Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 47529 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 238(@200wpm)___ 190(@250wpm)___ 158(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47529 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 238(@200wpm)___ 190(@250wpm)___ 158(@300wpm)
“You are going to wash that soap out of your mouth now,” I tell her. “And you are going to keep your teeth for eating and nothing else. Understand?”
I get a brief, evasive nod. She does not want to look at me. She is ashamed, not of her bad behavior, but of her submission. It is a humiliation to a creature like this to bend her will in any way to that of another. I will have to ensure there are abundant awards for obedience if I am to truly make her mine.
There is a water supply in all the human cages. I let her go and make use of the one she was just in, trying not to appear too amused as she splashes and splutters in the effort to remove all traces of soap from the inside of her mouth. It is an effort doomed to fail. She will be tasting that punishment for quite some time.
When she has as much of the soap out of her mouth as possible, she looks at me with an ever-so-slightly chastened expression.
“Are we done?”
“Far from it, little one. Come here.”
Her face falls, and I see temptation to disobedience written clearly on her features. She wants to defy me, but even as her eyes dart about the room she can see that there is no escape. She can obey me, or she can disobey me, and either way she will suffer the consequences.
Her feet take slow steps as she delivers herself to me. The outfit her erstwhile owners chose for her does not suit her, but in this particular moment it does lend a certain vulnerability.
She’s very cute. But she’s much naughtier than she is cute.
I take her by the hand once she is in range and draw her back over my lap. She lets me take her over my thighs with a soft sob and lies almost like a tamed pet in place. I spread my palm over her cheeks, feel the deserved heat, and swat her lightly.
Jen
My mouth tastes like soap, my ass feels like it's made of lava, and I don’t know what’s happened to me. I am lying over Arkan’s thighs, letting him spank my already whipped ass and not even trying to destroy him.
He’s done something to me that I didn’t think was possible. He’s made me compliant. I don’t even feel like biting him, or scratching him, or calling him the worst thing I can possibly concoct in my mind. It’s such a strange feeling, I’d almost wonder if I’d been drugged if I hadn’t experienced every painful stroke and foam of his punishment firsthand.
At least he is being more gentle now. The slaps are not as punitive, and his tone when he speaks is softer.
“I think you’re already starting to feel what is on the other side of obedience, pet,” he purrs gently, stroking and rubbing my very sore rear with careful motions. “This doesn’t have to hurt. None of it does. If you can behave, you will be happy. I promise you that.”
My eyelids are heavy. Maybe this is okay. Maybe…
The memory of a world far from this one returns to my mind. Harsh words, rough actions, a life of struggle and toil. He wants to take that all away from me. He wants to make my life easy. All I have to do is submit to him and whoever he sells me to, and…
Fuck. That.
It is a real effort to rouse myself from the comfortable state of dreamy submission he has put me into. I am fighting my body and many parts of my mind. But fight I must.
“Settle down,” he says soothingly.
“Let me fucking go,” I growl.
There’s a brief pause and maybe something like a sigh. “Back to your feisty self are you, pet?” His tone is not overly concerned, or surprised.
“I’m my own person. I’m not your pet. Now let me up and let me go, or I will…” I search my mind for threats. “I will ruin this world.”
“The world?” He chuckles. “You’re going to ruin the entire world, are you, pet?”
He doesn’t take me seriously. He should.
Arkan ignores my post-punishment cursing and growling as he puts me back inside my travel crate with my ass burning and my pride bruised. These aliens have a way of making a person truly feel like a pet, and I know that appeals to some, like the guy he just resold after having captured him five minutes ago. But it doesn’t appeal to me. I burn with a desire to manifest my own goddamn destiny. There is a part of me that is forever animal, properly wild and free in spite of shackles, cages, and spankings.
Looking out through bars offends that part of me deeply. I was not born to live in a cage. I was not made to be a pet. I am a wild fucking animal, and I intend to keep acting like it no matter what Arkan and his crew of advanced alien customers do.