He says nothing. He simply stares, and looks, and then stares again. He walks closer to me and slides a finger beneath my chin, turning my face up to look at him. I find it hard to meet his gaze, those shifting colors around dark pupils make me feel lost and preyed upon at the same time.
“You are mine,” he says. The words are soft, but their intention and meaning is harsh. He's not saying it in a romantic sort of way. He’s saying it in the way I’ve told shoes in stores which I liked that they were going to be mine, with pure possession.
He lets his fingers trail down my throat, to my neck. I feel them brush across my breasts, finding one nipple and then the next in a sensual exploration which makes me clench deep inside. He knows how to touch me. He’s not rough, and he’s not awkward. He’s masterful, and he’s making a thorough inspection of almost every inch of me.
“Weren’t you going to beat me or something?”
“Perhaps that will come later. For now, this seems to be making you suffer quite exquisitely.”
He’s perceptive, and he is driving me crazy. Not because I want him to stop touching me, but because I want him to touch me more. I want him to find the tight places which clench and squirm and I want him to spread them open.
Maybe it’s fucked up that I want him to fuck me. But that’s pretty much my reaction to being angry with almost any man. He’s wrong about one thing. I’m not suffering. I’m secretly enjoying myself. I’m getting my perverse pleasure from the thing that’s wrong. I’m not supposed to be okay with this. I’m supposed to be horrified and violated.
“If you ever, and I do mean ever, try to attack me again…”
“The way you talk? I am definitely going to attack you again. It’s inevitable. Don’t bother with the threat.”
His scaled palm meets my ass in a swift, and honestly fucking painful slap.
“I won’t bother with speaking at all, human. You don’t understand words. You need pain.”
He materializes something magic, but simple. A chair. A chair in which he sits, and pulls me over his thighs. I can see what’s going to happen here, or at least, I assume I can.
I feel something cool and gel like on my ass. Like, right on my ass, on the sensitive little hole between my cheeks. He’s pushing something inside me there, something smooth that flares with every little bit he makes it go deeper.
“You know what I usually do with that hole?” I pipe up.
“Don’t be crude, human,” he lectures. “This plug will keep you entertained back here.”
Entertained? I am entertained, I suppose, if I consider my ass being stretched around an alien butt plug entertainment. It is distracting, and kinky, and a little unexpectedly perverted.
“Filling your holes is very enjoyable,” he murmurs, making me think there’s some chance he’ll be filling the part of me that is getting wet as hell right now.
But it’s not my pussy he fills. It’s my mouth. A gag is pressed between my teeth, magicked from the ether just to keep me quiet. I wasn’t even talking shit this time, so that feels unfair, but with two holes filled, my ass stretched lewdly and my teeth sunk into magic rubber, there’s only one left…
And that’s when he starts spanking me. His palm meets my ass multiple times in a matter of seconds, tanning my ass with a quick and decisive spanking which catches me somehow off-guard and makes me arch, my feet kicking high, my teeth gritting against the gag, and my ass clenched tight around that intrusive plug.
This hurts more than whatever the fuck he did the first time with the unseen punishment. This is more real and immediate. This is flesh on flesh, rough scales whipping against the bare skin of my ass and thighs.
In less than a minute, I am yowling for mercy I know I will not receive. He is showing me that he can do as he wishes with me, that he can toy with my body, violate my intimacy, and finally punish me like a juvenile.
“You will speak and act with respect. You will obey me in all things. You will do as you are told, and you will never, ever attempt to harm me. You depend on me now, human. You are my captive, my prisoner, my employee, my pet. You are owned in every way it is possible to be owned, do you understand?”
He pulls the gag from my mouth so that I can gasp and curse a reply. “Okay fucking hell, yes!”
“Good,” he says. “I think we are starting to come to terms.”
We are not coming to terms. I am coming close to something he would never expect. I am coming close to coming. Again. Yes, this spanking is painful as hell, and yes, he is delivering it with merciless authority, but he is also making me rub my bare pussy all over his thighs, and my ass is clenching against something hard and that gives me the ability to withstand the harsh whipping of his powerful alien palm.