A Baby for Pra'kir (Captives of Pra'kir Book 6)

by Megan Michaels

  He fed her more of his semen until her face was fairly clean. “Tilt your head back, baby.” He gently washed her face until it was clean, kissing her lightly on the nose. With a wave, he turned on the showerhead behind him, washing up while his obedient pet knelt watching, her arms crossed behind her back, leaving her breasts jutting forward.

  Life was good…better than expected.

  He needed to get them out of there and get dressed. His already hardened cock bobbed before him, and his mischievous little girl couldn’t take her eyes off of it.

  “We’ve no time for that. Come, let’s go see our baby.”

  She hurriedly leaped to her feet, scaring him half to death. His arm shot out to grab her just in case. “I’m fine. I’m not going to fall.”

  “I’m cautious.” He walked her to the counter, bending her over. “We’re putting your tail in as a reminder. It should help you behave.”

  “Ohhhhhh,” she whined quietly. Learning to keep her complaints to a minimum and only murmur them quietly had come with many, many disciplinary sessions. His girl like nothing more than voicing her displeasure and trying to sway him with whining or sassiness, but with persistence, she learned to restrain herself. The progress was painfully slow, more for her than for him, but there were many days that his heart ached knowing she felt like the bad girl and wondered if he cared or had concern for her at all.

  It was at those times that he would cuddle with her before the fire, stroking her pale, soft skin, brushing her hair, weaving stories and tales of his childhood and antics, allowing her a glimpse of him and his lifestyle.

  He wasn’t an easy master—and never would be. But she’d learn that obedience and service were rewarded.

  The plug on the long white tail wasn’t big and required no lube, especially since she was wet already from their shower. Her backside was still pink from both the hot water and her spanking, his finger prints clearly visible on the outlier of her inflamed flesh. He spread her cheeks, popping the plug into the tight whorl, the length of the tail brushing against her thighs.

  His penis was fully erect. Damn, it seemed he spent most of his days hard now. Thanks be to the Gods of Na that he was able to wear his uniform, keeping it hidden.

  “We’ll put your collar on too.” He snapped it around her neck, the kitty bell jingling pleasantly. “It’ll keep that sassy tongue in check.”

  He swiveled her in his arms, kissing her soft, plump lips, marveling in their sensuality. “Let me get ready.”

  His girl turned to leave the room, but he jerked her back, tugging on her hair. He kept his hand fisted in the wet curls, and leaning in, he made his voice rumble into her ear. “How does my pet ambulate?”

  She swallowed loudly, her eyes wide, and quietly whispered, “On the floor, Sir. I’m sorry, Sir.”

  “Don’t let it happen again.” Releasing her hair, he watched her gracefully slide to the floor, resting on her hands and knees, her long white tail resting on the back of her knees. “I see I made the correct decision on your tail. If you’re not careful, you’ll be getting spanked and pissing outside today, girl. Mind your manners, or I’ll mind them for you.”

  “Yes, Master.”

  Her breasts jostled when he cracked a heavy slap to her backside before he strode into their bedroom, and without another touch or direction, she kept herself aligned with him, heeling perfectly.

  Who said hard work doesn’t pay off?

  Chapter Three

  Blythe sat on her heels, head down, palms up on her thighs, reticently waiting for her Master to don his uniform for work. Her heart raced with the excitement of seeing her baby girl. She took a deep breath to steady herself, her sphincter flexing around the plug as she jumped; not a lot, just minutely, but enough that Xan may have seen it. She held her breath waiting.

  “Forgot your tail, Pet?” A hint of humor and pompousness were behind his words, and she swore she tasted blood fighting a sarcastic retort back.

  “Yes, Sir.” It was the safest response, and the tail did remind her to keep her lips buttoned. Dropping her gaze to his muscular legs and his cock had her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and sexual arousal. Her pussy clenched, her clit thrumming with anticipation even though she’d given him an orgasm, she had yet found her own release and feared that she might come just from watching his semi-hard penis sway with his movements. Her hips thrust with her spasm.

  Xan didn’t even look her way as he pulled on his pants. “You know to restrain yourself, right, girl?”

  “Y-yes, Sir.”

  His long slender fingers put his dress shoes on, tying them methodically and slowly. His manicured nail beds, along with the bulging veins on the top of his hands, had Blythe yearning, wishing for one—or two—of those digits to slide along her sensitive sex bringing her to orgasm.

  God, how will I make it without tumbling over into my release?

  A melodic tinkling diverted her attention.

  “I found these at a shop here in Endermere. Look.”

  Holding them by the clamps, one in each hand, was a miniature wind chime. Xan jiggled them just enough to keep them chiming beautifully. “Be still.”

  Squatting in front of her, Xan tugged on Blythe’s pebbled nipple, the clamp biting into her flesh, eliciting a gasp from her, unbidden tears filling her eyes. Before she could recover fully from the jaw of the pincers, he affixed the other chime to her breast. The second chime chomping on her delicate nipple had the tears falling in huge droplets down her face and onto her chest.

  “Oh, baby. Here, let me ease back on it a bit.” He fiddled with the mechanism, and it did make the pain abate. His large thumbs brushed the tears from her face, and tilting his head a bit, he gave her a crooked smile.

  And although she wanted to be offended at the addition of a painful device to her body, she couldn’t resist his boyish charm. “It hurts.”

  “As so many things do. But you look amazing.” Reaching out, he grasped her hand, placing it over the crotch of his pants. “Feel that? The anticipation of the chimes, tail, and collar have done this to me. You’re enchanting, Blythe. Don’t disappoint me with any defiance. Daddy has the most beautiful girls…and you’re both mine. Let’s go see our little girl.”

  Cupping the fullness of his cock and balls in her hand, she squeezed gently, smiling mischievously when he inhaled sharply.

  He quickly stood, adjusting himself. “Ready yourself.”

  She moved to her hands and knees, the wind chimes tinkling sweetly. She dropped her head and waited. The clink of leash snapping onto her collar was her cue to lift her head, eyes forward. She groaned inwardly, knowing that the time of her humiliation was just moments away. He’d not miss a chance to remind her of her place—and delight in her shame.

  With every move of her body, the nipple clamps were a reminder of her status.

  His pet. His slave. His woman.

  The humiliation of her walk of shame had her gritting her teeth, but the sexual dominance over her had her cunt seeping, her juices dribbling down the inside of her thigh—for everyone to see. She tried rubbing her inner thighs together, but it made her gait slow and awkward, causing her Master to do an about turn.

  “You’re to keep up, pet. What is the distraction? Answer honestly.” He slipped the loop on the end of the leash from around his wrist, holding it in his hand like a strap, patiently waiting for her answer.

  “Noth—”

  He slapped the leather onto her ass in short, harsh whacks. “Spread.”

  Keening louder than she’d meant to, she did as directed, knowing what was coming.

  The cool, broad pad of his finger swept up her thigh, dipping into the well of her sex, followed by a loud sniff.

  “My, my, bad girl. It seems that you were dripping, and my guess is you were hiding the evidence by rubbing those broad thighs together. Am I correct?” He licked the evidence of her body betraying her.

  Dropping her head in added embarrassment, she murmured, “Yes, Master.”<
br />
  “Who owns this cunt, girl?”

  “You do, Sir.”

  I do, and so one would assume, as one has been told many times, hasn’t she? This cunt and its juices belong to who, pet?

  “They belong to you, Master. I’m sorry.”

  “We’ll take care of this bit of defiance. Sit on your heels and spread your thighs wide.”

  Sitting as directed, her breasts making music with the movement, and the cool air in the long hallway brushed against her damp sex. He once again squatted in front of her, his thighs spread wide also, the outline of his hard cock visible—every ridge begging to be massaged. Her pussy spasmed, and a gush of fluid pooled at the opening of her sex, threatening to spill over. She did her best to squeeze it tight but feared that the act alone pushed it down onto the floor beneath her.

  “With your finger, scoop the overflow of your arousal and feed it to me as a good slave should.”

  She blinked…and blinked again. It wasn’t the first time he’d requested such a lewd and lascivious act, but it never failed to jar her.

  How far have I fallen since being taken into Dr. Breckett’s house? How much depravity can one soul endure?

  It felt like he reveled in her anxiousness at these requests, enjoyed the blush overcoming her, and the aghast look she no doubt had was conveyed on her face every time.

  “Pet, do you need incentive?”

  “N-no, Sir.”

  “Then do it.”

  Plunging into her dark, dripping channel, she scooped out a more than generous finger full and hesitantly slipped it into his open and waiting mouth.

  He closed his eyes, moaning low and deep, the rumble vibrating through her. “So, sweet. Again.”

  “Don’t forget your puffy pussy lips; they’re glistening with it, girl.”

  “Oh God,” she whispered. Could it get much worse? She swiped along her labia, gathering the fluid covering the inner ruffles, immersing her finger back into his waiting mouth, and watching his delight in the taste…and process.

  With two more swipes, she fed him obediently, and when she went for a third brush against her sex, he interrupted her. “That’s enough, pet. Have you learned?”

  “Yes, Master.”

  “I like knowing that you’re dripping for me, that you like what I do to you. Like a good girl, you’ll let it flow knowing that it pleases me to smell you, and then I’ll lick my way up your leg suckling at the pouch of your sex, your arousal coating my tongue and face.”

  He chuckled, pleased with himself. “And there are those pink cheeks I adore. Come along, girl, our baby awaits.”

  She jingled down the long, quiet corridor toward the main foyer and kitchen. And as expected, he walked her through the kitchen, loudly announcing their presence. “My good girl and I will be visiting our baby. We wish for privacy with no interruptions. Say hello to your nanny and Billex, pet.”

  A rush of heat immediately spread over Blythe’s face and chest. But Xan’s training with the leather leash whipping her ass had reinforced that she kept her eyes forward, responding appropriately. “Good morning, Nanny and Billex.”

  “Morning, ma’am,” they responded in unison.

  At the top of the stairs, Xan lightly tugged on Blythe’s collar. “Up.”

  She stood, keeping her eyes downcast until further direction. They’d spent countless hours traipsing up and down this staircase, or even worse, making the trek from upstairs to the lab dozens and dozens of times, stopping only to discipline her for an infraction until her calves and thighs ached from climbing the stairs. But his persistence that she perform the task perfectly had resulted in her obedience without any deviance.

  “Hand on the railing, pet.” He held her arm at the elbow until they reached the basement.

  “Ready.”

  She assumed her previous position, waiting and watching his black dress shoes. Once he’d stepped forward, she heeled as expected, her head held high. The cold hard floor, something resembling a mixture of tile and steel, she would love to know what the material was, shone much more than marble, and at least to her, it felt much colder than tile, more like steel. It was hell on her knees, but as they rounded the corner, all thoughts of the fucking floor fled. The gleaming metal and clear doors with those damnable bright lights meant they were here—the lab. Just inside was Tegan.

  His dark eyes looked down at her, watching closely for any sign of misbehavior or divergence from the stringent routine.

  Focus. Focus, Blythe.

  Xan had stripped away visitation before and after her success today with producing milk. Her hormones raging, she had to see her baby. She had to touch her and know that their little angel was fine. Oh shit! He stopped. If her knees had been tires, they would have screeched to a halt. She swallowed past the lump in her throat but didn’t even look at him out of her periphery, keeping her facial expressions like a stone.

  The door, sensing his presence, opened and Blythe followed Xan in. There she was—Tegan. The large “uterus”—more like a silicone-like substance, soft, pliable, and flexible filled with a substance resembling amniotic fluid. Xan assured her that their planet had gone to great lengths with years and years of research to formulate it perfectly. They’d been incubating embryos for hundreds of years this way on Pra’kir, and the failure rate was almost non-existent at this point.

  He knew that she’d find comfort in the figures, so he’d shown her all their statistical data for the past century and shown her their success rate. It was quite impressive, and it eased her fears immeasurably.

  But Xan knew that character trait of hers. Having only been with Blythe for such a short time, Xan knew her better than most of the male friends and ex-boyfriends she’d had on Earth.

  How? How had this man intuitively known her inner workings this well?

  Blythe, as an anthropologist, had made a living in the study of people, societies, and customs, but she wasn’t sure she could hone in on a person’s weaknesses and strengths as quickly as this alien had with her. It made her wonder if it was part of their makeup—she’d have to study other Pra’kireans to be sure. In her short time with Billex, he didn’t seem to have the skill that Xan did, but maybe it was a type of skill or gift, like with all talents that humans possess that are different from their peers.

  Having never been in a submissive or slave relationship on Earth, she couldn’t help but wonder if the unequal power dynamic made her weaknesses more apparent. During times of anguish or pain, did her fear and insecurities become visible—somehow rising to the surface for all to see, which would explain why Billex wouldn’t read her as easily? Maybe.

  Billex had threatened to punish her, had given her swats to her backside, but had never taken it to a severe discipline session. And she didn’t want to think about allowing that to happen for research purposes. The alien was mammoth, broad shouldered and chested with no obvious neck. His hands were large and meaty; Blythe had no doubt would pack a wallop. But curiosity had begun to grow in her mind as to whether it was the dynamic that made Xan more aware or their DNA.

  “Sit.” Xan’s deep voice rumbled through her. She sat back on her haunches, dropping her head in submission.

  This was the hardest part of their routine. How many times had she been dragged out of here sobbing having failed and suffering from punishment—denied visitation with her baby girl for a minor infraction?

  Obedience above all else.

  That was his mantra. Obedience surpassed all needs, wants, desires, and even creature comforts. If he required that she piss on command, then so be it. If she was to stop what she was doing to suck his balls, she immediately and obediently crawled over and sucked his balls until her jaw ached.

  She was, as he’d put it on her first day, his fuck toy. She was there to meet his needs first and foremost.

  He murmured in his native tongue to their baby. Cooing to her with a lilt in his voice, almost melodic, Blythe knew without looking that Xan was stroking and playing with his little
girl.

  Don’t look up. You’ll ruin it, Blythe. Just obey.

  Chapter Four

  Xan looked down at his good girl. She kept her head down. She knew better than to defy that rule. He’d spanked that plump bottom so many times over that he’d begun to wonder if she’d ever learn. Blythe had come a long way in a short time, and Xan didn’t want her thinking or seeing him as some alien creature with no heart, but he liked obedience. It mattered to him.

  Quiet, immediate submission to his authority.

  He was still working on the quiet part…and in all actuality, he may never fully attain that goal. She seemed unable to curtail it one hundred percent, and part of him liked having a reason to paddle her ass.

  Blythe more than likely thought Xan was cruel making her sit like this, not even allowing her to look at her baby, but he decided long ago that her deferring to him when it came to their baby was important. And there was no better time to establish the chain of command for his household than the present.

  He’d be the leader of their household, and his woman would defer to him even when it came to their baby. He did not doubt that if she objected to anything with regard to Tegan, she’d voice it loud and clear, but she’d find out quickly that he’d take her opinion into consideration, but the final decision would rest with him.

  Forcing his girl to refrain from speaking, looking or even touching her daughter until he gave her permission kept his authority at the forefront of her mind, saving them confusion later after her birth.

  Xan stroked his daughter lightly—her skin was smooth and almost a milky translucent—like thin, see through veemenar used as a protective coating on many products on their planet. Her eyes were open now; they were a pale blue. But her curls, dark hair with soft curls around her head, were a trait from him. His little girl. Her hand was the size of his thumbnail. He worried that she was too small, but Blythe and the data he’d reviewed had said she was right where she should be, even a little bigger than normal more than likely because of her Pra’kirean DNA.