Whatever he’s going to do next, he intends for others to see it. I’m not sure if that makes me feel better or worse.
When we arrive, the amphitheater is empty. Surprisingly small, the space reminds me of a college lecture hall: circular, with two rows of seats around a central stage. Set up in the middle of the room is a plain white table.
“Take off your clothes and lie down,” Vol orders.
I could refuse; I could resist. He may think the Al-Quansa members deserve how they’re being treated—and he might be right—but am I being treated so much better? I’m a prisoner too, and I didn’t do anything. How do I know he won’t send me to a prison planet if I disobey him? I have every right to be upset and scared.
What really pisses me off is that I’ve trusted him, and now I’m wondering if I made a mistake. Am I a fool for believing in him and his promises to the world? There’s so much I don’t know about him yet—but part of me felt that I knew all I needed.
That part tells me to obey, rather than resist. After all, what’s the point? I said it myself: he owns me. Yet, there is also a voice that wants to defy him, if just to see what he’d do.
“Don’t make me ask again,” Vol growls, staring at me with rigid features. He doesn’t let his impatience show on his face, but his compressed lips and slanted brow give no hint of mercy either.
Screw it. If there’s one thing I can know for sure about Vol, it’s that he has a purpose behind his every action. I want to know what he hopes to accomplish here, with me, in front of his crew. I want him to have the chance to prove I was right to trust him.
I do as he says, dragging my hand along the back of my singlet to form an opening. I stare at him as I work my arms free of the long sleeves, then I slip my head out of the collar. I bunch the top half of the garment in front of my chest for a moment before letting it drop, exposing my breasts. I don’t want to give them any more of a show than I have to, but delaying is only going to get me in more trouble.
To my grim satisfaction, I see through his pants his stiffening cock. He still wants me, even if he is mad at me.
There’s no way to remove the long leggings of the singlet without bending over in the most undignified way imaginable, so this I do quickly, my cheeks flushing as I feel the stares intensify. I wouldn’t mind if it was just Vol here, but I don’t think I’ll ever fully get used to undressing in front of strangers.
Soon, it’s done, and I’m naked, shivering slightly in the starship’s cold, recycled air. Vol takes the garment from me, and points to the table where I lie down.
“Face down, pet. And keep your feet on the floor,” he clarifies. Glaring, I turn over. I nearly protest that my legs aren’t long enough for my feet to reach, but the table lowers until they do.
Of course.
Vol pats my rear, spreading my cheeks to examine me. I blush, fury rising in my chest, but stay put. After a moment, a Dominar arrives at the theater carrying a large black case. Vol thanks the man and takes it. He opens it up and gets out some kind of rope.
Casting a faint glow, the smooth cyan cords are cool to the touch. Vol ties my arms behind my back in a tight box, ensuring I can’t get my hands free no matter how hard I struggle.
The other Dominar takes a seat, watching Vol bind my arms, then my ankles, tying them to the table’s legs. Next, he removes two new items from the case: a small bottle containing a clear fluid, and a hook-shaped piece of metal with a bulb at one end and a ring at the other. He pours some of the fluid out into his hand, then proceeds to smear it between my ass cheeks, guiding some of it into my tight hole. The oil feels incredibly slick, which helps greatly when Vol presses the hook’s orb into my ass.
“Relax,” he says. “Don’t fight it.”
I stop clenching, not realizing I had been; although I’ve had plugs before, this hook is new, and I’m more than a little worried about how he’s planning to use it. I groan as it slides in; the toy’s cold, and sends a chill through me. Then Vol fists my hair, pulling my head back until I can’t help whimpering from the strain. Using more of the rope, he ties off my hair, then slips the rope through the hook’s ringed end.
“Oh, god,” I moan, realizing what he’s doing. He pulls the rope until there’s no slack left and makes a knot, forcing me to pull on the hook if I want to move my head at all. I can’t relax my neck either, which Vol likely intended, as now I have to look at him when he stands before me.
My heart races, barely processing my discomfort and humiliation. More Dominars are arriving; I can practically feel their lustful gazes.
Vol waits for a couple more to take their seats, then takes off his top. My eyes are instantly drawn to his scar. “I want to tell you the story of how I got this, and I want you to pay close attention,” he says.
“Yes, sir,” I reply. As angry as I am, I’ve wanted to know more about the scar ever since I first saw it.
“It happened early in my career,” Vol begins, taking from the case another toy. This one consists of a long black hilt and foot-long tendrils the same color as the rope binding me. When he practices his swing, I recognize that it’s a flogger.
“I was leading a strike team against rebels on the planet Nyba, a world far more advanced than Earth, but still primitive compared to the Dominars. My commander at the time, Arkun, didn’t care about the lives of inferior species, and encouraged us to be brutally efficient in our conquering. He reasoned, the harsher we fight, the sooner they will surrender.”
Vol clenches a fist and shakes his head. “His lack of empathy disgusted me, but I was a soldier—it was not my place to question orders. Fortunately, my status as squad leader and my prowess in combat earned me some personal leeway. I shot to wound, rather than kill, but as long as I completed my missions successfully and without Dominar casualties, Arkun let me be.
“When the Nyba rebels were nearly defeated, they concentrated their forces in a desperate final assault. Though we had a vast advantage in powerful technology, they fought us with near-total abandon, sacrificing themselves in suicidal attacks. A group of them swarmed a friend of mine and detonated their explosives at the same time, killing him and themselves. For the first time in my life, I let anger take control of me, and instead of wounding the rebel fighters, I began killing.”
As Vol speaks, the rest of the room fills up—like me, the other Dominars listen intently. Have they not heard this story, or are they just showing the commander their respect?
“I only killed a handful, compared to the hundreds slaughtered by the members of my squad. Still, I felt like a failure. I lost a friend, I took lives of primitive beings, and I allowed emotion to dictate my actions. Even a thousand years later, I’m still mad at myself for what happened that day.
“As for this,” he says, gesturing at his scar. “It didn’t even happen during the battle. The rebel casualties were catastrophic, and with the battle lost, a few survivors surrendered. One of them was a young man—a boy, really. He stared at me as I supervised the apprehension of the survivors. Still seething with anger, I approached him and asked if he had a problem. ‘You killed my father,’ he said to me, rage in his eyes. I started to raise my gun, but he moved so fast—he slashed me with a Nyba dragon talon, a prized possession among his people. With the battle over and the survivors thought to be disarmed, I’d powered down my armor, which allowed the talon to cut deep enough through my uniform and wound me.”
Vol sighs. “My men shot the boy so many times, only pieces were left. I went to an infirmary while nanites repaired the damage. It took ten minutes—and then, as far as my body was concerned, it may as well have never even happened. I learned that day the consequences of surrendering to your emotions, and I vowed not to kill ever again unless I had absolutely no choice. Every day I see the scar and remember that the best way to ensure I have a choice is to be in control of both myself and the situation. Do you understand, Jillian?”
“Yes, sir,” I say. Tears drip down my cheeks—I want to lower my chin to let the
m fall, but the hook in my ass keeps me still.
“The situation you helped cause on Delegate Prime could have ended in pointless deaths. That is why I am punishing you, and called my fellow Dominars here to see it.”
“Yes, sir,” I repeat. However, as badly as I feel for Vol after his story, I’m still furious at him. There wouldn’t have been a situation if he wasn’t banishing humans to another fucking planet.
Vol’s first swing of the flogger shocks me like a lightning bolt. I feel the smack across my cheeks and through the hook lodged in my ass. I moan from the pain, but even moving my jaw causes the plug to jostle slightly. His next couple of swings alternate between my cheeks, making sure each one continues to burn.
Due to the room being circular, there are now several Dominars directly in front of me—I try not to look at them, but when I do they have no problem meeting my gaze. Some of them keep their expressions unreadable, but others have no compunction smirking, enjoying the show. How many of them ascribe to Vol’s moral code, and how many of them are just following his orders, the way Vol once followed Arkun?
Vol finishes my initial punishment with a series of swats delivered by swinging the flogger in a figure eight. Every time he makes contact I yelp, and by the end I’m trying to keep still, lest I shake the hook. Still, I feel like Vol is going easy on me. After what I did, I expected a real thrashing.
Perhaps sensing my confusion, Vol sets down his flogger. “Pet, this isn’t about beating you into submission. That would be barbaric. This is about disciplining you, molding you into something better. And not just you personally, Jillian—all of humanity, including those sent to other planets.”
“Yes, sir,” I mumble, trying not to move my jaw.
Vol glances at the rope holding my hook in place; it must be more than simple rope, because it somehow loosens, freeing me to drop my head down. The soreness in my neck fades quickly, no doubt cleared away by my nanites. After untying my hair, Vol removes the hook and gives my throbbing cheeks a couple of quick spanks.
“In order to achieve peace and stability, humanity will have to suffer some,” he says, taking two new toys from his case. I recognize them right away: a long, thick vibrator and a seriously intimidating butt plug. “Do you think you’ll ever forget this lesson, Jillian?” Vol asks, removing my hook.
I groan as the wide orb at the end of the hook stretches my tight muscle. “No, sir,” I reply after a moment, quite confident in my answer. “Never.”
Vol applies more lube, this time working both my holes. “Good,” he says, sliding the vibrator into my pussy. Despite my humiliation and anger, I moan needfully as the massive toy fills me. “Now, this should remind you that the more discipline you demonstrate, the more reward you earn.”
“Yes, sir.”
Next comes the butt plug. Whether for the audience’s benefit or his enjoyment, Vol takes his time inserting the bulbous toy. He presses it in slowly and pulls it out, again and again, savoring my pained squeals and mortified moans. I shouldn’t be enjoying this, but it feels wonderful to be filled so completely. Even being tightly bound and on display for the aliens can’t take away my enjoyment.
Then Vol turns on the vibrator. At first I barely feel it, but the toy amps up in power quickly; it doesn’t take long before I’m howling blissfully. When the butt plug begins to vibrate too, I scream, utterly overwhelmed by the sensation. I squeeze my fists together behind my back and tug at the ropes binding my ankles, but I can’t escape.
“Eyes open, pet.”
Somehow I manage to comply. I look around, but don’t see Vol—in fact, I don’t see anyone. The Dominars have left.
“I sent them away, Jillian,” Vol explains, coming into view. “They’ve seen what I wanted them to. What happens now is just between us.” He pulls down his pants, revealing his fully erect member. When he holds it up to my lips, he doesn’t even have to give the command; I open my mouth and take in as much as I can.
“You can come, pet. But if you don’t get me off, I’m going to leave those vibrators on all night long.”
Is he serious? The threat scares me, but also excites me more than it should. He can’t be serious, right?
Not wanting to find out, I start sucking as hard as I can. The vibrators don’t make it easy, though; my first orgasm comes on like a tornado, lifting me out of my head and taking me for a ride. I can’t keep my lips sealed around Vol’s cock, I’m screaming so loud. He holds my head in place by my hair, which only makes me hotter. The feeling of being controlled grips and lifts me—I felt it before, but now I can’t deny it anymore. Having Vol’s enormous rod thrust into my mouth makes me wetter and wetter—I’ve barely started sucking again when my second orgasm coalesces.
“Focus, pet!”
My mouth is so full, there’s no chance I could speak, so I hum an acknowledgment. Between his cock, the vibrator, and the plug, I’m stuffed beyond belief. My cheeks burn as I try to picture myself like this—what a creature I’ve become. It feels like another lifetime when I was dating men like Thad, who probably wouldn’t have lasted more than a minute if I’d sucked him off. Vol isn’t even breathing heavy right now; I moan in frustration, realizing this just might take all night.
“Don’t be discouraged,” Vol says. “You’re doing great.”
My second orgasm sparks my entire body into a profound euphoria, a trance I don’t come down from for what feels like hours. Through it I continue to orgasm, and work Vol’s cock, relying on pure instinct. The immense pleasure lasts and lasts.
I don’t really know what happens next, or how long it takes to get Vol to climax. All I remember is screaming as pure ecstasy floods my body. I think Vol kisses me.
“Say it again, Jillian: you belong to me,” he commands.
“I… belong… to… you,” I reply, and then I’m gone.
Chapter Twelve
Jillian
I wake up feeling fully rested and not even slightly sore. I feel like I’ve been gone for a long time, as if I’ve been in hibernation. According to the nanites, it’s been sixteen hours, and they have helped my body recuperate. It’s too bad; I’ve realized I don’t mind a little soreness.
I’m still not in love with being naked and caged though. Sitting up, I shake the bars above my bed to see if they’re locked—they don’t budge. I sigh, curling up into a ball. There’s no point in getting upset, I suppose. Discipline, Vol would say. If it earns me the kind of orgasms I had yesterday, I’ll spend a little time in a cage. God, it’s not even that difficult a decision. Being tied down, having two giant plugs buried inside me, vibrating with incredible power, ripping mind-bending orgasms out of me… it’s a wonder I can think of anything else.
There has to be something wrong with me. Shouldn’t that have been torture? Too much of a good thing can be just as bad as too little—even orgasms. Yet, I couldn’t get enough. Being helpless, unable to stop the tide of bliss, made everything so much more intense, even if it was a little scary. That’s the Dominars in a nutshell though, isn’t it? Handsome but alien, exciting but intimidating—they can be loving, but also demanding.
Thinking about Vol, my hand works its way between my thighs. My core surges with heat and warmth, aching for his touch, though mine will suffice as long as I can imagine him being there. My clit throbs and I bite my lip, imagining Vol’s stern voice and firm hand. If he were here he’d—
He’d chastise me for pleasuring myself without permission. He might even punish me for it. The devil on my shoulder tells me I should do it, discipline be damned.
No, Jillian. Be good.
Pouting, I withdraw my hand and stretch out. I can’t believe I’m letting my actions be dictated in such a way—I’m an adult, I should be able to do what I want. Vol’s not even here right now, and I’m letting him dictate my actions. Yes, he could be monitoring me through my nanites—he may know if I’m behaving or not—but if I’m not hurting anyone, shouldn’t I be free to enjoy my own body?
I… belong�
� to… you…
My own words echo in my mind. It may be my body, but Vol owns it. For some reason, the idea doesn’t perturb me. There’s a comfort in knowing that doing what Vol wants of me means I’ll reap the rewards. What’s so wrong with that?
To keep temptation at bay, I think about the story of Vol’s scar. If he’s supposed to be thousands of years old, how long ago did that fateful battle happen? Generations of humans have come and gone since then—entire civilizations have existed and fallen into obscurity. And yet, he carries around a scar of something probably only he and maybe a handful of other Dominars even remember. He may be the only person in the entire universe who remembers that young man. How many people has Vol spared, thanks to him? Would he forgive Vol if he knew how Vol changed? And if he had known Vol wasn’t like the other Dominars, would he still have done what he did?
I suppose what concerns me is, what if they had sent someone other than Vol to take over Earth? Would I feel the same way about them as the world’s new overlords, or am I willing to submit because of Vol?
I feel bad about what I did in the detention center, putting lives at risk. Maybe I should have known that the prisoners were volatile and could attempt to escape, but I didn’t rile them up on purpose. Why should I be punished for something I didn’t really do? I endured my punishment and learned my lesson, but what if it’s not so easy for the rest of humanity? What if they refuse to change, and find themselves on a one-way trip to Cetaski? Vol will explain to them what will happen, or he’ll let me do it, won’t he?
There’s so much for me to process about the last few days, I could probably just think about everything for a week without getting bored. Still, I only end up waiting an hour for Vol to show. He looks impeccable as always, in his full dress uniform. He doesn’t say anything at first, perhaps to gauge my reaction. I look at him, but say nothing. If he’s the master, then surely it’s acceptable for me to stay silent until spoken to.
His Human Conquest (Captives of the Dominars Book 2) Page 9