A Baby for Pra'kir (Captives of Pra'kir Book 6)

by Megan Michaels

  She keened quietly before responding. “I saw Brinley on the comm screen one morning. I gave her a hand signal for two o’clock, and she nodded back. You men didn’t notice us behind you. I called her on your communication set up in the den.”

  “Ahhhh. And there’s the truth of it.” He smacked the cane against her bottom, leaving a deep set of tramlines, the ridges rising quickly.

  Blythe wobbled on her feet, her hands only partially reaching back to touch her bottom, stopping herself before incurring further discipline.

  “So, the day I went to meet with Rowth at work and the council, the day that you woke up from your nap hungry for besloor, you came down here under the guise of a treat, when in actuality, you made a phone call to Brinley?”

  “Y-yes, Sir.”

  “And let’s not forget my Brinley.” Rowth spanked her bottom with his hand, leaving red marks in its wake. “You were busy cooking dinner and needed to find a recipe in my computer, but the truth of the matter, you had gotten on to talk to Blythe.”

  “Yes. What did you expect? You can’t expect us to live out our lives here with no contact with our friends. You’ve been treating us like prisoners in solitary confinement. It isn’t right or fair to treat us in such a manner. How would you like it if we fucking locked you up with no outside contact, mmmm?” Brinley’s voice became a shrill screech.

  “Warning Two!” Xan barked loudly, his voice echoing off the walls as he watched his naughty girl and her just as a naughty friend both grab their collars and their asses hoping to ease the reverberations of the electricity coursing through their system to no avail, of course, whatsoever. “You will not shout or swear. You will speak with respect or you will be shocked. Next time it will be level three. Blythe, sweetheart, tell Brinley in great detail what level three is like.”

  “D-do I have to?” Her voice sounded more like a remorseful child than a grown woman, a very bad misbehaving woman in sore need of punishment, apparently, if she would even think to question him after all of this.

  “Do you need incentive, pet?”

  “N-no.” She shook her head violently. “N-no, Master…uhm…so level three is really bad, Brin. You don’t want to push it. It makes your whole body shake like how I imagine a seizure would feel like. Your teeth grit tightly, and your eyes roll, and just when you feel like your bones are rattling, you feel your bladder release and your urine soaks you. No matter how hard you clench or fight it, your body is filled with electric current and all the muscles are out of your control. But coming to drenched with your urine is the worst…it’s…just awful.” Blythe peered over to her friend; she shook her head at the memory. “Please listen, Brinley, it’s not worth it.”

  “O-okay. You’re so serious. I’ll listen.”

  “Think you’ll listen now, pet?” Rowth emphasized the word pet, and he knew that he’d taken a liking to this. There was a satisfaction in objectifying your woman, having her on a leash and treating her as a plaything…a toy for your pleasure, taking away her ability to fight or be defiant.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “One more question, Brinley.” Rowth squatted in front of her, tilting her chin up. “How did you know how to access my computer and were you the one to find all the addresses and communication facts for the other women?” His dark eyes narrowed, waiting for her response.

  “I watched you many mornings while I served you coffee and lannes. Yes, I was the one who found their information.” Exhaling loudly, he dropped her chin and quickly rose, rounding her body to stare at her bottom. He then said, “Xan, can you hand me that belt, please?”

  “Oh…no, please!” Brinley stood up cupping her bottom and turning away from him, shaking her head.

  “Bend back over. Now, Brinley.” Rowth pointed toward the floor in silent direction for her to face it.

  She shook her head again, looking back and forth between Xan and Rowth, her eyes wild with concern.

  “Rowth, if I may suggest something. Defiance is never tolerated in our house. You can either initiate level three, or we can take them outside for…for a lesson in obedience with the highest level of brutal humiliation. It is my experience that it works best in teaching them to listen.” Xan watched his girl’s eyes fill with tears; she was completely aware of what lay ahead.

  “I was going to say shock them, but now you have my curiosity piqued. Show me what you think will help with her brazen and discourteous mouth.” Turning toward his captive, Rowth grabbed Brinley by the earlobe and pulled her head up. “You hear that, girl? It sounds like we’ve found a cure for your defiance.”

  “Attach this leash to her collar; it’ll get her in the right frame of mind. Trust me on this.” Xan handed Rowth a black leash similar to Blythe’s own, and then snapped the metal clip to the hasp on her collar, watching her stiffen with the sound. Xan did not doubt that she reacted as any good pet would to smells, sights and sounds, bringing forth a primal response. The clink of metal prepared her for what was next, putting her into a deeper level of submission. He had no doubt her hot little cunt was dripping knowing the humiliation that awaited her.

  There were days that Xan worried about the level of degradation and objectification he’d enforced upon Blythe, but once he’d noticed how she dripped with every episode, he put away any guilt and fears he had in that regard and settled into the knowledge that she’d begun to enjoy it on some level. The profound immersion into her role as a kitten gave her freedom to cast away any cares. Her only concern was his pleasure and following his demands perfectly. The discipline would never be something she loved while it was occurring, but if her cunt was an indication, she craved the spankings and domination that came with being his slave and pet.

  The rewards came later while being cuddled and stroked, treasured and cherished. His pet would rest her head on his thigh, staring up at him. She needed no talking. Just his fingers running through her hair was enough to soothe her soul. In the evening, curled in her bed before the fire with a blanket and a soft stuffed animal, she’d fall into a peaceful slumber, not a care in the world. But that wouldn’t be happening right now. Now these bad girls would be dragged outside and would endure another aspect of being a pet—one that came with tears and embarrassment, but Xan knew from experience the fruition of the act would bring about a level of obedience unsurpassed by most disciplinary methods.

  “Come along, girls. The next part of your lesson takes place outside.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Blythe crawled, making sure to heel as her Master trained her—a good pet wants to be near their owner. She looked over at her friend, who seemed to vacillate between being angry about crawling and petrified of the unknown. Brinley had every reason to waffle with her feelings. Blythe wondered if being a cherished and punished pet produced these feelings. Although she’d begun to love submitting this way to Xan, she still had her moments of anger and, yes, fear.

  Giving up all control, allowing him to dominate completely, took courage, more courage than she thought she had most days. But so far, he’d not let her down. His love and devotion were clearly evident.

  Has it always been present and I’ve ignored it or refused to see it?

  Leaving to meet the girls had been disobedient on many levels as far as he was concerned, but she desperately needed to see them—have the old camaraderie that spending months on a spacecraft had fostered. These women had shared their fears, secrets, desires, and hopes with each other. Having that stripped away from them with the fostering system on Pra’kir had become almost cruel…and, well, inhuman.

  The hurt in Xan’s eyes tor at Blythe’s heart. She hoped she’d be able to revive it, breathing life into their relationship again. As much as she missed life on Earth, she couldn’t imagine leaving Xan and their new daughter. Tegan was a tangible evidence of their love, their union as unsuspecting beings—an alien and a human reproducing, giving Pra’kir their first baby from their coupling…via medical science.

  Trust is the basis of all relations
hips, but in their relationship and dynamic, it was vital. If either of them lost trust, it would affect their ability to relax fully in the power exchange. She could only hope that he’d see things from her point of view.

  Blythe gave Brinley a faint smile hoping it would encourage her even though she didn’t feel so confident right now either.

  “Blythe, show your friend how you assume the position to urinate outside and explain why a bad pet has to do this.” He tugged up on her leash a bit, a silent command for her to sit on her haunches. The women were facing each other, which made Blythe cringe; it was going to make this even more difficult than normal. Initially, Blythe kept her knees together, giving herself an extra moment of privacy, even if the vain act was useless under such strict supervision. She spread her legs, her labia yawning open, exposing her inner ruffles to the cool outside air and their guests, Rowth and Brinley. Her face burned with her blush, her juices pooling at the entrance of her sex.

  This damn body betrays me constantly.

  Rowth’s eyebrows rose into his forehead, his focus clearly on her pussy, and then he looked up at Xan. “Holy shit. You…you actually have her…evacuate outside? And she tolerates it?”

  Xan nodded slowly. “She not only tolerates it, her cunt drips with her excitement. You can see her juices shining on her lips, right? And do you see that I’ve tattooed her with my mark—my initials—as well?”

  “No, shit!” Rowth dropped Brinley’s leash and he walked over, crouching in front of Blythe. She shuttered her eyes, unable to look at him, the embarrassment more than she could deal with right now. The knowledge that he was staring at her labia made her want to keen loudly.

  Rowth’s cool, large finger stroked her puffy lip where the tattoo was displayed. “Did she volunteer for this?”

  “She did. I suggested it, and she agreed to the process.”

  Rowth whistled low. “That’s amazing. I’m assuming it was painful as hell.”

  Xan nodded. “We had a few moments where I had to stop to let her gain her composure again.”

  “Wait…what? You were the one to tattoo her?” Rowth continued to press on her labia, looking at Xan’s work closely as her juices gushed. She wouldn’t have thought that being put on exhibition would escalate her arousal, but it appeared that this was yet another sign of her deviant behavior she needed to add to the list.

  Rowth stood up, and, shaking his head, he reached out to shake Xan’s hand. “I give you credit, Doctor. This is spectacular and totally unexpected on my part.” He walked back to Brinley, picking up the leash again. “So, she complies with going to the bathroom outdoors?”

  Xan shrugged. “She doesn’t have a choice in the matter. I’m her Master and Owner, and as such, I dictate what she will and won’t do. She doesn’t deviate—or I should say, she doesn’t usually deviate—from my expectations, as the consequences are harsh and painful. This is the worst punishment in her mind, and for a good reason. It strips her of her dignity, making the most base bodily function, one that we’re trained at a young age to hide and be embarrassed about, and it forces her to be exposed and vulnerable to me—her Master. She learns through this process that I’m to be obeyed, immediately, and that nothing, even her urine, is to be hidden from me. Ever.”

  Xan blurred through the tears pooling in her eyes. “I love you, Master.”

  His large hand stroked over her hair, petting her gently. “I love you too, pet.” He cleared his throat. “I gave my side of this process; now tell Brinley your feelings about this particular discipline.”

  Blythe cleared her throat, unsure how to begin. “Uhm…well, it’s the most humiliating process, and it happens when I’m really naughty. Direct disobedience usually does it, or when I ran away last time, and now tonight too. It is hard to make it happen; I know he’s watching and it won’t…happen. But if I concentrate, it happens. He tells me I’m a good girl or good pet, and we go back to the house. Part of me is glad that it’s over and that he accepts me even during that—loves me completely. If I fight going to the bathroom, he will spank me with my leash or a switch. Trust me, Brin, I’ve learned the hard way; relax and make it happen. Fighting during this is not worth it.”

  “Good advice, girl. And I do accept and love you—implicitly—but I also love you enough not to tolerate the behavior you exhibited tonight. We’ll take care of this and get everything right once again between us. All right. Enough. Both of you, knees up, legs spread.”

  Rowth tugged on Brinley’s leash like Xan had, and, surprisingly, his girl rapidly assumed the required position. Her narrow pussy wasn’t dripping, which made Blythe suddenly self-conscious. Women are such fragile creatures, and now she felt like a slut with her arousal on display for all to see while her friend found none of this exciting.

  Blythe noticed that Rowth’s huge cock pressed tightly against his pants. She didn’t even have to look at her Master to know his penis was as hard as his colleague’s. If she and Xan were alone tonight, he would have already taken it out of his pants, stroking it while he watched her discharge her urine.

  “You see, Rowth, the longer you make her expose her sex to you and the open air, forcing her submission, the deeper the embarrassment will be when she remembers the event later. Tomorrow, next month, or even next year. The thought of her Master, his friends, or in Blythe’s case, all the house staff watching her degradation, makes obeying sweeter, the shame and indignity permeating her mind preventing the impulsive disobedience and non-compliance to house rules.”

  The men stood silently regarding each of the women, staring blatantly at each woman’s sex and it made Blythe wish for a hole to open up in the ground sucking her in. She closed her eyes against the stares, silently praying for a quick end to this phase, yet knowing without a shred of doubt that the next phase was just as bad, if not worse.

  “Hold your tails up.” He turned his attention to Rowth. “You see this instruction is a reminder that they are forced to wear a tail and is similar to requesting that they pull their own pants down for a spanking…it forces submission and obedience, reminding them that they are no longer in control and that they will actively participate against their will in their own punishment.”

  Xan narrowed his gaze at both women. Blythe grabbed her white tail and looked up to see Brinley holding her black one as well.

  “You’ll urinate and not delay. As Blythe has already noted, I’m not a patient man; you have a minute, maybe two, that’s it. Get on with it.” Xan crossed large muscled arms across his chest, his dark curls swirling on his forehead with the gentle breeze outside, and by his thinned lips and firm jaw line, Blythe knew he wasn’t going to show any mercy today.

  It was every woman for herself, and Blythe knew that her whipping later for leaving the house would be harsh enough; she didn’t want to add anything here outside to what was waiting for her inside.

  Closing her eyes, she willed herself to relax, feeling that familiar tingle as the muscles began releasing, her fluid traveling its normal course to exit her body. The hiss of her urine and the splatter of it hitting the hard earth gave her relief and mortification at the same time.

  Her Master liked to make eye contact with her while she evacuated, and out of pure obedience, and love, she met his gaze, giving him a small smile.

  “That’s a good girl, my sweet, sweet girl,” Xan murmured, stroking her head and face softly.

  Her heart jumped. She loved to hear him call her good girl. His approval and praise meant more and more to her every day.

  A groan diverted Blythe’s attention. She looked over to Brinley, who, with a grimace on her face and her eyebrows furrowed, appeared to be either angry or frustrated. Either way, there was no puddle under her.

  “Better get on with it, Brinley.” Rowth’s foot tapped impatiently on the ground.

  “I can’t do this while you all are looking. I’m not used to doing this!”

  Xan interrupted. “Fix your tone, Brinley, or I’ll fix it for you.”

&nbs
p; Before Blythe could caution her, Brinley grit her teeth, her jaw working in anger before she spit out angrily, “How about you worry about your own…pet, Dr. Breckett.”

  “Level Three!” Xan shouted the command loudly.

  Brinley stiffened, releasing her tail, falling forward onto her hands and knees on the cold, hard ground, her body trembled from head to toe. Within seconds, her bladder released and she urinated onto the ground, the steady stream running down the inside of her thighs that were now pressed tightly together.

  And although it felt like the shock went on forever when you were the victim, as Blythe well knew, but in reality, it only lasted seconds.

  Brinley panted, sobbing pitifully, tears dripping onto the ground while she knelt in the moist dirt now drenched with her urine.

  The depth of her grief and humiliation could be felt. Blythe found herself crying in sympathy wishing she could hold and comfort Brinley.

  “I’m sorry. S-so, so sorry.” Brinley kept sobbing and pleading for forgiveness.

  “Brinley, I’m sorry too.” Blythe wasn’t sure if she’d be punished for speaking out of turn, but she couldn’t keep the words inside any longer.

  “Leave it alone, Blythe. He’ll take care of his girl. Let me worry about you.” As Xan tugged on Blythe’s leash, she returned to all fours, following him into the house. She took a quick look over her shoulder and heard Rowth quietly whispering to Brinley, wiping her tears away with his thumbs.

  Being an alien and a captive on Pra’kir wasn’t an easy life, but it definitely had its benefits. The men, although large and demanding, loved as deeply as they demanded respect and submission.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Xan sat at his desk with Blythe facing the corner. Her backside had a few faint marks from the cane earlier, but with her head hung low and her shoulders drooped. She was a sorry girl indeed. He felt a bit of sadness, and even worry, about this punishment but knew he needed to be firm and consistent. She relied on him for that. She knew he wouldn’t let emotions or excuses deter him from the task at hand.