by Tahlia Black
“You’ve been very disobedient, Slave,” he says, “and now you will be punished accordingly.”
I’m trying frantically to sift through the range of emotions I’m feeling, but they remain a tangled web of terror and intrigue, my sex already palpitating at the thought of what is to come.
Tyrus, his dark eyes glinting in the low light, beckons me forward. “Bring that disobedient little ass of yours over my knee.”
Two seconds pass while I try to convince myself he just said something else.
He pats his knee twice like he’s about to pull me close and read me a bedtime holo. “Get over my fucking knee or so help me Vu’eta I’ll spank you where you stand.”
My mouth has suddenly gone desert dry. My legs move without instruction. I stand above my captor and cannot believe I am about to do this, yet I do, placing my torso over his knee and letting my arms hang before me, fingers brushing the polished rock below.
This is so damn awkward, so unnatural. I should not be in this position. I should fight, or flee, but I’m paralyzed by the shame. It infiltrates every part of my body.
Get up! the voice in my head screams. You’re an Alliance soldier, but I’m unable to do it, unable to disobey.
I’ve heard rumors of the mind tricks the Dothkhan are able to employ, the subtle telepathic link they share.
When Tyrus’s heavy hand grabs an ass cheek, I actually flinch upwards, but he holds me firmly down stroking the fleshy mound of my sex. “I am going to spank you now, Slave, as is custom.”
My cheeks glow brighter, blood rushing to my head.
“By the time I’m through with you, your ass is going to be the color of a tu’va fruit,” he continues. “You are going to beg for our forgiveness and pray to Vex’u you never venture outside again.”
I’m looking at the floor bent over his knee desperately trying to figure out some way out of this fucked-up situation. I could plead, offer to please him in some other fashion, but already I know he is fixated on this punishment. Nothing I can say is going to snap him out of it, not the darker of these two brothers. Given the solid length of his cock against my belly, I know he’s looking forward to this.
“Now, let’s bare that human ass of yours, shall we?”
I note I’m breathing heavily, my chest drawing tight before releasing against Tyrus’s thick thigh. I grit my teeth, face burning knowing the humiliation and debasement that is to ensue by this creature’s hand. I’m conscious of Stratus watching from the corner, but I know he will not come to my aid.
Tyrus actually laughs, his fingers examining my backside.
I hang over his knee humiliatingly exposed.
He takes a handful of my flesh and squeezes, kneading and prodding, pulling my cheeks apart to reveal the pink rosette between them. I’ve never been so ashamed.
He speaks as if he is conducting a medical examination. “Healthy anus. Pert, round cheeks. A good, human body ripe for reproduction.”
Reproduction?
He continues to knead and fondle the spheres of my ass as he speaks. “Tell me you’ve been bad and that you need to be punished.”
When I don’t respond, he practically shouts it at me. “Say it!”
“I’ve been bad,” I tell him, rushing all the words out together. “I need to be punished.”
I can tell he’s excited by the way his voice has become low and husky. “You’ve been a bad little human, haven’t you?”
“Yes.”
“You need to be spanked, like a child?”
“Yes.”
I think of all the training I went through, my many awards and accolades at the Academy, but here I am, my bare bottom bent over my enemy’s lap, his hard cock twitching in delight.
Tyrus takes a sharp intake of breath. Whoosh, his heavy palm lashes down on a cheek. I gasp, struggle to pull in my next breath as the other buttock is assaulted in the same manner, the pale rounds burning. I reach behind myself without thinking to try and protect my rear, but Tyrus swats them away.
“No, no, Slave, that won’t do.” He captures my wrists and binds them tightly together behind my back, holding them with one hand and pressing them hard against my spine. “These cute little globes of yours look so much better with some color in them.”
With that he brings down a harsh series of blows against my backside. I howl and whimper, spluttering “please, please, not so hard,” but he’s not interested in my cries, whacking each buttock in alternate until all I can do is writhe helplessly against his hand.
I kick out, but this only enflames his madness. He thrashes me brutally, so hard and violent I am sure strips of skin are being peeled away with every blow, my ass a burning fire.
“Uh!” I cry, this blow lower, my thighs jerking open and allowing him a glimpse of the naked lips of my pussy. I shift my hips from side to side, press myself deep into the unforgiving stump below, but it’s all for naught as he continues to assault me.
I change tactics, squeezing and pulling in my buttocks to close the target, but he wrenches my hands higher up my back. I scream out with the agony that erupts in my shoulders, my ass relaxing again and the spanking continuing hot and hard. Supine, caught, all I can do is take it.
Each blow lands loudly. I know Stratus can see it, my stained cheeks and hot face.
I cry, fat tears falling from my face, turned into wet splotches on the floor.
I feel Tyrus’s hand lift into the air and prepare for the next blow, but he leaves it hanging there. “Say you are sorry, human.”
“I’m sorry,” I blubber.
His hand descends slowly and falls onto my angry flesh, caressing. “I believe you, and I don’t think it will happen again, but you must know how seriously we—I—take protocol around here. This is a beautiful planet, but within beauty there is always danger. Isn’t that right, brother?”
“It is,” replies Stratus, calmly stroking his cock.
“Shall we say, twenty more?” continues Tyrus.
Twenty more! I don’t think I can stand a single blow. My reddened hemispheres are glowing cherry red already, involuntarily jerking at the thought of being pounded again.
“I’ll be good,” I beg, a scalded child.
“Oh, I have no doubt,” laughs Tyrus.
Something hard, a kind of hardened rubber, is pushed under my stomach, my ass raised higher, rounding out.
“That’s better.”
I open my mouth but not a single word escapes. Instead, my breath is stolen by a deluge of blows. He spares no square of flesh, spanking at my thighs, the center of my cheeks, ignoring my pleas and concentrating his efforts on the hot divide of my posterior. I try to stifle a scream as the spanking continues, picking up momentum, a triplet of pain following into the delicate folds bunched up between my legs.
“Please, please,” I whisper, “I’ll do anything.”
The blows stop, my bare bottom smarting, tense.
“Please,” I whimper one last time.
“Are you quite sure, Slave? Anything?”
I just want the pain to stop. “Yes.”
Tyrus lifts me from his lap and has me stand before him. His cock is immense, a colorful rod. He stands, placing his hands on my shoulders and pressing down until I’m kneeling before him, the rocky floor cold below.
“Put your hands behind your back,” he commands. “Open your mouth.”
I do as he wishes, shaking. He takes hold of his cock. I stare at the bulbous head of his member, a single, glinting pearl of arousal caught in its slit. He holds his shaft, the color of heated steel, and presses the head of it against my bottom lip. “Suck.”
I open my mouth wider and take him in.
I haven’t sucked a cock in a while, but the motion comes back to me quickly. I roll my lips over my teeth and let him glide in and out, controlling the pace.
The more he fucks my mouth, the more my bottom burns against my ankles, the more I grow slick and hot between my thighs. Why?! I want to scream at my body. Why are
you betraying me like this?
I build into a rhythm, oddly starting to enjoy this switch in power, the way Tyrus’s face pulls together whenever I loop my tongue around his cock-head. I’m almost… enjoying it.
He holds the side of my head and begins to press himself more urgently into the depths of my mouth. Soon I’m filled with his member, gagged with cock. He presses deeper, moving into my throat. I struggle to take him, his size.
I can taste the soapy saltiness of his skin, the base of his cock brushing against my chin.
I start to gag, my eyes opening wider and wider, wet. He just keeps pressing, hands locked firmly against my skull.
I can’t take it anymore. I reach my hands and press against his thighs, but they may as well be tree trunks.
Just as pins and needles scatter across my vision, the need to suck in air overwhelming, he pulls away, his cock streaky, hot, and wet from my mouth.
“Good,” he says simply, holding me away by the top of my skull. He turns to Stratus. “Shall we bring in the clone?”
The clone?
I have no idea what he’s talking about.
Stratus nods once in reply.
Smiling darkly, Tyrus makes a series of gestures in the air, a holo beaming down from above and starting to take shape, but this is no regular holo.
A woman starts to emerge, her features drawn out in the light. She looks the same age as me with the same mousy features and chocolate hair.
No, I think, confused, but there’s no mistaking the figure standing before us.
It’s me, myself, an exact clone as real as the Dothkhan.
The clone observes me silently.
“Eve here,” says Tyrus, walking around the clone, “is going to help me demonstrate how we reward behavior here.” A stone slab rises from the floor to waist height. It does so silently. The clone sits up onto the edge and spreads her legs, her bare cleft, my cleft, slightly parted—a vertical eye. It’s like I’m looking into a mirror.
With a curled finger Tyrus invites me over and has me kneel before the clone, her pussy right before my eyes
Tyrus smiles, his cock harder than ever. “Eve here deserves to be rewarded, but I’m afraid she’s not a big fan of cock. Instead, you’re going to lick her sex. You’re going to lick her until she comes.”
“But, but,” I stammer, “I’m not a… lesbian.”
Tyrus looks to his brother. “Do you know this term, brother?”
He shakes his head. “I do not.”
Tyrus faces me again, laughing. “It’s of no consequence. You will do what I say if you want to keep your privileges. Do you understand?”
I want to protest, to remind them they said I wasn’t a prisoner, but instead I nod my head meekly staring between the clone’s legs. I can’t believe I’m about to lick my own pussy.
I kissed girls at the Academy, even experimented a little, but this seems way out of line. It’s… unnatural.
Just do it. Don’t displease them.
“Well,” says Tyrus, pulling his chair close, “what are you waiting for, Slave? That pussy’s not going to lick itself.”
The clone is looking between her legs, emotionless.
I lift my head up to the level of her sex, smell the wet, earthy scent it’s giving off. I’m looking right into the pink-brown folds of her flesh, looking for minor differences but finding none. Her clitoris is big, erect, like my own. I rock back on my heels unsure I can go through with this.
I hear my old drill sergeant in my head.
Just. Fucking. Do. It.
I take a breath before placing my open mouth against the clone’s oily opening. It’s not as bad as I expected—wet, hot, and attentive.
I timidly dip my tongue inside and then suck on her clit, massaging it with my mouth until she’s bucking off the slab, her thighs clamped around my head.
Out the corner of my eye Tyrus strokes his cock steadily, his knuckles pale blue.
I lick up and down her folds, my chin damp from rubbing up between her ass cheeks, the taste of her pussy in my mouth.
Her fingers run through my hair and she comes so hard it seems like she’s going to twist my head off. Through the tip of my tongue I feel her flesh palpitate and convulse.
Tyrus gives a short grunt and strokes himself over the rocky floor, spilling his seed, his brother soon following suit from the corner of the room.
The clone evaporates, Tyrus taking me by the hair and pulling me over to the puddle of cum. “Lick,” he demands, his grip on my hair tightening. “Savor every drop.”
Humiliated, broken, I do it, the taste of his cum completely different to any I’ve tasted before—sweet and honey-like. Intrigued, I lick and lap at the rocky floor until there is nothing left but a wet reminder.
CHAPTER SEVEN
EVE
I can’t sit on one cheek for too long at the next meal. My ass is burning, but my slit’s just as hot and needy. All night I’ve been thinking of Tyrus’s hand, the shame, the strange feelings that have been churning around in my gut ever since.
I stare at my plate. The food looks familiar, but the coloring is wrong.
Either side of me, the brothers eat steadily. I imagine bodies like theirs require a constant stream of sustenance… and entertainment.
Finally, I cannot wait any longer. I have to ask the question. I address Stratus. “You’re the Dothkhan pilot who shot me down.”
“Yes,” he replies, continuing to eat his meal.
“You saved me?”
“I did.”
“Why?”
Now he looks to me, coal-black eyes searching deep in my own. “I couldn’t let a jewel like you go to waste.”
I’m still confused. “But you took me to the slave market.”
“As Council demands. I had to follow protocol, to get the required approvals and permits. I didn’t want anything to jeopardize the final purchase.”
“I’m not property.”
Tyrus sniggers, stabbing his finger into a neon-pink filet of meat. “I disagree, Slave.”
“You said I’m free, to wander the castle as I see fit?”
“And so you are,” says Stratus, eyeing his brother. “But when we feel the need to take you, we will. When we feel the need to punish you, fuck you, strap you to within an inch of your life, we will.”
I’m doing my best to choke out the hot flicker of arousal that follows at his words, but I cannot deny there’s a certain attraction at the loss of control. All my life I’ve been told what to do, when to do it, and with whom, but now, here, is an opportunity to truly release myself.
And hand yourself over to the enemy? Think again, Eve.
Stratus reaches under the table and places a disc in front of me.
“What’s this?” I ask.
“A holo.”
“I know what a holo is.”
“Evidence,” continues Stratus. “All you need.”
I push it back. “I don’t need it.”
Tyrus shifts it forward, his words harsh and clipped. “You will watch it, Slave.”
I take it and stand, my hunger dissipating.
Tyrus slams his hand down on the table. “Did you ask to leave the table, Slave?”
“I’m not a child.”
“Sit!” bellows Tyrus, Stratus watching on silently.
My legs bend and I sit.
“Ask to leave.”
My throat tightens, the impulse to fight back rising. “May I leave the table?”
“Ask properly,” says Tyrus, smirking.
I draw in a tight breath. “May I leave the table, Master?”
He nods, waving me away like I’m little more than an insect.
I storm back to my chambers and punch the wall, my skinned knuckles welcome and the fast pain that follows.
I stare at the holo in my fingers. “Alright. Let’s see what you’ve got to offer.”
There’s a new holo player sitting beside the bed. I slide the disc in, the holo lighting up before me,
the footage streaming.
I watch carefully, bathed in light.
I’ve seen this footage before—the portal opening up, interviews with first responders and soldiers sent to the front line. I shake my head. “Is that all you’ve got?”
I’m about to switch off the footage when it plays again, but this time the footage, while initially appearing the same, is quite different. There is no portal in the first scene, even though the background remains the same. “Tricks,” I say aloud. The interviews follow, but instead of finishing, they continue on, the footage zooming out to show a studio, actors…
My skin starts to prickle.
New footage starts. It shows Dothkhan gathered in a square. Dothkhan children are playing in rainbow fountains, adults gathered around the edges in animated conversation. The skies darken and Alliance ships blot out the sun, raining plasma from above. I’ve seen my share of war, but the chaos that follows is hard to stomach. Soldiers land, the angle of the footage static as they go about methodically slaughtering everything in sight—Dothkhan men, women, children, one Alliance soldier going as far as to swing a Dothkhan infant by his legs, smashing it over and over against a nearby wall.
The footage shifts roughly again to show a meeting of the Alliance’s highest ranking soldiers. The Generals are gathered, High Commanders, the Grand Commander sitting at the head of the table and bringing up a holo of Dothkhan. What follows is a meticulous description of the deception that is to follow, the holos that are to be produced and distributed amongst the Alliance, a detailed breakdown of the mining installations to be set up once the planet is ‘swept.’ At one stage, while detailing the Dothkhan’s difficulties reproducing, the table laughs, boisterously congratulating each other on this dark endeavor.
I understand it’s possible to create holos, to modify and edit them to make almost anything believable, but this goes far beyond what the Dothkhan would be capable of.
The Grand Commander stands, asking for the recording of the meeting minutes to be switched off.
The holo disappears, but still a hot aura of the Grand Commander’s face remains in the air.
I speak to it. “Father, what have you done?”
