His Untamed Mate (Swarii Mates Book 1)

by Korey Mae Johnson

  In general, she was still feeling pretty sore and extremely violated. Parts of her body that nobody had ever looked at before had been manhandled by a couple of the most disagreeable women in the universe. The last thing she wanted to do was have to scrap with a guy that Indiana Jones himself would balk at fighting.

  She smugly watched him stride away until he took a turn and disappeared into what she had decided was the closet. Her mouth dropped open, about to protest and to verbally guide him to the door, when he stepped back into the room with a strap of leather in his hand.

  At first, she wondered what the ‘belt’ was for, but there was something about the murderous expression he had on his face that brought it all together.

  He was actually planning on beating her! Was he mental? He couldn’t beat her—he could eat her as a snack! He’d kill her! “Peyton…” she warned, trying to wake him out of his violent trance by using the name he had introduced himself with earlier on.

  It didn’t help. He was still coming toward her. “Peyton!” she cried, scrambling desperately out of her nest of towels and trying to reach the side of the bed that was furthest away from him.

  It didn’t work. He grabbed her leg and dragged her back toward him, then grabbed her arms and, after a comically short wrestling match, flipped her onto her belly so that she was bent over the bed. The towel that she had wrapped around herself seemed to be on Peyton’s side, because it fell right off of her as soon as she tried to scramble away from him, leaving her completely and utterly naked.

  Her brain was now crowded with a million Ellies that were all running around, screaming with their hands in the air, all acting like Godzilla was destroying their city. She was no longer concerned about the threat of pain—the fact that an unknown man could see all of her ‘lady bits’ was nightmare enough. No man had ever seen those, ever. All of her energy now wasn’t even concerned with fighting him off; it was reserved for trying to cover herself as much as possible.

  Crack! When the strap of leather in Peyton’s hands landed, suddenly her priorities took a one-eighty. Her whole body froze from the pain of the stripe of fire across her flanks. She had thought that the hair removal process had been rough, but Peyton was putting things into a whole new perspective.

  Crack! Even the noise the belt made upon contact was startling. She reared up, only to be pinned down by Peyton’s hand and forearm shoving her into the mattress beneath her.

  “Holy fuck!” she screamed, unable to even conceive of what was going on. She felt her vocabulary was lacking to explain her feelings about the situation. “Stop!” she cried. “Stop! Let me go!” But this pleading tactic obviously wasn’t doing much, if any, good. Peyton didn’t seem to really care about how much this hurt, and he went on punishing her despite how much she was swearing at him. She only got quiet when she finally realized that he was going to spank her as much as he wanted and there was nothing she could do about it.

  Her whole situation was suddenly becoming clear. Crack! She was a million lightyears away from her home.

  Crack! NASA wouldn’t even be able to see the planet she was on, let alone get there. After all, they hadn’t even planted a guy on Mars yet. If she wanted to get home, she’d have to do it herself.

  Crack! If what Peyton had said earlier had any merit at all, it was impossible to fly the aliens’ spaceships.

  Crack! Which meant designing her own. Which she had no idea how to do, or how to even start, and as far as she was concerned, any device that would allow her to go lightyears might as well be a ‘flux-capacitor.’ It was hard to imagine how something like that could even be constructed. It might as well be made of fairy dust and dragon eggs as far as she was concerned.

  Crack! So she’d never get home.

  Crack! She’d never see her family again.

  Crack! She was going to spend the rest of her life as a slave to some alien creature.

  Crack! She was all alone.

  Crack! And now she was being spanked like she was a naughty child.

  Crack! And there was nothing she could do about it.

  She didn’t realize that she had already started crying—she was too busy being in pain and depressed—but it didn’t feel like her sobbing came from nowhere. It quickly began to drown out the scorching heat of her punishment. “Please,” she pleaded desperately. Her voice was a croak. “Stop! Stop it!”

  Her entire bottom and most of her thighs were on fire.

  “Are you ready to stop being so bull-headed?” Peyton demanded, his lips inches from her ear as he leaned over her bare back.

  “Yes!” she promised, and meant it. She would bark like a dog right now if she was asked to. She had a feeling that Peyton wasn’t tired yet and would happily continue until she conceded. “Please, God, it hurts so fucking much! I—”

  “Enough with your bellyachin’!” he snipped at her crossly. She felt another stroke crack across both bottom cheeks, causing her to clench again and press her body closer to the mattress.

  “I won’t!” she replied. “I’m sorry!”

  “Good.”

  Just like that, everything stopped. The pain throbbed and ebbed, throbbed and ebbed, but he lifted her body from the bed with a tug to her upper arm. He grabbed her ‘outfit’ in a bunch with one hand, and moments later she was blindly following his tug as he pulled her toward a vanity on one side of the room where there was a bowl filled with water. He grabbed a nearby towel and drenched it in the water bowl, then brought it up to her face and touched the cold water against her cheek. “There,” he said, “hold this. Clean yourself up.”

  She brought her hands up and took the towel, wiping the wetness across her skin and cleaning her dripping nose and her face, which was sticky from tears. It felt weird to cry, and it felt even weirder now that she was trying to calm down and take a deep breath. She hadn’t cried in such a long time that she worried for a moment that she’d keep at it all day.

  Surprisingly, Peyton rubbed his large paw over her naked back in a calming, circular motion. “Take a deep breath,” he advised, his tone void of the anger and impatience he’d exuded before and during her punishment. She took a deep breath. “Take another,” he said, stepping forward and pulling her body against his. She cried into his tunic, which was soft and made from a cloth not unlike silk.

  She cried for a bit longer, but his soft gestures surprisingly calmed her, even though it wasn’t at all lost on her that he was the one who had made her cry in the first place. As soon as she was no longer sobbing and was breathing more normally, he pulled her gently away from him. “Clean off your face again,” he told her.

  She brought up the wet towel and cleaned her face off a second time, more thoroughly this time, and then he gently grabbed her chin between his fingers and inspected her face. “Good,” he told her with a nod. “You look good. Let’s get you dressed.” He took her towel and exchanged it for the scandalous outfit.

  Ellie, loathing the fabric in her hand, pulled it over her body and around her waist. It was essentially a single long piece of cloth that fell down to her knee, covering her bottom and her front while letting her legs go completely bare, and although an attached cloth climbed up and over her nipples and cinched at the back of her neck, the outfit left nothing else to the imagination.

  Bravely turning toward the mirror, she looked at herself. Once again, she had to squint at the girl looking back at her—the one with styled hair and long eyelashes and high cheekbones. It felt like the costume she was wearing was of a fashionable chick about to go to a swingers’ party. “This looks ridiculous,” she groaned.

  “Nobody cares,” he said, ushering her away from the mirror and toward the door. “Now, do you know how to kiss ass?”

  “Huh?” she asked, scrunching her nose.

  “You know, kiss up? Make nice to? Pander to?” he said, making an ‘etcetera’ gesture like a French noble would make as he circled his hand blasély from his wrist.

  “Yeah, duh. I mean, I worked with customers
back home,” she shrugged as he marched her over the marble floors of the palace in her bare, polished feet.

  “Doing what?” he asked.

  “I was a mechanic at my dad’s garage,” she replied.

  He turned his head and gave her a confused glance for a moment, but then he shrugged. “Well, that explains a lot,” he grunted. “Well, kiddo—think of Jazeel this way: he’s gonna supply you with a shit ton of cars. You don’t have to worry about any other clients. You don’t have to worry about anything else other than making him like you enough to give you his cars to work on. Got it? He’s powerful, he’s rich, even by the standards of the Frians. And he’s not above flattery.”

  “Look…” she said, looking down and remembered with alarm that her outfit covered her breasts so loosely that she could easily see all the way down to her belly button with a single glance. “He’s not going to… you know… try to fuck me… is he?” she asked, though she was afraid of what the answer would be.

  He shook his head very promptly, which calmed her down substantially. “No. I’ve never heard of a Frian fucking a human. Now, other alien species fuck humans all the time, but never Frians. I don’t think they can. Consider us lucky—I think their equipment prevents it somehow,” he replied without any hesitation. “Now—he’s a creep,” he admitted, “but he’s not gonna try to fuck you. Just focus on kissing ass and being as ridiculously gracious and polite as you possibly can.” He stopped at a door and turned to her, motioning her inside.

  “Kay,” she said, then took a deep breath.

  “You’ll be fine,” Peyton told her, then opened the door and literally pushed her inside the room, which was dark except for lanterns that hung everywhere. Glowing orbs shone in the lanterns instead of fire, and the darkness of the room blinded her to anything but the orbs for a moment.

  “Peyton,” came a honeyed voice that drawled slowly over every word. “I was beginning to worry that you’d forgotten my request.” She saw Jazeel then as her eyes adjusted to the low light of the room, his yellow eyes glimmering like two diamonds. He was tall, thin, and somehow aristocratic looking for a lizard, particularly in the straight-backed way he sat on his throne. “I feel like I’ve been waiting ages.” The yellow eyes sparkled as his gaze focused over her head and on Peyton, who was standing by the door.

  MAYBE I SHOULD GET RID OF HIM, hissed an airy, disembodied voice. She turned her head, looking for someone new in the room, but there was no one else there. The voice had to be coming from Jazeel… only his lips weren’t moving. I’VE SEEN HOW THE FEMALES ALL LOOK AT HIM—LIKE THEY’RE IN HEAT. I SHOULD CHECK THEIR VIRGINITIES AGAIN. IT’S ABOUT TIME TO SEE IF HE’S BEEN COUPLING WITH ANY OF THEM. KILLING HIM WOULD BE TOO MUCH OF A WASTE, BUT HE WOULD MAKE A FINE BATHHOUSE EUNUCH…

  Nope—there was definitely no lip movement. But the alien’s expression looked like he was happily thinking about unmanning Peyton. No wonder Peyton was so crazy about obedience! His balls were on the slab.

  Suddenly her words were coming out of her mouth very quickly. “I-I’m sorry,” she said as Peyton, at a glance, looked very uncomfortable. “I was being difficult, my lord.” The ‘my lord’ part seemed over the top, like something someone playing a slave in a movie about ancient Egypt would say, but Peyton did say that Jazeel wasn’t beyond flattering.

  MY LORD? the disembodied voice hissed. It sounded like it was buzzing with pleasure. OH, I LIKE THAT! RESPECT—PROPER RESPECT—COMES WITH THAT TITLE, I BELIEVE. I THINK IT’S WHAT THEY CALL THEIR ROYALTY. HOW WONDERFULLY FITTING… The words entered and then left her mind so quickly that she wasn’t sure she caught them all correctly.

  “Difficult, were you?” Jazeel said, looking quite interested. This voice sounded different than the one she heard in her mind, and the two voices nearly overlapped. SHE’S PRECIOUS, the voice immediately said. SHE CLEARLY HAS SOME SPARK, BUT SHE’S WELL-BEHAVED NOW… HOPEFULLY THE PRIME GAVE HER A SPANKING. I LOVE IT WHEN HE PUNISHES THE GIRLS… I LOVE WATCHING THEIR LITTLE LEGS KICK, THEIR FACES BLUSH WITH HEAT… SOMETHING ABOUT IT IS SO… GRATIFYING.

  It suddenly occurred to her that Jazeel didn’t know she could hear what seemed to be his thoughts. He wouldn’t say ‘you’ one moment and ‘she’ the next if he thought that he was being heard. At least she didn’t think so.

  Testing the waters of the theory, she shook her head and said, “Yes, my lord. I was very… naughty.” She chose her words carefully, trying to allude to her spanking without saying anything. She tried to look remorseful, even embarrassed, which was easy—she had been embarrassed by the whole thing.

  I BET SHE WAS. The words were nearly drowned out by Jazeel saying out loud, “Naughty, hmmm? Do explain.” His tone was nearly purring. LOOK AT HER BLUSH. OH, SHE IS QUITE A SORRY PET, INDEED!

  “I…” She swallowed and then made quick eye contact with Peyton. He looked a little aghast, his eyes wide and his expression frozen. She turned back and bit her lip dramatically, trying to look coy. “I wouldn’t put on my dress, Master,” she admitted, even lowering her head.

  LOOK AT HER… LOOK HOW REMORSEFUL SHE IS, the secret voice hissed giddily. WHAT A WICKED SIGHT… The lizard grinned, his mouth wide and pleased. “You wouldn’t put on my gift? But why?” he asked her.

  “This dress… is so much more revealing than anything I’ve ever worn. I was too humiliated to put it on.” She glanced at Peyton again and was surprised to find that he looked nearly faint. She didn’t understand why—obviously Jazeel was pleased. “So he spanked me with a strap of leather,” she went on, “for disobeying your orders. That’s why we were so late—he was being so harsh with me. He made my bottom hurt so much.” She pretended to wipe a tear from the corner of her eye.

  “Did he spank you hard, my little pet?” he teased, still purring. OH, I HOPE SHE POUTS. I LOVE IT WHEN THEY POUT! the voice was practically squeaking with excitement.

  “Yes, Master…” She pouted as prettily as she could.

  DELICIOUS!

  “He left marks,” she added for his enjoyment.

  The disembodied words were very easy to hear and understand now, she didn’t have to consciously fight to listen to them. It was as if the words nestled comfortably in her mind with such smoothness that they no longer had to really sound like words. The voice was now more like a thought in her brain, nearly instantaneous.

  She relaxed, feeling like she understood Jazeel well now, like she could understand what he was thinking and what he would do before he did it.

  Jazeel patted his knee, which was covered by layers of purple robes. “Come, let me see those marks, my poor little pet,” he cooed at her.

  She hesitated for a moment, knowing just how much Jazeel was going to enjoy this. Her stomach clenched with nervousness and fret. Though Peyton had been certain that Frians never had sex with their slaves, it was obvious humans were arousing to them—or at least to Jazeel.

  Peyton stepped forward and put a hand on her back as if to remind her to respond to Jazeel’s order. Slowly, she took a deep breath and put one foot in front of the other until she was standing inches from Jazeel’s knees. Jazeel gently took her arm in his silky, reptilian hand and pulled her across his lap until she was over his thin yet hard thighs and her toes were reaching for the floor.

  Jazeel brushed the cloth panel that covered her bottom off to the side so that her backside was completely exposed to him. He clicked his tongue with satisfaction as he brushed his fingers over her swollen skin. She winced at the touch. “Oooh,” he cooed. “I bet that hurt. Didn’t it, my pet?” He continued to trace the welts with his bony fingers.

  “It still hurts,” she replied miserably, intuition telling her that he wanted to hear that it did.

  “Mmm… yes, yes. Well, that’s what you get for disobedience. I can see Peyton has done his duty by you quite well. Very good, very good,” he purred over her as he petted her skin. “I am pleased with your thoroughness, Peyton,” he congratulated, speaking across the room. She turned her head and saw Peyton, w
ho was practically trembling moments ago on wobbly legs, suddenly straighten noticeably. “You have done excellent work. I was beginning to fear that you were loosening your grip upon my household instead of tightening it. I’m pleased to find that I was mistaken.” He gripped Ellie’s naked bottom in one large hand, cooling it with his clammy touch for a moment, but then he began to knead her bottom cheeks until he was spreading them wide apart, exposing her bottom hole.

  Slowly his fingers gravitating toward her little rosebud. She made a fretful noise, tensing and clenching as one of his fingers touched the rim of her anus. She hoped her nervous twitching might get him to quit what he was up to, but before she knew it, she felt one of his fingers pressing against her bottom hole until the tip forced its way in.

  Her mouth formed into a large ‘O’ and her toes pointed as he wasted no time at all in burying his finger up to the hilt. “Please, stop!” she shrieked, feeling her cheeks burn with embarrassment even as her anus clenched around the foreign digit. She looked around pleadingly, but was mostly ignored. The finger was pulled out, then thrust all the way back in. She wanted so badly to reach back and try to stop him. “Please, my lord! That hurts!” she whined, wrapping her arms around his leg so that she wouldn’t reach back. She had a horrible feeling that she’d be very sorry if she tried. He obviously enjoyed it when she was punished, after all.

  She squeezed her eyes shut so that she wouldn’t even have to look at Peyton, who was surely still standing where he had been, powerless to do anything about her probing.

  As Jazeel thrust his finger again into her bottom hole, she felt other fingers slip into her slit. “Responsive little thing,” he noticed, rubbing some of her own juices against her inner thigh.

  She cringed with shame and found herself shaking, then sobbing.