by Trent Evans
He dug his fingers into her well-slapped cheeks, forcing her jaws apart as she practically snarled at him. He paused to smack the backs of each of her thighs again, much harder this time, and she threw her head back, a harsh, hurt cry erupting from her lips. It was all he needed.
Forcing the firm, jet sphere between her white teeth, he buckled it snugly at her nape. She screeched in rage against the stricture, but the gag reduced it to a feeble “hnnn mmnnnn!”
“You’ll wear this until I’m satisfied you understand what no talking really means. I rather like the look on you, actually.” He patted her cheek, to her muffled snarls.
Taking hold of her hair at the back of her head, he pulled her swiftly over his thighs, pinning her against his legs with a heavy arm over her back, driving the breath from her with a surprised exhalation through her nose. He could feel her muscles, taut and vibrating like live wires against him, and he savored the sensation. He found he liked her fear almost as much as he liked her fire.
Clapping his other arm down across the back of her legs, he barked at her. “Keep your legs still. I’ll whip your thighs for you too, if you can’t keep from kicking.”
He allowed himself a small smile as she stilled, her legs extending straight down, her toes well clear of the floor. “Stay like that, human. I won’t tell you again.” He gave her a harsh shake by her hair. “Understand?”
Rose nodded quickly, even as she still subtly twisted across his lap.
“Be still. Stop it.” He laid his open palm against the flaming skin of her thigh.
She froze.
“Good.”
Rather than begin in earnest, he took his time, indulging himself in perusing her naked form. Her buttocks were well-formed, broad soft ovals, the flesh a striking milky white. Her waist was pleasingly narrow, the hips widening in a most attractive sweep. He ran his hand along the pleasing curves. Though she was well-built, there was still a distinct look of deprivation about her flesh, as if she were more slender than she was meant to be, a note of leanness to her that felt out of place. He wondered if she hadn’t been eating enough back on Terra.
Those days — along with her freedom — were over. He would ensure she was well-fed, and with luck, those curves would soon become even more pronounced as she filled out — the way he thought her soft, feminine form was meant to be.
The cleft of her bottom was deep and inviting, and he eased her lush thighs apart a little, until the bright hair between them was quite visible. Her hamstrings tightened, but she didn’t resist more than that. He gently touched the close-seamed labia, the soft, generous lips only now beginning to spread open. He pushed her thighs further apart, fully exposing the secret cleft. Her scent was spicy and strong, an alluring, animal combination of sweat and the smell of her sex.
As he yawned her buttocks open, her head drooped with a defeated whimper. Her dusky anus was a tight, inviting whorl, and he traced it with a fingertip, round and round, until the opening tightened still further in fright.
Oh, how he had plans for this part of his pet. Another dark surrender he would force her to confront soon enough.
He looked forward to it with a surprising eagerness.
Stroking a palm up and down her back, he made a gentle, faux-comforting sound, luxuriating in the softness of her skin, the way her muscles quivered at his touch.
“Pretty. Very pretty, as humans go,” he murmured, as much for her as himself. It would infuriate and humiliate her, and that knowledge made his cock, currently pinned against her hip, even harder. He knew she could feel it, her hips easing away from his insistent erection each time she jostled over his lap. He merely pulled her closer though each time.
“When you’re punished, you’re never to clench your bottom. You are to keep your muscles loose. If you tighten up, the punishment will start over again. You can’t learn your lesson when you fight me. Do you understand? I won’t ask again.”
Her head nodded quickly, though there was still a rebellious tension in her nude form. He would allow it — for now. But in time, she would learn even the smallest rebellion would cost her dearly.
As he spread his palm over the soft curve of one bottom cheek, she stilled, the tension in the air palpable as both of them waited to see what would come next, both of them knowing the import of the moment. The entire course of her new life as his plaything might very well hinge upon the next few minutes.
Raising his hand, he held it there for a heartbeat, drawing out her dread — and his anticipation — a moment longer. Then he smacked it down, his hand big enough to cover an entire cheek. He’d never actually spanked someone before, but he’d seen plenty of it in the human slave-based erotic holos of his furtive academy days.
The real thing was even better than he’d hoped. Her entire body jerked at that first blow, but surprisingly, she made only a tiny grunt. He slapped her bottom again, across the same cheek, much harder, and this time she cried out, her entire body tensing over his lap. Still she stayed silent, and part of him was impressed with her fortitude. Stroking the already livid red marks, a crazed impression of a handprint smudged across her burning flesh, he knew she must have already been in significant pain.
She would be in even more before he got done with teaching her what happened when she rebelled against his wishes.
“Very soft now. Do not clench them.”
Her whimper was dangerously close to a snarl, the gag muffling enough that he decided not to comment on it.
Concentrating on ensuring her entire bottom was well-marked with handprints, he methodically slapped one side then the other, alternating cheeks in a slow, harsh, rhythm of anguish across her soft, shuddering buttocks. He eased each cheek up, whistling in a hard smack into the tender undersides, then spanking each thigh several times, leaving the snowy flesh blushing, finger-shaped swellings growing here and there.
Back to the center of her bottom, he gave her great, heavy spanks that shook her whole body, her head arching back, her pleas and curses entirely foiled by the stricture between her teeth. Her fingers, helpless below the implacable grip of the cuffs, twisted and squeezed at the small of her back.
“Next time you think you want to test me, to see what you can get away with”—he smacked the fattest part of each cheek in turn, sending them bounding to the tune of her anguished squeals—“you’ll remember how sore your bottom is right now. Every time, little human. Every time you disobey, you can look forward to this. Decide now if this is how you want your training to go.”
Her legs began to kick desperately as he laid a row of loud, searing slaps down the backs of her thighs, leaving them, if anything, even redder than the broad, jiggling moons of her bottom. He returned to her backside, though, taking his time to lay down the hardest strokes yet, grasping and squeezing each cheek after the spank, loving the way her groans changed pitch as he kneaded her punished flesh, only to smack it again ruthlessly.
Her tears finally burst forth, her back shaking and tensing as she wept, and he smiled, stroking her hair, searching her buttocks for any patch of flesh that wasn’t the proper shade of scarlet, and then smacking it too until it was.
Finally, he was done, and he let her writhe and blubber, draped over his legs. He drew her heavy, sweaty hair back from her eyes, a lock of it sticking to the tears flooding her face. She was impossibly lovely as she cried, his cock throbbing deeply at the sight.
Then he saw it, and for a moment, he froze, unable to believe his eyes.
A definite gleaming of moisture at her inner thighs, the labia swollen. It was something one would never expect in a human after being so sternly dealt with. He wondered if she even realized it herself.
There had been stories, of course, of human slaves who reacted in such ways, in displaying an unmistakable physical response to their subjugation. But at the time he’d always dismissed it as adolescent fantasy, a pleasant mental aperitif to the lurid erotic holos passed among the members of the academy.
For the first time sin
ce he’d taken this fascinating creature, she’d presented something he had no answers to.
Don’t question. Go with it. Just like you always have.
Putting it out of his mind as best he could, he plucked her up, lowering her feet to the floor, helping her to stand on wobbly legs.
Her pitiful tears continued as she stood there, arms bound behind her, head hung low, her long, red hair a wild veil about her face, her round breasts moving gently as she hitched with the occasional sob. He started the bath, her quiet sniffling accompanying the sounds of the warm water filling the basin of the tub.
He merely stood and watched her in silence, needing this moment to sink in, to drive the lesson home in a way that lasted far longer than the livid marks left by his hand upon her pretty cheeks, and her well-punished bottom.
Picking her up, he lowered her slowly into the water. She winced at its first touch against her flesh, her entire body trembling violently, but she soon relaxed, the warm water reaching to mid-thigh before he shut it off.
He sat on the side of the tub, and looked upon her at length, reveling in her helplessness, loving the way the gleaming water reflected random, darting sprays of light against her pale skin.
She refused to look at him as he began washing her, his hands coursing over her flesh. He understood it, of course, her shame at being handled like a toy, a possession. It was a shattering, humbling experience, one made more so by their dramatic differences in size and strength. That she would literally feel like a little plaything only amplified the eroticism of handling her so casually.
Rose’s cheeks blushed bright as he lifted and squeezed her heavy breasts. He took his time drinking in their mouth-watering vulnerability. Gently kneading and caressing those generous globes, his cock was positively aching for her, and he took long minutes indeed fondling them, enjoying the feel of her soft flesh yielding to the grip and clench of his hands. He finished each deep squeeze of her breasts with a gentle tweak and pull of the now bright pink nipples, and by the time he moved on, what began as plaintive grunts had evolved into soft moans, her eyes half-closed.
Next, he made her spread her legs as he washed between them, her nostrils flaring wide, her breath coming faster as he took his time ensuring her sex was clean indeed. He was thorough with her, working her clit well, until it stood up hard and prominent, her labia swelling in a way he hadn’t expected.
The mix of shame and confusion in her wide eyes was deeply arousing to him.
A flash of rebellion flared in her eyes when he ordered her to turn her bottom to him, but she had the sense to understand the painful results of failing to do as she was told. Despite that little defiance, she was remarkably obedient after her spanking, a languid pliancy to her body now that he quite liked. He aimed to make her want to behave this way at all times— even if it hadn’t been compelled by a punishment.
In time, he felt sure he could take her there, and what a sweet destination it promised to be.
She hissed against her gag when he soaped and rinsed the livid pink and red welts upon the backs of her thighs. Then she sighed gently as the water coursed down that plump, broad bottom, the cheeks twitching now and then, drawing tight as he worked the soap over the lower curves, her welted, deep red buttocks tightening and relaxing seemingly at random, the soap no doubt galling the swollen marks, soothed a moment later by the rinsing of the warm water.
He finished up by making her kneel in the bath, her big breasts floating fetchingly in the sloshing water as he washed her hair. He took a long while with the russet locks, loving the feel of it in his hands, and when he was done, there was no doubt the sounds emanating from behind her gag were pleased moans.
Lifting her from the tub, he set her on pruned, pink feet, standing between his thighs. Drying her off, his mind drifted to what would come next, all the delights, trials, and dark discoveries his black heart couldn’t wait to force her to embrace.
For her, this first punishment would be a transformative experience — as it was intended to be. Rose needed to understand — and quickly — that helplessness was her new lot in life. She was no longer in control of anything, even down to the most personal, private of things.
It would take time for her to understand what that really meant.
* * *
He’d left her curled up, like an animal, on a massive cushioned shelf. She thought it might have been a couch, but she wasn’t entirely sure. Everything in the building was so huge, the dimensions seemed off, even crazy. Perhaps this was how Alice felt in Wonderland?
There was nothing wondrous about this land though. There was only subjugation here — and pain.
Oh God, the pain.
She hadn’t been spanked since she was very little, and even then they were nothing but a couple taps, more to make a point, the punishment not actually painful — though plenty humiliating.
What he’d just given her a few minutes ago was something else entirely.
Her buttocks still ached, but her thighs, stinging and warm to the touch, were much worse. The pain there was something she didn’t know how to cope with, and she vowed she’d do just about anything to avoid enduring another round across her thighs.
The sounds drifting in from another room were vague. Was it a kitchen? Metallic clangs, the sound of something gently buzzing.
A faint smell had her lifting her head, the olfactory sense somehow more acute now that she had her humiliating gag firmly stoppering her mouth. The gag tasted something like leather, but she had no real idea if they even possessed such a thing here. Did they have cows on this planet? Or was it some sort of freakish alien version of a bovine?
Considering the technology she’d witnessed on that ship, she had little doubt these beings had long since moved beyond the need to fashion anything from a material as primitive as leather.
“Daat alk lemial.”
She whipped her head around, the words sounding like a cross between something vaguely Eastern European and… Klingon.
Kosha stood there with a plate in one hand, a thin length of supple material that looked to be very similar to the leather she’d just been idly musing about, hanging from a clenched fist.
Oh shit.
She remembered a couple of assholes who’d spent almost a week at the club, hitting on anything that moved, throwing around insane amounts of money. They spoke something like what she’d just heard. Their cologne had been almost as bad as their attitude toward women. She’d assumed they were Russian playboys, but they could have been from anywhere.
“Demeen za nok.” His eyes fixed on her and she shook her head.
He pointed at the floor, the leather swinging.
“Demeen za nok.”
What the hell was going on?
Then it hit her. He must have been using some sort of… translation machine. A tiny black device, which didn’t look to be much larger than a Matchbox car had been clipped to the collar of both his jumpsuit and the uniform he’d been wearing when he’d beaten her ass and bathed her.
She shivered at the memory — and tried very hard to ignore the tiny bloom of heat making itself known between her legs.
There’s no way. You… you’re not going there, Rose.
Her body appeared to have other ideas.
As she watched him, she looked for it. He’d changed into a sort of full body robe/suit thing, a dazzling, shifting silvery color that looked like it was alive with some sort of electricity. It had a high collar, a broad square cut-out at the front exposing the hollow at the base of his throat, the massive tendons of his neck standing stark below the thrust of a granite jaw.
That little device was nowhere to be seen.
Why had he gotten rid of it?
Kosha set the plate down on the floor in front of the couch, then stood over her, jabbing the leather — she decided it was a whip, much to her chagrin — at the tile.
“Nok!” He stepped closer, wrapping a hand about her upper arm.
I don’t know what you�
�re saying!
She chewed at the gag, her helplessness almost as galling as the burning buttocks his little punishment had left her with.
He tightened his grasp and she reflexively tried to scramble away.
Don’t be stupid! He’ll spank you again!
But she did not like the look of that whip.
Dragging her off the couch, he held her up by one arm, her shoulder protesting as she tried to find the floor with her feet, her legs swinging wildly.
With a grunt, he dropped her onto the tile, the leather draping over one of her shoulders like a deadly, slithering viper as he adjusted her position. Satisfied he had her where he wanted her, he stood back, his hands on his hips.
“Nok.”
He wanted her on the floor!
The joy she experienced at that tiny moment of understanding was pure, a frustrated relief filling her. But just as quickly, it was replaced with shame at what he was saying.
Why did he want her on the floor?
Pets don’t complain about being on the floor, do they?
She looked up at him at the thought, her face suddenly burning hot. He grinned at her, his fingertips caressing her blushing face.
He crouched down before her, his knees well apart, elbows across his thighs. One fist clasped the whip loosely. He pointed at the plate, nodding toward it.
It was a steaming mound of unrecognizable food. The smell wasn’t bad, but it looked like little more than gruel.
She scrunched her nose, shaking her head, even as her stomach began to growl.
“Kotla.”
She refused it again, meeting his gaze and slowly shaking her head to ensure he understood.
“Kotla.”
He was on her before she even had a chance to finish her third refusal, taking her by the hair. He drew very close, searching her with his eyes. Then he moved behind her and forced her down, threatening to make her topple over with her hands still bound behind her.