“Yes, My King, but I’m not accustomed to lions explaining themselves ahead of time.”
“I told you, I’m holding onto my humanity. I don’t always explain beforehand, but I know you’re in a position to understand.” He nodded towards my stocks. “Put your neck and wrists in.”
I tried to stand, tried to do as he said, but my lioness wanted me to fight. I fought her, and stayed still, forcing my eyes down so I wasn’t looking him in the face. “I don’t think I can, Your Highness. I can control her enough to keep from fighting you, but not enough to put myself in the stocks. Can you help me, please, My King?”
He released some of his power, so I could barely breathe again, and I stood and turned towards the stocks. Walking felt like wading through pudding, his power filled the room so, but it suppressed my lioness enough I could walk to the stocks and settle my neck and wrists into the slots.
Is there anything more humbling than being locked into equipment you made with your own two hands? I’d never intended to be the recipient here — they were built to hold my underlings, members of my pride who needed to be reminded of their place. Never me.
The Amakhosi locked the top piece down and I knew there was no way I’d get out. I’d built it to hold lions, not just lionesses. I wasn’t going anywhere.
A full-wall mirror was mounted in front of me, but I’d installed curtains in front of it, so I could choose whether my victim could see herself — and me behind her — or not. The curtain was closed now, thank goodness. I didn’t want to see myself like this.
Iron rings are securely chained to the floor, placed so the victim’s legs are held apart, for when I want to fuck them without being kicked.
He didn’t bother securing my ankles, and I had my feet together, trying to be as invulnerable as possible, which was a joke. He could do whatever he wanted to me, whether I was restrained or not. All he had to do was unleash his power and I’d spread my legs as far as he ordered.
He started with his belt. He didn’t double it over, but used it as a strap, laying a line of fire across both of my ass cheeks. I screamed and tried to run in place after the first burning strike, and he gave me a few seconds for the pain to fully register before swinging again.
After the first couple of dozen strikes, there was no time in between — he rained them down on my ass, thighs, and back, paying no mind to my screams and pleas.
I don’t know how long he beat me. Maybe fifteen or twenty minutes, if I had to guess, but when you’re in that kind of a panic, feeling more pain than you’ve ever felt in your life, time does screwy things.
When he finally stopped, he opened the curtains over the mirror, looped them over the side hooks so they stayed, and ordered, “Look at yourself, Jessica.”
I did as ordered, and didn’t recognize the red eyes and splotched face of the woman in the mirror.
His voice was once again soft, gentle.
Deadly.
“Ask me for ten more.”
I looked at him, our gazes met in the mirror, and I begged, “Please don’t make me, My King!”
“Are you going to disobey an order?”
Such a casual tone of voice, as if he were asking if I was going to stop at the store on my way home.
I shook my head and forced the words out through my tears. “Please, My King, may I have ten more?”
I could run for miles without being out of breath, and yet I couldn’t breathe fast enough, now, and my lungs burned while every cell of my body screamed for oxygen.
“Since you asked so nice, we’ll make it six instead of ten. You’ll thank me for every stroke, count it, and ask for the next.”
The first strike made my knees fold, and if I’d been human I’d have likely hurt my neck when I collapsed.
I managed to get my legs under me, and gasped, “Thank you for the first strike, Your Highness. May I please have the second?”
I remained standing for the next strikes, and after the fourth, he rubbed his hand over my ass, soothing it.
“I’ll give the final two at once. When I let you down afterwards, crawl to my feet and kiss them, and I’ll take care of you. If you need more from me, go to your knees and wait. I won’t be mad or upset. Whatever you decide, I’ll deal with.”
I knew he was asking me if I was broken, truly broken, and I realized I wasn’t. I also understood I didn’t need to be — I’d submit to him as long as necessary. He was my King, and I was his lioness.
I dropped to my knees when he released me, followed him the ten feet he walked across the room, and kissed the tops of both of his bare feet. I didn’t know when he’d taken his shoes and shirt off, but he now only wore the faded, worn jeans, molded to his body so I could easily see the outline of a very large cock.
He dropped the belt to the floor beside me, and I leaned sideways to kiss it, as well. I knew what I expected in his position, and I gave it to him.
I’d never wanted to be owned or dominated. I’d put up with it when I was younger and had no choice, but once I’d moved to the middle of nowhere, away from any lions, and then other lionesses had followed me here? I’d become my own person, never to kneel before another lion again.
I still didn’t want to be dominated, but I needed to kneel before the Amakhosi even more than I needed to breathe.
He bent down, lifted me in his arms, careful not to hurt me worse than I already hurt, cradled me to his chest, and climbed the steps.
This wasn’t the lion and lioness, this was the man and woman.
He carried me to my bed, settled me on it, and worked the button and zipper on his pants.
Lions don’t exactly do it doggy-style. Our legs and arms are folded under us, so we’re flatter against the floor, or — in this case — bed. He’d put me down on my side, and ran his hands down my arms, soothing me before he stood and finished undressing.
I pushed with my arms, situating my body with my ass to him, my legs and arms curled under me. My ass and thighs were hot and swollen from the belting, and my heated skin stretched to accommodate the position. The beating followed by his gentle touch had worked, though. I wanted him — my cunt was empty and needed to be filled.
Some of the women of my pride had protested, at first, when I’d used the C word. I’ve always figured I’m the pussy, so I should use a different word, and cunt worked for me.
The Amakhosi’s hand stroked my hip. The belt had wrapped around my body more than a few times, and I felt bruising under his fingers, but it only made me want him more.
“What do you want, Jessica?”
He wasn’t ordering me to request it. This wasn’t like him making me ask for the belt. He wanted my consent. He’d said he didn’t want to have to rape me.
I took another shuddering breath and told him the truth. “I need to be filled, My King. I need you to take me, own me. Please finish what you started, Master.”
“Arch your back for me, Jessica.” He stroked me again, soft fingers over bruises and welts. I wouldn’t heal until he let me change, but I couldn’t worry about that now.
I arched my back, pushing my empty cunt up, begging for his cock with my body, and I groaned as he settled the head just inside.
He was still standing beside the bed, which was the right height for me to fuck people like this, but he didn’t seem to be having a problem. All thoughts of logistics went out of my head, though, as he leaned over my body, kissed the back of my neck, and entered me.
He groaned and practically growled, “Yes, Jessica. You’re my lioness, my property, and now that I own you, I’ll own your pride.”
He slid in slow, while he talked, and I shuddered as he bit the back of my neck. It was as if my life were complete, his cock in my cunt and his teeth at the base of my skull, tugging the skin.
He slid out and back in, and I groaned as he filled me so completely, stretching me with just the right amount of pain. I reached my hand down to play with my clit, but he stood and slapped the side of my ass, hard.
“You’ll ask permission before pleasuring yourself while I use you, Jessica.”
My hand moved back up and I begged, “Please, Master, may I play with my clit?”
The words came out easily. If you’d told me yesterday those words would’ve ever left my mouth, I’d have laughed at you. Or punched you in the face, depending on my mood.
“Not yet, my little bitch.”
He moved faster, and my body was pushed forwards and pulled backwards with every thrust. As I was approaching an orgasm even with nothing pressing my clit, the spines on his cock came out, and I fought and twisted, trying to get away, but he held me down as he pounded me now, slicing and cutting me inside with every thrust, his hands bruising me where they held me, preventing my escape. The spines and barbs on his cock were more intense than any I’d ever felt before, and somehow, I knew this was part of the punishment, yet another way to tear me down and make me his.
My screams were once again frantic, full of pain, and I heard myself begging for respite, though I knew it wouldn’t be given.
And yet, when he ordered me to play with myself, I came around his barbed cock, my spasms causing even more pain, but the orgasm kept going until I couldn’t tell the difference between the pain and the pleasure — I could only scream about it as tears streaked down my face once again, and my climax threatened to break me in ways the belting never could’ve.
I hadn’t been fully broken when I kissed his feet downstairs. Now I was, and the tears came faster as the realization hit me.
I don’t know if he knew why I was crying. It’s possible he thought it was pain from the spines on his cock, though I have a feeling not much gets by him, and he knew exactly when he finally broke me, completely.
Normally, when the pressure builds enough for a lion’s spines to come out, he only has another one to three dozen thrusts before he gets off, and it’s over.
The rules are different for the Amakhosi, though, as he’d explained earlier. He’s in total control of everything, and his punishing barbed spines were out as he fucked me through four painful orgasms before he finally came, his ejaculate burning and scalding my raw vaginal walls, creating even more fire inside, and my vocal cords shifted just long enough for me to roar through my final orgasm.
His roar was louder, and I cowered on the bed before him, but he leaned down, kissed my cheek, and then situated me comfortably on my side before spooning behind me. I could smell my blood, and a lot of it, but he wouldn’t let me sit up and look.
“If the sheets and blanket have sentimental value, let me know and I’ll go throw them in the washing machine. Otherwise, I’ll buy you new and we’ll just throw these away.”
I shook my head. “Not sentimental about my sheets. The blanket’s expensive though, so it’s up to you.”
He chuckled. “If it costs less than a thousand dollars, I’m not getting up.”
“But, you would’ve if it meant something to me?”
He kissed my cheek, in answer. “Sleep while you can. I’ll want you again in an hour. Maybe less.”
Chapter Four
Lionesses can take a lot of damage, and as the night progressed, he showed me just how much I could take.
When my alarm went off the next morning, I groaned as I shut it off and sat on the side of the bed.
“You are going to allow me to work today, aren’t you, Master? If this crew tried to work without supervision, they’d cost me more money than they’d make me. Possibly a lot more.”
“You’ve barely had three hours of sleep, and not all at once, I beat you black and blue, and your pussy’s in tatters, Jessica. You can’t possibly be considering going to work.”
“Promised the homeowner we’d be finished by next weekend, Master. I like to keep my promises.”
He sighed, sat up, and looked at me a full minute — with my eyes aimed down, showing respect. Finally, he said, “I watched you work from a distance the last half of the day, yesterday. I’m capable of overseeing them. Go in with me, introduce me as Nathan, no last name, and tell them you’re under the weather and you’ve brought me in to run things. If you wear pants and a short sleeve shirt, all the bruises will be covered. Take your laptop, and you can supervise your guys installing the new kitchen cabinets while you get some of the office work done you’d intended to do last night. I’ll take over upstairs and oversee the bathroom renovation.”
He was hundreds and hundreds of years old, and I’d have to trust he’d worked construction at some point, and would know enough to keep from fucking things up. It was a good plan, and I wasn’t in a position to argue, anyway.
Chapter Five
Sometime after midnight that night, after he’d used my own bullwhip on me, and then once again fucked me into oblivion with the spines on his cock out the entire time, he took me outside and allowed me to change.
We ran in the woods together for hours, and he fucked me in lion form more times than I can count, but it was the most beautiful, marvelous, fantabulous experience, and I never wanted it to end. We wrestled, and swatted each other, but it was playful, fun, and my lioness had no issues with showing respect and submitting when his body language demanded it.
I was tired the next morning, but no longer bruised or raw, and he sent me off to work without him.
Amy, my girlfriend, was due home around seven in the evening, and I worried more than a little about how that would go. I loved her, loved our life together, but I couldn’t fret about the future yet because in the short term I worried about him hurting her. If he broke her as he’d broken me, she might stay broken.
I stopped at the grocery store on the way home and bought a dozen huge buffalo steaks, along with a ten pound bag of potatoes. Shapeshifters can put away a lot of food, and I was feeling the need to feed the Amakhosi.
I felt three members of my pride when I pulled into my driveway, and realized he’d blocked me from feeling what he’d been doing to them while I was at work.
These were the three who’d been the most involved in the zoo fiasco, and I’d expected him to make his own point with them, but I still worried.
He came out my front door as I parked, and when I got out he motioned for me to get back in the car. He slid into the passenger seat, closed his door, and said, “Turn the radio on. I want to be certain they can’t hear us.”
When it was on, he said, “You’ll walk in with me, side-by-side. Not my equal, but my partner when it comes to leading the pride. You’ll show me respect without going to your knees. You’ll call me whatever feels right in the moment – Sir, Master, My King, Your Majesty, or Your Highness. I don’t want to undermine your position with them, but you have to know if you make me feel the need to assert my dominance with you, I will, and it’ll be brutal.”
“I understand, Your Majesty.”
“Let me be clear of my intentions. This isn’t romance, I’m not in love with you. You’re mine because I’m the Amakhosi, and as the one in charge, I’m going to fix it so you don’t have to keep killing lions who think they’ve found a pride they can take over. I’ll claim your pride as mine, and put the word out anyone who tries to claim it is challenging me for ownership. Should any of you want to bring a lion in, you’ll need to let me know so I can do it the right way, and I’m not forced to kill him in a fight for dominance.”
“Thank you, My King. It’s more than I would’ve dared ask for.”
“Oh, I’m not going to claim you and leave you alone. I’ll be here at least two or three times a year, and you’ll step down and let me lead our pride while I’m here. You and I both know if my scent signature isn’t reinforced, this arrangement won’t work.”
“Yes, Sir. I know.”
He smiled, and it lit his whole face. I wasn’t in love with him, either, but I’d have done anything to keep him happy.
“I smell buffalo.”
“Yes, Sir. I bought a dozen huge steaks. I usually eat two or three, so I figured you’d want more.”
“You can cook them for
me, and we’ll eat while your three naughty girls are locked up downstairs. I’ve had the day with them, and you might consider allowing the zoo ringleader to change, tonight, but I’ll once again leave that call up to you.”
“Why are you being so nice, Sir?”
He stroked my cheek, and instead of answering, told me, “I’ve invited the rest of the pride to begin arriving at ten tonight, which should give us time with Amy before we bring in the final four.”
I looked him in the eyes, searching for his intentions before I dropped my gaze and said, “Amy is… she’s…” I couldn’t tell him what to do — I needed to appeal to this new, nice guy, and not risk bringing the Amakhosi I’d first met, back. “My King, Amy’s naturally submissive. What’s mine is yours, and I wouldn’t dare try to make demands, but I plead with you to treat her as her own person, and not just as my property.”
“She’s naturally submissive, and yet she chose to join an all-female pride?”
“She’s lesbian, Your Majesty. It isn’t about turning her back on tradition, it’s because she isn’t attracted to men.”
And she’d been in a horrible pride, growing up. She’d first been raped sometime in elementary school, though she wasn’t sure exactly how old. Lions may not consider it rape, but when it’s a child I don’t think there’s another way to term it, even for those of us who’re half animal.
He sighed, bent until his forehead touched mine, and cradled my cheek in his palm. “Our pride, Jessica. I’m in charge when I’m here, but I don’t intend to tear it apart and then leave you to put the pieces back together.”
* * * *
When we finished eating, I followed him downstairs.
Two of my pride were in the cage, asleep, and the other was in the stocks, her feet in the iron rings, and he’d bullwhipped her so much, if she were human she’d need hundreds of stitches.
Pride Page 2