Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 46803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
“Probably a lot of things.”
His tusks and fangs clamp together with the action of his jaw. He dos not like my flippant response. He wants me to take this seriously and tell him everything. I bet those soldiers already told him. I bet Rex told him all sorts of shit.
“No more secrets,” he says, stepping forward to pick me up from the bed. I don’t resist. I’ve been anticipating this from the moment I saw him grab Rex.
“Did you kill him?”
“Not yet.”
“Don’t.”
He has me in his grasp, his massive, clawed hands on my hips. When I tell him not to kill Rex, he pauses and looks down at me. I’ve just stalled him. Maybe if I keep talking, I can spare my ass some of the pain I know it has coming.
“Why do you wish for me to spare his life?”
“Rex has been around for as long as I can remember. They’re not bad people. They just suck because they’re brainwashed, and they work for my father, and nobody can be in his presence without being brainwashed. He’s very charismatic. He’s a force of personality you can’t really understand.”
He nods and turns his big alien body so he can sit on the bed, swiveling me with him so I end up between his big, powerful thighs. I know I am in trouble. I can feel that fact all the way to my soul. There’s a tremor in my hands. My knees feel wobbly. Kahn has always been big and strict and stern, but he seems even more so now that he has my guilt on his side.
“So you ran away from home,” he says. “You ran from your father’s protection.”
“He wasn’t protecting me. He was going to make me marry someone I didn’t want. He was using me as a pawn. Rex isn’t trying to take me back to my loving father. He’s fetching lost cargo.”
Kahn’s hands tighten on my hips, but not in a way that frightens me or threatens punishment. It is a comforting squeeze. I never thought he’d comfort me. The feeling throws me off, confuses me, makes me squirm in his grip. He tightens his hands again, this time to still me.
“Nobody is taking you anywhere,” Kahn tells me. “You are mine, and I will keep you safe.”
He speaks with total conviction, in a tone that makes me feel so completely cared for, and I start to cry. Tears just start flowing, running down my face. I haven’t cried in so long it feels as though my skin is parched, a desert of despair. The tears are like a river suddenly flowing from a dam I’ve been keeping inside me for too long.
Kahn’s hands move from my hips and his arms envelop me. Big, warm, comforting. I bury my face in his alien neck, feeling his scales against the tip of my nose as I hide from my pain and my sorrow in his sheltering embrace.
Kahn
Telling my human that I will look after her seems to have created this pain reaction. It could be confusing, if I did not understand that humans quite often cry when they are happy and laugh when they are sad. This reaction is of a confused and dysregulated nervous system. She needs to be calmed down. She needs to be comforted. And, as luck would have it, she needs to be spanked.
I put her over my lap, still sobbing, and run my palm over her upturned cheeks.
“Part of looking after you is ensuring that you understand disobedience will not be tolerated.”
My palm meets her cheeks, soft human flesh turning pretty pink from the very first application of my rough hand. It is not nearly as hard as it would have been before she showed me her contrition and her pain.
“Your habit of leaving the safety of the confines of my room has once again put you in danger,” I lecture. “You told me you wanted to remain far from the eyes of these soldiers, you did not tell me why, and now you have not only been seen, but the humans are aware that you are alive and well and on this ship. You have put everybody in excessive danger because you are incapable of the most basic obedience.”
My words are accompanied by sharp slaps that I very much hope impart a good, shocking sting to her body, somehow driving my words deeper into her mind so the next time she considers a wayward course of action, some mechanism is enabled to stop it.
“I know,” she whimpers. The first time I spanked her, she was stiff and tense over my lap. She flailed and she kicked and she cursed. This time she is softer and more relaxed. She is submitting to me, and to her own guilt. She is learning, I hope, though no training can ever be said to be complete until it is tested.