The Warlord's Pet

by Loki Renard

  Pinning her on the bed, Alistair fucked Celeste hard, his cock plunging in and out of her soaking cunt. His grunts and her moans mixed in a heated cacophony as he mated her yet again, her bare wet pussy gripping him for all it was worth, clenching and quaking with the motions of her eager body as she bucked beneath him. There were small gasps every now and then as his hips slapped against her belted bottom. He knew their coupling was not without discomfort. She was probably in as much pain as she was pleasure, but there was no denying how much she wanted it. Whenever his hips stilled for a moment, it was her bottom that pressed back against him, delivering her tight little cunt onto his cock stroke after stroke.

  She was eager, but within a few minutes squeaks and gasps indicated that her tight little pussy was starting to become too sensitive after two hard fuckings. He had unleashed the full force of his lust on her and it showed in her swollen pink lower lips that flared around his cock, inner and outer labia equally puffy and slick with her juices. Alistair could not restrain himself from spilling his seed as he thrust deep inside her and spent himself inside her clenching pussy.

  Celeste quivered beneath him, her body reacting to his orgasm with one of its own. She was pinned and could not move much, but he felt her inner walls clenching him to drain him of every drop and suck it deep inside her bare pussy.

  With what felt like the last of his energy, Alistair rolled to the side and lay on his back. Celeste remained where she was, fresh cum leaking from her pussy as she peeked at him underneath a curtain of hair.

  “Have you learned your lesson?” He was out of breath as he asked the question. “I hope you have. If you haven’t, I’m going to need to rest before I finish the rest of it.”

  He ran his hand over her back, gleaming with a sheen of sweat from the intensity of their coupling. She raised herself on her elbows and gave him a look of pure sweetness.

  “Don’t put me back in the cage,” she said. “Please. I don’t like it in there.”

  He looked into her beseeching eyes and found it hard to remember why he was caging her in the first place. Political matters seemed very remote and irrelevant in that moment. His cum was leaking slowly from her pussy, her juices still coated his cock. They smelled like one another’s sweat and desire.

  A connection was being forged, he could feel it and it scared him more than any armed warrior ever could. This was dangerous territory. Celeste had been his property for less than a day and already he was becoming attached. When her father inevitably struck back, that could make things messy. The boundary of the cage was necessary, even if she didn’t like it. Hell, even if he didn’t like it.

  “When I’m using you, you can have your freedom,” he said. “But once I’m done, you go back into the cage, pet.”

  His words were not delivered harshly, but they had enough impact to make her recoil. He saw a flash of betrayal in her eyes, a dashed hope for a closer connection.

  Her eyes narrowed. “I hate you!” She spat the words at him. “You are a cruel coward.”

  Her words hurt more than he let on. He kept a staunch demeanor, knowing it would not serve either of them for him to give in. The truth was, he would have loved to have her in his bed. All manner of romantic fantasies were running through his mind and heart, but she was not a lover, or an ally. She was a prisoner and needed to be treated as such.

  “Watch your words, pet,” he warned softly as he stood up and took her once more by the back of her neck. She wriggled and squirmed in his grasp, fighting him enough that he had to wrap an arm around her waist and hoist her up off the floor. That left her feet free, her heels catching him in the shins as he carried her to the cage. He let the blows go unpunished, though perhaps he shouldn’t have. He understood her fury and her fear.

  It was the work of a moment to drop her into the cage. He let the curtain close over it, giving her some privacy, hoping she would calm down once she felt herself to be alone. As he turned away, he heard her let out a pitiful little sob. He squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth with the effort it took not to go to her.

  This wasn’t fair, not to her, not to him, but life often wasn’t fair.

  Chapter Five

  Celeste was angry, somewhat with Alistair, but mostly with herself. She was left in the cage for the rest of the night, and though she could wash herself a little, she could smell his sweat and seed on her even as she curled up on her cushions and pillows.

  The next day she was once more fed from his hand, but through the bars. He seemed preoccupied with something, or perhaps he was losing interest. Perhaps he had never had any interest. Maybe she’d just imagined that in her lust and desperation. If she could have talked to him, she might have gotten something in the way of an answer, but Alistair was gone for most of the day. She wondered if her father’s forces had arrived yet or not. Probably not. He would have to gather the other generals. It could be a week or more before she was liberated. In the meantime she had to remember who she was, what she was. A lady, not a pet.

  The days passed by, mostly spent behind the bars of the cage, which looked out over a landscape that was beginning to torment her with its openness. She could see animals wandering over vast distances while she was stuck in the little space which Alistair had decided would be her world.

  The longer she spent locked away, the more furious she grew with Alistair for having toyed with her feelings. It would perhaps have been less cruel if he had just locked her away. At least then there would have been no confusion as to what was taking place. Instead there had been moments of intimacy and tenderness, which had confused her to the point of forgetting that they were not lovers. She made a promise to herself that she would not allow herself to feel soft toward him. No matter what he did, she would resist. Total and utter disobedience would be her salvation.

  * * *

  Celeste was in her cage one day, thinking rebellious thoughts as usual, when, as always, in spite of her promises to herself to hate him, the sound of the door opening made her heart skip a beat. An unwelcome rush of excitement passed through her as Alistair entered the room. She restrained the urge to smile and instead shifted as far back in her cage as possible, her upper lip curled back over her teeth in a snarl as he drew closer. His eyes were always somewhat unsettling, the dark pupil and the light pupil focused on her in a singular gaze that made her stomach do flips.

  He approached the cage and crooked one long finger at her.

  “Come here, pet.”

  “Go away, I’m not your pet.”

  He gave her a steady look. “I have ways of proving otherwise to you.”

  “Oh, I am certain you do,” she shot back at him. “Just as I have ways of proving you are nothing more than a perverted brute who will soon be a footnote in the history books.”

  “You are in a fine temper, aren’t you,” he noted without any real concern. She found his gaze disconcerting, and not just because of the different colors of his eyes, but because he was looking at her in such a calculating, knowing fashion that she felt as though he could see every thought in her head.

  “Leave me alone,” she repeated.

  “I thought you might like to spend some time outside the cage,” he replied. “You seem to hate it so much. Would you like to come out, pet?”

  She would have given almost anything to step outside the bars… except be grateful to him for his small concession, or admit that she was his to call pet. So she sat in the corner of the cage, knowing she could be there for many more hours if he decided her response was inadequate or displeasing, but risking that for the sake of her pride and the fear of once more falling for him if she got too close.

  He snorted softly at her silence. “Quite a rebellion,” he said, flicking the latches open. “What am I going to do with such a rebellious little pet?”

  The door swung open wide, but there was no freedom beyond it. Only Alistair, standing there with his large arms crossed over his even larger chest. She could have tried to make a dash for a semblance
of freedom, but she knew she would be caught long before she got out of the building. So instead she sat there and scowled at the man who kept her captive.

  “Come out here,” he urged her with relatively gentle words. “I don’t think you want me to take you out myself.”

  “I’m not doing anything you say,” she replied, wishing her words sounded more brave and less petulant.

  That didn’t seem to matter much to Alistair. He reached into the cage, grasped her by the loose links of her collar, and pulled her gently, but very firmly out into the open. Celeste took a gulp of air as the bars receded behind her and a sense of relief and release washed over her. Even though Alistair still had his hand in her collar, simply being out of the cage made her feel more free—though she still did her best to wriggle out of his hand.

  “Are you hungry?”

  She shot him a dark look. “Are you going to make me eat off the floor like an animal again?”

  “You know, the tone you’re using isn’t exactly the one that will earn you any favors from me.”

  “I don’t care,” she said. “You’ve taken everything from me; the last thing I have left is a bad attitude. I’ll use it if I want to.”

  She saw his cheek dimple as he restrained a laugh. That made her angry. He was laughing at her. He thought her resistance was funny. She growled softly as she thought about the revenge she would take on him when her father came for her. He would regret all of this.

  “You’re not hungry,” he said. “Time for a little more training, my pet.”

  He led her to the bed, sat down and pulled her over his lap again.

  “You are going to beat me again? There doesn’t need to be a reason?”

  “You’ve given me plenty of reason to beat you if I wanted to,” Alistair informed her, his large hand settling on her bottom. “But I have something else planned for your bottom.”

  She felt her cheeks spread as he parted them with his hands, using his grip as both a means to expose her bottom hole and keep her in place. Celeste whimpered in protest, but he wasn’t listening to that, of course. He was far too busy inspecting the tender little orifice he had explored in the bath.

  She heard a drawer open and close, and then felt the tight little bud of her anus wink and wriggle as he smeared lubricating gel against it and began massaging it in. She let out a little whine, but his response was not sympathetic.

  “Don’t pretend you don’t enjoy this, pet, you’re already wet.”

  The damnable man was right. Being taken from her cage, walked to the bed on her hands and knees, taken over his strong, uniformed thighs, having her bottom inspected and now played with, it was all intensely arousing for a reason she did not understand, but her body didn’t care if she understood or not. It behaved as it wanted to behave, and its response was to lubricate her pussy, even though he had not touched it at all. The only stimulation she had there was the stimulation she gave herself as she ground against his thigh with surreptitious little movements she hoped he wouldn’t notice.

  Celeste did not know whether to moan or cry, or both as Alistair examined her. He seemed to know her body more intimately than she did and soon she was aroused almost beyond her capacity, her clit tingling so hard against his thigh, even the littlest motion making the walls of her pussy clench with yearning for his cock. But it wasn’t her pussy he was interested in. It was that tighter, smaller, hotter hole that he was now examining, his index finger pressing at the very center of it to make the muscle give way and allow his lubricated digit entrance to her squirming rear.

  Grasping at the sheets, Celeste uttered sounds and words she had never thought would emerge from her lips. It wasn’t so much that he was hurting her, as he was stretching her in new and uncomfortable ways. He was inside her in a way she had never thought anyone would be, the ridges of his finger, knuckles slipping deeper and deeper, one after the other until his thick finger was as deep as it could be. He held it between her spread cheeks, then turned his hand slightly and began to pull it out just as slowly as it had entered.

  “There’s not a part of you I don’t own, pet,” he told her. The words weren’t necessary; his actions told her everything she needed to know. The message had been received by her body loud and clear. The plundering of her bottom continued in long, slow strokes.

  Was he trying to prove a point? Had he somehow sensed the rebellious thoughts she’d had in her cage?

  Perhaps, but that was not his primary aim. That became apparent when he pulled something out of his drawer and showed it to her. It was a dark tapered rubber plug with a flared base… and from that base a flowing length of hair that could only be described as a tail. It matched her teal locks perfectly, and she realized that he must have had it made for her.

  “This is your tail, pet,” he said firmly, but gently. “This is what you will wear in your bottom.”

  She wanted to say no, but what was the point? Verbal resistance would do nothing now. Her bottom hole was already greasy with the lubricant, relaxed by his teasing and fingering into an accepting state. If only her mind could be taken to the same place her body seemed to slip into whenever he touched her.

  “Nothing to say?”

  She clamped her lips tighter together. She was not going to give him the satisfaction of begging him for clemency.

  He made a little tutting sound. A moment later she felt the thick rubber pressing into her tender little hole, settling deeper and wider than she had anticipated. It was a relief when the narrowed neck just before the flared base of the plug allowed her bottom hole to close a little more around the intrusion. The long, soft strands of the tail brushed against the inside of her thighs. It was in. With every motion she made she could feel both the plug being held inside her bottom and the length of the tail brushing against her thighs.

  “You see?” He purred the question down at her as he manipulated the tail and plug gently to make the thick rubber swirl inside her anus. “It feels good, doesn’t it?”

  “No!” She growled the lie through gritted teeth.

  “Then why are your juices already slick on your tail, pet? Why are you so wet we could use you to irrigate the crops?”

  Celeste blushed furiously. The more he took from her, the more her body seemed to respond.

  “I don’t care what my body is doing,” she grumbled. “I hate you anyway.”

  “Hate,” he repeated in teasing tones. “It doesn’t feel like you hate me.”

  She shifted so that her elbow made sharp contact with his midsection. “How about now?” She growled the words at him, then yelped when he slapped her bottom hard enough to leave a red palm print for a few moments.

  “Don’t be a brat,” he warned. “Being spanked with that tail in will be an interesting experience for you.”

  * * *

  She looked thoroughly adorable with her tail in her bottom and the nudge barely caused him discomfort, so although she deserved it, Alistair didn’t respond more punitively. It would be better to let her think that he was impervious to her jabs and jibes. She was looking for a sense of control, and that was the last thing he intended on giving her.

  Alistair slapped her bottom lightly and eased her down to the floor.

  “Stay on your hands and knees,” he said. “So I can see that tail in your bottom as you move.”

  She was blushing so furiously he was almost worried for her, but the sight of her nubile body moving with a sinuous grace across the floor, her beautiful bottom displayed to adorable advantage by the tail arching high from her cheeks told him that she was awash with pleasure. Her hips swayed and the tail swayed with them, occasionally allowing a glimpse of her pussy lips and clit, which were still very much glistening with arousal.

  He was beginning to think that there was little he could do to his pet that she wouldn’t enjoy. As he looked at her, her pretty face fighting a pout, her curvy body arched for him, presented in feminine perfection, and that tail swaying between her thighs, he felt a rush of pride and a
ffection. His instinct was to praise her. If she had been any other pet, he would have done so profusely. But things were more complicated with this one. Perhaps he should admit some feeling, he mused. If he were to do that it would change things immeasurably. He would be handing her power he did not want her to know she had.

  “Yes,” he said, sounding pleased in spite of himself. “I think you’re ready.”

  “For what?”

  “You’ll see.” He stood up and attached one last piece to her outfit… a silver chain that snapped onto her collar and allowed him to lead her. He gave a little tug, and the order he hoped she was starting to get used to.

  “Come, pet.”

  Chapter Six

  Alistair took her out, not just out of the room, but out of the military installation entirely. They drove in a heavily armored vehicle that did not allow for much sightseeing, so when she alighted from it and found herself standing outside a great circular structure with walls several times taller than she, carved and decorated with ecstatic paintings, she had a moment of minor culture shock.

  There were grand doors twice as tall as she, standing open with guards beside them. From inside the arena, she could hear voices and music and the unmistakable sounds of revelry. Looking down at her naked, barefoot form, she blushed furiously at the notion of making an appearance looking as she did in that moment.

  “Come, pet,” he murmured, taking her by the hand. It was a sweet gesture, but she did not trust sweetness from this man. She pulled her hand out of his and shook her head.

  Alistair simply took her leash in hand instead and began to walk toward the doors. It was a matter of following him or leaving her neck behind. Her feet moved in Alistair’s wake toward the doors from which the sounds of a celebration unlike any she had ever attended before were emanating.

  She had been looking out over the landscape, but aside from the views of sweeping red plains, she had only seen the stark, military face of Vector Prime before. This tribal but ornate style of carving on the doors and walls made her wonder more about the true nature of the people who lived on the planet—and perhaps of the man who held the leash to her collar. He was dressed for the occasion in black leather pants and a black and silver vest that left his muscular arms free for the admiration of anyone who might care to look at them. Out of his advanced uniform, and wearing the garb of his people, Alistair truly did look like a warlord.