by Trent Evans
Kosha shook his head. “I’m quite certain I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“That sweet little human there, that girl, she’s... forever. You understand that, don’t you?”
The truth of it was like a blow to the chest, and Kosha almost stumbled with it. Then he regained his composure.
“Thank you for examining her, doctor. Will there be anything else?”
Torval took one last look at the girl, a fondness there in his gaze that was unmistakable. “Take care of her, Kosha. And take my advice — log on to that access network. It’s all there on the null disc I gave you. You might like what you find there. Trust me on this.”
Kosha looked upon his lovely charge as he said the words, drinking in the way she still sniffled before them, naked, defenseless, vulnerable.
“I intend to, doctor. When it comes to Rose, I need all the help I can get.”
Chapter 18
It was one of his favorite pastimes, making her kneel at attention — and always in silence — as he showered. The first few times he’d forced her to watch him, she’d tried defy him — but he’d spanked her if he caught her looking away.
Now, so many days afterward, the problem wasn’t having to look — it was how her body reacted as she watched him. But the small part of her that still remained defiant, that wanted to resist, railed against it. She couldn’t deny his beauty. She couldn’t deny that looking upon him aroused her every single time. She couldn’t deny that she wanted to serve that body, give him pleasure — or allow him to take pleasure with hers.
She couldn’t help but watch, almost entranced near the end as the suds made their way down his long limbs, the heavily muscled legs, the chest that bespoke almost limitless power, the veined, sinewed, brawny arms — ones she knew were so strong they could break her in half.
Yes, she wanted to lick them. She wanted to rub her entire body on those muscles, to pay tribute to his beauty, to show him that she was his “Good Girl.” She’d never tell him that, of course, but it would confirm to him something she already suspected deep down was the truth.
He’d conquered her.
For now, rather than dreaming of ways to escape, more than once she’d caught herself daydreaming about ways to please him, ways to give him pleasure, ways to make him proud of her.
How had she come to this? How had things changed so much?
Then the realization hit her as he rinsed off that incredible body, as he turned away from her, displaying those muscular buttocks she longed to sink her teeth into, that back so broad it was like the side of a building, a mountain — implacable, immovable — unimaginably strong.
She realized then… that she was happy. How could she be happy as a captive? As a degraded, humiliated sexual plaything of a strange, stern alien.
But it was the truth.
Yes, he punished her. Yes, he took her sometimes to the depths of despair with the pain. But there were so many other times he took her to the heights of ecstasy, showing her pleasure she had no idea could even exist, and yet he showed her over and over and over again, until she could think of nothing else, until her entire world was surrendering to his lust, to his desires… to his will.
He turned the water off, and she snapped back to the present. He stepped out of the basin, drying his body off in a leisurely way, occasionally glancing at his kneeling, waiting slave girl. She could feel her nipples tighten each time he looked at her. Her pussy was already beginning to heat, the slipperiness growing by the second. Would he use her? Or would he punish her? At times, he punished her simply because he enjoyed it. She knew that — even though, at the time, she had no real idea why she was being spanked.
But it was clear enough. He took real pleasure in it.
In a way, seeing that huge cock fill and lengthen, then stand up as she sobbed away while the paddle or his hand rained down fire upon her ass… in a way, it made it easier.
Made it more… just.
You know there’s not a thing just about this situation, Rose. How can you think that?
But she did. She wanted him to take pleasure in her, even if it was taking pleasure in inflicting pain upon her.
What did that mean? What did that make her?
It makes you brainwashed. It makes you a victim who no longer knows right from wrong.
And maybe it was right. Maybe that’s what she was now. But underlying all of that was a simple, brutal truth — she didn’t care anymore. She didn’t care what was right or wrong. Because with him — kneeling at his feet — she didn’t have to care anymore.
All she had to do was please him. All she had to do was be his Good Girl. All she had to do was feel.
She glanced over at him and realized those dark, keen eyes of his were watching her. Drops of water still beaded upon his skin here and there, his strong brows gleaming with it. That square, heavy jaw twitched then, and he walked toward her. She swallowed hard as she lowered her gaze, not missing the rise, the unfurling of that huge penis.
Oh God.
Every time she saw his erection rise, it sent her heart jackhammering in her chest. Her nipples hardened, her blush upon her cheeks almost as hot as the seething oven between her thighs.
Her body was always ready now.
Her body was always craving now.
Whether it meant pain or pleasure — or both — she wanted him. She wanted his attention. She wanted his approval, and yes, sometimes... she even wanted his disapproval. When he would grow angry with her, that in itself could sometimes turn her on.
How twisted can you be, Rose?
But it made sense, in a way. It was simple cause and effect. For when he disapproved of her, when he grew cross with her, punishment would always follow. And while she would cry, rail, and beg — worthlessly, of course — for the pain to stop, her pussy would continue to drip, her nipples would continue to throb until she reached a state that had now become her new normal, where pain and pleasure, right and wrong, good and bad, were hopelessly intertwined, confused.
And where those two opposites no longer mattered.
He stood before her then, gazing down upon her with a smile playing at the corners of his lips. His eyes were narrowed, sparkling with a brilliance that always fascinated her, an intelligence, an avariciousness both in those depths — and both of them in turn aroused her.
The veined shaft of his cock reared above her, and she couldn’t help but look up at it, her chest tightening as she beheld it.
His fingers took hold of her leash and he drew her to her feet. The hot, silky length of his hard penis rubbed, brushing against her hip. Rather than lead her to the bedroom where she longed to go — even if it meant being spanked — instead, he drew her over to the basin, pressed her thighs against it, and then bent her over the edge.
Oh God. Oh no! What’s he doing?
This was entirely new.
For a fleeting, terrifying moment, she feared he meant to dunk her head in water. But the water had long drained from the basin, and she merely found herself staring at the white, pristine bottom of the tub, the edge of the metal digging into her hips. His hand coursed up and down her back for a moment, then gently, even lovingly, he squeezed each of her buttocks in turn.
Then the hands stilled. For a long moment, she knew he was simply looking upon her, at her utter debasement, her total surrender. Her face burned at the way the position exposed everything to him, every private part of her body presented.
Even though he had seen it many times, even though he’d fucked it many times, each time it was a trial to expose herself in such a way. And this was perhaps the most humiliating way she’d done it yet. Still, she knew her pussy would be gleaming, wet with the evidence of his conquering of his human captive, hot and open and dripping, wanting whatever it was he’d choose to give her.
You’re hopeless, Rose.
She knew it. And again, she no longer cared. Because it didn’t matter.
This was her life, this was her lot — and
this was what she wanted now. Yes, it was difficult, often painful, often embarrassing, often arduous, but somehow … somehow, this was her.
She bit off a tiny yelp as her buttocks were pulled open, spread wide once more in the way she knew he enjoyed most. The heat in her face deepened, flaming now, as he touched her anus with something hard and round. Then it was pulled away, and cold, slippery wetness was spread upon her opening, up and down her cleft until it dripped down into the hot slot of her sex. Then that hard, round object was placed once again against her. He patted her bottom, said something to her in his language. She knew he wanted her to open. Whatever it was, whether it was his cock or his fingers or — she shuddered at the thought of it being something else entirely — he required her to open her bottom, to cooperate.
She beared down as much as she could, willing herself to open, to relax, to surrender to this. Surprisingly, the object — whatever it was — slipped in fairly easily.
It didn’t feel any bigger than his finger, and perhaps wasn’t even that large.
But rather than begin to thrust and work her with it, he simply pressed it deep until she felt some sort of flared end pressing against the ring of her anus.
Oh my God... it’s a plug.
Her face positively exploded with heat as she realized what he’d done, what it meant. He let her buttocks close, and the feeling of fullness, the awkward sensation of wrongness didn’t go away, unlike when he’d penetrated her with his finger. It had only been temporary, as uncomfortable as it was. Then it had withdrawn.
This refused to withdraw. It was a constant invader, a relentless presence, a reminder of his ownership of her, of his conquering of her.
Of the confirmation that this part of her too — like the rest of her body — belonged to him. And he would use it as he wished, whether she wanted him to or not.
She shuddered then as she was draped over the edge of that tub. But whether from horror or anger — or desire — she couldn’t tell. Perhaps it was all three.
But again, it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was doing what she was told, and most of all, pleasing him.
Her owner.
* * *
He didn’t want to let her up from her position, draped as she was over the edge of the basin. The position widened her already broad hips, making those sweet, smooth buttocks even fuller. Even more mouthwatering. He thought he could leave her like this for eternity, simply gazing upon her incredible beauty.
That gorgeous ass waving in his face would inevitably provoke something more in him than mere admiration.
Watching the plug sink into her sphincter, watching her ass spread for the smooth, black toy, then seeing it there nestled between those sweet round cheeks, it held a special, dark, twisted allure that he wanted more of.
Oh, he wanted so much more of it.
He already wanted to take her bottom, to fuck her until she was screaming with it, whether from pain or pleasure. He’d savor it, regardless. He wanted that last conquering of his slave girl, wanted her to know that this was what she was there for.
For his pleasure.
He stood above her, stroking his cock languidly as he looked on. For a moment, he considered turning on the translator, then thought better of it. He wanted her to become instinctively attuned to his every move, his every look, even down to the subtlest of expressions. He wanted her to be keyed into all of it, to respond to him instantly, without thinking. Only then would he have her where he wanted her. Only then would she be what he’d always dreamed of making a human female.
Truly his plaything.
And from there, he would build her back up. He would make her into something more than human, into something beyond merely a simple, pleasant diversion, a pleasurable object.
No, there was more to her than that. He could see that now. It was something he’d never had in his fantasies, something he’d never thought of. But it was true. It made everything he did with her that much sweeter, when he engaged her brain, when he engaged her intellect — for it was keen indeed.
For a human.
You’re insane. What are you talking about?
He knew that he was losing the beat. He was risking a loss of his tight control, perhaps even opening himself to… vulnerability.
But it still went with his spirit; it comported with the way he lived his life, which was to follow — and even appreciate — random chance. To embrace the chaos. Value spontaneity, serendipity.
And the knowledge that life never went as planned, not even for the Yaanfahr.
Not even for Kosha.
That was both comforting and disquieting, but at the same time, he liked that too. He liked that it was both, that he couldn’t decide whether it was good or bad.
It just was.
Finally, he could take no more, pulling her up by the hair. He saw her wince as he did it, and smiled. He knew it degraded her. He knew it embarrassed her. He also knew that her pussy dripped when he treated her this way, just as his cock throbbed, twitching with need, wanting to be inside her now, wanting to claim her now.
But there was a sweet torture in waiting, making her wait, making her wonder, fear, anticipate what he might do to her next. Sometimes, he didn’t know himself until he did it, until that thought popped into his brain. Until that random chance sent him left or right, up or down.
Yes or no, in or out.
This was how he lived his life. This was how he saw existence. And she was part of it now. She would always be a part of it now. The only question was in what capacity.
How much would he dare to let her in?
He sat upon the edge of the basin where she’d just been draped over it, the metal warmed against his ass by his little slave girl. He placed her on her knees, but made her kneel up, her blue eyes bulging as she looked upon his cock. He held it at the base, waving it left and right, watching the way her eyes followed it, even though he knew she told herself not to look at it, not to cooperate.
Not to give him this last surrender.
And yet, he knew the truth, that she had no choice but to react, for he could tell she was aroused. His cock seemed to fascinate her, even as she was terrified of it.
He liked both. He appreciated both.
But he knew then that he wanted to use the translator. She needed to hear what he expected. He wanted to see the blush, the crimson explosion of color in her cheeks as he explained to her what he expected of her, what would be demanded of her. With a flick of his finger, he turned it on.
“Open your mouth.”
She visibly jerked at the dawning of understanding, of comprehension, at the sounds of her own language after so many days of being deprived from them.
Incredibly, she gave him a small smile, as if he were granting her a small mercy at hearing her own words once again.
But she would learn in the next few seconds that it was for an entirely different purpose. And he loved it. He loved that that look of gratitude on her face was about to transform into a crestfallen expression of woe.
You’re a sadistic bastard, Kosha.
Yes, he was. He accepted it. And it was apparent now that she did too.
Her mouth was open as ordered, and she gazed up at him, a question in her eyes.
“Tongue out,” he barked, and she obeyed.
“More! As far as you can.”
She complied, twin points of pink showing in her cheeks as she did so.
He laid the heavy head of his cock atop her tongue, the hot, wet muscle feeling so good against the sensitive underside of his penis, he almost groaned with it. He tapped her gently there as he spoke.
“When I require your mouth, you are to do one thing and one thing above all else — obey me. I will train you to take every inch of me into your mouth and into your throat. We won’t stop until you’ve learned. And I’m patient, Rose. You won’t like it. It will be a trial for you, but you will do it nonetheless because it pleases me. Do you understand?”
She nodded, eve
n as her blush deepened.
“When I’m ready to come, it will be in one of three places, always. On this sweet little tongue here, down your throat, or on these big breasts. Do you understand me? Say yes, or no.”
“Yes.”
He smiled at the defeated warble of her voice, her face darkening to scarlet. He continued tapping his cock against her tongue. “Now, I want you to learn how to do this and do this exactly how I like it. I want you to take my cock in your mouth as far as you can. You’ll gag, but that can’t be helped. Understand?”
She nodded again, her eyes closing tightly. He would have ordered her to gaze up at him as he gave her the demeaning instructions, but he let her have that tiny moment of privacy, that moment of refuge.
Then he took hold of her hair and her eyes flew open, her gaze meeting his. He gave her a slow nod and her lips closed around the head of his cock, slowly sinking down the shaft. It wasn’t long before it hit the back of her throat and she jerked. Her body hitched as she gagged, and the sound was sweet indeed.
He pulled back, smacking the swollen wet head of his cock against the corner of her mouth. “Again,” he rumbled.
Over and over, they repeated this, each time his sweet slave girl gagging and choking upon him, but each time, she managed to take him a little bit deeper, until he could feel the broad head of his cock pressing at the opening to her throat. But no matter how much they tried, no matter how much she gagged, and choked, and pled, her eyes streaming with tears, saliva pooling at the corners of her lips, dripping from her chin, she couldn’t manage it.
Not yet.
He’d seen the report from Torval. The scan had revealed that she would be able to take most Yaanfahr penises into her throat. The opening was large enough… just. It was only a matter of teaching her, a matter of getting her used to the sensation. Of getting her used to surrendering her body in that way.
Oh, but he looked forward to that, to that day, to teaching her that every part of her was open to him. No matter the physical differences, no matter the fact that she was a human, she would adapt, she would overcome, she would become everything he required of her.
