by Aline Ash
I pick up the paddle and grip the handle tightly. The paddle, known as a rusha, is about four inches wide and made of the skin of a kyrva, a large, four-legged herbivore native to my homeworld of Tabia. It is a hard but flexible material that will definitely hurt if you’re smacked with it.
“Prepare yourself,” I tell her.
“Kon, please.”
She squeals and cries even louder, her face burning a bright red as fear grips her features. I squat down in front of her and lock my eyes to hers, showing her the strip of kyrva I’m holding.
“Do not let them see your fear,” I whisper to her. “Do not let them see your pain. It will make the rest of your time here more horrible than you can ever imagine. Be strong.”
I hold her gaze for another long moment, and she nods, sniffing loudly as she tries to gather her wits about her. I slip the strip of kyrva between her teeth and tell her to bite down hard on it. I walk around behind her and let my eyes linger on her round, fleshy bottom for a moment, feeling my loins stirring. I step forward, grab her bare backside and squeeze it, savoring the feel of her flesh.
I feel my jura thickening, hardening, as I cup her round usha. I lick my lips and listen to the roaring of the crowd as I take a step back. Raising the rusha and pulling my arm back, I power it forward. The crack of the rusha meeting her flesh sounds as loud as the roar of the crowd. Her shriek is piercing and only makes the crowd growl even louder, wilder with their bloodlust.
I reach down and rub the red welt my blow raised upon her soft, pale flesh. She is so delicate; it would be so simple to break her. Seeing that welt upon her skin makes my jura grow even thicker. Harder. I raise the rusha again, the sharp crack of it meeting her skin filling my ears, stirring my loins even more.
Marissa looks at me over her shoulder, and though her eyes are red and glistening, and her lips tremble, I can see her defiance too. I wasn’t wrong about her inner strength. This makes my desire to fill her, to be deep inside her, more overwhelming. I slap her backside with the rusha again. And again. Her screams driving me out of my mind with lust.
Chapter Five
Marissa
My ass is stinging, burning with the heat of his spanking. My entire body is vibrating with the pain of his leather paddle slapping my flesh. I whimper in agony and struggle to stop the tears from rolling down my cheeks. I have to be strong, as he said.
I look over and see that his cock is engorged and standing upright, straining against his breeches. From what I can guess, he is massive, and I have a flash of what it would feel like to have him inside me, picturing how he would stretch me open and the pain that would grip me so tightly. Pain that would be blended by the most exquisite rush of pleasure. This arousing thought combines with the stinging pain of the spanking, and suddenly there’s a white-hot light of pleasure rippling through me, the pain making the pleasure even more vibrant.
I don’t understand it any more than I understand how wet I got when he was touching me last night, but I feel myself growing slick all the same.
Kon’s massive hand cups an entire ass cheek, and he squeezes it, the soft pads of his hand on my flesh sending sparks of desire shooting through me. He slides his hand across my ass, massaging my skin as his fingers brush my wet, velvety folds. I gasp as he slips a finger between the lips that are swollen with desire and then cry out when he drives it deep into me. Same as before, I’m overcome with a rush of pleasure, and my body is caught somewhere between agony and bliss.
I hear the crack of his paddle on my flesh and a moment later, feel the hot sting of it. The jolt of pain shocks me back to reality and my entire body clenches hard. Kon withdraws his finger from me, and despite the throbbing, I feel a void. A sense of longing.
The war between the shame of enjoying my violation burning a hole through my soul and the desire burning between my thighs is almost over. The more I try to push it away, the stronger it becomes. The shame is fading into nothingness as I give into the ecstasy that wants to carry me away to a world of bliss I’ve never known.
Kon’s next slap is softer than the last, the sting of it not so intense. But the next is twice as hard, and I throw my head back and cry out. My every nerve ending feels like it’s on fire as he takes me from pain to pleasure and back again.
“Forty nine,” he grunts.
The next swat sends a jolt of pain through me that draws a blood-curdling scream from my throat. Fresh tears stream down my face and my body is racked by sobs. I turn my head and see the faces of the crowd, see their eager smiles and wide eyes as they revel in my punishment, hear them screaming for my blood. It’s hard not to notice the lascivious glares being cast my way, alien men leering at my naked body, spread wide open for them to see. I can smell their lust, their desire to use me like a piece of meat. I became a cop to fight violence and to put criminals like these away, or maybe nor exactly like these.
I hear Kon grunt with effort, and the crack of his paddle on my ass is louder than a gunshot. The pain that radiates through every single cell of my body is excruciating and my scream is strangled. Choked. I cough and spit, crying in agony. But then his hand is upon my skin again, his caress gentle, the pads of his hand soft. It dulls the sting, and as his fingers softly brush my lips again, a rush of pleasure fills me, drawing a quiet moan from me.
“Fifty,” Kon’s voice rings out. “This spectacle is over.”
He steps forward and starts to unshackle me, starting with my legs before freeing my hands. When I am free of my bonds, Kon helps me to my feet. But the emotions and sensations that have gripped me for the entirety of this spectable and the intense flood of adrenaline quickly ebb, and my already shaky legs give out. I pitch forward, but Kon is there to catch me before I fall.
He scoops me up into his arms as if I weigh nothing at all and holds me close, crushing me against the hard angles and planes of his body. I feel his warmth and find solace in it. Kon carries me out of the arena in a rush as if he is afraid the crowd will force us to continue our performance. The sound of the wild applause and vicious catcalls of the other prisoners ring in my ears as he carries me away.
All the way back to his cell Kon holds me close to his chest as if I am his most precious possession. When we are inside, he lays me down gently in his sleeping cubby. He then goes and fetches a mug of water, helping me sit up so I can drink. The water is cool and soothes my throat, raw from all the screaming. He sets the mug down on the ground and perches on the edge of the cubby, staring down at me.
Kon’s eyes smolder, and I can see the wanton desire in them. His body is rigid and tense, and I notice that his cock is still hard and straining against his breeches, and he is surrounded by a pale blue nimbus. I don’t believe what I’m seeing and assume the pain is making me see things. Despite the pain flowing through every cell in my body, I feel the heat still burning between my thighs. I lick my lips, my heart beating wildly within my chest as I feel myself growing wetter by the second.
I can’t believe I’m even thinking it, but Kon is an attractive man despite features that are quite alien to me. He’s handsome in a strange way I can’t quite understand, but there is no denying his strong, almost overpowering presence as well as my instant, almost instinctive, draw to him. And yet, there is something of gentleness in him as well. It looks like he takes great care to bury it beneath his gruff exterior—I guess you have to if you want to survive in a place as brutal as this, where kindness can be mistaken for weakness—but I can see it deep within his eyes.
“You held up well out there,” he said. “I was impressed.”
“Thank you,” I croak, feeling like I did anything but hold up well.
“You will do as I say from now on,” Kon says. “I will keep you safe so long as you obey me.”
Feeling exhausted and almost too weak to argue, I simply nod. I’m pragmatic enough to know that if I’m going to survive here, I’ll need help. And having somebody like Kon looking out for me wouldn’t be the worst thing ever.
I
stare into his icy blue eyes, his diamond-shaped irises boring into me as a long moment of silence stretches out between us. It’s a moment filled with unspoken words and is thick with anticipation. Perhaps even expectation. And the air between us is charged with desire. Even in my nearly incapacitated state, my body is vibrating with longing as I recall the feel of his hands on me. It’s almost enough to drown out the flood of shame that has returned and now flows freely through me. Almost. I am a strong, independent woman who does not let herself be manhandled by anybody.
And yet Kon feels free enough to touch me as he sees fit. He feels free enough to use me. And not only do I not have the power to stop him, I find that I don’t want to. I reach out and take his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. A thank you for saving me from a worse punishment than I otherwise would have received at somebody else’s hands.
“I will obey you,” I say, my voice thick. If it will keep me safe for now, it’s does not hurt to promise.
“Good. That is good.” He nods, a faint smile touching his lips.
Chapter Six
Marissa
I have never been so physically or emotionally exhausted in my entire life. Nothing I’ve been through, not even being taken to this alien fucking world, has left me feeling as hollowed out as being whipped in the arena. I know Kon did his best to make it less painful but I still feel entirely wrung out.
I lay with my head in Kon’s lap, feeling him idly stroking my hair. It seems an oddly tender gesture from somebody so large and physically powerful, so intimidating and fierce. And from somebody who just gave me a powerful beating. But I can’t deny that it feels nice. It takes my mind off the pain that’s flowing from the crown of my head to the tip of my toes. After the adrenaline and the longing have faded, the feeling of shame has become painfully stronger. That I let myself be used in such a manner makes every moment an exercise in physical and mental agony. But Kon’s touch makes the agony less intense. His gentle ministrations take away the sting. I have never allowed myself to feel so weak, but I also never felt so protected. Thus I remain perfectly still and silent, relishing the sensation of Kon gently stroking my hair.
I close my eyes for a moment and feel myself slipping deeper into the dark, warm embrace of sleep.
* * *
“Stop running!” I shout. “Boston PD, stop running, goddammit!”
But he doesn’t stop running. They never do.
My shoes pound the pavement with loud slaps as I cut down an alley, thirty yards behind the suspect, charging hard. The man ahead of me exits the alley and cuts to his right. I’m right behind him, and chase him down the sidewalk that runs in front of some old Victorian row houses.
“Get your ass back here!” I call.
The man keeps running, but I can tell he’s starting to wear down. My legs and lungs are burning, but I keep going and keep closing the gap between us. I give a silent word of thanks for forcing myself to do as much running and training as I do. It gives me an edge over assholes like this guy.
Truthfully, I live for this and can’t quite keep the smile off my face while I’m running. I love being a cop and I love busting the bad guys. It’s the greatest joy I have in my life, which may say something about me I’d rather not contemplate right now. But being a cop is all I’ve ever wanted and I’ve busted my ass to get where I am.
The suspect cuts a glance over his shoulder at me then darts between two cars and tries to cut across the street. The loud squeal of tires, a good, hard thump, and the sound of a man groaning loudly tell me he didn’t make it to the other side.
I cut out into the street and run to the fallen man. I quickly roll him onto his stomach and cuff his hands behind his back.
“Lady, I’m fuckin’ hurt, can’t that wait?” he shouts.
“If you can bitch and whine about it, you can’t be hurt that bad,” I snap back.
The driver of the car that hit the suspect—an older woman with a mop of white hair—is looming over me, a look of near panic on her face.
“I didn’t…he just came outta nowhere, I—”
“Ma’am, you’re fine. Just go sit in your car and wait for the other officers to arrive, please,” I say.
She looks about to protest, but I shoot her a glare that shuts her up. She goes back to her car as I call it into dispatch then call my partner on his cell. He picks up on the first ring.
“Where ya at?” he chirps brightly.
“Walston and McDougal,” I say after finding the street signs. “Think you can put your donut down and get your fat ass over here to pick up the perp?”
My partner laughs on the other end of the line. He’s a good cop, but he’s older and is a bigger guy, he’s useless in a foot pursuit. He will usually shadow me in the car when we’re in this spot. When my guy here on the ground bolted and I took off, my partner got a coffee and a donut.
“On my way,” he says.
“You better bring me a bear claw, asshole,” I say.
“Roger that, Marissa,” he says. “And hey…”
“What?” I snap.
“Good work, kid.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I say, and snap the phone shut.
I look down at the perp on the ground. I don’t see bones sticking out or any sign of anything too traumatic—a few cuts and scrapes on his face, but that’s about it. The way he’s rolling around and howling though, you’d think I was peeling the skin off his bones.
“I need a fuckin’ ambulance,” he cries.
“Shut up, you big baby,” I snap. “Maybe if you hadn’t been waving your junk at a group of little girls, you wouldn’t be in this position, you sick fuck.”
As the emergency vehicles roll in and the scene starts to get crazy, I read the pervert his rights and then back away to let the EMTs do their thing. My partner shows up five minutes later—with a bear claw for me.
Later that night, still amped up after the day’s chase and feeling restless, I went for a run on Revere Beach. It’s late in the evening and most people are at home after a long day at work, probably having dinner with the family, maybe watching something on TV. But since I have no family, I usually get my dinner out and then go for a run on the beach.
My legs are burning—they still haven’t forgiven me for the pursuit earlier today—but I feel too good overall to listen to a couple of angry leg muscles. Taking that pervert off the street before he could victimize anybody else is a rush I love feeling. It’s something that ain’t ever going to get old. I was made to be a cop.
As I run, picking up my pace over the protest of my legs, I see something strange in the sky. It’s a formation of lights that looks weird. It doesn’t look like a passenger jet or anything I’ve ever seen really. And it’s moving across the sky, headed in my direction.
“What the fuck?”
The aircraft swiftly moves in and stops in the sky above me. Bright, pulsating lights are stationed on the corners of what looks like a diamond-shaped craft that’s hovering and is absolutely silent. I can’t hear any noise coming from it at all.
“That’s not possible.”
I see what looks like some sort of a doorway opening up in the belly of the craft and then I’m hit by a blinding white light…
* * *
I sit bolt upright and let out a scream as ever square inch of my body howls in the most exquisite agony I’ve ever felt before. I groan and move as slowly as I can, slowly swinging my legs over the edge of the sleeping cubby. And as my senses begin coming back to me, I become aware of Kon sitting on a tall flat rock on the other side of the cell.
Sunlight slants in from the holes in the ceiling overhead, wreathing him in a halo of light. I study him in silence for a long moment, taking in just how alien and contradictory his features are: his purple skin that looks and feels so soft, his chest and abs that are taut with corded muscles, his colossal body. He looks unreal, like he was carved straight out of stone, and then somebody decided to add velvet to soften his appearance or something.
; His face has some definite feline features to it—from the triangular-shaped ears, to those eerily blue cat-slit eyes that seem to glow in the dark. But like the rest of his body, Kon’s face is angular. Sharp. He’s got high cheekbones and a strong jaw.
As alien as he is, though, he is strikingly handsome. I almost want to slap myself for even thinking about it, but I can’t deny it. For all of his strangeness, he is handsome. He exudes a raw power that is compelling, and for as large as he is, Kon is surprisingly gentle and gracious. I don’t doubt he could rip a man in half with those massive hands and powerful arms but he knows how to turn it down when needed.
“You were dreaming,” he states, and then a curious expression crosses his face. “You were laughing.”
“Laughing?” I ask.
He nods. “Yes. What were you dreaming about? What is it that made you laugh?”
I shake my head. “Nothing,” I reply. “Just a dream from another life, I guess.”
“What did you dream?”
I look at him, starting to feel irritated by his pressure to reveal my dreams. But as I look into his face, I see that he’s not trying to be rude. He’s genuinely curious. But right now, I just want to be able to move without feeling like I want to scream.
“Nothing,” I tell him as I wince. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You are still in pain.”
“Great deduction, Sherlock.”
Kon cocks his head. “What is a Sher-lock?”
“He’s a fictional detective created by…” I let my voice trail off as I realize an alien species is not going to know who who Arthur Conan Doyle is.
“You know what?” I grimace. “Never mind.”
“I can help with your pain,” he says.
