The next morning he was strangely perfunctory, spending little time fondling her in the bath. He made her go under the water for forty-five beats, and she struggled under the pressure of his hand. When she emerged, he made no comment, and tied her hands over her head for the morning discipline.
She was still just as afraid of it, still pled to get out of it. He counted seven clear cane stripes on her ass and announced since she only needed three, he was going to do those hard. Before she could take a breath, the first one hit her, searing her skin. She screamed, begging to stop. He ignored her but also ignored the words she was using against the rules. The second one was just as bad and the pain took longer to fade. The last one felt like her skin had been ripped off. She screamed again, the tree shaking with her tremors, her knees giving way. He appeared behind her to lift her up and once she was steady again he smoothed on the cream.
Then he really surprised her. Holding her from behind, his long, slender fingers invaded her pussy, pushing up inside, while his thumb circled her clit. In an instant the pain was joined by pleasure, and she rocketed skyward toward an orgasm she knew would burst her open.
“You know I’m not going to give you one, right?”
She wanted to believe he would, and she was certainly headed in that direction, fast. But deep down, she knew.
“Yes, sir,” she whispered, just as he pulled his hand out, her empty and needy pussy trying to follow him, to get just one more moment of touch to send her over the edge.
But there were no more touches.
Back in the main room, he was all business again. After pinning her hands tight he bent her over the bed, oiled up her pleasure hole, and slowly pushed the plug back in. She tried to hold in her screech as it got to the widest point, knowing it would only hurt for a moment, but it still felt like she was being ripped apart, and the cry came out as the plug went in. Then he placed the same stew in front of her and presented his cock without saying a word. After a dozen thrusts, he pulled out and for some reason she didn’t get a whole breath before he pushed back in. She tried to escape, but he held her with an iron grip. She began to panic, flinging her head side to side, gagging as she tried to draw a breath. As her throat muscles clenched around his cock, he gave a loud cry and pulled out, leaving only the tip inside. But she hadn’t recovered from her gagging and as the cum flowed in she coughed, and cum sprayed from her mouth. Some landed on the stew, but most of it landed on the mat. He pulled out, and she wailed, sure she was about to be beaten, but he merely looked down at her.
“Eat.”
Puzzled, she bent forward and ate the stew, keeping one distrustful eye on him. When she was done, he wiped her face and removed the bowl. Most of the cum remained on the mat in front of her.
“Now, lick it up.” His voice was dark and dangerous.
She bent over and started in on the scattered drops. Really, it wasn’t any different from eating it off the top of her food. When there was only a little left, he ordered her to stop.
“Put your head down and turn so your left cheek is on the mat.”
Confused, she did, getting smears of cum on her cheek.
“Now, turn your head and get some on the right, then lick up the rest.”
In a few moments the mat was wet but clean. Her face, though, was covered in cum.
“Since you did not honor my cum this morning—”
“It wasn’t my fault! It was an accident! I’m sorry!”
“I do not want to hear the word ‘sorry’ ever again. If you do not carry out an order, no matter the reason, there is still correction, and if you are truly sorry, you will accept it without protest, knowing that will motivate you to figure out how to avoid the problem again.”
Tears filled her eyes. It wasn’t fair! She’d tried!
“I want you to say it back to me so I know you really heard me.”
She stared at the carpet, miserable. “You don’t want to hear ‘sorry.’ If I’m really sorry I will accept your correction without protest.”
“Now, as I started to say, since you did not honor my cum this morning, you will leave the cum on your face for the rest of the day. That is a correction. And since you haven’t yet learned not to interrupt me, you will wear a gag, too. That is a punishment.”
“Yes, sir,” she whispered.
“I have business that will take me away from here all day. You will spend the day in the closet. I’ll give you a bowl of water, but you will not eat until I get back around sixteen period.”
Great. All day in the closet with nothing to do while cum dripped off her face.
“Mena, I will not be locking the closet door. That’s not safe to do while I’m gone so long. However—are you listening?”
She was still staring at the carpet, but she was listening. “Yes, sir.”
“The front door will be locked, and I have a security system that will tell me if you touch that door. I will also program the closet door to open twice, for two micros each time. If you open the door when it hasn’t been opened for you I will be notified. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
He walked over to the box that held all the things she hated and pulled out a ball gag.
“Open.”
She was relieved to see it wasn’t bigger than what she’d played with in the past. He pulled it back hard in her mouth before fastening the straps. It might have been smaller, but it was still uncomfortable.
Well, it is punishment, a traitorous voice in her head reminded her.
“When I get home tonight, I expect to see cum on your face and drool down your chest. Now go.”
It took her a moment to realize he wanted her in the closet now. She awkwardly got to her feet and padded over to it, turning around as he placed a bowl of water on the floor. He didn’t even look at her before the door was shut, and she was alone.
She was wrong; the cum didn’t run down her chin. It dried right on her face, and as it dried, it itched. Terribly. She couldn’t reach it with her chained hands, so, without thinking, she rubbed a cheek on the wall and was horrified to see the cum transferred from her cheek to the wall. She didn’t doubt he knew it was going to itch, and that was part of the ‘correction.’
The other misery to be endured was her jaw. It was already aching from being forced open, and a string of wet drool spilled out and ran down her chin, landing on her breast. It tickled, but it seemed he expected to see it on her tonight, so rubbing it off was also forbidden.
She tried to get comfortable, leaning on one hip against the wall in the corner since the plug and the cane stripes made sitting up intolerable. Tears welled up despite her determination not to cry anymore. Would he be angry if her tears washed away the cum? She didn’t know, but he hadn’t left room for that possibility, and that might be listed under ‘failed to follow instructions’ even if it wasn’t her fault. She fought the tears back and closed her eyes. A thought occurred to her.
How long were two micros?
When was sixteen period?
It was going to be a long day.
18
Mik'kal
The morning had not started well, and he couldn’t exactly say why, save that he was out of sorts at the thought of leaving her all day. But when she’d struggled and gagged on his cock, triggering an astonishingly powerful orgasm, his mood had taken an abrupt turn for the better. The amount of his cum was much more than normal and he knew she would never have been able to deal with it. But he wasn’t going to tell her that. Setting up her punishment had brightened his whole morning.
So, even his errand today wasn’t as onerous as he’d thought it was going to be. Speeding across the endless ocean in his flyer, he could think of nothing else but how to torment the little human and punish her when she failed.
He requested communication with Dirac Ortan and only had to wait a moment before the Dirac’s face appeared on the screen.
“Mik'kal! I didn’t expect to hear from you for a while. I figured you’d still
be icing your balls.”
Mik'kal held in his annoyance at the mention of his slave’s kick.
“She was strong, but not that strong. I punished her thoroughly for it. I have to say, I feel good. Better than in a long while,” he admitted, letting down his guard with the man he’d known for so long.
The Dirac beamed. “That’s good. Most of the slaves were auctioned off to other senators and supporters, and I hope they find the experience as pleasurable. It’s a shame we didn’t have more, though.”
His tone made Mik'kal curious. “Did the vote go the way you’d hoped, sir?”
“Not exactly,” he replied cagily. “I think there is much we have in common.” He didn’t say any more, and Mik'kal didn’t press. A vote was strictly confidential unless the senator chose to reveal it.
“Yes, sir. Anything you’d like me to pass along to Captain Andrews?”
“I know he will be very busy for a while, but I will expect him as our guest in the capitol in six days so that we may welcome him formally to the planet.”
Mik'kal noticed the word ‘expect.’ It was not how one leader talked to another, but how a leader talked to a subordinate.
“Yes, sir. I will let him know.”
The Dirac disconnected.
It was several periods before the hazy edges of Kalnų Sala came into view. He hadn’t been to the island in years, even though it lay inside his district. It was a wild, beautiful place, with high mountain peaks and valley floors covered with flowers. But it was isolated, much further south than any other landmass, and subject to wildly changing temperatures, intense storms, and earthquakes. Few people had lived there, and those who did had been relocated. The intent was to keep the humans completely isolated, at least for a while. Mik'kal doubted that would continue forever, but since he was in charge of their resettlement, he was going to try hard.
The human captain knew he was coming, but no one tried to contact him as he neared the settlement. He found an empty spot and set down with scarcely a whiff of wind near two scratched and worn shuttles. Humans carrying bulky items gaped at his sleek and gleaming flyer. He admitted to himself he’d chosen this flyer instead of his older, beat-up one, so he could impress them.
He stepped out and spent a moment looking at the new occupants of his homeworld. They had the uniform appearance of a species who hadn’t been interbreeding with beings from other worlds. The only differences seemed to be their skin tones and hair color, both running from pale to dark. There was not a single prominent jawbone or nose ridge among them, and they all seemed to have five fingers, one more than Mik'kal. They looked boring, actually. He felt some pride in the distinctive brown scale pattern across his smooth skin, all that was left of his long-ago ancestor’s actual scales. No two people had the same pattern.
They gaped at him before one male with a brownish-yellow complexion and straight black hair broke away and walked toward him.
“Weanab doewnit?”
Mik'kal fumbled with the small device behind his ear. The Kaziri had listened to the humans for so long it had been no effort to build small portable translators. He supposed that eventually, some humans would need to have translators implanted in them.
“Senator Isyll?”
Mik'kal nodded.
“The captain is expecting you. Please follow me.”
He followed the human male into the middle of the chaos. Prefab shelters were being erected everywhere. Piles of walls, floors, and various pieces of equipment lay all over the ground, which was damp, and in some places, growing increasingly muddy.
His guide led him to one of the few upright and fully enclosed shelters, and he passed through a surprisingly flimsy doorway. Inside, a pale human with grey hair was arguing with someone on a viewscreen.
“I don’t care what she wants. They’ve been on the ship for ten years and another month or two won’t make a difference. This is not a vacation spot!” He slapped the viewscreen, ending the communication, and looked up.
“Senator Isyll! I’m Captain Andrews. I’m very pleased to meet you.” He stood and held out his hand, and Mik'kal looked at it, not sure what he was supposed to do.
“Sorry. A human greeting, and it’s an instinct to offer it.” Andrews pulled his hand back.
Mik'kal nodded. “Of course.” He got down to business because nothing else mattered. “Captain, Dirac Ortan sends his greetings and says he expects you to come to the capitol in six days for discussions. Transportation will be provided.”
“Six days? That’s when we will be bringing down the medical facilities. Could Ortan wait another day or two?”
Mik'kal gave him a long look. To call the Dirac by his family name, without his title and in front of others, was insulting. Not even Mik'kal would do that.
“No. The flyer will be here in six days, and you will be on it. And I’m not sure how long a ‘month or two’ is, but in one lunar, which is twenty-five days, your ship will be remotely pushed out of orbit and into our sun.”
“What? You can’t be serious! We’ll never get everything down here by then!”
“I am very serious.”
“Why?”
“According to our calculations, in a little more than one lunar, the first of the yearly storms will hit. Your shuttles will be grounded for several lunars after that, and your ship is dangerously unstable. There is a high likelihood it will break apart before the storms are over, and we will not permit it to be in orbit long enough for that to happen. I suggest you find a way to get everything down before then.”
“Can you send us anyone to help? Any other ships?”
Mik'kal fixed him with a cold stare.
“You created this problem by showing up uninvited, then arrogantly planning to overtake us by force. That by itself would not have earned you our contempt because we also have conquered many planets in our past. But then you did the most dishonorable action I’ve ever witnessed; you sacrificed some of your crew to slavery, so the rest of you could live in peace and safety. You are so committed to individual happiness you do not honor a commitment to the group. You are also violent toward each other, and though we Kaziri need violence to keep functioning, releasing our violence improves us. Your violence simply destroys. This island is the furthest we could send you away, to keep your way of life from infecting ours.” He turned to go. “I suggest you work faster.” He ducked out of the flimsy shelter.
“Senator!” A voice called to him. He turned around to see a woman in uniform step out of the door. She was darker than most of the humans he’d seen, with short-cropped curly hair.
“I’m First Officer Adisa.” At his blank look, she explained. “The first officer is the second in command.” She looked around furtively. “Are they… okay?”
Mik'kal frowned. “You mean the humans you sacrificed so you could live in safety? The ones who are now slaves? They belong to us. They are no longer your concern. Do not ask about them again.” He turned.
“Senator!” her voice was angry. “I don’t know what Captain Andrews told you, but none of us knew about this until after it had happened. The command crew and the colonists would never have agreed to it. Whatever bargain was struck was the captain’s decision alone.”
He considered that information. If it was true, it changed his opinion just a little. The Kaziri would still have taken the humans, but the humans would not be seen as dishonorable if they had been forced to give their people up instead of handing them over willingly. His opinion of the captain soured even further.
“But you have no protest to the agreement now that you are here and safe.”
“That’s not true. We have to focus on getting the colony set up as quickly as we can, even moreso now that we know about the storms. We aren’t able to fight that battle right now. But we intend to approach the Dirac, and hopefully, the Senate, as soon as we can, and find a way to get our people back.”
He nodded. “Very well. Would you convey to your captain that to call anyone by their personal na
me without using their title is rude? I suggest he refrain from doing it when he comes to the capitol.”
“He knows, Senator,” she replied quietly. She didn’t try to make excuses for him.
He left the first officer and walked back to his ship, looking more carefully at the piles. None of the materials seemed suited to withstand the storms that were coming. He pulled out his datapad and started making notes.
He was soon lifting off, leaving the camp behind. Throwing the translator into a corner of the vehicle, he settled back. Though he’d been there less than a period, the interaction with the humans had been distasteful, and he was anxious to be home.
Home to continue tormenting his own little human.
He smiled.
19
Mena
With nothing to do, the day had dragged. The ballgag was small enough and pulled back far enough in her mouth that even though it hurt, she could close her lips around it enough to slurp up a little water. But if she tried to take a bigger drink, she risked washing the cum off. She looked longingly at it, knowing it could relieve the incessant itch of the cum in just a couple seconds—beats—but she didn’t dare.
Was being obedient because she was afraid of the consequences the same as being obedient because she accepted his authority? She wrestled long and hard with that question as she struggled not to go out of her mind with the itch.
When she’d been confronted with one pain or torment at a time, even if it was awful, her sense of self and ownership of her own body was still intact. She just had to suffer through the agony until it was over.
But sitting in this confined space all day—her hands bound behind her back, butt sore from cane strokes and filled with the damn plug, her jaw aching from the gag, and dried cum on her face that she couldn’t remove—it was hard to feel she had any ownership, any agency, of her body. She felt owned. It was a bizarre feeling, like rending apart her mind and body. One piece would always belong to her, the other wouldn’t. Didn’t.
Tribute: Captives of Kazir Page 11
