by Viki Storm
This invader? He already has my planet, my people—everything. He wants me for one reason only: to satisfy his lust. To toy with me, make me submit to him.
And for some reason, that’s causing such a stir in my loins I can hardly stand it.
“Open up,” he says. “I promise I will not force myself on you. I get no pleasure from that. But I do take my pleasure in your obedience. In making the Queen Regent herself bare her cunt for my inspection. I get quite a lot of pleasure from that. And I’ll get even more pleasure when you’re dripping wet, begging me to take your virginity. So be good and open up. Let me have a look.”
I find that I do want to obey him, at least right now. I have been so sheltered my whole life, never allowed to socialize normally, to have suitors and be a normal girl. Now I’m a grown woman, and I’ve never enjoyed the thrill of courtship or the pleasure of making love.
I pull my knees apart, just a little. It’s all I can manage.
“That’s better,” he says. “That’s enough for now. I’m glad that you listened to me.” His eyes roam over my body, stopping to make eye contact momentarily before his gaze oils over my skin. He is testing me. Trying to throw me off balance.
It’s working.
“My word is true,” I say. “I pledge my obedience to you.”
“And your body,” he says. He holds my gaze, and I feel that heat again, swirling around like a storm about to break.
It’s not a question.
“Yes, Captain Vano.”
“Good,” he says. “Don’t make me regret this.”
“I will not,” I say. Though I know that if one of us is going to regret this arrangement, it’s going to be me. My legs tremble. I want to close my knees. The shame of his lecherous gaze is arousing, but it’s almost too much to bear. I don’t dare close my legs, though. He said he will not tolerate disobedience, and I don’t want to find out what sort of punishments he will administer.
“Now, tell me about your voice,” he says. “And why it’s so valuable.”
This is going better than I ever could have imagined. This innocent little queen trying to play the game. She’s lived on this planet her whole life, born into royalty, no external threats, no strife, no war.
Until me.
Until I land on her planet and take it for the Zalaryn race.
She thinks she can out-maneuver me, manipulate me. Let her try.
“What is your plan?” I ask. She is sitting before me in her elegantly carved wooden chair. A chair like this must cost as much as the man who hewed the wood makes in a month. There is a silken pillow on the seat, and it brings me much joy to see that there is a shiny smear of wetness between her legs. Something tells me this little Queen has been cooped up in her fancy palace chambers for too long. She needs a strong male to teach her how to experience all the pleasure that her ripe little body is made for.
“My plan?” she asks. When she reached for her robes, I told her to leave them off. She obeyed me, though she hesitated. I like that. She might be a Queen, but as a royal daughter, she must have a deep streak of obedience worked into her. She feels her nakedness very acutely right now. Her face is flushed red, and so is her chest. I have sensory pads on my head and my tongue, and I open my mouth slightly to breathe in the surrounding air. I concentrate and feel her shame, her arousal, her excitement. All of her feelings are mixed up together, and she isn’t sure what to do. Lucky for her, I’m here to tell her what to do.
“You said you had a plan,” I remind her. I doubt if she can think clearly enough to do basic arithmetic right now, let alone eloquently and persuasively articulate her plans for a geopolitical strategic alliance.
“Yes,” she says. “We will rule together.”
“Is that so?” I say. “Why should I let you rule with me? You get to keep your planet, your fancy title of Queen. You keep your palace and feather bed and velvet vestments. You get my help and expertise and, presumably, my muscle and force. What do I get?”
“You get my help, too,” she says. “The people won’t listen to a Zalaryn ruler. They will fight and rebel every step of the way. They will listen to me. I have legitimacy. I have the royal family name.”
“Interesting,” I say. In fact, this was my plan exactly. It is tough work, evacuating a planet. The humans don’t want to leave. It’s not easy to herd a hundred thousand humans onto ships at the tip of an anankah. It’s easiest if you can bribe or coerce the ruling class into doing the work for you, convincing the natives to leave of their own accord.
The little Queen thinks she’s clever with this plan.
But it’s my plan—has been my plan all along. And it will be so much easier to implement if she thinks it was her idea.
She is right: I will need the humans to maintain the settlement until more Zalaryns arrive to colonize. But we must evacuate in two stages. Stage one is the big one, when all non-essential workers leave. Stage two is after the Zalaryns arrive, when the last of the humans must go.
Zalaryns and humans can live together—sometimes they can even breed together. My race harbors no ill will against humans, though they are an inferior race. The problem is that humans resent us, resent our superior technology, our superior bodies and intellect. Rather than trying to learn from us, most humans rebel and fight. They condemn us as cruel and oppressive when that couldn’t be further from the truth.
“I will make your job easier,” she says. “I can help you.” Oh, yes, she will. And she’ll make it all the more pleasurable, too.
“Perhaps,” I say, not letting her know how much I need her. I don’t just need her powerful status to help me evacuate the humans—I need her. Now that I can smell her arousal, now that I can see those perfect, pink little lips spread open for me—I can hardly contain myself. “But it will require obedience. You cannot promise to help enforce my edicts only to refuse later on.”
“Of course, Captain Vano,” she said. Nice touch, I think, remembering to use the honorific. Those words out of her mouth, those blue eyes looking up at me, I’m so fucking hard underneath my breeches.
I feel a flush at my chest. It momentarily halts my scheming and perverted designs on her innocent body. I look down and see a few pinpricks of purple.
No. I close my eyes and will it away.
The males of my species undergo a drastic physical change when in the presence of their bonded mate.
But her? My bonded mate? No way.
It’s just lust, my raging erection. I’ve been on a ship for a long time and in the dungeons before that. I haven’t pleasured myself with a female for a long, long time.
I breathe deeply until the flushing sensation leaves. It was just a fluke after all.
That would be a good one, taking her as my bonded mate.
There’s no way I can do that. I cannot take a human female as my mate.
I am a captain, and once the Zalaryn colony is established, it will be expected that I take a Zalaryn female as my mate.
Many generations ago, the Zalaryn race was beset by a Sickness. The disease was caused by the qizo minerals we used to fuel our spacecraft. It affected the female chromosomes, rendering most of our Zalaryn females deformed and sterile. To keep up our numbers, Zalaryn males bred with select human females from the planet Earth. That practice, however, fell out of favor some years ago when High King Xalax and his father, Xorba, found a cure and administered it to the females. Our population of males still outnumbers the population of females, but we are rebuilding our society. That’s one of the reasons I’m here, colonizing a planet in a different quadrant of the universe from the Zalaryn home planet. High King Xalax has sent colonizing parties out to stake claims and start settlements.
I cannot take a human female as my mate. That would fly in the face of what we are trying to accomplish here. Our DNA is probably incompatible, too, and if there’s one thing a ruling male needs, it’s an heir.
But that doesn’t mean I can’t have some fun with her.
I can enjoy t
hat sleek, exotic human female body. I can use her position to gain easy control of the planet.
“This is no agreement to make lightly,” I say. “Full obedience in all matters. Can you give this to me? You drop your robes and expose your beautiful body to me, but it is a small feat to drop a robe. Are you ready to surrender completely to me?”
She waits just a beat before she answers: “Yes.”
“You hesitated,” I say. She squirms in her chair, sweeping her rump side to side. I watch as she smears more of her delightful essence onto the silk cushion. Her arousal is palpable. I can sense it in the air, and it’s having a delirious effect on me, clouding my own thinking. I need to be able to think clearly at all times. I need to stay one step ahead of her. This colony needs to succeed. If I can’t make it work… I don’t want to think about it. I can’t go back to Zalaryx.
This colony has to succeed. Humans must be evacuated—and that includes Queen Bryn.
“I promise, Captain Vano,” she says. She is looking at me with soft, innocent blue eyes. A flower ready to be plucked.
“You don’t trust me yet,” I say. She opens her mouth to protest, but I hold up a hand. “That’s okay, don’t deny it. I wouldn’t trust me, either. But you will. You promise obedience, and what I promise you is that I will never make you do anything you don’t want to do. I will always act for the good of this settlement. You will come to see that it is a joy to submit to a capable and strong male. That is the natural order of things.”
Her face contorts, and it’s obvious that she’s holding back a defiant retort. I’ll let that slide for right now. She’s still learning.
“I, too, hope we can work together for the good of this settlement,” is all that she says.
“Have you ever been mated?” I ask her. “I cannot smell another male on you.” Her eyes go wide with shock at the question, and that is exactly what I wanted. I need to keep her constantly off guard. That is why I wanted her to remain nude. It is an obvious tactical advantage to retain the dignity of clothing while your adversary is bared before you.
“Mated?” she asks. She knows what I am talking about but feigns ignorance.
“Mated,” I repeat. “Have you ever gone to bed with a male? Had penetrative intercourse resulting in the exchange of genetic material?”
She blushes an even deeper shade of red and looks away. “I have not,” she says.
“You are pure and untouched?” I ask. I already know she is, but it is delightful to make her say the words. My cock is getting so hard I fear it will undo the stitches of my breeches.
“I am,” she says.
“Look at me when you speak to me,” I correct her. With what seems to be a great effort, she lifts her eyes.
“I am, Captain Vano,” she says.
“You are what?”
“I am a virgin,” she says.
“Do you ever touch yourself?” I ask. “Human females are equipped with an appendage with no other biological purpose but pleasure. Do you ever play with it? Bring yourself to orgasm?”
“I…” she says and looks away.
“Look at me,” I say. “I have already given you a warning. Answer my question.”
“I’m sorry, Captain Vano,” she says. “I do, sometimes.”
“Do you want to touch it right now?” I ask. “Do you want to spread open your lips and show me that little nub? Show me how you touch it and make yourself feel good?” She manages to maintain eye contact with me. Those innocent blue eyes, so full of shame and desire. My cock’s been hard for a long time, but it stiffens even more at the sight of her.
“No,” she says.
“But you’re wet,” I say. “Look down at the chair cushion. You’re dripping. Your legs are barely parted, but I can see that little thing—what do you humans call it? There are some words of your language that I do not know.”
“Um,” she hesitates. “My tutors didn’t go over that part of the science textbooks. But when the girls whisper about such things, they call it a clit.”
“Well, I can see your clit. It’s gotten bigger, more swollen with desire since we’ve been talking. How does it feel right now? Does it feel hot? Is it pulsing fast with the increased speed of the beating of your heart? Are you sure you don’t want to touch it?”
“Maybe,” she chokes in a breath that catches in her throat.
“Then touch it,” I tell her. “Stroke it like you do when you’re alone. But you’re not alone. I’m watching you. Show me how you make yourself feel good.”
A low moan escapes her lips, and she slides her hand down. One finger parts her lips as she starts to rub herself slowly. It takes all of my willpower to keep from putting my own hand down the front of my breeches to stroke my cock. Her desire is thick, syrupy, all over the cushion. She has found a little rhythm and is sliding her hips back and forth along with her fingers. I let her touch until I sense her building pleasure.
“Good little Queen,” I tell her. “I knew you’d like following my orders. Don’t you?”
“I like this one,” she says.
“Your lust has made you wanton,” I say. “But I have an order that you’re not going to like so much. Stop touching. Now.”
She surprises me by stopping immediately. She whines in protest, but she stops, showing that she possesses some willpower after all.
“Yes, Captain Vano,” she says. She’s out of breath, and her words are half spoken, half moaned.
“You need release, and I will give it to you,” I say. “But you are going to come with my cock in your mouth. Get off the chair and crawl toward me on your hands and knees.”
She looks at me, but the hesitation is gone. She is consumed by her lust and will do whatever I say right now. This is good. I didn’t think I’d make this much progress so fast. But it turns out that the little Queen was pent-up and sheltered, kept under metaphorical (or maybe literal) lock and key until her father, the King, could marry her off to some well-to-do noble. She is young but too old to still be a virgin, perhaps twenty-three years old. Years and years of desire built up and waiting for me to come and give her release.
She slides down off the chair and crawls to me, just as instructed.
“How do you feel knowing that an alien invader has gotten you out of your clothes, has gotten you wet and panting for cock, has you crawling on all fours like a beast? Do you feel like a Queen now?”
“No, but I don’t care,” she says.
She will care after her lust has been sated, I think. She’ll care a lot about her lost dignity and will fight and defy me in an attempt to regain control.
And I will get to punish her for it.
I’m definitely going to enjoy this.
She’s going to make it easy to forget the reason I was shipped all the way out here. The reason I’m being punished with exile and this task of colonization.
“Take out my cock,” I tell her. She unlaces my breeches and pulls them down just enough that my cock springs free. She just looks at it, her breath tickling my sensitive skin. “Grab it,” I say. I place my hand over hers and guide her, showing her how I like to be gripped. “Like this.” She follows my example, and I guide her hand up and down along my shaft. I start to breathe heavily, but I fight to maintain my composure. As much as I want to give in and enjoy this moment, I restrain myself. I can’t let her realize how much I desire her. Not her status, not her planet, not the physical release of a sexual act after being on the ship for so long.
I want her.
That gives her incredible power over me—and I can’t let her know how much.
“Take it into your mouth,” I say. She gives the tip a tentative lick, and I can’t help the moan that escapes my lips. “Into your mouth,” I repeat.
She wraps her lips around the tip and waits for further instruction. She’s never done this before and isn’t sure what to do. I put my hand at the back of her head and gently guide it up and down until she gets the idea. As she goes up and down, I reach down and allow
myself to feel between her legs. I am not prepared for just how wet she is. What I wouldn’t give to throw her to the ground and mate her right now. But I can’t. Not yet. She isn’t ready.
I start to touch her, stroking her clit the way she stroked herself. She is so wet, so slippery. Her lips and clit are engorged, large and swollen with desire. Her mouth is still wrapped around me as she moans, and the sound is exquisite. It’s a high whine, muffled by the gentle thrusting of my cock into her mouth.
“You said that I needed your voice,” I say. I’m close to the edge, but I need to hold it just a few moments longer. She’s close, too. “That I need you to give edicts, to give legitimacy to my rule. But that’s not what your mouth is for.” I give a little upward thrust. “This is what your mouth is for. Your mouth was made to pleasure my cock. But you’ve been a good little Queen, so you can come. Go ahead.”
I move my fingers over her clit. They slide faster because she is so wet. She tenses for a moment, and then like a whip-crack she is clenching and bucking her hips, pushing herself into my hand as I stroke her. She is crying out her pleasure, and the feeling of her moans against my cock is driving me over the edge. I release into her mouth, feeling like I just spent an unthinkable amount of my own genetic essence into her.
“Swallow it,” I tell her. She gathers it into her mouth and swallows it.
“Queen Bryn!” a voice shouts from outside her bedroom door. There is urgent, insistent knocking. “Are you alright? I heard screaming.”
“Everything is fine, Stine,” she says.
“It is not,” he says. “I need you to come out, right now.”
“You do not command me,” she says, that haughty, regal tone so quickly back in her voice. I think that this Stine fellow would be shocked to know that his queen was just on her knees servicing the invading alien captain with her mouth.
“My apologies, my Queen,” he calls. “But you do need to come out right away.”
