by Lee Savino
Even more so if we are survive as ourselves. Just the announcement that one Tribute has been retrieved has sent morale surging higher than I can ever remember it being. There are a few males, like Bogdan, who remain unconvinced, but the majority are just as hopeful as I feel now.
As her eyelashes flutter again, she stirs, her arms and legs moving slightly. Feeling strangely nervous, I pull my armor back into my spine, so its pale-yellow hue does not betray my unruly emotions. I cannot remember the last time it was that color and am thankful we are alone, and no one can witness my uncertainty.
Dawn
I moan as I open my eyes and try to jerk back as a golden-hued face fills my expression. I recognize his harsh features immediately and my pussy flutters… but the trainer doesn’t immediately vibrate. My body has been primed to respond all on its own, but it’s still odd not to feel the vibrations of the trainer.
Even more odd—I can actually think clearly for the first time in days.
Landing on this planet and presenting myself to the commander feels like a dream that I just awoke from, and though I feel arousal at the sight of him, the orgasm I had has helped clear my mind. I’m no longer a complete slave to the impulses of my body, because the urgency has subsided, having found recent satisfaction.
Chalk up one for the home team. Take that, alien tech!
I purposefully don’t think about how often the alien tech had defeated me prior to that moment. A win is a win, darn it.
“Greetings, my Tribute,” he says, that low voice doing all sorts of things to my lower anatomy. I ignore my reaction as best I can.
“Dawn,” I say, my voice croaking slightly, the word coming out slightly fuzzy and slurred.
He frowns at me. “What?”
“Dawn,” I repeat firmly, getting a better grip on myself. I enunciate carefully, determined not to slur again. “My name is Dawn.”
I purposefully leave off my last name, because after so many days of Frllil’s insistence on calling me by my full name, I kind of never want to hear it again.
After taking a moment to consider my statement, he nods formally. “Very well. Dawn.”
The English word sounds strange when he says it. It’s a common word as well as a name, but somehow the translator knows the difference and leaves my name alone, which is a relief. He meets my eyes.
“I am your Master.”
Dammit, that shouldn’t be so hot, but the muscles of my pussy flutter again.
“Gavrill,” I reply firmly. “High Commander of the Tsenturion fleet. But not my master. I don’t have a master.” No matter what he, Frllil, or my training has told me.
He frowns, which is intimidating as heck, especially when I’m flat on my back in what I can only assume is his bed, but after a moment his expression clears. To my annoyance, he actually looks kind of smug.
“Ah, yes, your courtship rituals,” he says seriously. “I will earn my place as your master by dominating and pleasuring you until your resistance is broken and you submit to me fully.”
I blink, nonplussed. “Excuse me? What courtship rituals are you talking about exactly? That is definitely not my how-to advice on dating.”
The little smile that plays on his lips is both hot and frustrating, like he thinks I’m lying to him or something.
“The Jabol provided me with manuals on your planet’s courtship rituals, they are copies from something they called your ‘reader.’” Turning his head, he nods at table next to his bed. I try to wriggle away from him to get some space and look to see where he’s looking at the same time.
But as soon as the small pile of books on the little table beside his bed catches my eye, I freeze in horror.
Oh, fuck a duck.
They went through my freaking e-reader and gave those books to this massively large, already dominant, far too eager alien?! I recognize those names. Lee Savino. Golden Angel. Tracy St. John. Renee Rose. Aubrey Cara. Sara Fields.
Oh, this is bad. This is so, so bad.
“Those are not manuals,” I say, now scooting away from him in earnest. Unfortunately, the bed is big and he’s on the edge closest to me, so all I end up doing is scooting into the middle of the bed which prompts him to follow, his eyes gleaming with interest. Crap! This is a serious Catch-22… I can either resist him, in which case he’ll think I’m following the stupid “courting rituals” of my dirty romances, or I can stop resisting him… in which case I’ll get fucked sooner rather than later.
My traitorous body votes for the latter, as if it hadn’t already had an orgasm not that long ago.
“They were quite descriptive. Very similar to how a Tsenturion conducts himself with his bonded mate,” he says, moving after me, which is when I finally catch sight of what he’s got going on between his legs.
“Wha- wha- wha-” I can’t even get the word out or look away from his groin and the freakiest looking cock I think I’ve ever seen. Way, way freakier than any I ever imagined.
It’s golden, like his body, but it’s got way too many parts. The tip of it looks almost like a cobra’s mane; there’s no mushroom head here, instead it flares out slightly and there’s a ridge along the top of it that looks like it would feel really freaking interesting. The actual shaft is almost normal looking, long and straight, although it grows incrementally wider from the head down to where the really freaky stuff is going on.
Waving in a fringe around it is not pubic hair, unless pubic hair moves on its own and is flesh rather than hair. Less than half an inch long, the tiny tentacles writhe and my pussy pulses as I can’t help but wonder what that would feel like against my vulva… even more intriguing is the extra-large one, the only one that’s about an inch long, writhing above his cock. My clit pulses in response, because surely that kind of appendage is there for one reason and one reason only, and no matter how freaky looking it is, I’m still turned on.
I blame the training.
I point, managing to choke out the words. “What… is… that?!”
He looks down to where I’m pointing. “Ah, yes, I saw no mention of seela in the descriptions of your courtship. Perhaps Tsenturions are unique. They are to facilitate pleasure and breeding, as well as our bonding process.”
Okay, the bonding process I knew about thanks to Frllil. The armor the Tsenturions wore was nanotech that had become so a part of them that it was nearly biological. By having sex, some of the High Commander’s tech would transfer to me and he would be able to fully control my training belt with just a thought after that—definitely not something on my to-do list—and theoretically they would also help me achieve the biological bond that Tsenturions had with their mates. If it did so, a mark would appear somewhere on my body that would actually help me sense and share his emotions as he would be able to sense and share mine.
But no one had mentioned freaky alien cock. My perverted brain immediately wonders how all those little tendrils would feel moving against my most sensitive parts. Especially the big one that looks like it would line right up with my clit.
I’m so distracted that the High Commander manages to grab my ankle and I squeak in dismay as I’m quickly dragged across the bed toward him.
4
Gavrill
My Tribute’s skin is soft against my hand and the squeaking noise she makes as I pull her towards me is very appealing. There is no need for armor like mine to display her emotions—they are telegraphed across her expressive face. Surprise. Dismay. Arousal.
I can see that her nipples are tightly budded, the cleft between her legs shiny with moisture, and the pupils of her blue eyes dilate, filling the color with black. All signs of her interest.
“Wait! Stop!” She slaps her palms against my chest as I loom over her, planting a hand on either side of her body and caging her in, pushing at me to my amusement. She is much weaker than I am. Having her in this position arouses me further, my seela writhing and trying to stretch towards her. But I am unsure whether or not to immediately complete the bonding or if I
should assert myself first.
Tsenturion males are naturally dominant when it comes to pleasure. I have dim memories of my mother smiling as my father swatted her bottom when she passed by. Perhaps there will be similar moments with my Tribute? She certainly is not smiling now, although she is highly aroused.
The ways of our people, once mated and no longer military, have passed on with our planet. But my Tribute would not know them anyway. I studied the rituals and training outlined in her people’s manuscripts closely. There were even some on interspecies relations, all with similar instructions. They mostly align with my distant memories of our people, and they certainly appeal to my sense of order.
I will be in charge. She will submit. Thwarting the traditions of my people, I shall continue in command on my ship rather than becoming a civilian after my mating, but it’s not as if ours will be a full bonding, so there should be no objections. I will pleasure her often, as a good mate should, and she will ease my physical needs and lonely nights. Eventually, if the Jabols are correct about our compatibility, the Tributes will assure the continuation of our race and we can find a new planet to settle on once the Vgotha threat is eradicated. It all begins with Dawn.
I am also aware of how important this will be to all of my men. Although she is only one Tribute, I am determined she will not be the last, for their sake’s. Travel through an unstable wormhole is not ideal and the Jabol will want reassurances that the energy expenditure is worthwhile before they begin to provide us with Tributes in number.
Staring down at her, I sigh inwardly. Although I yearn to bury myself inside of her immediately and attach my seela to her flesh, I realize I have not completed the most basic of her courtship rituals. I nod.
“You are correct,” I say, though my body aches with need. “We should not skip steps.”
Confusion, relief, and then disappointment flit across her face as I pull away.
When I pull her with me, easily flipping her face down across my lap, she shrieks with surprise. I like the noise. I also find the position to be quite enjoyable. My seela begin to explore the side of her body where they can reach as my hard cock throbs against her soft flesh. Her bottom is tilted upward, vulnerable and pale. I look forward to seeing the change in color her manuals spoke of.
Dawn
When I said “wait—stop” this was definitely not what I had in mind.
Talk about out of the frying pan and into the fire. There was no mistaking what his intentions were and yet the words came spilling out of my mouth anyway.
“What are you doing?” My voice quavers, my brain still trying to deny the obvious… the inevitable. I can feel something writhing against my side, exploring me with soft little touches that caress and pull at my skin. It’s incredibly distracting, especially because I can feel a certain area of my body perking up with interest—what would that feel like there?
“I am establishing my position as your Master, in the manner of your people,” he says sternly.
Part of me wants to laugh hysterically, because his formal pronouncement is so over-the-top… and yet I can’t because he is entirely serious. My mind goes frantic, trying to think of a protest that will work, a way to talk him out of his obvious intention, but it’s like my brain has gone entirely blank in the face of danger and then-
Smack!
“Ow!” I kick my legs. That really freaking hurt!
“Ah. That is very nice,” he says, sounding pleased.
“No, it’s—”
Smack!
I howl, more in outrage than pain as his hand comes down on the other cheek.
I haven’t been spanked since I was a young child, and then it was never more than a swat or two. I’ve read about it. Fantasized about it. Masturbated to the idea.
But nothing could have ever prepared me for the reality.
It fucking hurts.
The initial sting is followed by a flaring of pain that burns much deeper than the surface, and then throbs. Especially as he lays down more hard swats atop already spanked flesh. There’s no chance of squirming away as his left hand holds me firmly in place on his lap and he shifts his legs so that my upper body is tilted forward even more, lifting my bottom higher in the air.
Smack! Smack! Smack!
“Please! Stop,” I babble, begging and clinging to his tree trunk of a leg, tears already sliding down my cheeks. It feels like my entire ass is on fire.
To my surprise and relief, the spanking stops and his hand rests of my hot flesh. In my mind, I imagine his golden skin against the flaming red that my skin feels like. “You are ready to acknowledge me as your Master already?”
I hesitate, everything inside of me rebelling at his words even as my pussy clenches. I tell myself that’s just from the Pavlov dog training that Frllil put me through, that’s not me.
Unfortunately, me is not what he wants. He wants my submission, he wants a sex toy, he wants a submissive female… but he only wants it from me because I’m the only female here.
“Ah,” he says when I don’t answer.
“Wait—no!” I let out a wail as his hand comes crashing down again, but this time he doesn’t stop immediately, apparently determined to make an impression on my poor ass before he gives me another chance.
I writhe, bucking. Maybe it’s because he paused and gave me a short break, but it feels like he’s spanking even harder now. I kick my legs frantically, trying even harder to get away now, despite how useless it is. It feels like my bottom is swollen and thoroughly roasted, from the crest down to the delicate sit-spots just underneath the curve of my mounds. Every time his hand comes down on that tender area, I howl.
And I know that the next time he asks, I will call him ‘Master’ just to make this stop…
Gavrill
My Tribute’s reactions are very much in line with the manuals, pleasing me greatly. Although Tsenturions might mete out physical discipline to their mates when it was required, I find that I am quite enamored of her people’s penchant for using such measures for both pain and pleasure. Despite her pleas and howls, it is apparent she is not ready for this first step to our courtship to be over, as she chose not to end it when I offered. Although my arousal is becoming painful, I find I am not averse to continuing it either.
The pale flesh of her bottom is now a bright pink, her skin hot to the touch. Whenever she kicks, the swollen lips of her sex become even glossier and wetter with her arousal. The musky-sweet scent is pleasing, and I wonder how she will taste.
I am using a harder hand than I will for pleasurable spankings later. The manuals make it clear that there should be a difference. As this is my first time spanking a female, I am not entirely sure I am doing it correctly. Fortunately, it is obvious that her reaction is one of erotic excitement, despite her pained cries. The Jabol had done very well, I decide. My Tribute is more than I could have hoped for.
When I stop, she hangs over my lap, crying. I trace patterns on her pink bottom, fascinated by the heat rising from her flesh.
“Will you call me Master, now?” I ask, hoping that she will say yes. As enjoyable as I am finding this interlude, I am eager to move onward and find more personal pleasure for myself. My seela that can reach her are rubbing almost frantically against her body, and my prime seela is thrashing with the desire to touch her as well.
“Yes…” She gulps. “Yes, Master.”
Satisfaction washes through me at the sound of her tearful voice acknowledging me as her Master. Not just because it fulfills the rituals of both of our races, but I feel a sense of personal pleasure as well. It surprises me how much I enjoy hearing her acknowledge me, and the possessive gratification that fills me. The emotion is unexpected.
“Good girl,” I say, sliding my fingers to the swollen, wet flesh between her legs. She moans as I begin to explore that area with the pads of my fingers, searching for the little bud that was described as the penultimate point of pleasure for her species.
Moving my other hand from the
small of her back to her hot bottom, I gently squeeze her punished flesh as I circle the small, swollen bud of pleasure with my fingers. She bucks, shuddering slightly as she cries out. There is some unhappiness in her voice, but as wetness coats my fingertips I know that she is enjoying this. The texts warned that human females tend to feel a sense of shame at being aroused when they are mastered; it is a sign that I am proceeding correctly.
"Oh no..." She shudders again as I pinch the pleasure bud, rubbing it experimentally between my fingers.
Later I know I will enjoy using the training belt to discover exactly what affects her most, but for now I am too impatient to be inside of her, too eager for my own release. Pulling my fingers from her body, I inspect the glossy sheen she's coated them with before touching the tips to my tongue.
She tastes like sweetness and flowers and my body immediately hungers for more. I've heard that the bonding process triggers intense physical reactions and an overwhelming need to claim one's mate, but I hadn't expected the force of it. Feeling more bestial than logical, completely unlike myself, I toss her onto her back on the bed. She shrieks, trying to roll off of her bottom, but I am already prying her legs apart to reach the source of her nectar.
My vaunted self-control is gone as the taste of her juices on my tongue has sparked a craving that thunders through my body. She looks up at me, dazed, but my focus is on the sweetness calling to me between her thighs.
I fall upon her, my tongue sliding up the sweet center, groaning as my body recognizes its mate. Perhaps we are more compatible than even the Jabol realized. I have no experience that compares to this, nothing to help me control the urges raging through my body.
She cries out, writhing against my hands as I hold her legs spread wide open, making her vulnerable to the lashing of my tongue as I lick every crevice of her sweet folds. The flavor intensifies, growing sweeter as my body chemistry adjusts to hers, beginning to align with hers.