His Human Conquest (Captives of the Dominars Book 2)

by Stella Rising

  I want to scream at Vol. During his address to the world, I actually felt good about his message. I believed him—I wanted to trust in him. Then I saw the captive soldiers being freed, but not me. So when he told me to be honest, I did as told. Yet, I expect I’m going to get punished anyway.

  “Where are we going?” I ask.

  “The bridge,” Vol growls.

  The bridge? This is bad, this is really bad, I think to myself as Vol marches me onward.

  Mournful or aggravated looks from Vol’s crew confirm my worries. They stand and watch as Vol hauls me along until we at last reach the bridge. Out the massive viewports I can see that the ship has lifted into the air; on the display screens, I see myself and Vol in the news broadcast. No doubt right now the world media are dissecting every second of Vol’s speech and speculating on what will happen next. It occurs to me that if not for Dutton Bradley bringing me into this whole mess, I’d be providing my own analysis for the International Space Governance Agency.

  At last Vol stops, turning to face me; all around us, Dominars discreetly take positions to watch. I expect they’re here to stay—if Vol didn’t want an audience, he wouldn’t have brought me here.

  Vol clasps his hands behind his back and paces. “Jillian, why did you say what you did back there?”

  “Y-you told me to t-tell the truth,” I stammer.

  “Yes, pet. I did. But I hoped you’d share the part where I saved your life and showed mercy to those who tried to kill me. Were you angry at me?”

  Was I?

  As much as I hated being caged, I slept soundly last night, biting my lip as I recalled the orgasms I enjoyed.

  “I don’t know,” I mumble.

  Vol nods. “Were you trying to rally humanity to fight us?”

  “No!”

  “But don’t you think that’s what you’ve done?”

  I want to deny it, but what if he’s right?

  “This isn’t fair!” I blurt out, blinking away tears. “I didn’t think they were going to talk to me, I just said what came to mind! You told the world to go on living their lives, and it was great. You made me believe the people would be all right. Just not me.”

  “I see,” Vol says, circling toward me.

  Approaching from behind, he sets his hands on my shoulders, then works them downward, pulling at my dress as he goes. Trembling as he disrobes me, powerless to stop him, I straighten my lips, refusing to let my fear and humiliation show. When he orders me to lift my feet, I comply, allowing him to toss my dress aside. I do it again when he slides down my panties, a white cotton bikini-style pair that I found with the dress this morning.

  Naked before Vol and the Dominars, I try to cover my chest and waist, but the telerings keep my wrists at my sides.

  “I’m going to disable your restraints,” says Vol. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll not disobey. Now spread your legs.”

  I do as he says, widening my stance and blushing as his gaze descends to my exposed pussy.

  “Place your hands on your head.”

  Again I comply, though my body quakes, enjoying being bound not by toys and devices, but by Vol’s will. I could turn to run or refuse to follow his orders, but being obedient warms my core, perhaps because I can feel Vol’s approval when I do exactly as told.

  Vol reaches into his suit and pulls out a long, thin rod. He swings it through the air in front of me, demonstrating the speed and precision of his stroke. The rod, which appears to be made out of wood, whooshes as it goes by.

  “Jillian, what you’ve done is far too egregious to punish with a simple spanking. This calls for a caning with a keera stick.”

  “I’m sorry,” I mutter, trying not to stare at the cane. Vol drags its tip across my bare bottom, sending shivers through my body. “I was just being honest. Sir.”

  He rubs my back soothingly. “I know, pet. I know. Next time you’ll be prepared; you’ll give an answer that is both honest and beneficial for everyone. The discipline you receive now will remind you to always be ready. And I promise, what I teach you will make you strong. I only want what’s best for you.”

  “Yes, sir,” I say, forcing back my tears. Despite it all, I trust him. At least he’s always honest—sometimes it’s easy to forget how nice that is.

  “Good. Now, I want you to count each stroke. Get ready.”

  I nod, then Vol swats my backside with the stick. It’s not hard enough to rack me with pain, but I definitely feel its sharp sting. “One, sir,” I say.

  “Perfect. I’m going to start with ten strokes. You will count each of them. And after each one, you will thank me.”

  Oh, fuck.

  “Yes, sir,” I mutter.

  Not liking my tone, Vol glares but says nothing. He lets his keera stick express his displeasure, slapping it hard against my ass. Pain surges through my whole midsection, causing me to shake and moan, overwhelmed by the cruel sensation.

  God, that hurt! How am I supposed to endure this?

  “Jillian, what do you say?”

  “One, sir. Thank you, sir,” I reply quickly. “Sorry.”

  Vol sighs. “I shouldn’t have to prompt you each time.”

  “I’m sorry, sir.”

  Vol traces the line he struck, inflaming the lingering soreness. “Yes, I’m sure you are. I’m starting over from one. If you fail to respond, we will keep starting over until you make it to ten.”

  My throat goes dry and I shake my head. “Please, no! I can’t—”

  “You can!” Vol roars, interrupting me. His voice raises the short hairs on my neck, and my pussy spasms, yearning for a taste of Vol’s passion.

  “If you do not wish to suffer unnecessarily, follow my instructions and you won’t have to. Am I understood, pet?”

  I nod quickly. “Yes, sir.”

  He delivers the next stroke of his cane, aiming a little lower than the last swing. Fresh fire erupts across my ass, but I force myself to speak. “One. Thank you, sir.”

  “Good,” he purrs, rubbing the rising welts. I savor his soothing touch, but it doesn’t last nearly long enough.

  I try to brace myself for the next swing, but my mind is racing, searching for a way out of this mess. Everything is out of control—I’ve never felt so helpless in my life.

  “Two! Thank you, sir.”

  What if I were to beg him to stop, to let me go? If I threw myself on his mercy, would he relent?

  Vol moves lower with his next swing, catching my buttocks low, causing me to shriek from the pain. But before Vol can chastise me, I say, “Three. Thank you… sir.”

  Focus, Jillian! Fight the pain!

  Steeling myself for more, I take a deep breath, lamenting that this is essentially all I can do. The cane falls a fourth time, and a fifth, and all I can think about is being trapped on this ship with these aliens forever. What assurance do I have that Vol will ever allow me to leave? I should have at least tried to run back on the beach. Who knows? Stopping me and dragging me back to the ship would have caused an even bigger scene—maybe he’d have rather not bothered? I suppose I’ll never know.

  “Halfway there,” Vol says, cutting into my thoughts. “How are you doing?”

  Now’s your chance.

  “Please, sir. It’s unbearable!”

  Vol taps the cane softly against my ass, hard enough for it to be irritating. “Do you think so, pet? I think you’re enduring it very well. Not everyone can take the keera stick.”

  “Thank you, sir,” I mumble, feeding on the compliment. Is he just trying to stoke my ego, or does he really mean it? Does wanting to escape this nightmare make me weak? What if finishing the punishment really will make me stronger? Shouldn’t I be trying to get through this, for the sake of humanity? I’m so confused, I want to break down and sob, but I don’t dare take my eyes off Vol.

  “We’re going to continue now,” he says at last.

  “Yes, sir,” I reply, tears dripping down my chin.

  Steeled for the punishm
ent to come, I wait as Vol continues tapping the cane against my ass, priming me for the real swing. When it comes, not only is it harder than any of his previous strokes, it lands on a completely different spot than the one he’d been tapping. Caught off-guard, I gasp and wail before calling out, “Six! Thank you, sir.”

  “You have to be ready for the unexpected, Jillian,” Vol says, slapping my ass with his bare hand. Again, I didn’t anticipate getting spanked, and the smack makes me reel. “Did you think I expected you to tell the world I made you sleep in a cage?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Correct,” he says, continuing to spank me. “What are the odds that the very first human news reporter in a position to ask an alien invader anything they wanted, would instead ask about you? There are some outcomes even I can’t predict.”

  As soon as he finishes his point, he swings the cane twice, snapping it against my ass. Torment burns through my trembling body—I can feel an X smoldering across my ass. Twisting my hips as though it could extinguish the pain, I huff before exclaiming, “Seven, thank you, sir! Eight, thank you, sir!”

  “That was very close, pet,” Vol warns. “Don’t keep me waiting, or you know what will happen.”

  “Yes, sir,” I choke, trying to shut out the pain.

  Overcome it, Jillian! You’re almost done! I wish I could pep myself up better, but the longer Vol waits to continue, the more I fear his next swing. They’re getting harder, and he’s no doubt saving the worst for last.

  Whether I mean to or not, I pour all of my concentration into his tapping—then I feel it: the tapping stops. I squeeze my eyes shut and scream, bucking against the telerings. “Nine, thank you, sir!”

  Vol steps around in front of me, holding the keera stick behind his back. “Pet, why did you just scream?”

  “What?” I ask, a dark pit opening up inside my stomach.

  Oh, no.

  “Just now, you hollered, then called out the ninth stroke. Except, I never swung.”

  In my mind, I already know he’s right. I can remember every second of this entire miserable experience. He tapped the stick, and then stopped—I waited for the cane, and reacted to it, but I never actually felt it.

  “You got ahead of me, didn’t you, pet?”

  I nod sheepishly. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry.”

  Vol sighs. “We’re starting over. I’ll give you a minute to collect yourself.”

  “No!” I shout, losing all semblance of shame. “I’m begging you, I can’t take this anymore!”

  Moving like a blur, Vol grips my chin and cheeks in his hand and stares deep into my eyes. “You will do as you’re told, human.”

  “Please,” I cry. “I’ll do anything. Just don’t make me start over.”

  Vol runs the edge of the stick along my naked breasts, tapping at my nipples. “Jillian, do you understand that you’ve set back my mission here on Earth?”

  “Yes, sir,” I reply.

  “Do you understand that my perception among humans has been forever tainted?”

  I nod, tears stinging my eyes.

  “Do you understand that everything I do to discipline you is for your own good, that I’m training you so that you might help your people?”

  “Yes, sir.” I believe him. When my ass isn’t burning in agony, he makes me feel like I’m glowing inside—and between my thighs, it’s like a supernova. But I can’t take much more of this right now.

  Vol lets go of my chin but doesn’t break eye contact. “Then I’ll make you a deal: the caning will resume, rather than start over—but afterward you will pleasure me with your mouth.”

  Involuntarily, I look down at his crotch; his bulge is enormous, straining hard against his uniform. Shivering, I imagine how thick and long his cock must be, and how I’d probably struggle just to fit his tip between my lips. I must be getting delirious, because the idea of sucking him off strikes me as more of a challenge than a threat. My heart races and I blush, realizing I want his cock inside me, and I don’t care how.

  “Yes, sir,” I say, trying to keep my voice even.

  “And you will do so here, in front of my crew,” Vol adds.

  Oh, fuck.

  I had nearly forgotten they were all still here. No, that’s too embarrassing. The caning is bad enough. To have them all witness my depravity and degradation… I can’t.

  “Please, no, sir,” I implore. “Not that.”

  “No? Something else?”

  I should stop and think, but I don’t. In my desperation, I say, “Anything else.”

  Vol grins. “Good. I know just the thing.” He reaches into his uniform and retrieves another toy: this one is a large bulb of some kind; it tapers down on one end, then flares out again to create a flat base. He holds it in front of me so I can see it; after a second, it begins to glisten, as an oily coating spreads across its surface.

  “W-what’s that?” I ask.

  Vol steps around me and then I feel his fingers spreading apart the cheeks of my tormented ass. The gazes of our audience burn into me—I can hear them shifting around and grunting in lust and amusement. Vol lets out a pleased huff as the cool air tickles my bud.

  “Oh, god!” I gasp, twisting my hips away, earning a few hard slaps on my bottom.

  “Relax, pet. Fighting this will only make it harder,” he says, again parting my cheeks. I almost wish he’d bind me so I couldn’t move. Forcing myself to stay put while in such a humiliating position makes this even harder to bear. My knees shake as I attempt to keep still. Instead, I shut my eyes and try to forget there’s anyone else in the room but the two of us.

  I whimper, trying not to clench as Vol presses the plug against my tight hole. I’ve never been penetrated there before, and even though the device’s oil is cool and lubricating, the pressure burns horribly. Mercifully, he doesn’t simply ram the toy into place in one go; he pushes in a little a time, drawing it back before it gets in too far. Before each push, he pats my back or squeezes my shoulder to warn me. It’s a small gesture, but I appreciate it. Each thrust inward spreads my flesh a little wider, causing me to gasp and groan. The toy feels even bigger than it looks, if that’s even possible.

  “Very good, Jillian. Almost there. You’re doing very well for your first time.”

  “Thank you, sir,” I reply. Getting credit for taking a toy in my ass shouldn’t evoke such a swell of pride, but it does. Maybe it’s because Vol seems genuinely pleased—that’s the real achievement, I suppose. Still, my heart races, knowing the real test is still to come.

  The pitch of my squeal rises as the toy plunges in all the way, getting drawn inward at the end until the flat base comes to rest against my cheeks. I know all the Dominars are still watching, but I can’t bear to meet their gazes. Is this any better than having to suck Vol’s cock in front of them all? I doubt it, but it’s too late to rethink my decision now. Vol played me perfectly, didn’t he?

  “Ready to continue, pet?”

  “Yes, sir,” I reply. Ready or not, I want to get this over with.

  When the cane smacks against my ass, I feel it through the plug too. “Nine. Thank you, sir,” I snarl, clenching down on the toy as I fight back the pain.

  “Oh, she’s mad,” Vol taunts, tapping the cane against the plug. “Don’t be insolent, pet. That’s just as bad as disobedience.”

  I swallow a curse and nod. “Yes, sir.”

  “Okay, last one. Do you need a second?”

  “No, sir,” I reply. The anticipation only makes it worse.

  “Very well.”

  Feeling the fullness in my ass, coupled with the soreness of each stroke of the keera stick, I am barely able to think. It’s a miracle I manage to respond properly after the tenth swing. The cane makes a sonorous thwack against my bottom, leaving me in blistering agony. “Ten. Thank you, sir,” I say through gritted teeth. Though the punishment is over, I feel no relief, only lingering pain.

  Vol rubs my bottom, squeezing my bruised cheeks. “You took that very well, Jillia
n. There is one last thing I want you to see, however. Move.”

  The telerings around my wrists pull my arms behind my back, while the rings on my ankles urge me on a forward march. Groaning, I follow along, feeling the plug shifting inside me with every step. To make the walk more torturous, Vol continues to tap with the cane, peppering my ass with little thumps. By the time we reach Vol’s private quarters, my rear throbs so badly, I can’t imagine sitting down for a month. At least we’ve left behind the audience.

  I’m not sure what to expect of Vol’s living space—a room like mine, I guess. As commander, his quarters are practically the size of a small house, with separate rooms for sleeping, dining, recreation and more. They’re tastefully decorated, with holographic artwork and organic furniture he tells me come from several of the worlds he’s conquered. The inside of Vol’s bedroom, in comparison, is shockingly Spartan: he has a bed, a handful of plants, and a wardrobe, but little else.

  “I don’t spend much time in here,” he says, as if reading my thoughts. “I prefer to be out in the world, doing something—or at the very least, on the bridge, seeing to my mission. And I don’t care much for material possessions.”

  He takes my shoulders and pushes downward, forcing me to lower myself to my knees. Setting the keera stick down on his bed, he takes off his jacket and folds it neatly. A black, long-sleeved undershirt clings to his massive frame, and I can’t help staring. Watching me, he strips the shirt off over his head, revealing his godlike physique. As angry as I am, my breath still catches, and my pussy aches with a desire I’d rather not feel right now.

  Most striking, however, is a large scar running nearly the whole length of his purple chest. Lighter in color than the rest of his skin, and slanted like a slash, it rises and falls with his breathing.

  “I’ve been conquering worlds a long time, Jillian Wexler. Not every mission has gone flawlessly,” he says, looking down at the scar. “Nanites could repair this, if I wanted them to. But I keep it as a reminder.”

  Staring at the mark, I wonder how long ago this happened—how long he’s lived with it. “A reminder of what?”

  “Of my failure,” he says, glaring at the floor. “Failure to… anticipate all the dangers of a mission. As powerful as my people are, we’re not omnipotent. Things can go wrong, even for us. And today you made this more likely. That’s why you needed to be punished, pet.”