His Human Pet

by Stella Rising

  Forta reaches into a compartment and retrieves a long wooden cane. He lays it down on my breasts, letting me feel how light it is. “This is keera. Light and flexible, but strong. It won’t break, it will hurt.”

  He flicks the cane at my breast, aiming for the nipple. Pain sparks through my chest, far more than I could anticipate from the small stick. Crying out, I writhe in my bonds. Forta wasn’t kidding—that hurt!

  “Five strokes on each breast,” says Forta. “Count them, and you get your reward.”

  Five on each?

  “Please, Master. I don’t know if I can take that,” I say, my eyes following the stick.

  “I want you to try. You will build tolerance for pain over time. Understood?”

  “Yes, Master,” I reply, tensing up, trying to prepare myself for the worst.

  Forta gives me a moment, then begins. He aims his first swing at my other breast, evening out the sensation to both sides of my body.

  “One,” I declare after a shrill squeak. The sound bothers me almost more than the sting of the cane. Come on! Be tough.

  “Ready, pet?”

  “Yes, Master,” I say after a deep breath.

  “Good.” Forta continues, swatting my breast four more times, giving me a moment between each to recover. My reactions continue to sound out at a high pitch, but by the time I count number five, I’ve managed to keep my cries much quieter. Considering each slap of the cane has amplified the pain of the previous, I think I’m making progress.

  “Now, the other side.”

  Forta takes the cane into his other hand and smacks it against my breast. This time, I barely make a sound at the relatively minor torment. “One, Master,” I say, my voice clear and steady.

  “Good, pet.”

  The remaining four swings do create a rise of agony, as Forta aims very consistently for the same area. I should be bucking and screeching, but I don’t—and by the end I’m surprised at myself. Was Forta right to push me? I could have asked him at any time to stop, but I haven’t needed to.

  “Very good, Melody,” he says when he’s finished.

  My chest burns from the collected punishment, but on the inside I feel strangely proud. I took the pain he dished out and I’m not a complete mess; it’s not something I’d have expected.

  “You’re sure you don’t want the nanites?” he asks.

  “Fine. Yes, please, Master,” I respond. The worst of the torment is over—I could handle it, but I’m not going to turn down a little relief.

  “Good. And I have something extra.”

  He gets up and straddles me, holding his cock to my hungry entrance. “Lovely,” he says, feeling my wetness with his tip. “You took that caning very well. I should make it harder next time.”

  “That’s not really necessary, sir,” I say. “It wasn’t easy. It hurt.”

  “Tell me if this hurts,” he says, guiding his shaft inward. He goes slowly, giving me time to adjust to the massive intrusion. I gasp as his cock penetrates me in a way I’ve never felt—it does hurt, but the pain subsides quickly, leaving behind a potent bliss. As he drives deeper, the pleasure of being filled overwhelms my senses. Forta looks into my eyes, and I return his gaze, focusing on his alluring visage. My hands grasp at the air until I manage to grab the silky covering of his bed. When Forta sets his hands down, they sink far into the mattress and I get a fresh sense of just how huge and powerful his body is—he could probably do this for hours and never tire.

  Oh, god, please...

  Once his cock reaches as deep as it can go, I shudder from the sheer euphoria. However, it’s nothing compared to the sublime satisfaction that explodes inside me when he starts to thrust. He builds it gradually, pumping me at a deliberate pace. It’s more than enough to make me moan until I’ve emptied my lungs and have to gasp for breath. When I do, I smell the fragrant musk coming off his body and want it all over mine.

  Then he does something I really don’t expect: he leans in and kisses me. It feels wonderful, and I close my eyes exultantly. Before the kiss, I knew he lusted for me, but there’s affection in him too. Is it more than just the fondness an alien master feels for his pet human? I know so little about his ways, and about him personally. Still, the kiss tells me something’s there—it’s real.

  It makes me happy, though I’m not even sure what I want it to be. I shouldn’t forget, I am this alien’s captive—and his idea of fun is to torment a defenseless human. His motives are anything but pure.

  Thankfully, that’s a concern for a later day—right now, I can just enjoy Forta’s unbelievable stamina and girth. His smooth thrusts evolve into a hard pounding, making my head spin with each buck. At that speed, it doesn’t take too long for an orgasm to rise inside me. Forta must be able to sense it, because he slows down for a moment, evoking from me a frustrated whimper.

  “You want to come?”

  “Yes, Master,” I whine.

  “Not yet. From now on, you ask permission to come. Understood?”

  “Yes, Master,” I repeat, sounding even more desperate. It’s mortifying to hear the wanton creature I’ve so quickly become.

  Forta resumes his rapid pumping, reducing me to a screaming mess of frustration and need. I have to come, but don’t want to upset him—who knows what the punishment would be for breaking this rule? Holding back the orgasm takes all of my will and concentration; it would be so easy to let it slip, to grip my inner walls down hard on his granite-like cock. My face flushes from the strain, and my throat goes dry as I gasp for air.

  Fighting against my bonds but almost completely unable to move, I end up gyrating my hips—it’s the only part of my body not restrained by the telerings. Forta groans, a deep, ageless sound. How close is he to his climax, I wonder. And is that when he’ll let me come? How does he decide? Or does he just want to me to obey his command to wait? I’m running out of endurance—soon I won’t be able to hold it back any longer.

  As if to make my effort even more fruitless, Forta begins to tongue my breast, then suck my nipple. My writhing tells him all he needs to know about the effect he’s having on me. He pinches my nipples, refreshing the pain I feel from the caning. I had forgotten about it, distracted by Forta’s cock. Now that it’s back it’s impossible not to incorporate it into the mosaic of sensations bombarding my consciousness.

  “You like that,” he says, grinning.

  “Yes, Master,” I reply, too blitzed to argue. Maybe he’s right—the pain has added to my bliss, enhancing the flavor, like a tartness to balance out the sweet.

  “Good. You can come.”

  I don’t hesitate—I let the dam burst all at once, inviting the flood of ecstasy. Forta accelerates his hammering, thrusting the fastest he has since he started. In seconds, I lose coherence in my mind, unable to think of anything but the pleasure. I feel high, as if I’m rising out of my body and into a state of pure rapture. Although I’m screaming, I can barely hear it, like it’s coming from very far away. All I can do is feel, and I don’t mind it at all—especially when Forta reaches his climax and spills his seed inside me. The sensation fills me with strange pride—maybe I’m just drunk on my own satisfaction and want to share the love, because I’m happy for him, too.

  “You served me well, pet,” he says, whispering into my ear. “You should be proud.”

  “I am,” I mumble, my thoughts still barely coherent. Do I really mean that? Am I proud of giving an alien an orgasm? Is that really an achievement to take pride in? Then again, he could mean more than just the fact that he came—but does that make a difference?

  “How was that for you, Melody?” Forta asks, releasing my restraints so my body can relax. He pulls me up onto his chest and holds me.

  “Wonderful, Master,” I admit, sighing and enjoying the warm afterglow. Everything below my waist feels impossibly tender, but I don’t care; I want to do it again. “Are you finished... or...”

  Forta laughs out loud. “Very kind of you to ask, pet. You wish for more?”
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  “Yes, Master,” I say, trying to sound imploring.

  “Soon,” he replies. “Don’t be greedy.”

  “Please, Master? That was incredible, and—”

  I don’t get to finish my plea—as I speak, Forta retrieves a chrome panel from the compartment beside the bed. He fixes it to my face, and it instantly conforms to fit around my mouth, preventing me from speaking.

  “You will take what is given and be happy with it, pet. Don’t let me hear you begging for more unless I tell you to. Understood?”

  I nod, though I don’t take my eyes off him. This might be the most humiliating thing he’s done to me yet. Then I feel the telerings activate, pulling me off of Forta.

  “Get on all fours, pet,” he commands, rising from the bed.

  Swallowing a curse, I obey. The telerings will compel me to move if I don’t. When I’m on my hands and knees, facing Forta, he nods.

  “Good. Turn around.”

  Again, I follow his order until I’m facing the wall, leaving my backside exposed.

  “Good, Melody. Now, stay. I’ll be back later.”

  What? He can’t be serious!

  He is, though, of course. He pats my bottom, then goes, shutting the door behind him and leaving me alone.

  Chapter Six

  And I thought being left in a cage was bad. That was a lot less degrading and I wasn’t nearly as horny. I try not to imagine what Forta might do next to humiliate me—it only adds to my hunger for pleasure, an uncomfortable fact I’d deny if I could.

  My body may enjoy being stuck in such a compromised position, but in my head I’m pinballing like crazy. I’m furious at first—what’s the point of leaving me here like this? I could understand if he was here in the room and he wanted... access. But he’s outside the room, doing who knows what? If he’s not going to stay with me, why not let me lie down and relax? Perhaps he wants to ensure I don’t play with myself in his absence, but surely he could achieve that in some other way?

  Then again, maybe this is exactly what he wants—to enjoy the fact that I’m stuck with my ass in the air, exposed. This probably turns him on, knowing I’m suffering. Realizing this makes me even angrier because it means he’s likely going to do it again.

  Without anything to do but struggle against my bonds and think about my situation, I can’t really tell how much time I’m left waiting for him. It’s enough for my anger to run its course and give way to frustration. The more I fight the telerings, the more desperate I get for Forta’s return. I can still feel the syrupy haze of sex, and I’m ready for more.

  Should I be ashamed of myself for desiring him so badly? We’ve only just met, and I’m not here because he asked me out on a date and we just clicked. This is supposed to be a form of punishment—it’s not meant for me to enjoy. Yet, I don’t feel particularly guilty about having some fun—none of my college boyfriends could make me come the way Forta did. I feel like someone who’s just tasted ice cream for the first time and wants the biggest sundae in the parlor.

  Yes, but don’t forget what happens when you eat too much ice cream too quickly, I remind myself.

  I can still feel the lines crossing my breasts, angry red marks left by the keera stick; they tingle and ache, a reminder that today’s fun came with a cost. It’s nice to know how tough I can be, standing up to his punishment, but I think I’d rather skip that part. Considering that it made Forta happy, I doubt this will be the last time I have to tolerate it, so I’m glad I can. I’m going to spend a whole month with this alien, and I imagine he’s better company when he’s happy than when not.

  When he finally returns, I’ve calmed to a state of agitated anticipation. I’ve wondered how to best greet him: should I openly express my honest frustration at being left like this, or my also honest eagerness that he’s back? Is he going to want to punish my petulance, or reward my obedience? And should I be concerned that I’m actively puzzling out how to best serve him, even if it ultimately means serving myself? Shouldn’t I be plotting my escape from this lunatic’s clutches? It’s astounding what can become normal—or at least not terrifying—in a short time.

  In the end, I don’t have to worry—when Forta steps in, the first thing he sees is my pussy as wet as when he departed.

  “You waited,” he says, with a raspy sound I imagine is his way of snickering.

  Like I had a choice.

  He steps over and removes the chrome gag covering my lips.

  “Thank you, Master,” I reply, glad to be free of the device, although I had even forgotten it was there.

  “Enjoy yourself while I was gone?”

  Is that a trick question?

  “I wish you’d come back sooner, Master.”

  He laughs, patting my backside. “Good answer.”

  I can’t see what he does next, but I do hear the rustle of clothing and feel the shifting of the bed. Lowering my head, I smile to myself, relieved.

  “I have something for you,” Forta says. I’m about to ask what it is when I feel a warm finger probe into my needy pussy.

  Moaning, I tremble in place as his digit thrusts in and out, stoking my need more than feeding it. I blush, realizing how badly I want his cock.

  He reaches underneath my chest and cups my breast in his hand. Massaging it stokes the aches from the caning, making me yelp. Still, I find myself swaying my hips, hoping to entice Forta into giving me more.

  His answer—I should have guessed—is to withdraw his finger and slap my ass.

  “Ow!”

  “Tell me why I did that,” he says, rubbing the spot he spanked.

  “I was greedy, Master,” I answer, trying not to sound too dejected.

  “Correct.” He swats my behind again, this time on the other cheek, but at least he resumes fingering my pussy. “It’s good you want more, but learn to be patient.”

  “Yes, Master.”

  He keeps working his finger at a torturously slow pace, but gradually he gets faster. I manage to stay more still, but I can’t fully contain my instinct to grind. Every time I stop myself I do so by clenching down on his finger; this makes Forta hum in amusement.

  “Don’t break it, pet.”

  “I’ll try... not to... Master,” I mumble.

  Despite his use of just one finger, my heart races and sweat beads on my forehead. Occasional slaps keep me hissing and sighing, overloaded with arousal. I’m close to screaming and sobbing in desperation when Forta finally climbs in close and presses his enormous, throbbing manhood to my swollen folds.

  “When we made our deal, I had no idea how much you craved big, alien cock,” he says, whispering in my ear as he slides deep into my pussy. I’m so soaked, he fits in without difficulty, though his size still makes me gasp.

  “Me neither... Master. Can I... can I come... please?”

  “Yes, pet, you can.”

  Forta’s laugh turns to a grunt of pleasure as my lips grip down hard on his shaft. Thankfully, he’s done playing around; he begins to pump hard and fast as soon as he’s inside. Wrapping his arms around my chest and fondling my breasts, he pulls me into his body with each drive. Taking me with a roughness utterly new to me, I howl as bliss splinters my mind into a million pieces. I lose myself in his unstoppable motion, sobbing euphorically as he fills me again and again.

  When he’s done, he releases my telerings, allowing me to sink into his firm bed. Covered in sweat and lost in a fog of delight, I’m barely cognizant of him lying down beside me and spooning me. In seconds I drift off, slipping to sleep happier than I have any business being.

  * * *

  When I wake, my movement causes Forta to stir. Grinning, he takes me to his ship’s cleaning station so we can shower together. Getting in, I ask him about the telerings—I trust him not to let me get electrocuted, but what if they get damaged? Can they rust? I don’t know.

  “Don’t worry, they’re fine,” he mutters, pulling me into the stream.

  “But can’t I take them off for now?”
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br />   “You’re mine, Melody. I will restrain you however, whenever I please. You’ll wear those until our deal is done.”

  Right. The deal. “Yes, Master.”

  Being reminded of our arrangement’s temporary nature bothers me for some reason, but I shake it off. His words echo in my thoughts: You’re mine, Melody. It’s a good thing we’re in the shower, or I’d be sweating again already. Being owned... it’s hotter than I ever could have imagined. But can I really just accept that he has complete control of my body at all times? There’s something seriously wrong with that.

  “Come,” he says when we’re finished cleaning. “Let’s eat.”

  He takes me to the ship’s small galley, where a series of warm dishes are already waiting. I can’t identify the aroma drawing me in, but it gets my stomach rumbling. Bowls of light-colored soup, plates of roasted meats, glasses of green juice—it looks like breakfast, though not one ever seen on Earth.

  “This smells good, Master, but... do you have any human food?”

  He grunts. “Eat this, it’s good.”

  “It’s safe for me?”

  He grunts again, clearly with derision. “Safer and better than anything on Earth.”

  If you say so.

  I pick out a strip of the meat and bite into it carefully—it’s not too hot, and fully tender. The flavor hits me like a wave—salty and exotic, heavily spiced but tempered with a little bit of sweet. “Holy shit.”

  Forta laughs. “Good, huh?”

  “Amazing,” I reply before taking another bite. I want to chow down—I’m starving and the dish is sublime—but I force myself to mind my manners.

  “Food on Earth is garbage,” he says, lifting a bowl and drinking some of the soup—or is that milk? I can’t tell. “I have real food delivered, or I’d starve.”

  “There’s plenty of good food on Earth,” I argue. “We have entire TV channels dedicated to cooking.”

  He shrugs. “You’re eating wild ohastrix. Tell me it’s not the best thing you’ve ever tasted.”