Alone Among the Stars
Copyright© 2025 by Zero
Chapter 7
Science Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 7 - Yaasa lives a life of solitude, piloting her small ship, the Dominion, through the shadowy edges of society as a courier. She is hiding from her past and the true sexual nature of herself. A truth that she is not willing to acknowledge. However when a job spirals out of control, she may have no choice but to rely on abilities that have caused her nothing but hardship.
Caution: This Science Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Mult Mind Control NonConsensual Reluctant Heterosexual Fiction Science Fiction Space Humiliation Rough Exhibitionism Masturbation Sex Toys Squirting Big Breasts Violence
Holding back tears, she fought against the pain and stumbled towards her discarded pants. Picking them up, she was relieved to find they had survived the brutal brawl relatively unscathed. As she put them on, her hands trembled, each movement sending fresh waves of agony through her battered body.
Glancing down at her outfit, she saw that one of her breasts were completely bare, spilling out of her tattered suit. Her gaze fell on the supervisor’s jacket, which seemed to have fared better than the others. She made her way over to his unconscious form and gingerly removed the jacket, wincing as the motion aggravated her injuries. The front zipper was broken, but slipping it on, she felt a small measure of relief as it covered her torn suit.
One last task remained. To some extent, she had anticipated this scenario—not the exact details, but the possibility of being discovered. With aching fingers, she reached up and removed the ornamental hair stick that held her hair in place, letting her dark curly hair cascade around her bruised face.
Retrieving the supervisor’s communicator, she touched the ornate end of the hair stick to the device. A series of symbols flashed across the screen, and she quickly returned the communicator before tucking the stick inside her newly acquired jacket. The small device, procured from a black-market shop, served a dual purpose. It would soon crash the compound’s systems, disrupting communications and creating a much-needed diversion. Additionally, it would erase all traces of her presence from the system, including any video footage and the cover identity she had used. While not foolproof—the data might have been backed up off-site or could potentially be recovered—it was still better than leaving an easily traceable digital trail.
Task completed, Yaasa hobbled out into the hallway, pausing to scan for any signs of life before making her way back the way she had come. She had decided to exit through one of the hallway windows, hoping that luck would be on her side.
Reaching a window, she peered out to see that it led to the side of the building, opening onto the fringes of the garden. Only a few people were wandering about, their attention seemingly elsewhere. Crucially, there were no guards in sight.
Gritting her teeth against the pain, she lifted her legs over the window ledge and half-climbed, half-fell into the garden. She landed with a suppressed grunt, her injured body screaming in protest. Steeling herself, she began to move towards where she believed the cars were parked. This presented a new challenge. She needed a vehicle to make her escape, but how was she going to acquire one in her current state?
As she continued moving, she did her best to keep to the edges of the garden, using trees, shrubs, and statues for cover. Some guests noticed her disheveled appearance and murmured among themselves or moved away. A few even asked if she needed help, but she ignored them, focusing solely on her escape.
Soon, guards began to appear in the garden, but her gambit seemed to have paid off. The disruption caused by her device had the guards preoccupied, trying to figure out what was going on. Many were called away to investigate the main areas of the manor, providing her with a temporary reprieve.
However, her luck didn’t hold for long. A few guards spotted her, calling out and moving in her direction. Yaasa, despite her injuries, moved as quickly as she could, ducking behind a row of hedges. In her haste, she collided with someone, sending a jolt of pain through her battered body.
“I’m sorry,” a familiar voice said before she had a chance to see who she had stumbled into. “Ms. Sadri! I’ve been looking ... oh my god, what happened to you?” the voice asked, strong hands gripping her shoulders. She looked up to see Nicolaas gazing down at her, his face etched with worry and shock.
“I...” she began, struggling to find an explanation. The truth was out of the question, but her mind, fogged with pain and exhaustion, couldn’t seem to conjure a plausible lie.
Before she could say anything, she noticed him glance at something over her shoulder. “I assume the guards are looking for you?” he asked, his eyes meeting hers once more.
All she could manage was a weak nod. “Come, let’s get you out of here. Can you walk?” he asked, his tone gentle but urgent.
“I can walk,” she replied, then shook her head. “It’s okay, I can manage on my own. You don’t need to get into any trouble for me,” she added, trying to pull away. But his grip remained firm, and in her weakened state, she couldn’t break free.
“Don’t argue with me,” he said, his voice stern but not unkind. “I can handle any trouble.”
Realizing that further protest was futile, she allowed him to guide her through the crowd, his arm draped protectively around her shoulders. Given their height difference, there was little risk of her face coming into contact with his bare skin, but she still took care to keep her head angled away from his body, a precaution born of fear and necessity.
As they moved, the guards seemed less focused on them, perhaps not expecting to find two people together. Yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that some of the guards had noticed them, only to hesitate upon recognizing Nicolaas. She wondered just how powerful or influential he was and what strings might come attached to his aid. But in her current predicament, she had no choice but to accept his help.
Eventually, he led her to a small entrance at the front of the compound, connected to the garden area. Just a few hundred feet away, she could see the vehicles waiting outside the manor, tantalizingly close.
“Wait here,” he said, letting her lean against the nearby wall. “I’ll be back with a car” He added before walking away.
She could feel the adrenaline wearing off, the fatigue and pain - and with it the pleasure - reasserting themselves with a vengeance. A wave of lightheadedness washed over her, and she wondered if she might have sustained a concussion during the brutal fight.
A car pulled up beside them, and Nicolaas stepped out, helping her inside with a supportive arm around her shoulders. The vehicle was the same model as the one they had arrived in, offering a small measure of familiarity amidst the chaos.
“Why don’t you lie down?” he suggested, closing the door and gesturing to the long, comfortable seat.
Yaasa, feeling a growing sense of nausea, shook her head gingerly. “No ... I think I might have a concussion. Where are we going?” she asked, settling into a sitting position. The dimness inside the car, with the doors closed, seemed to provide some relief from her symptoms.
Nicolaas removed his jacket and rolled it up, placing it gently behind her neck. “Here, you should support and rest your neck,” he said, his voice soft with concern. He then poured a glass of water and moved closer to her. “Here, drink,” he urged, pressing the glass to her lips.
She drank without argument, the cool water soothing her parched throat. Some of the liquid dribbled down her chin, and as she moved around the jacket she was no longer holding open, opened to reveal her bare breast, her nipple still erect and raw. But she was too exhausted to care about that after the day she had. “Thank you,” she said once she had finished.
She saw Nicolaas look at her exposed torso, at her bare breast. For a moment it seemed like he was going to reach over and try to pull her jacket up. He looked at her face, as if noting her exposed body. But she simply stared back. Not the jacket was going to stay open unless she kept it closed. And unless Nicolaas decided to take off his own shirt there was nothing in the cover to herself with. And after all that she had shown of her body today, she didn’t care about Nicolaas seeing her like this.
After a brief moment he decided to put the issue aside and continue. “We are going back to the spaceport. My ship has medical facilities,” he explained, setting the empty glass aside.
“Thank you,” she repeated, “but I will go back to my own ship. It has medical facilities too.”
He nodded in understanding. “Alright.” He paused for a moment, his eyes searching her battered face. “Can you tell me what happened?” he asked, his voice a mix of concern and curiosity.
She remained silent, her mind too weary to conjure even a half-believable lie. Yet the truth was not an option either. “No...” she finally replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t ... this is just my job.”
He sighed, a hint of resignation in his tone. “Yes, I did have a feeling that you were not entirely who you said you were.”
As the car drove on, they sat in silence for a while. Yaasa could feel his eyes on her as she rested with her own eyes closed. Finally Nicolaas spoke. “I don’t know exactly what your job is, but I can guess. And it’s obviously not safe,” he said, pausing as he considered his next words.
She kept her eyes closed, barely registering his words through the haze of exhaustion and pain.
“I don’t know how you got into all this, but you don’t have to keep doing it. I can help,” he continued, his tone gentle yet insistent. “Whatever happened back there, it can be smoothed over. I can help you build a good, safe life.”
She remained silent. She didn’t want to hear this. He couldn’t help her, no one could. And even if his intentions were genuine, it was only a matter of time before he discovered her abilities and became just like the others who had sought to use and exploit her. Her childhood had been a litany of such people.
“Are you listening? I want to help you,” he pressed, his voice tinged with concern.
“You can’t help me. No one can,” she murmured, her eyes still closed.
“I can. I’m lucky enough to have the resources and influence to make a difference. I know things might seem hopeless, but I promise I can help,” he insisted, his tone growing more emphatic.