Twist (A BDSM & Romantic Erotica Boxed Set)

by Tara Crescent

  "Leina," he said – correctly, I might add – "we speak in the hall?"

  I marched out into the hall, ready to do battle, and before I could open my mouth, he opened his.

  "We made mistake and I am sorry."

  My indignation died on my lips. In my experience, men – or males - don't usually apologize. Especially big ones. I leaned back against the wall and crossed my arms, my anger in check for the moment.

  "I can give you two choices. You can go in the space sleep now. When we get to our planet, you stay on the ship, sleeping, and you go back to your planet and it will be two years. You will not come down to our planet. Or, you can choose to be with the other females. You study language and when we get to our planet you will come down and be home after the Tour."

  I had to admit, the offer was fair. "Can I think about it while I eat? It's been a couple of days since I had enough food."

  His eyes widened. "What you say is true?"

  "Are you suggesting that I lie?" I said with a smile.

  "It is possible. Now go and eat." He opened the door to the room.

  I let out an indignant squeak and in response he spakked my bottom and gently pushed me through the door. It closed, and he was gone.

  Chapter 6 – Learning the Language

  I finished reading the papers. There was more about obedience and discipline that I kind of understood. The details of the punishments on the Tour were kind of vague, the only promises being that nothing would hurt us permanently or interfere with our ability to be their broodmares.

  OK, I made that last part up. Regardless, after wrestling with myself I realized that the girl who'd told me what I'd missed – Trinay was her name – was right. It was better than the option of going back. They made a big deal of having me sign the papers in front of witnesses.

  I found out the word 'discipline' wasn’t an awkward translation. The one task we had while we were awake was to learn their language, and we were expected to work on it almost every moment, and expected to learn quickly. If a student couldn't answer perfectly, she was ordered to stand up, lean over the table, and grab the hands of the girl across from her. Our teacher – a towering, slender woman with grey hair – would apply punishment with a thin stick that appeared like magic out of her sleeve and into her hand, and left painful red welts after just the barest of touches to our upturned asses. They hurt horribly, and the frequency with which they occurred ensured that most of us were sitting pretty uncomfortably almost every day.

  My ass, though, won the prize. I couldn’t understand the written lessons. The letters of their alphabet were just doodles on a page. I couldn't put a sound to them, or string them together to make a simple word. I did pretty good at understanding the questions she asked because I began to recognize the same words I heard over and over, but I couldn't supply the answers. I usually received ten to fifteen 'touches' every day, which made sitting unbearable. A few times she looked at the welted skin on my butt and the backs of my thighs and decided to punish me on the front of my thighs instead.

  I only resisted a punishment once. The end result was that I was bound tightly over the table, punished, and then left there while the lesson went on to my right and my left. Every time she walked past me I would get another touch. I spent most of the afternoon like that, crying on and off with the pain on my backside and from being bent over for so long.

  I tried so hard to study. I was really good at helping the other girls with pronunciation, because all the strange tongue and lip movements came easily to me, but I would not admit to anyone that I couldn't read.

  It came to a head one day. I'd already received ten ‘touches’ before lunch and was standing up for number eleven when the door opened and the food cart was pushed in by the same small male. Recklessly I wriggled out of the teacher's grasp and ran for the door, slipping through just as it shut. I had no idea what to do so I turned left and started running, looking for a place to hide. Halfway down the hall there was an open door and I barreled through it, finding myself in a small closet of supplies.

  Upon hearing voices coming towards me I ducked down between two boxes, finding a small recessed alcove behind them that was hidden from view. I curled up in a little ball and rocked back and forth, stifling a moan at the pain from the welts on my ass, and crying. I don't cry very often. It's another sign of weakness, but I was at the end of what I could handle. And the only thing I had to wipe my nose with was the damn shift I was wearing.

  I'd been there maybe ten minutes when a loud buzz startled me and the voice came out of the walls like before. I couldn't understand the announcement, but I did catch the word "Lee-na". Yup. They were looking for me. I stifled a giggle at the absurd thought that I wasn't going to come out until they said my name correctly. Then I sobered. This wasn't going to end well for me, I knew.

  I heard someone open the door and I crouched smaller, willing the light shining on the boxes to stay away from me. The light withdrew without finding me and the door closed.

  I was dozing off out of boredom when a voice suddenly erupted from the walls once more.

  "Lay-eena," the voice began. There was only one person who said my name right. "This is Samial. You are scared. I want to talk to you. Just talk, no spakking. Seriously."

  Despite my fear and fatigue, I felt a bubble of laughter rise up.

  "If you come out then I will come to get you. The guards will not hurt you. Seriously."

  I knew I wasn't going to get any better offer than this, so I rose stiffly from my hiding place and approached the door.

  Chapter 7 – Unexpected Assistance

  Ten minutes later Samial, with a grip of iron on my wrist, opened the door to his quarters and pulled me inside. As soon as the door shut, he let loose what I assumed was a combination of swear words and expressions of deep frustration. After getting it all off his chest, he switched languages.

  "Why did you run?" he demanded.

  "Because of this!" I yelled back at him, pulling up my shift to give him a close-up of the angry red and purple lines that covered my ass, and the backs and fronts of my thighs. His eyes were wide.

  "I'm trying! I just can't do it like she wants me to do it!" The tears came back and I sank to the floor, trying to get control of my anger. I felt him sit down in front of me.

  "Leina, tell me what you mean. You can tell me the truth. Seriously."

  Despite it all, I giggled and raised my head. "You need to stop using that word so much."

  He smiled back. "Do you wish to talk about spakking instead?"

  "No!" I shook my head, knowing he was teasing me.

  "Then tell me."

  Even sitting on the floor he towered over me. I felt small and fragile next to him. For the first time in my life, I thought it might be nice, just for a little while, to have someone take care of me, instead of being all alone. The feeling intensified when his very large hand, darker than mine and liberally covered in fine dark hair, reached out to take my small, pale, hairless hand into his.

  "I've always had problems reading." I'd never admitted that to anyone ever before. I told him about my struggles with the written lessons. "Someone tried to help me when I was younger but my mother was the one who sat with me for hours and hours until I could finally understand most of what I saw. Any change in a word, though, like from singular to plural, means I have to learn it all over again. But I don't have any problems understanding when someone speaks. I understood the teacher very clearly when she said she hated teaching us because all we were good for is pushing out babies and anything else was a waste of time."

  He stared at me for a moment then stood up abruptly. "I will talk to someone. You will stay here." He pointed to the floor where I was sitting, and then he pulled something from his pocket and walked into the next room.

  I looked around, interested to get my first glimpse of alien decor. The room was surprisingly small and un-exotic. A low platform that was surely his bed had wrinkled blankets on the top. A pile of papers sa
t on a table. Cloth items – his clothes, I assumed – lay on one soft-looking chair. I suppose since the aliens have the same kinds of bodies we do, it was natural for them to develop tables and chairs and beds that were similar to ours. All of it, though, was one size bigger than what I was used to. I probably could curl my entire body up in that soft, cushioned chair – and suddenly that desire was so overwhelming that without thinking I rose and walked over to it. In a moment, I was curled up in its embrace.

  "Leina!" I must have dozed off. When my eyes flew open, he was standing over me, looking angry. "Where did I tell you to stay?"

  "What? I just got tired of sitting on the floor so I came over here."

  "Where did I tell you to stay?"

  "Right there," I pointed, "but I didn't think it was an order, oh tall and hairy one."

  He blinked at me, his brow furrowed as he tried to figure out the words.

  "I do not know those words, but the way you say them is disrespectful. I do not like disrespect and you will stop it now or I will punish you."

  "Who died and made you the boss?" I don't know why I was acting so reckless.

  Without warning I was lifted bodily from the chair and held shrieking in the air as he took my place. Then I found myself face down on his lap, my arms dangling down towards the carpet way below, and my feet kicking in mid-air. His arm, as solid as a tree trunk, wrapped around my waist and pinned me more tightly than any bonds could.

  "Let me go!" I shouted, clawing at his massive legs. I managed to place some nice red scrapes on the skin with my fingernails before he captured both wrists and pinned them to the small of my back. I struggled furiously, calling him every name that my mother had taught me and a few that I made up on the spot, but he seemed to barely notice.

  Eventually I ran out of steam, and hung awkwardly over his knees while he remained still. "Are we done yet?" I asked.

  "You will tell me you are sorry."

  "Sorry for what?"

  "Disrespect."

  I sighed. I just wanted to get upright again. "Sorry."

  "Use more words, please."

  I twisted around as much as I could to look up at him. "Seriously?"

  His mouth twitched, I swear it did. "Seriously."

  "I'm sorry I disrespected you."

  "More."

  "Oh, come on!"

  He remained silent.

  "I'm sorry I didn't stay on the floor like you told me to and disrespected you."

  "That is good. Now we can begin to punish."

  "What???" I screeched, as his massive hand came down with a thwack right on top of the lines left by the teacher's cane. I howled in agony. "Stop please I said I'm sorry please that hurts so bad, please…"

  "Punishments hurt. You will remember to obey next time." His hand stroked my flaming skin for a moment while I caught my breath. "Five more will make you remember."

  "No, please stop, I can't do th–" My sentence was cut off by the next strike of his palm, slightly lower than the last. I howled again and struggled furiously and couldn't move an inch. He struck the third blow, this one right where my legs met my ass. I was writhing and fighting and begging as the fourth one landed at the top of my thighs. I know he gave me two more but it was all a blur of pain, the smacks landing with complete accuracy on the red raised wheals placed yesterday and today, and magnifying the pain ten-fold.

  By this time I was hyperventilating. I felt his hand on my back, rubbing with a light touch until I had caught my breath, and then with the same ease that he had put me face down, he turned me over and sat me up. I hissed with pain as my flaming backside made contact with the rough material of his clothes but I didn't fight him. Our size difference made me feel like a little girl. He kept his arm around me as I wobbled and made shushing noises and the last of my sobs made their way out.

  "Now, we start over?"

  I nodded, not really understanding what he meant but not wanting to disagree.

  He helped me stand up, holding me steady until my legs could support me. I turned to face him and realized with surprise that while he was sitting, we were actually at eye-level. Those odd-colored eyes stared into my soul.

  "Now, no more books for you."

  My eyebrows shot up with surprise.

  "You will go to class but you will listen only. Do you think that will help you learn?"

  I nodded. If I could concentrate on just listening, I would pick things up faster.

  "The teacher will ask you questions, but not from the book. If you do not answer correctly, she will punish you like the other females."

  I gulped and nodded.

  "And every night, you will come here and we will talk in my language only."

  I nodded slowly, unsure of how I felt about that.

  "We will do this until you go into space sleep."

  "Okay." My voice was small. "Sir." It just seemed like the right thing to add.

  He looked puzzled. "What is 'Sir'?"

  "It is a word – a name – of respect."

  He smiled. "We have that kind of word, too. I will teach it to you tonight."

  And he did. He taught me many words. He taught me about his planet, and some of the history, and customs. He told me how they had pulled the planet back from the brink of environmental collapse and the austerity they had to embrace that kept the planet healthy. Yes, they had a sizable space program, and scientific advances beyond anything I’d ever heard of, but most people lived fairly simply, and there were few communities that were more than large towns.

  He spoke of the loneliness that the mothers had when there were no daughters to fuss over and the sadness that permeated them because of the certainty that there would never be any grandchildren. The only thing he wouldn't talk about was the Tour or the punishments we'd be facing.

  He refused to speak anything but his language, and any time I spoke one word of mine he lifted my shift and swatted my bare butt. A butt that remained sore for the next three weeks from the accumulated welts I continued to get from the teacher. But now there were only two or three a day, just like the other women.

  As a side note, I thought it interesting that our teacher herself moved stiffly and refused to sit down for the next two days, looking exactly like one of us after a day of ‘touches’.

  As a teaching strategy I can't recommend harsh punishment to facilitate long-term learning, but as far as learning a new language in only one month, it did work. Other males came in to the room during the day to talk to us and we began to tell them apart. By the time they settled us for space sleep, we were able to understand most of what they said and speak enough to get along.

  It had been easy to ignore what was coming up while we were so focused, and perhaps that was their strategy. But as we lay back in the strange special beds that would keep us safe for most of a year, our thoughts turned to what was next.

  Chapter 8 – Arrival

  I don't remember anything about the rest of the journey, other than the dreams. Dreams of alien males overpowering me, taking me, holding me down, ravaging me with cocks so large I cried out in a pleasure-pain that in my dreams seemed to go on forever. I also dreamed of being punished – caning, spanking, and other torments that were unspeakable. Rather than terrifying me, they aroused me with a pleasurable fear I would never admit to. The result, though, was that when I woke almost a year later, I didn't emerge from sleep with a dread of what was to come, but a terrible fascination and anticipation that made no sense when examined in the light of day.

  I'd been moved from the container back to my bed. I understood that many of the alien males had stayed awake to look after us as the journey progressed. The miracle of space sleep was that there was no wasting of muscle, no need to eat, or to eliminate. In fact, I felt healthier before I went to sleep.

  I wandered out to the common room to see about half the women gathered around the table. I was told to shower and then join them. There was a silence as the rest of the women trickled in and we all contemplated what came
next.

  We didn't have to wait long. The door opened and ten males filed in to stand facing us, Samial among them. They looked at us without expression. An unusually tall, broad male, easily twice as big as me, stepped forward. I knew he was Kinin, the male in charge of everything. Now that we could understand their language, it was fairly easy to follow him as he talked. Part of me wished I didn't understand him.

  "We've arrived. From this moment on, you will speak our language only, and absolute obedience is expected. Am I clear?"

  We all nodded hesitantly.

  "Strip."

  We'd expected this, so there was little hesitation as we slid out of our shifts. At a motion from Kinin, we passed them all up to the front where they disappeared behind the males.

  "Kneel."

  This word caught us by surprise, so we all hesitated while we translated the word and realized what he had ordered. One by one we sank down. The process was sped up as several males moved into the cluster of women, produced those same thin sticks the teacher had, and applied them to the backs of the legs of the slowest women. With screeches and protests, we were soon settled more or less on our knees. The rest of the males moved among us, dropping shiny circles on the floor in front of each woman.

  "These are the collars and cuffs which you will wear for the duration of the Tour." Before us lay one large and four small shiny circles and I stared at them with a sick dread, not daring to reach out and touch them until I was told to. I could literally see women translating the words in their head and looking back up one by one as the meaning came to them.

  There was another long speech that took some effort to understand – something about the collars not being removable, that they could track us if we ran, and that we might find danger among aliens who didn't know us. I'm pretty sure I caught the word that meant "discipline" and by now we all understood that one.