Never Submit! The Swarii Brides, Book One

by Korey Mae Johnson

  ‘I swear to God, I will tear you apart,’ the commander growled from the ground.

  Jazeel was still grinning as he motioned for the guard nearest to him to give him a pistol. He shrugged coldly. ‘Very well. Don’t say I didn’t try.’

  Ellie heard the pistol—a blaster, really—heat up with a whirr. Ellie gasped; one thing she definitely wasn’t prepared for was seeing such a handsome man get his face blasted off two feet away from her.

  “No!” Ellie screamed, just as Jazeel pulled the trigger, reached out with both hands and pushed the gun towards the ground. The shot left a large burnt mark on the marble floor.

  A very silent second passed. Probably nobody was as surprised about what had happened as Ellie was. The next thing she knew, she and the gun were both thrown violently onto the floor. “You insolent little brat!” Jazeel shouted at her.

  He reached down, grabbed her by the arm and dragged her up on her toes. With his own hand, he peppered a volley of sharp blows upon her too-thinly covered bottom. The pain was discombobulating—she still could barely believe what she had done, or what she could do to prevent further assault.

  She was suddenly hideously aware of how light Peyton had been on her. When he spanked her in front of Jazeel, he would do it until her bottom was so red that there was nothing for it but to later whine at him and stomp her feet about her mistreatment, saying that he had ‘taken it too seriously.’ Little did she know, Peyton wasn’t taking it seriously at all. He was a diligent artist at the craft of making her bottom look like it was in more pain than it was. He never created bruises at all—not since that first day. Even if he gave her a motivational slap on the behind, it was more the noise that scared her, and the act itself, than the pain.

  This was quite the opposite. It felt like Jazeel, who was easily eight feet tall, was strong but lanky. Strong enough to pick her up without any strain, and he was always picking her up as if she was a little Chihuahua. She, in turn, had always pretended to like it. But she never really thought of him as ‘really strong,’ but he very much was, and it seemed like he was using all the strength in his arm to tan her.

  If she was told beforehand that this would take place, she would have worried about the embarrassment of being spanked standing up, trying to escape the whole time, and about how embarrassing a spanking in front of so many others would be. Strange enough, with the spanking actually happening, she didn’t give two craps about the people watching. They had nearly gotten their faces blown off, and she was still horrified by that reality, but right now, she was focused on trying to avoid Jazeel’s hand, which was easily painting her bottom a black-and-bluish color underneath her white, flowy wrap pants.

  It didn’t seem to be enough for him, though. He quickly tired of his hand hitting clothing.

  “Take off your pants,” he said, beginning to unbuckle his belt with resolve.

  “I’m sorry, my lord! Violence frightens me!” she whimpered miserably. “I couldn’t bear it! I didn’t mean to anger you! Have mercy on my stupidity!” She got to her knees and grabbed at his pant leg. “But show your mercy upon their stupidity too! They don’t know yet the great leader that you are! Please!” She was sure she had heard a similar buttering-up technique in the movies, and if memory had served her right, it had worked.

  And it worked again. Jazeel stopped taking off his belt and sighed with frustration. ‘See how you’ve frightened my pet?’ he blamed the commander, whose mouth just hung open. If possible, the Swarii commander seemed more disturbed by watching her being beaten than she had been when watching a gun get pointed at him!

  Jazeel looked down at Ellie, who was still tightly grabbing at his pant leg as she broke into a frightened sob. After looking at her with frustration for a moment, he finally petted her head, and then reached down to pick her up and put her on his hip, holding her like a scared animal. ‘Take them away for now,’ he told his guards, waving at the prisoners. ‘Let them think upon my offer for a bit.’

  The room cleared quickly, leaving only Jazeel and Ellie. He put her down on the floor, finally, and then turned to his chair and his breakfast. “Prime!” he shouted, taking a seat.

  Ellie knelt at Jazeel’s feet, feeling awkward. She pressed her forehead against his knee, trying her best to appear remorseful.

  Peyton was quick to answer, as usual. “My lord?” Peyton asked with a bow of his head.

  “This floor needs to be repaired,” Jazeel said with a wave toward the blackened and scorched piece of marble in front of him. “See to it that it’s done within the next day or so. Also, my little pet here, I think, needs a reminder of her place. Bring me the plug.”

  She was already wincing—she had never received the plug before, but she had stood by and watched it done to the other maids who didn’t have the privilege of reading Jazeel’s mind. It didn’t seem like the highlight of anyone’s week, to say the least.

  She didn’t argue like she knew Jazeel wanted her to. He wanted to spank her again. Her action, though sudden and not pre-meditated, had embarrassed him. She would have enjoyed his embarrassment if it had been created by anyone else, but now that it was her facing the fire—or rather, her bottom was—she humbled herself immediately. She buried her face into his lap, trying to look sad and pathetic. “Please forgive me,” she pleaded. “I didn’t think.”

  “Oh, my poor pet.” Jazeel sighed and raised her head up with his hands so that she looked at him. “I swear sometimes you have me wrapped around your finger, far more than you are wrapped around mine,” he gently chided. “Don’t you see? I’m teaching you to serve me better. Don’t you want to?”

  She said what he most wanted her to say with a dry throat and a monotonous voice, “Yes, my lord. Thank you for the opportunity to serve you better.” But she didn’t mean it; her eyes dropped with misery, her chest still bare and heaving with anger.

  Peyton soon stood behind her, dutifully passing over to his master what looked like a short ivory phallus, only one that was flat at the end. She turned her head towards him, just to glare, and to call him a traitor with her eyes. But Peyton looked quite angry himself. His eye seemed to twitch as he stared back at her.

  “Undress and lay over my knee, my beauty,” Jazeel ordered calmly.

  She dropped her upper body from Jazeel’s knees, falling back on her heels with depression. She then proceeded to move at the speed of a snail, hating every movement that led her towards this inevitable end. Jazeel, on the other hand, was exhilarated by her loathing of the plug. It wasn’t as if she could even pretend that she was going to like it.

  She unhooked her pants from around her waist and let them drop to the floor, and then she slowly stepped out of them, leaving her standing before Jazeel, completely naked. With her bottom now properly exposed, she approached the side of Jazeel’s knees and then was guided over his lap. She whimpered as she felt Jazeel pet her bottom roughly for a while. Then he began to stick one of his thin, long fingers up her cunny, just to see her squirm. “You have to relax,” he cooed with a grin.

  As her body dangled over his knee, she put her face in her hands. She was so ashamed by the idea of the plug that she hadn’t been listening to his thoughts. Now, she had a new reason to be mortified. He was actually going to try to play with her.

  He adjusted her on his lap so that her legs splayed more comfortably apart, rubbing his fingers everywhere she wished he wouldn’t until he found her little nub and started to play with it.

  The strangest thing happened then—her body began to betray her. Her mind wasn’t filled up with images of Jazeel, of course. In fact, it was as if some part of her had decided that in order to get through the moment, she had to pretend she was somewhere else, with someone else.

  That “someone else” was one who had very recently witnessed her humiliation—the Swarii commander, of all people. Despite his roughed-up look, the man was quite attractive, in a mature-looking way. She couldn’t tell exactly how old he was—he had one of those faces that could have
belonged to a man in his late twenties, or a man who was pushing forty. His features were incredibly defined, even with a nose that looked like it had been broken a couple of times, and she actually quite liked his size. His arms weren’t quite as huge as Peyton’s (whose were?) but they looked strong—like he worked with them often. He also had a very chiseled jaw line, broad shoulders, and a broad chest.

  She imagined this man being her master, and that she was a new harem girl who was willful and naughty. It was his knees she was bent over, it was his fingers teasing her, fingering her clit, running his finger around her bottom hole in circles until he put one of his already-wet fingers in. “Oh!” she panted, her cheeks flushed as she felt the small penetration, the small amount of discomfort that went along with it.

  She began to make soft mewling sounds, wiggling her bottom shamelessly. Jazeel, who had never seen such a reaction, was confused at first. He had read about reactions such as these, but had never seen it. With a scientist-like interest, he played with her, dipping the plug slightly into her vagina, and in moments it was completely wet with her juices. She writhed her bottom as he settled the plug close to her anus.

  With one swift motion from him, however, she came out of her fantasy and back to the real world. “Eeeek!” she screamed shrilly as he pushed the plug all the way in with a single thrust—stretching her opening to the one-and-a-half inch diameter it had at its thickest. Her posture suddenly became a singular straight line from her shoulders to her toes. “Eeek!” she continued to shriek as the pain, she realized, was still there. The plug was spreading her anus to the circumference of an inch at its neck. “Please, please take it out,” she panted desperately, even reaching behind her, her eyes stinging with tears. “Master, please! It hurts!”

  “Relax,” he cooed, grinning as he pushed her hand away back towards the ground. “It’s meant to hurt a little. But it will fade in time.” He watched her muscles try their best to release the uncomfortable item, to no avail. Eventually, her body realized it, and she laid limp and crying over his lap. “That’s a good girl,” he praised, patting her bottom.

  Finally, he had her get off his lap. Every movement was uncomfortable, sending a numbing ache coursing through her.

  “Have her carry out her duties, as usual. You may remove it before she goes to sleep tonight,” he told Peyton.

  She blanched. “Master… That’s all day.”

  Jazeel’s head turned towards her slowly. “Yes. It is.” He cocked his head to the side. “You’ve been an extremely whiny pet all day today. It makes me feel like I’ve neglected you.”

  She was already shaking her head, ‘no.’

  “Perhaps I should put you on a punishment regimen, so that you become properly aware of what happens when little pets argue with their masters.” He watched her closely to see how she’d react to that threat.

  Finally becoming wise, she simply hung her head and said the most appropriate lines that came to her mind, “Only if it would please you, Master.”

  He squinted indecisively. “It may. I will have to think on it. In the meantime, I think it would be wise if you act more like the prima you are,” he stated, then turned to Peyton and waved him off.

  “Thank you for your discipline, my lord,” she finally said, bowing her head. Finally, she slowly gathered her clothing and then gently turned her body and let Peyton guide her out, still naked.

  As soon as the guards closed the door behind them, Peyton let go of her arm and gave her a firm spank. “What’s the matter with you?” he charged. “What did you do in there to make him upset with you? Have you lost your mind?” Though she tried to cower away from him, he grabbed her and spun her around so he could spank her again.

  She dropped the clump of her clothing so that she could cover her tender bottom with both hands. “Peyton,” she whined. “You don’t even know what happened!”

  “I know what should have happened. You needed to be your usual charming self—he was in perfectly good spirits when I had last left him! Instead, I’m sent for your plug.” He snorted, bending over and picking up her clothes for her. “Well, fine day for us all,” he grumbled ruefully. “I hope that feels as uncomfortable as I think it does. Not that you didn’t writhe like a bitch in heat while he put it in.”

  She stopped in her steps for a moment, her cheeks flushed red. She gasped at the sting of his words. “You can be such an ass, Peyton,” she hissed. “How many times have I saved your neck? Or your balls, should I say? If it wasn’t for me, my friend, you would be sponging off women and not even having the ability to enjoy it.”

  “What was I supposed to do? Not obey?” he asked, as if the idea was ludicrous. “If the day ever comes, Ellie, that I step between you and Jazeel, it will mean that your life is at stake, and not your ass.” He pushed her clothing into her arms.

  Still in the hallway of the palace, she quickly tried to dress herself while trying not to move her bottom—a very delicate task that proved impossible. “Well, you could not spank me afterwards,” she advised haughtily, wincing every time her bottom twitched. “Do you know how a spank feels with one of these inside of you? Breathing hurts right now! Besides, what time period were you born in? With all this spanking nonsense? I know you were born in Texas, but… Holy Pete!” she nagged miserably.

  Peyton shook his head ever so slightly, looking like he was suddenly getting a headache. “I have over a hundred and fifty women under my command and twenty eunuchs. I have to keep human men out of the palace at all costs. I have nearly fifty Frians to feed, clothe, and wait upon. You only have Jazeel to keep happy. Now, get to work or you’ll find out what it feels like to be strapped with the butt plug in,” he threatened darkly. He shook his head. “I don’t have time for you.”

  She pressed her lips tightly in a pout. “Fine. Go, enjoy being a slave, you ungrateful ass,” she muttered.

  Peyton turned and raised his eyebrows. “You want to throw a little more attitude my way, little girl?” he asked impatiently.

  She swallowed. “No,” she grumbled softly, avoiding eye contact, her bottom tingling enough as it was from Jazeel’s quick punishment.

  “I didn’t think so,” he said, then grabbed an incredibly large trey full of food and took it out of the kitchens.

  Mary suddenly appeared at her side. “You okay, kiddo?” she asked, filled with sympathy.

  Ellie forced a brave smile. “I’ll get by. Your boyfriend there’s a brute and a half, though.”

  “Tell me about it,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “Sometimes I think he’s on the verge of an ulcer. He needs to learn to relax. When he’s less stressed, he’s actually very funny.”

  “Peyton?” Ellie drawled. “Funny?” She snorted at the thought. “Sure…”

  “You should be nice,” Mary lectured, putting her hands on her hips briefly before she grabbed a freshly-baked scone and buttered it for herself. “If you only knew how highly he thinks of you. He loves you like a sister.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Ellie waved Mary off, leaning wearily upon the counter. “He’s a saint. Whatever.” She tapped her fingers with thoughtful frustration upon the counter. There was no position to stand in that was comfortable. She looked over at Mary, whose eyebrows were lowered, obviously not liking being waved off by anyone nine years younger than herself.

  “Sorry,” Ellie said, heaving a sigh. “I was…” She cleared her throat. “Plugged.”

  Mary gasped in horrified shock, “No! Are you serious?”

  Ellie blushed and nodded. “By Jazeel,” she added, since Peyton occasionally plugged a girl or two that was flirting with human men through the peep-hole near the kitchens, where the supplies were delivered. As Peyton would be blamed for the loss of any of the girls’ virginities, he didn’t allow any non-eunuchs anywhere on the premises, and so the small face-wide opening in the door there was the only place where girls could see any new men. Ellie would tease Peyton about it and call him a bouncer, but she still never considered even looking outside t
he peephole after seeing the consequences.

  Ellie jutted her bottom lip sadly out. “It’s put me in a mood.”

  “What could you possibly have done?” Mary asked, still shaking her head incredulously. She never would have thought Ellie could do anything to earn Jazeel’s displeasure—Ellie was always put up on a pedestal as an example of how to serve him!

  “He was about to shoot this Swarii in the face.” Ellie shrugged. “And I sort of… hampered him. Look,” she said, changing the subject. “Have you ever seen a Swarii, Mary?”

  Mary nodded. “Yes, my old master had captured a couple of them once and tortured them to death.”

  Ellie, now knowing what they looked like, seemed disturbed by that forward explanation. “They look like… humans,” she noted, confused as to how Mary didn’t seem to notice.

  “But they’re not,” Mary was quick to correct, her voice almost stern.

  “But they look like…” Ellie continued.

  “They’re not human, Ellie,” Mary told her, cutting her hand through the air. “Don’t let yourself become confused by the coincidence that they, in some way, look like us. They’re far more advanced than us. They’re also, like… I don’t know, eight feet tall, some of them.”

  “I didn’t see one of them that was eight feet—at least not most of them,” Ellie argued. “Seven feet, maybe, but… Peyton’s like… six and a half, about. That’s not too weird. You obviously like tall men…”

  “So, is that why you saved them? Because you thought they were human?” Mary raised an eyebrow, looking like Ellie had just said that grass was purple and that up was down.

  Ellie shrugged. “Well…”

  “Look, Ellie,” Mary sighed. “We have enough of a time protecting our own skin. The last thing we need is to lay ourselves down for a whole other species.”

  Peyton walked back into the kitchen, his eyes quickly focusing on the two girls. Mary’s expression was far darker than it normally was, and Ellie looked like she was facing turmoil by the way her expression seemed twisted. “What are you both talking about?”