Bad Alien Boss (Royal Aliens 6)

Page 7

I still don’t know what he’s actually doing to me. All I know is that electric currents are running through my ass somehow, zapping me and whacking me and making me feel like about a dozen canes are landing all at once before the pain subsides again and I have a moment to breathe.
What the fuck’s wrong with this guy? I ask myself that question right before I ask myself what the fuck is wrong with me. He’s making my ass burn, and he has this energy, like a principal and an old fashioned policeman, and a bank manager all rolled into one.
“What the hell did I do to you?”
“It’s not what you did to me, though you did disrespect me. It’s what you will do. It’s what I need you to be.”
“Really fucking sore?”
“The level of pain is dependent on you. The resistance in your body partially regulates the punisher. The more you rebel against me, the worse it hurts. It’s like a shock collar for your ass, triggered not by barking but by rebellion.”
“You know about dog shock collars?”
“I have studied your species,” he says. “I know of the way you enslave other species, and how you think nothing of using cruelty to bend them to your will. So I designed this system. I feel it appropriate.”
"Most people take really good care of their animals, you dick.”
“I am taking very good care of you.”
And then it starts again, the waves of electrical type sensations which make my ass flinch and my hips squirm and send pulses of warmth through all the most sensitive parts of me.
He watches me as I writhe in my bonds, his vibrant, multicolored eyes shining down at me, his expression haughty and self-impressed. I don’t know if he is getting off on this. I don't know if he knows how close I might be to getting off on this.
My hips keep jolting forward, but there’s nothing to escape because this punishment is wireless. I could squirm and run and fight, and break free of him, but it wouldn’t make a difference.
He’s fucked up.
He’s cruel.
He’s sadistic.
He’s turning me on.
I can feel my face turning red with the effort of trying to contain my response. I am flushing and biting back moans. There’s no way he could have known this, but I like my pleasure spiked with pain. I came when I got my nipple pierced — he hasn’t seen that yet. I’m sure he’ll be full of judgement when he sees that.
I come. Hard. I come so fucking hard I don’t think I’ve ever orgasmed this intensely before. There’s this massive wave of energy running through me, every single little hair end on my scalp rising erect as I convulse in my bonds, writhing against the grip the material from the walls has on my wrists and ankles, coming all the way off my feet and spinning forward like some kind of marionette with the strings cut — except I am still very much attached to my alien captor’s bindings.
“That was an interesting reaction, human,” he muses when I can breathe and think again. “If I did not know that I was punishing you, I would have thought that I had pleasured you.”
“Oh yeah, I guess that’s so weird.” I’m trying to stay away from the truth here. I don’t want him to know that I like my pleasure spiced with pain, and other song lyrics from a long time ago.
“So weird,” he repeats in a tone which strongly suggests he doesn’t think it is weird at all.
He removes the bindings, and catches me when I fall. My legs are weak, trembling with the effort of trying to keep me upright. Whatever the fuck just happened to me, it got right into my nerves and then into my bones. I feel like I’m made of jelly.
He feels hard and strong as I collapse against his unyielding chest. I expected his scales to hurt, but they lie so perfectly flat that he just feels ridged… for my pleasure? Perhaps. More likely for my pain.
His big hands wrap around my upper arms and he lays me gently back on a soft, mushy, bed-type arrangement that wasn’t there a moment ago.
“Are you magic?”
“The ship is made of material which responds to concentrated, disciplined will. We can shape it as we please within reason.”
“That’s pretty cool.”
“Indeed. Stay still, human. You appear to be weakened substantially by your orgasmic response. I can only imagine that is because reproduction is more likely to occur if you are drained of energy post coitus, perfectly still and allowing the seed of your male partners to inseminate you.”
“Dude. Gross.”
But it’s not gross. It’s hot to have this sexy alien standing over me, musing as to how I might best be impregnated, especially as he’s damn right. I am completely drained, and I can feel my body swimming with a host of hormones which make me feel lightheaded and happy. It’s like being really fucking high, without a single drug in my system.