by Trent Evans
Rose watched him the whole time, those luminous blue eyes never leaving him as he moved back and forth across the bathroom. He told her in a soft voice to wash up, to clean herself, knowing that it was probably the last time for a very long while she would be allowed such a luxury.
She didn’t have to know that yet though.
And then he was finished, buckling the last clasp at the base of his throat, and her eyes went wide as he drew close to her. The bath had not yet cooled, steam still rising from it, the sweet, glistening curves of her breasts bobbing gently in the water, those long, bright pink nipples just visible at the surface. He stood over the tub, hands on his hips. He would allow the translator this one time, for she needed to know what was coming, the changes he was about to order for her life.
Every part of her life.
“Up on your knees,” he said, giving his voice a rumbling tone he knew she always responded to. She obeyed so quickly the water sloshed over the side of the tub. Instinctively, she put her hands behind her head, lacing her fingers in all that glorious red hair. The tips of her locks were soaked, the color more a burnt sienna than a red, the fringe — wild and thick — partially covering her eyes. Those gorgeous eyes.
As she knelt up, the water level just kissed the lips of her sex, the curls there at the apex of her thighs matted to her skin. He longed to touch them, but first, she had to know. He sat upon the edge of the basin, then reached out and tweaked each of her nipples. She bit back a moan as he did so, until each tip was inflamed, swollen and throbbing.
Just the way he liked them.
Then he folded his hands in his lap, and met her gaze. “You pleased me yesterday. I want you to know that before I tell you the rest.”
He waited to see if she’d respond, but she stayed silent, the pink blush dusting her face the only outward reaction.
Good girl.
“First, there will be no words from you — ever — until I tell you you’re allowed to speak. The only sounds I wish to hear from you are your cries, or your moans, or your weeping. Anything else, and you will be punished immediately. You will answer only questions that are addressed to you directly. Do you understand? Nod yes or no.”
Her eyes were already welling as she nodded, but she had the sense to keep quiet.
“Things are going to change around here. Your new life is beginning now, and I intend to train you for it. Train you to accept what’s now the new truth, what’s now the new you ― which is my plaything. My property. Your life now consists of one thing — which is pleasing me, and obeying me. No matter what the command.”
She shivered at that, her slender throat working spasmodically.
He continued, smiling now. “You will fight it at first. I expect that. But you won’t win. Soon, your only thought will be what makes me happy, what gives me pleasure — even if that thing is your own debasement, your degradation, your pain. I know you don’t understand any of this right now, and you don’t have to. To be honest, it gives me pleasure that you don’t. For I get to lead you on that discovery, on that path, on that journey myself. And I get to see you learn the truth of what you are … of what I’ve made you.”
He dipped his fingers into the warm water, then painted her stiff nipples with it, pinching them hard at the base, until her eyes closed, her teeth gritting.
Yes, very good indeed.
“Your name is no longer Rose — though I may still call you that from time to time. I’ll likely call you other things, and you will accept that. You will accept it because you have no other choice. Just as in every other part of your life, free will is not longer a burden for you.”
He looked upon her for a moment, searching her beautiful face. She’d gone quite pale, her pretty white teeth nibbling at her lip, but her wide-eyed gaze remained fixed obediently upon him.
Brave girl.
“Before we begin this new journey, this new part of your life here, I’ll allow you a few questions. A warning before you ask them though — you must be polite, you must be respectful. If you fail to be either, you’ll be punished immediately. Truth be told, I hope you fail, for I enjoy punishing you, Rose. That won’t change. In fact, it’s likely to get worse for you in that regard. Just a warning.”
Her mouth dropped open, her breasts now heaving quite fetchingly at her near-panicked breathing.
“Now, human, do you have any questions for me?”
At first, he thought she was too stunned to form speech, the remaining color having fled from her face, leaving only those bright beautiful freckles, those sparkling eyes and those ruby lips of hers — lips he couldn’t wait to feel stretching around his cock.
Oh yes, that was coming too.
When she finally spoke the words, he had to suppress a smile, for as usual, his cunning, brilliant little Rose surprised him with what she chose to say.
“I-I have a question for you,” she said. “Sir.”
He inclined his head slowly. “Go on.”
“Do you really think I’ll... roll over that easy? Do you really think this is over?”
He didn’t reply for a moment. Then he gave her a slow smile. “I wonder, should I find that disrespectful? Defiant? Or rude? It was definitely one of the three — I just haven’t decided which one yet. Regardless, you’ll be punished for your tone, for your attitude. But I’ll entertain the question anyway.”
Her gaze flickered, her mouth twisting with woe.
“The answer, foolish girl, is no. I don’t want you to roll over. I don’t want you to be a mute, victimized, benumbed thing. You’ll be a thing all right, but you’ll be the spirited Rose that caught my attention back on Terra. You’ll be the smart, intelligent, resourceful girl that I found sitting alone in the rain. Oh yes, she’s still there. But she’s about to find out that despite all that resourcefulness, regardless of the keenness of her intellect, here on Yaanfahr, she’s beyond anything she’s ever imagined.”
Her mouth worked slowly, her little pink tongue licking her trembling lip.
“And the only being in the entire galaxy that she can turn to is the one who caused her to be in this position. The one who subjugated her. The one who revels in subjugating her.”
He flashed a predatory, rapacious grin at her that he hoped sent her heart fluttering.
“No, Rose, I’d be disappointed in you if you rolled over.”
Her cheeks blushed crimson at that and she blinked rapidly. But then her lips moved with the subtlest of defiance, and she surprised him yet again. “You may have my b-body, sir, but you don’t have my heart. You’ll never have my heart.”
At that, he stood, giving her a nod of appreciation. “Challenge accepted.”
Without another word, he submerged his fist in her hair, yanking her to her feet as she yelped, surprise in her eyes now. She grasped at his arm, then let her hands drop, knowing such a thing was forbidden.
“That’s my girl,” he murmured. “But that won’t stop you from being punished for that too.”
His cock was already beginning to harden as he anticipated the choices he had before him, the infinite variety of trials and ordeals he had planned for his bewitching human captive.
Oh yes, so many discoveries. So much for her to learn, so much for her to surrender.
She stumbled as he dragged her by her hair unceremoniously across the room to the far wall. Above her were several horizontal metal bars bolted to the stonework.
“Stand facing the wall, Rose,” he ordered. “I want that nose right against it. If those tits aren’t pressed flat to it too, it will be worse for you when it comes time for your spanking.”
He watched her do it, and though she blushed to the roots of her hair, she obeyed him until those gorgeous round breasts billowed out to her sides.
“Put your hands above you upon the wall, girl. High. Higher!”
She obeyed, stretching as far as she could until she was up on tiptoe. He pressed a broad hand against her upper back between her shoulder blades, pushing her agains
t the wall harder, the soft curves of her big breasts paling still more under the increased pressure. A faint gasp slipped from her lips as he did so.
Water dripped from her buttocks, running in tiny rivulets down her legs, a bead of it catching on his thumb. He stepped away, looking at her, at that gorgeous body, the dramatic, mouth-watering curves, the smooth back tapering to that narrow waist above those wide hips, the broad, round buttocks, the slim muscles of her calves bunched fetchingly as she reached as high as she could up that wall.
“You’ll stay that way, girl, until I release you. Do you understand?”
She nodded quickly, her hair still wet, sticking to her back.
“I want you to remain as you are and think about the consequences of rudeness, of disrespect, of defiance. If you lower your feet before I order you to, your punishment will be worse. Now, be a good girl and stay where I’ve put you.”
He sat back upon the edge of the basin, draining the water, watching her, at ease, loving the way her legs began to tremble, the way the water evaporated from her skin to be replaced by beads of sweat, her fear, her frustration rolling off her in waves now. Her buttocks — her sweet, delightful buttocks — began to tremble and quiver.
She whimpered once and he growled at her.
“Quiet, Rose. Stay very still. Obey me.”
He wasn’t sure how many minutes he watched her, but eventually, with a frustrated, exhausted groan from her, her heels lowered ever so slightly.
He cleared his throat. “You remember what I told you? If you lower your heels to the floor, you’re disobeying me. You must wait until I’ve given you leave. You must.”
Then he waited some more.
It was a torture for both of them, actually, for he wanted nothing more than to press her form against the immovable wall, crushing her between it and the hard planes of his body while he felt of all of those pale, soft charms she displayed before him, squeeze those trembling, exhausted muscles, listen to her moans as he took her breasts in his hands, slapped her bottom until it stung, until it glowed red, until the glistening tears coursed down her cheeks.
Oh, he wanted that very much, indeed. But it wasn’t time for that yet.
Finally, he had what he was looking for, what he was waiting for, what he was savoring. With a last sound of defeat, her heels collapsed back to the floor, her forlorn, watery whimper bitten off.
Of course, the exhausted human female understood what she’d done. They both knew what would have to happen next.
He stood, striding over to the cabinet set into the wall next to the basin. Retrieving a broad, stiff strap, he went to her, taking the nape of her neck in his hand, squeezing firmly.
“You disobeyed me, Rose. Unfortunately, that means you’ll be punished. Do you agree you should be punished for disobeying me?”
She stood utterly still as he waited. Tension thickened in the room. Then she shook her head, and he smiled. He touched her bottom with the implement, stroking the dramatic curves of her buttocks.
Her body shivered, her skin breaking out in goosebumps as he did so.
“Are you calling me a liar? That sounds disrespectful.”
She shook her head quickly.
“Speak,” he said, steel in his voice now, holding the stiff strap against her bottom, lifting one of her buttocks upon it. He could feel the twitch of her muscles through the implement of pain.
“I had... no choice,” she said, a strained meekness to the words that only aroused him more.
His cock was at full mast now, increasingly insistent on release.
“Ah yes, you didn’t. But you still disobeyed me, didn’t you? You still lowered your heels before given leave. Do you deny that?”
“But…”
He squeezed her neck harder. “Do you deny that, Rose? Yes or no.”
Her voice now a miserable whimper, she spoke the words.
“No, sir.”
“Now that we’ve agreed that you’ve disobeyed me, do you agree that you should now be punished?”
She trembled under the grip of his hand.
“Answer me.”
“Yes, sir.”
Her voice broke on the last syllable, and as he placed the strap against her flesh once more, taking careful aim at that broad, beautiful bottom, he thought he’d never heard a more lovely sound in his entire life.
* * *
She didn’t know how long she stood there, her teeth gritted, her eyes shut tight, waiting for that first terrible stroke of the strap. Rather than the explosion of pain, hard leather barely tapped her ass. Her eyes flew open.
“Present,” he said softly.
Oh, this was much worse.
Knowing she’d only make things harder for herself if she defied him, she canted her hips, hollowing her back, turning her bottom toward him, the heat blooming in her face as she pictured the degrading, humiliating display she was making of herself.
“More,” he said, his voice thicker, harsher. He slapped her gently with the strap as he said it. And she obeyed, turning her hips toward him like a cat in heat, like an animal — which was exactly what he was making of her.
“Good,” he said.
But that was the last word she could understand. The strap was pulled away, and she only had a millisecond to tense before it crashed against her bottom, lifting both of her buttocks upon its merciless caress. Her flesh bounced and wobbled, then she clenched, the pain clawing in.
He said something in his strange, unintelligible tongue and she canted her hips even more, hoping it would be enough to placate him.
The strap smacked her again, higher up on her bottom, burning like a brand into her flesh. The pain was already incredible.
How many? When will he stop?
She already knew the answer: he would give her just as many as he thought she deserved.
Would he stop when her ass was the color of a fire engine? Would he stop when she was sobbing her eyes out? That was in many ways the worst, a fate even more frightening than the pain — the surrender he would force from her.
She didn’t have time to think on it any longer, for the strap smacked her again even harder, right across the center of her ass. It was already burning hot. A twisted, fascinated part of her wanted to see what it looked like, for it was like a broad brand across both bottom cheeks, her muscles clenching and spasming.
Then his huge hand spread upon her back as if to hold her in place. Then he murmured something else again, the words softer, the tone almost… gentle.
No!
He strapped her harder, faster, with a regular cadence, just long enough for her to fully feel each stroke, for the pain to sink in, before another would lay down a fresh bar of anguish across her flesh. In a distressingly brief amount of time, she was begging, pleading — not even using words, just sounds, overwhelmed by pure emotion, pure anguish.
Pure surrender.
After ten or twelve or fifteen strokes — she’d lost count — he paused a moment, his big hands smoothing over both cheeks of her ass, squeezing each one harshly as he did so.
She yelped, and he chuckled deeply. Then he patted her ass with his palm again, pressing leather against the lower curves of her buttocks once more.
She couldn’t help but tense, to squeeze tight, and he growled at her, the sound so deep, it rattled in her chest.
It was a sound no man could ever make. A sound only an alien could make. But she knew what it meant.
No clenching.
Forcing herself, she managed to soften her cheeks, to relax them enough, knowing what was coming next.
He didn’t disappoint her.
The next stroke left searing fire across her flesh, and she cried out at the burn. His soft hand caressed up and down her back even as the strap continued its relentless, remorseless march up and down her bottom.
She let out a tight shriek as the strap caught her at the place where buttock met thigh, that sensitive join of flesh there so vulnerable.
As if he enjoye
d her reaction, he placed his hand upon the upper slope of one of her buttocks, lifting it carefully, fastidiously. Then he smacked the strap down into that same, tender divide; once, twice, and a third time that had her screaming.
He repeated the same treatment to her other bottom cheek as she writhed under the strap’s cruel kiss.
Then he did it again.
It was the worst punishment by far she’d had from him, the worst punishment she’d ever had in her life.
He paused again, making a gentle, almost soothing sound as his palm tested the heat of her buttocks, stroking, caressing. The cooing sound was eerily reminiscent of what one might make to calm a frightened animal. The humiliation of it was too much to bear, and the tears overflowed, coursing down her cheeks, one of them dripping upon her breast.
The strap pressed to her ass again, and her world once more became fire. Over and over and over, the strap crashed against her, each stroke making her plead louder, her throat raw, the desperation becoming too much.
Please, stop! I can’t! Oh, my God!
Finally, just when she thought it was more than she could bear, the strap stilled. His hand once more gently stroked, soothed, squeezed. Compared to the fiendish bite of the strap, his touch now was like heaven, cool, soft — even when he squeezed her bottom for her.
She sobbed openly now, far past trying to maintain her dignity, surrendering to it, giving herself to the pain, accepting that he could — and would — do whatever he wished with her, whenever he wished.
And there was nothing she could do about it.
It was her lowest point, the darkest moment yet.
But one thing made it even more upsetting, more confusing. It was the heat between her legs, the seething need at the apex of her thighs.
The core of her — oh yes — the core of her had a much different reaction. Whether it was a response to her subjugation, or the pain, or his seeming callousness at her surrender to his demands, her body was most definitely responding.