by Renee Rose
He positioned the leather paddle between her legs. It was narrow enough to fit against her sex. He tapped her pussy with it—more of a warning slap than anything fierce.
She mewled but held the position. An obedient slave.
“Bayla, you are not here to breed. I forbid you to breed with any male in the pod, including myself.” He slapped her pussy again, a little harder.
She squeaked again.
“I understand the hormones make you needy, and I promise, if you’re a good girl, I will always take care of those needs. Understand?”
He wished those incredible breasts weren’t still heaving with her breath.
She nodded. “Yes, Master.”
“I don’t want to have to spank you, but you will not, under any circumstances, offer yourself to me that way again.” He delivered another slap to her pussy. “Are we clear?”
She bit her lip and bobbed her head. “Yes, Master.” Her voice broke a little, and he looked at her sharply but saw no sign of tears. Her readouts showed elevated pulse and some stress, but nothing at a worrisome level.
He nodded curtly. “Good girl. Time for your rectal exam.” He didn’t really need to do a rectal exam, but there was no harm in being thorough. “
Can you hold still, or do I need to cuff your ankles again?”
It pleased him beyond comprehension when she said in a small voice, “I will hold still, Master.”
Stars, he wanted to bring her to orgasm again right then. But she didn’t deserve it. She’d been naughty and goaded him on purpose. Besides, he wasn’t sure he had regained control of his own lust yet.
~.~
Bayla’s ass stung, but her swollen clit pulsed insistently, despite, or perhaps because of the pussy spanking he’d given her. Shame prickled hot, too, although she couldn’t decide if it was because she genuinely regretted irritating Daneth or if the spanking itself had been so humiliating. She would’ve thought, after all the objectification she’d suffered as a breeder, nothing would bother her. But, apparently, not so. The spanking hadn’t been overly painful, but it had been degrading to the extreme, and something about it being administered by an annoyed, sexy alien doctor amplified the intensity.
Her entire body still trembled, and now she had to suffer through a rectal exam. Dearest Mother Earth.
Daneth snapped on another glove, and, thankfully, squeezed some kind of lubricant onto his index finger. He had the assured touch of a doctor, not a lover, as he screwed that—oh stars, ack!—thick finger inside her ass.
She’d been probed there before. Not in a state of arousal, though. As his thick digit filled her, her pussy turned molten again, moisture seeping.
He swished it around, checking for deity knew what, then pumped a few times.
Her breath caught in her throat and she made a strangled sound, somewhere between a moan and a cough.
Daneth checked his cuff again and glanced at her face curiously but withdrew his finger.
Both relief and disappointment flooded her. Her pussy clenched on air.
“Release cuffs.”
The loops holding her wrist cuffs in place sprang open. She pulled her arms down, relieved to have the pressure off them.
“Your examination is complete.” He placed a large hand on her upper arm to help her to sit. “Can you stand?”
She swung her legs over the side of the examination table and stood. Daneth steadied her with the hand at her elbow. “Yes, Master,” she reported once she was sure her legs weren’t asleep.
“Good. Come with me.”
He led her to a door at the rear of the laboratory or examination room—it seemed to double as both—and pressed his palm to a screen.
The door slid soundlessly open.
She gaped at the room beyond. It, too, was lit by a bright skylight, and defined opulence. The large chamber featured a floating oval bed in the center of the room. An intricately woven rug in shades of turquoise, beige, and white decorated the floor. Two walls were painted the same pale turquoise, two in cream. No, when she looked closer, she realized the wall was not painted turquoise but a turquoise-dyed plaster, which gave it the rich depth of varying shades of color.
The room spoke of extreme wealth. She had been farmed out to a wealthy Ocretion family to breed with the master there, and their rooms paled in comparison.
In the far corner was a washroom, and just inside the door floated a large cage.
That must be for her.
“Is this...your chamber?” she asked with awe.
“Yes. You will sleep in the cage. That way I can monitor you at all times. I installed a comfortable pad.”
She walked over and peered in the cage, depressing the cushy mattress and fingering the blanket. It was made of the finest material she’d ever touched, impossibly soft. Whoa. Her cage was luxurious.
“I can add more pillows to support your body when it grows.”
Oh. Right. Her lip curled at the thought of being pregnant, stomach clenched at the memory of those infants taken from her body, from her. She didn’t want to go through that again.
But she had to say, she’d take this opulent cage and the quirky but not unkind Zandian master over her past assignments any planet rotation. She needed to figure out how to avoid or stall the pregnancy part.
Daneth indicated a tiny table with one chair. “Sit. I’ve sent for food and drink. I can see you’re thirsty.”
He could see that? How? His solicitousness gave her a tingle of excitement. But he was her physician—he needed her to stay healthy. The male didn’t actually care about her feelings.
She settled on the indicated hover chair, her naked bottom still tingling from the spanking. “Do I get clothing?”
“Clothing is not necessary at the moment.”
She’d been kept naked before. Many times. But, usually, to make her attractive to the male who would breed her. Daneth didn’t want to breed her, he wanted to implant her.
“Wouldn’t it be easier—you know—for me not to be bred here, if I was covered?”
A muscle ticked in Daneth’s jaw, but, more interestingly, the bulge at his crotch grew when she mentioned breeding. Foolish though it was, she loved the sense of power it gave her, knowing she could get a rise—literally—out him.
“I will not breed you,” he said stiffly. “You will be given something to cover with before I take you out into the pod.”
She squeezed her own breasts with a feigned nonchalance, as if fondling herself happened naturally at any time. “What is the pod?”
Daneth’s horns stiffened and leaned forward, the irises of his eyes darkened to a beautiful violet. He glared at her breasts. “You are speaking out of turn again.”
“Am I, Master?” she answered innocently. “I thought you were speaking to me.”
He folded his arms across his massive chest. “I understand humans incorporate lies as a means of speaking,” he said with crisp recitation, as if remembering some report he’d studied on humans. “Sarcasm, you call it.”
“That wasn’t sarcasm, Master.” It was playing dumb. But she wasn’t going to explain that human way of speaking, either. She kneaded her breasts. Her fondling had the unintended effect of turning her on—not that she hadn’t already been aroused from the rectal exam. She squirmed in her chair.
Daneth looked at the readout on his cuff and scowled. “I will find you some clothes,” he growled, stalking to a shelf unit against the wall and opening it. He yanked out a tunic and brought it to her. “Put this on,” he snapped.
She slipped the tunic on and tied the belt around her waist. “No panties?” She made her question as innocent as she could manage, and tipped her pelvis forward, running a finger along her slit.
Daneth’s eyes narrowed. “You’re teasing me.”
Okay, so the doctor wasn’t as out of touch with humans as she thought.
She made her eyes wide and childlike. “No, Master.”
“And that’s a lie.” He pulled her out of her c
hair by the elbow and flipped her to face the table, clipping her wrists together behind her.
Though she’d been bold a moment before, fear washed through her. Punishments on the fertility farm had been dreadful—electric shocks or confinement in a small, dark space. What would the Zandian doctor do when truly provoked, as he appeared to be now?
He pushed her torso over the table until her belly lay flat, her cheek pressed against the smooth, polished surface. “You will not lie to your master.” He must have tucked the leather paddle into his lab coat to carry with him because it magically appeared, searing her ass with quick, decisive slaps.
Relief that he’d chosen the same implement as before poured through her. This paddling was nothing compared to what she’d endured in the past. Still, he spanked so rapidly, she couldn’t relax and breathe into the pain, either. Her pulse galloped and bottom clenched under the onslaught.
“You will not tempt or tease your master.”
“No, Master,” she gasped. Or should she have said, Yes, Master? She couldn’t think with the endless spanking, which seemed to only increase in intensity. “I’m sorry!” she tried.
To no avail. He kept on paddling. She hadn’t been counting, but he’d certainly gone well beyond what he’d delivered the last time, and the strokes were much harder.
“I’m sorry!” She twisted her cuffed wrists against the restraints, not because she expected to get free but because her body couldn’t help but seek some way out of the pain the doctor delivered. “Please!” She wasn’t above begging. “Please, I’m sorry!”
He kept going. It seemed nothing would make the doctor stop now. The pain became more manageable as her ass turned numb, but nothing diminished the overwhelming stress of being on the receiving end of her master’s displeasure in such a personal and intimate way. It was so different from Ocretion punishment where she’d been a number on the farm.
Her legs trembled, breath came in quick gasps, and all the shock and strain of managing her new environment welled up, choking her. A sob escaped her before she could swallow it down, and then, to her horror, she broke into a full crying jag, the stress of adapting to the new environment pouring out in big, ugly tears.
~.~
Daneth froze. He’d intended to spank his little slave to tears, and yet the moment he realized he’d achieved his goal, he wanted to take it back. Everything in him screamed to comfort her. To stop the tears, which stung his senses with their salty scent.
He slid the paddle beside her on the table and stroked her burning bottom. He didn’t have the will to report the data on the color of her as—hot red—or how many strokes it had taken to achieve tears—134.
He cleared his throat, trying to think what to say to the tender human, so easily broken with a simple leather paddle. It hurt his chest to hear her sobs. “It’s over now,” he murmured. He rubbed her bottom and down her legs. “Release wrist cuffs,” he commanded softly. The magnet holding the two wrists together released, and her hands dropped to the table.
He made circles on her back with his palm, marveling at how light her skin was. Almost white, which contrasted beautiful with her dark hair. So different from his skin color.
“Bayla—it’s over. You’re forgiven.” What made him say that? He doubted she cared about his forgiveness. But her sobs did slow.
He slipped an arm under her and lifted her to standing. She kept her back to him, the quiet in the room punctuated by her sniffles.
Must calm the female.
In that moment, it hit him harder than ever before how little he understood females. He hadn’t mastered relations with females of his own species. How in the stars did he expect to navigate them with an emotional human?
“Bayla,” he coaxed, turning her around.
She dropped her chin to her chest, hiding her face from him in a curtain of dark waves. Veck, she was beautiful.
Though his usual sense of interpersonal relations would dictate he simply leave her alone—give her some privacy until she’d recovered—he couldn’t bear the thought.
My female requires calming.
Odd that he considered her his. But she was. He’d paid for her. She was his slave, and he was her master.
“It’s over now, Bayla,” he repeated. He checked his cuff for her vitals. Her elevated pulse showed stress, and the arousal meter read 60 percent. He was surprised she could be aroused and crying at the same time. Another oddity of human females.
Her legs wobbled, and she swayed. He moved without thought, sweeping her up into a cradle carry before he realized he meant to.
She lifted her tucked chin and gazed up with surprise, her arms slowly moving to circle his neck.
Something in his physiology turned haywire then—his head swam, and the room seemed to swoop, even as his chest filled with something gooey and warm.
To his shock, Bayla tucked her face against his neck.
He inhaled sharply at the pleasure the gesture produced in him. Not lust this time, something different, something deeper. It stemmed from that need to comfort her—satisfaction that he’d seemingly succeeded in some small measure because she’d turned to him rather than away. Which seemed wrong, since he was the one who’d made her cry in the first place.
His scientist brain short-circuited. He’d spent a lifetime living in his head, guided only by logic. This foreign flood of emotions literally dampened his ability to think.
What power did human females possess that caused Zandian males to lose their minds? He needed to find some way to distance himself from this beautiful girl before he jeopardized his project.
But his emotions had full control of his body, now. His mouth murmured, “You need rest,” and his feet carried her across the room to her cage. “Open cage.” The door sprang open but he made no move to put her inside. It didn’t feel right.
Since when did he make decisions by feel?
He carried her to his sleepdisk instead, laying her on the soft mattress and sitting beside her. Her dark tresses fell in a wave, hiding her face from him. He stroked them back, telling himself it was only to see her, to evaluate her emotional state as her doctor, but his fingers never stopped stroking. He petted her, soothing away her sniffles and hiccups.
Sweet human.
A knock sounded at the door, and he saw from the screen inside that a servant stood outside with his human’s food. He flicked the coverlet over her naked, paddled bottom and called for him to come in.
“I’ll take it.” He accepted the tray right there on the bed, arranging it on his lap.
Bayla lifted her dark head and sat up, eyes fixed on the tray, and he kicked himself again for not having provided her with alimentation sooner.
He placed the tube from the liquid bag into her mouth.
Her nose crinkled adorably, but she sucked the tube. The moment the liquid reached her mouth, her long black lashes flew wide. She sucked in earnest, draining the bag in a matter of moments.
“Sixty milliliters of kai juice,” he reported to his cuff.
“Kai juice,” she echoed with awe.
“You liked it?”
She licked her full lips. “Oh yes. Is that for me?” she asked, pointing to the food.
“Yes.”
Before he finished speaking the word, she’d pulled the tray to her lap, snatched up a spoon, and tucked into the savory grain dish Chef Barr had prepared.
He observed with fascination as she stuffed the food in her mouth, rolling her eyes and moaning with pleasure. Watching a being eat had never been such an arousing experience. Her full, lush lips closed around the utensil; that little pink tongue flicked food from the corners of her mouth. Her obvious pleasure with every bite made his cock go as hard as it had been when he’d brought her to orgasm earlier.
She finished the entire tray of food in record time then dabbed her lips with a napkin and smiled shyly at him.
“You were hungry,” he observed.
She shook her head. “I’ve never tasted food so good
in my life. I’m stuffed, but I couldn’t stop eating.” She rubbed her little paunch.
Adorable.
She tilted her head at him. “Do Zandians eat?”
“Only once a week. Every ten planet rotations on Ocretia. We gain most of our energy from sunlight.”
“Wow.” She licked her lips again. “You’re missing out.”
He laughed—actually laughed. When had he laughed before? He couldn’t remember a time. Another sign he needed distance from this enchanting creature. Except he couldn’t bring himself to take it.
They were sitting close—so close her side pressed against his, and her sweet human scent under the citrusy oil from her initial washing filled his nostrils.
She leaned her head toward him and tucked her face against his neck, like she had when he carried her. “I’m sorry I was naughty, Master.”
Oh stars.
His cock surged in his pants, the demand she show him how sorry she was leaping to his lips. He bit it back just in time, but she seemed to sense the change in him, or perhaps she saw the growing tent in his lap. She licked a line up his neck.
After the lesson he’d taught her, the action should have infuriated him. Hadn’t he just told her not to tease? But nothing in the galaxy would make him tell her to stop.
She reached his ear and nipped at his earlobe.
His horns thickened, mimicking his throbbing malehood.
“I know I’m not for breeding,” she said, her voice husky, “but I have been trained to pleasure a male.”
Vecking stars!
Lust seared through his entire body, nearly making him pant for breath.
Her small hand cupped his balls, then wrapped around the base of his cock through his clothing.
He yanked his tunic up as the beautiful seductress slipped past him, off the bed and onto her knees on the floor. Like a compass drawn to the magnetic pole of Zandia, he whirled to point his cock toward her generous mouth and shoved down his pants.
Her berry lips parted, tongue extended as she leaned forward and gave a single, lap. She sat back on her heels and lifted her beautiful blue eyes, the spark of laughter making them merry.
