of that was her father's fault, if it was a fault at all. Kenai’s father had been army first and then a police officer when he'd gotten out. He wanted to make sure his little girl could protect herself if it came down to it, which meant she'd been taking martial arts classes since she was barely old enough to walk. A little part of her was worried that if anyone actually tried to do the things she fantasized about, her self-preservation instincts might just cause her to kick their ass.

  None of that was going to be an issue anymore, now that she'd volunteered; the Sadecs were warriors. They were stronger than most humans and skilled in ways she wouldn't be able to match. There was no worry that she'd hurt one, and she'd find out soon enough if it was worth it. As lovely as her brand-new body was, she was really hoping to get more out of the experience than just good looks.

  She shifted, trying to ease the pain of the stone pressing into her knees, and a cramp seized her calf muscle. "Fuck!" she said as she quickly tried to get up. She forgot the rules in the grip of a nasty little charley horse.

  A second later, a Sadec, who'd been watching from outside the room, as she'd expected, appeared, grabbed her by the hair and yanked her forward so she had to put out her hands to stop herself from falling on her face. "Ow! Hey!" she protested, struggling. "Please, I just had a cramp!"

  "You were warned," he said simply. There was pleasure in that beautiful, melodic voice they all had, and she knew he was going to enjoy this a lot more than she was, but her body—her traitorous body—did find something exciting about the hand in her hair and the way he pushed her head to the floor and held it there. Her ass was still up in the air and she could feel a light tickling between her thighs as her body began to react, but a second later, something slashed down across one cheek with a meaty, smacking sound, leaving a swathe of fire.

  She yelped and tried to roll to her side to get away from the pain, but he knelt down, and then her hair was being pinned under his knee so she couldn't move. He brought the painful implement down ten times, hard and fast, and there was nothing gentle or arousing about it. He made no effort to turn her on; he just set her ass on fire. It was probably the most painful thing she'd ever experienced and reminding herself that she'd wanted this did no good at all.

  Ten harsh strokes were all it took to bring tears to her eyes, but she blinked them back stubbornly, and then he stood and pulled her back up onto her knees. "Wait here and be silent," he repeated, and then he left, still holding the strap he'd just used on her, and she was alone again.

  She bit down on her bottom lip to hold back a whimper, praying that the nearly inaudible sound wouldn't bring him back in to punish her further. Her heels were pressing into her sore, aching backside, and she was afraid to move in case she caused another cramp. But in spite of her misery, she could feel a slow pulse between her thighs as the patch of curls covering the folds of her sex dampened.

  It was mortifying to realize that she was getting turned on by the whole situation. It wasn't just the pain; it was the humiliation and the helplessness of knowing she was completely under their control and would be until the end of her contract—trapped. If nothing else, the waiting was giving her time to think about that and how she'd ended up there in the first place.

  And while she was vaguely aware that she'd done all this before, and that he was somewhere nearby waiting for her to rejoin their life together, the em
otions attached to the memories were so real that when he removed the band from her head, she felt a shock not unlike being plunged into an ice-bath.

  "Now, slave girl…let's see if we can't give you some new memories to reassure you that you will always be my slave."

  1

  When aliens finally came openly to the third planet from the sun, originally called Earth by its inhabitants, it was not with explosions and war. Nor was it with enlightenment and offers of assistance, which meant not one movie had gotten it right. It was tourism that brought aliens in hordes to visit Earth.

  More than one race had been watching the planet from afar. Some found it entertaining to watch their struggles, others found it a fascinating experiment. Living on the only inhabited planet in their solar system, the Earth people were more isolated than many cultures in the universe. It gave scientists an interesting perspective on how life could grow and adapt without outside assistance. There was also a great curiosity about what ideas they would develop if they thought they were alone.

  It was chosen, somewhat arbitrarily, from a list of planets with similar isolated circumstances, and then deliberately kept that way for the purpose of study. A three-thousand-year quarantine banned all other cultures from interfering with the fledgling race so that they could be watched as they built themselves up into a culture sophisticated enough to step into space on their own.