by Loki Renard
“I have a present for you.”
“Unless it’s your head on a stake, I don’t want it,” she sneers, looking at me with curled lips. “Seeing as yours seems to still be attached…”
Her attitude has not yet been fully adjusted. In the hours after I use her, she is polite, but with a short rest she is back to the pretense of hatred. She seems to think it is her duty to hurl scorn at me, as if that changes anything.
I should gag her. It is impossible to do anything with her that doesn’t involve whipping her at least once. That reminds me, I must ensure I have my short whip on hand.
“I see,” I say. “Well, I thought you might like to get dressed and go out, but as you intend on acting like a spoiled little brat…”
“Really?” Her eyes light up with an excitement that does not quite erase her rudeness. “Are you actually serious?”
“I am always actually serious.”
“That’s true,” she agrees. “So, where’s the clothes?”
I take a box from behind my back. It has everything she will need inside it, a complete outfit. It is a reward she perhaps does not deserve, but we will see.
She takes it and opens it. She finds a soft wrap dress in a pretty blue hue that complements her eyes. Such things are not usually within my purview, but when I went to the dressmakers, I knew precisely how I wanted her to be clad. She dives into the dress the moment she discovers it, her body a flash of pale lightning covered in soft blue fabric. She seems happy to be clothed.
“Do you like it?”
“It’s alright, I guess.”
Her words are petulant, but her expression and actions tell a different story. She is running her fingers through the fabric as she sways back and forth, the length of it billowing slightly as she turns. It is long enough to meet the floor, elegant, really. Her face is framed by the low neckline and the smooth fall of her wood-hued hair. She is utterly beautiful, even with her lips set in a deliberate pout. She does not like to show when she is pleased. She seems to think even a moment of happiness is a betrayal to her very being.
“There are shoes too,” I prompt.
“Oh, shoes! My lucky day!” Her spoiled sarcasm is unappreciated. Even if we were not about to make our public entrance, she as my mate, I would not tolerate it. She knows that too. She is looking at me with that intelligent defiance that demands response.
I had planned to give her some incentive to behave before we left anyway. Her behavior will reflect on me, and I am almost certain she will not behave well. She never does.
Time to cut this rebellion short. Apparently even a few seconds of being clothed gives her the confidence to misbehave. I sit on the bed, take her by the arm, and yank her over my thighs in one swift tug. Her dress betrays her instantly, flying up over her head and baring her pretty rear to my gaze. I love the way her cheeks rise in two soft swells ever eager for my discipline. Her body was made to submit to mine and even now as she squirms and makes pathetic little noises in an effort to escape the confines of her clothing, the petals between her thighs are starting to flower. She is aroused by discipline, so it is no wonder that she insists on misbehavior. That is the problem with little creatures who like to be punished—they are forever finding ways to bring ire down upon themselves.
“It is your lucky day,” I inform her. “You are fortunate to ever be allowed out of these rooms at all. I don’t need to take you out. I can keep you here, my little captive who never sees anything besides these walls. Is that what you want for yourself, Era?”
She stills. “No.”
Her voice is small, perhaps I have made some impression on her with words alone, but they are never enough. She does not respond to reason. Not even her own thoughts are enough to contain her behavior.
“So why did you speak so rudely? Why would you risk throwing your chance away?”
“I don’t know.” Her voice is tight now. With regret, or frustration, I cannot quite tell. She is forever in two places, this little human of mine. She hates at the same time she loves. She desires and is simultaneously afraid. A mess of contradictions is squirming its shapely hips over my lap.
I start to spank her, my palm meeting her cheeks with a satisfying slap that makes the flesh turn pink. She deserves every bit of this. Her impudent ways do not please me, and though I am capable of patience, and know that most of her attitude comes from her inability to accept her captivity, that does not mean I will tolerate it.
She twists and squirms, cursing at me in her facile tongue, which at times seems to have been designed entirely to allow for swearing at every juncture. Curse words can be injected into every place in a sentence and the language remains intact. It is a fascinating linguistic quirk, but not one I am interested in hearing demonstrated at this juncture.
Her complaints at least have a real cause now as I swat her deserving cheeks over and over, ensuring that when we are out, every brush of the fabric against her bare cheeks will remind her of this. She will be stinging and tingling for an hour at least.
“I intend to take you out,” I inform her. “I have given you clothing, which I did not need to do. I could have paraded you naked before all. Is that what you want? Shall I strip you and have you on display?
“No!” She gasps the response even as her hips sway with excitement at the idea.
Another challenge in dealing with this human of mine is that she responds to humiliation with pure desire. It is difficult to punish a creature who will quite likely climax if she is to be thoroughly shamed. I still my palm before her bottom starts to bruise. The pink color on her cheeks has become bright red, a beautiful shade I cannot help but admire.
“What shall I do with you?”
* * *
God, I don’t know. I should shut up. That’s what I should do. If I’d just said thank you for the dress, we’d be out of here by now. Instead I had to taunt him, had to prove that everything he does for me is worthless. I hate showing him any kind of gratitude, and usually defying him feels good, but right now I have a creeping sense that I might sort of be a bit wrong.
He has perfected the art of spanking me, making my ass feel like it’s about to burst into flames. It hurts, but more than hurting, it makes me hot and wet. I press my thighs together to try to hide my arousal, but I know he’s already seen it. He misses nothing, and he is starting to know me so well it is frightening. Karlo is incredibly intelligent, that much I have gathered, and since he took me captive, he’s been treating me like some biological puzzle he can fuck.
He spreads my cheeks, his powerful hands making me vulnerable in my most tender places.
“Open your legs.”
I do as I’m told. What choice is there?
His eyes are there, between my thighs, running over the soaked lips of my sex. I get so wet when he touches me. I can’t help it, even when I try to. I try to think of things that turn me off. I think of the fields I toiled in for all those years. I think of the cruelty of the Rathkari. I focus on all the hatred I have for him and his kind—but when his finger traces down the wet seam of my lips, I let out a soft moan. I am a traitor to all humanity, and to myself.
He is doing something above me. I barely pay attention, caught in my own thoughts—until I feel what is fast becoming the familiar sensation of cool lubricant against my bottom hole. He works it in with short swirls of his finger, making my anus submit.
At first I think he is just doing it to embarrass me more, but then I feel something metallic there. Some kind of… I try to look, but I can’t see. I can feel though. Something smooth and sort of rounded, slipping inside me a little bit at a time, stretching me wider than his finger does. When it settles inside me, a slimmer portion allows my anus to relax a little, flared base holding the contraption in place. I am stretched inside. I can feel it moving as he takes hold of the base and twists it slowly back and forth.
“This is a reminder,” he says. “If you misbehave while we’re out, you will be punished here. You’ve had a probe i
n your ass before. You’ll take my cock if you don’t do as you’re told.”
The threat makes me blush furiously. I know he’ll do it. I bet he’s going to do it anyway one day. It’s the sort of thing he’d like to do, shame me with his cock, force my body to do things it was never really meant to do. Everything about him is a perversion.
“Do you understand, Era?”
“Yes,” I hiss between clenched teeth.
His palm covers my left cheek, rubbing and making the plug jiggle at the same time.
“Should I do it now,” he muses, more to himself than to me. “Fuck your tight little asshole, then plug you up and take you out while you still remember who you belong to.”
“No…” I speak in a whimper.
“No? You already know who you belong to?” His fingers curl in my hair and pull my head up and back, making me arch for him. “Tell me, Era.”
He is looking down at me, his gaze finding mine. There’s only one answer he will accept. The same answer I really don’t want to give.
His fingers tighten, making the roots of my hair sting. His other palm goes to my bottom. I know what’s going to happen if I don’t say it. He’s going to punish me. He’s going to take me hard. He’s going to fuck my ass, and all I have to say to avoid all of that is that I’m his. It’s just one word, so why won’t it come to my lips?
He’s waiting. Am I going to break? Can I say it?
“Fuck you.”
He smirks, almost as if he is pleased by my response. Almost as if he wanted me to get myself into trouble all along.
“Oh, no,” he growls, his voice low and dangerous as he smacks my ass hard. “Fuck you.”
He pushes me off his lap and onto the bed. The dress makes it impossible to get away, the length of it has flown up over my head and now I’m caught in a blue haze as he grabs my hips and pulls them up. I can’t see what he’s doing, but I feel the thick head of his cock as it finds my pussy and pushes forward in one rough stroke. My pussy. Not my ass. Thank whatever lazy god that let this happen to me in the first place for small mercies.
I’m wet. From the spanking, from his handling, from the thick plug in my ass. His thick cock spreads the walls of my pussy in rough thrusts, my juices slicking his hard member as he pounds me without mercy. The plug in my ass makes everything tighter and more intense. Both my holes are being dominated by him and he’s determined to prove his point in the most primal way possible.
He fists my hair, right at the back of my neck, his hips slapping against mine as he brands me with his thick alien cock. He wants so badly to make me his, to have me surrender to him, and as the pleasure rips through me I can’t fight him anymore.
I scream incoherently as my body is caught in a vortex of pleasures spinning from his cock all the way to my extremities. He is fucking me thoroughly, every part of me. Even the roots of my hair feel the tingle as he breathes on the back of my neck, giving a swift bite as he shoves his cock deep enough to find my cervix. He explodes there, drenching me in his cum. The force of his orgasm turns me into a rag doll jerking around his cock, soaking up his pleasure.
“Mine,” he growls in ragged tones as he slumps against me, pinning me to the bed beneath his body, my tender pussy spread tight around his cock. I come then, a muted orgasm. He hasn’t wrung this one from me. This is incidental to his pleasure. These are the tremors of a soft, well-fucked cunt stretched wide.
He has not gained my submission, but he has tired me out for the moment. I thoroughly expect to be bathed, held, comforted. Not this time. He pulls me up, his cum sliding down my thighs, gives me a quick wipe between the legs and walks with me toward the main door. I am marked by him, covered in his scent. He has made a mess of me, but he does not care. My tousled hair and flushed cheeks and the ample traces of his cum tell the same story as my rumpled dress, which I just barely pull down all the way before we get through the front door.
We leave his quarters and are swept into a stream of people. I have never heard a sound from outside his walls, but he lives on the equivalent of a busy street. Almost immediately we are drawn along to a grand courtyard the size of several football fields. It is covered by vaulted ceilings several stories high. The feeling of space is incredible; it is almost like stepping out into open air.
At first I am so awed I barely take in anything besides the vast space. It is a different feeling than the one I get when I look out at the stars; this is contained, designed. This is an alien beauty that strikes me in a new way. The magic fades when I lower my eyes and among the gleaming walkways and open shops and little eateries and fountains from which water flows in crystal trails are the Rathkari. Hundreds, no, thousands of them.
I am immediately filled with pure hatred, a loathing that not even the reminder punishment I have just been given can stop. I stiffen and stop moving. A low growl begins to make its way up from my throat.
“Enough,” Karlo says, bending down to whisper in my ear. “Settle down, Era.”
“No. Take me back.”
“Easy,” he says, putting his hand on the back of my neck and squeezing. It’s not a rough, dominating touch. It’s an attempt to calm me, and for some biological reason, it works. He knows all the tricks, all the ways to make my body control my mind. When I try to wriggle out, he squeezes a little harder until I settle again and eventually we are standing there, calmly, surrounded by the life forms I hate—and worse than that, human women. Smiling, beatific women with full bodies and bellies. To my eyes it seems that they are all pregnant. Every single one of them. They all seem blissfully happy with the state of affairs, walking beside their Rathkari mates with their arms entwined. I see heads resting on shoulders, lips meeting in sickening kisses. There’s so much love and romance in the air I want to run around and kick every single Rathkari in the shin.
How can these women be so happy? Down on Earth there are others just like them dying in the dirt. Do they even care? Does it matter at all to them?
“You should take me home,” I growl. “Now.”
“We are going to have a meal.”
“We’re not.”
“I make the decisions, Era. Not you.”
“I can’t stand this,” I growl between clenched teeth. “Get me away from these people.”
I’m giving him fair warning, but he’s not listening. He’s intent on proving a point. He thinks the fact that he can torment me sexually means I’ll behave as he wants me to, but that’s because he doesn’t understand any kind of principle. He thinks it all comes down to what’s easy and what isn’t. He thinks it’s about avoiding pain and getting pleasure, like I’m some simple animal.
I cannot stand here and be silent and pretend to be one of these women who have been utterly domesticated and broken to the will of the Rathkari. Humanity deserves better than this.
He nudges me forward, urging me to move through the crowds. I’ve done everything I can to avoid a public scene. This is his fault now.
I feel the anger bubbling inside me, the rage that comes from seeing so many of our species subjugated. They could at least look a little unhappy about it. A couple walk by in front of us. She is practically suctioned to his side. Her eyes do not leave his face as he speaks about something or other. I can’t hear anything besides the blood pounding in my ears.
“Traitor!”
I shout the word at the top of my lungs. She looks shocked and cowers toward the arms of her Rathkari guardian for safety. He looks just as concerned in the seconds before Karlo grabs me around the waist and swings me off the ground.
“That’s enough!”
“You’re all traitors!” I scream and every eye in the place turns toward us. There’s a silence that extends across the grand courtyard. Oh, the Rathkari elegance and decorum has been disturbed. How awful. Oh, dear. I feel just… fucking awesome.
Karlo clamps his hand over my mouth and glowers down at me furiously. “I’m taking you home,” he says, as if it’s a threat. As if that’s not what I’ve been a
sking for anyway.
He drags me back to the room, half carrying me, half not. My feet touch the ground a few times along the way as he strides along with me in his arms, my dress riding up as I curse and squirm. As soon as we get indoors, he pulls it off completely.
“Pleased with yourself?” He snarls the question as he tears the dress from me. “You won’t be leaving this room for a very long time—and you won’t be getting dressed either. That was a disgrace!”
“I don’t care!” I shout back at him. “Are you stupid? I don’t care about disgracing you! This isn’t about you, Karlo!”
He looks at me as if I just spoke some variant of Swahili. Something just doesn’t compute inside his alpha brain.
“I am never going to be one of them,” I swear. “So you may as well kill me now.”
“Kill you?” He snorts. “Dramatic little thing.”
He doesn’t take me seriously. At all. I am so frustrated I could explode, instead all I can do is cry. I’ve been fighting tears since I stepped out into that courtyard and saw what goes on just outside these walls. There are thousands who have capitulated, so many that my resistance means nothing.
Should I just give in too? Let myself fall for this handsome, dominant alien who desires me more than any man ever did? It would be so easy, and far less painful. The pleasure he gives is so much more intense than the pain he inflicts with his discipline. But… he wants one thing from me. One thing that isn’t going to happen.
The tears are running down my cheeks before I can stop them. Instead of lecturing me, he embraces me, his big strong arms wrapping around me, offering comfort and care, making everything so much worse.
“Why are you so upset?” He pulls back and looks at me, confused and still stern.
I struggle to get the words out. “Because all those women… all pregnant…”
His expression softens. “You are jealous.”