Never Submit! The Swarii Brides, Book One

by Korey Mae Johnson

  Only this felt worse. “Owie! Ow!” she finally complained, making hissing and spitting noises.

  “I know this hurts,” Fie cooed sympathetically. “Just hold on there, little one. Just a couple of seconds longer.”

  Graham was having mixed feelings as he watched his wife dangle over Fie’s knees—on one end, he knew that he had to retain his usual serious-business-man exterior, but he knew how hot this was. He had never really thought about how attractive she was during punishments, but the way she lay helpless and submissive was damned sexy.

  Her bottom was extremely round and bubbly, and the way it stuck out when she was bent over was delightful. He was undeniably growing harder by the second. He simply hadn’t fully appreciated how sexy her bottom was when he was spanking her yesterday—he hadn’t slowed down for a moment to enjoy it. But in the future, he decided, it would be different. Why shouldn’t her punishments be pleasing to him? Why shouldn’t he savor the moments of it?

  “All done,” Fie announced, putting the needle on a tray and then returning his hand to rub her left buttock tenderly.

  “That was horrible,” she sniffled.

  “You’re getting one every month,” Fie informed her, sounding matter-of-fact and unapologetic. “You need it. Give it a chance, and it will make you feel like a million bucks. You’ll be asking me to give it to you before you know it.”

  “I find that highly unlikely,” she admitted. “Can’t you give it to me in the arm?” she pouted, continuing to hate the position she was in.

  Fie grinned. “No, Sweetheart. It needs to go into muscle.”

  She groaned.

  “Alright, Fie. Let her up,” Graham said, stepping forward with a grin. “You’ve done enough patting and petting and rubbing for one day.”

  Fie chuckled and helped her up. As soon as she was on her feet, she stumbled away, doing her best to pull up her pants. She looked down at them. There was a long, wide tear down the front—all of her buttons were gone, but that was as well; there really wasn’t anything for them to attach to anymore. “Awe… Man!” Her bottom lip stuck out. “I don’t have any others, you know. You didn’t exactly give me time to pack a suitcase at Jazeel’s.”

  “Mary might be able to fix it,” Graham reminded.

  Ellie definitely doubted this. “She’s not exactly my seamstress anymore, Graham. The chances of her doing me any favors are slim to none.”

  “We’ll still ask her.” Graham looked Ellie up and down lecherously for a second before he added, “But first, there’s something I want to discuss with you in our bedroom.”

  Ellie’s eyes widened with horror she scurried back a couple of feet. “But… But why?”

  Graham took a deep breath and shook his head, wondering how anyone could be that poor at reading his intentions. He stepped forward and grabbed her elbow. “Thanks, Fie. Make sure you submit your report into the main console.”

  He realized, on the way out of the room, that Ellie was trying to pull back, only she had a bit of a limp. “You okay?” he asked her, lowering an eyebrow.

  “No,” she replied back snippily, wishing she had an extra hand to rub her bottom with. “My butt is killing me. I didn’t deserve that. I’ve done everything right for nearly twenty four hours!”

  “This wasn’t a punishment, Eleanor,” he tried to explain. When she continued to grumble, he bent down and lifted her playfully over his shoulder. “You are a whiner and a half, Wife,” he noted with a laugh.

  “So… You’re not gonna spank me?” she asked, sounding confused as they rounded close to the bedroom.

  “No promises,” he said mischievously.

  “Then why are we going to the bedro… oh.” She blushed. “Do you think we’re ever going to actually discuss anything in there?” She felt the corners of her mouth twitch upwards as she said it.

  “Hopefully not. Discussing is boring,” he replied in time to drop her down onto their bed. He then sat down next to her and grabbed her body to drape her over his own lap. She giggled slightly as he rubbed away the soreness on her bottom—it was working very well.

  “How about we discuss never putting me through that again?” she asked hopefully, closing her eyes as she enjoyed the feel of his large, warm hand rubbing her bottom in a circular motion.

  “Or we can discuss how sexy this little bottom is,” he replied, grabbing it roughly with his hand.

  She moaned slightly, wiggling her bottom up towards his hand. “We can also discuss that,” she allowed, blushing as he kneaded her flesh. She was practically purring before his hand playfully came down upon her skin, making a loud slapping sound.

  It didn’t hurt much at all, but it was a bit jarring and it made her body jump slightly. He put his arm around her and continued slapping her bottom in the same manner, with the spanks stinging with no lingering pain.

  “Ooch!” she chirped, and giggled when she saw Graham’s focused yet excited expression out of the corner of her eye as he continued to spank. “What are you doing?”

  “Spanking this sexy, naughty bottom of yours,” he replied simply, his voice becoming velvety and husky.

  “I thought you promised not to spank me.” She smirked; she obviously liked this game they were playing. More than anything, she liked his attention.

  “Actually, I made a point not to promise. I don’t think you quite understand how ravenous you look with a bright pink bottom. So deserving of it, too, from giving Fie such a hard time,” he clicked his tongue chidingly as he continued to spank. “Bad girl.”

  Her bottom was growing to the desired shade of pink, but instead of burning with pain, it seemed to tingle. Undeniably, she was getting aroused, charmed by the feeling of his large, rough hands.

  As soon as her bottom was warm to his touch, he gripped it again in his hand. “How’s your bottom?” he asked huskily; he seemed to already know the answer.

  “Feeling surprisingly good,” she purred.

  He carefully pushed her off his lap and then picked her up to bend her over the bed. Normally she needed a running start to get in; the beds were created for the eight-foot-tall Frians, after all. Now, the average foot Frians carried over the heads of the Swarii seemed to help even Graham, who didn’t have to bend or crouch down as he stroked his member up and down her soft, wet folds.

  She liked the guttural sound he made when he entered her. If she stifled her own groaning she was able to hear it. It always sounded like he expected her to feel good, but that she always felt better than he had remembered.

  He pulled her shirt off, kissing the newly exposed flesh on her shoulders when he did before growling into her ear, “Feeling well-punished and submissive, little brat?”

  “Not yet,” she panted. She bit her lip mischievously as she added, “But you’re getting there.”

  * * *

  When Graham had dragged Ellie to the medical bay for her shot, Peyton had laughed so heartily at her protests and whines, even when she begged Peyton to interfere, that he almost fell off the bar in his doorway that he was doing curl-ups on.

  “That girl is always knee-deep in trouble,” Peyton laughed as he heard her yell down the hallway until the sound of her voice faded in the distance. “It’s funny how she can be such a savvy slave and such a bad wife.”

  “Well, hopefully whatever he means to do with her, or to her, it’s finished and healed by the time we make it to the space station,” Mary replied as she was doing some Swarii language exercises out of an electronic lesson book.

  “Doesn’t matter, really,” Peyton replied, doing another curl.

  “Of course it matters. She wants to get off the ship as much as I do,” Mary replied off-handedly, nearly chuckling from how little Peyton knew Ellie.

  “No, I mean, you girls aren’t goin’ anywhere when we land,” clarified Peyton with such matter-of-factness, it took a while for Mary to register what he said.

  “What do you mean, we’re not going anywhere?” she drawled slowly.

  “I mean,
” Peyton drawled back, climbing off the bar to give her a properly stern look. Normally Mary didn’t have to be told anything, but she didn’t like being ordered—when he did it, he had to mean it. “Neither of you are gonna leave this ship. Space stations are dangerous, Mary. It’s like the Wild West out here. There’s nothing but prostitution, gambling, drugs, piracy—you name it. 700 square kilometers of it. It’s like Las Vegas on steroids. We don’t want to have to worry about either of you while we’re conducting our business.”

  “Peyton, this place is a fraction as large as the palace. We want to get out and see something of the galaxy! Stretch our legs!” Mary stammered, her face flushed with jealousy. “I’m an adult woman. I can go where I want.”

  “No you can’t,” Peyton assured sternly. “I don’t want to even argue about it, Mary. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  As if on cue, Thorton stuck his head into the bedroom. “Hey, Lovebirds,” he said, obviously able to hear the arguing from the hallway. “Beast; do me a favor and help me lug down the motorbike from level two to this level? That thing’s heavier than hell, but it will be nice to have for me to dart to the west quarter. We’ll be parking this thing in the East dock. I think the Kitten actually completed fixing it, because it even works now.”

  “Sure, Bro. I’ll be right up,” Peyton replied, waving Thorton away as he went to locate a shirt. Thorton disappeared as quickly as he arrived.

  “Wait, wait, wait!” Mary said to Peyton, scrambling up from the bed and waving her hands through the air due to this new-found injustice. “You mean that you’re grounding us to the ship, but you’re still taking Ellie’s motorcycle—the one she was beaten for fixing—with you? In what world is that fair?”

  “Ellie wasn’t beaten for fixing it. She was spanked for going to level two at all. It’s unstable, and it was the Boss’ orders. He’s tryin’ to teach her obedience.”

  “He’s trying to train her, you mean,” she argued, placing her hands firmly on her hips as she watched his tight muscles fit into his shirt. “It doesn’t quite sound like a two-way street. We’re coming with you—it’s time you learn that Ellie and I are equals. This is the twenty-first century, Peyton! You just can’t order us around anymore!”

  “This is not a democracy, Mary,” he assured, cutting his hand firmly through the air, his jaw locked. “You don’t get a vote on this one. People die at places like these all the time. We want you well-protected.” He turned to leave the room.

  “That’s no reason for you to not let us come with you! Then you could protect us all you wanted,” she assured mockingly. When she saw that her words didn’t even phase his expression, she added threateningly, straightening her neck proudly, “If you don’t let us, we’ll just go anyway… Without you.”

  A muscle in Peyton’s neck seemed to twitch, and he turned back around slowly towards Mary, who was suddenly feeling a little nervous, particularly when she saw the deadly serious look on his face. He took a deep, calming breath in and out before speaking. “You do NOT want to do that. If you even mention it again, I will take the skin off your backside, do you understand me?” He had loomed down and positioned his face so close to hers that their noses were almost touching.

  She made a point to stand her ground and not step back. She ground her teeth. “Don’t threaten me,” she growled.

  “It wasn’t a threat, Darlin’. It was a promise.”

  A deafening slap rang through the room. For a second, neither of them reacted to it—they continued to stare at each other, standing still. Finally, Mary stepped back, holding her hand as if it was a smoking gun, a look of horror streaked across her face.

  Peyton turned his face slightly toward the direction he was slapped, as if he wondered if it had actually happened; if Mary had actually been foolish enough to do it.

  She had, and after she crouched back a safe distance, she tried to not even act sorry about it. I will not let him spank me, she decided. I’m not sorry. I’m not remorseful. I’m not his underling—he cannot give me orders! I’m his wife, his partner, his equal.

  “You just opened up Pandora’s Box, honey,” he finally said with an even, flat tone. He didn’t even seem angry, but his eyes focused on her as if she was a deer he was lining up with his bow during a hunt.

  He stepped towards her, but when he did, she tried to run around him to head for the open door. She moved quickly enough that she almost made it before he caught her forearm and pulled her backwards to his chest.

  He had lots of experience spanking women; Ellie certainly hadn’t been the first. Probably, through the nearly five years of service to Jazeel, he’d spanked nearly a hundred different women. Many of whom were far less accepting of punishment than others. Some of them truly struggled, some of them fought him, some of them cried.

  Be that as it may, none of them had fought as viciously as his wife did now. He was so much stronger than her, so much larger; she had to have realized this. But she was acting as if she didn’t. She was acting as though if she pushed away from him a little more, she could escape him and her punishment.

  He was able to pick her off the ground to keep her feet off the ground, but then she started to kick at his shins with the backs of her feet, and he simply kept her hands behind her back and dragged her over to the bed and across his knees.

  Her head dropped down by his calf, which obviously suited her fine because it gave her something to bite. And she did—hard. He tried to grit his teeth and bear it, but the pain was shocking enough that he finally just pushed her off his lap, where she released her hold on him and scrambled out the door.

  Peyton swore, and looked at his calf, which was now oozing blood from a perfect set of teeth marks. “Damn cannibal!” he grunted angrily getting up and limping towards the door. As soon as he turned the corner, Thorton was there, looking quite confused.

  “Domestic troubles?” he asked, looking down at Peyton’s pant leg, which the blood from the wound was quickly beginning to stain.

  “Shut up,” growled Peyton. He looked back and forth down the hallway, but didn’t see Mary anywhere. “Did you see which way she went?”

  “Yeah,” Thorton replied. “But you’d better go to Fie with that. The Boss ain’t gonna like it when he sees you’ve leaked all over his ship.” He grinned, waving his hand at the small blood trail. “She got you pretty good, Buddy,” he noted, pointing to the wound.

  Peyton rolled his eyes and limped towards the medical bay.

  “Hey, do you want someone to lean on to get there? Or are you too stubborn?” Thorton offered in an awkward drawl.

  “Touch me and I’ll kill you,” Peyton replied in a growl.

  Thorton nodded. “Too stubborn. Got it.” He waited until Peyton had limped around the corner before he went to an intercom radio where he would be able to shal’ta a message to Jio, who was on the command deck with Brahm. “Hey, Jio… You like to going hunting, right?”

  It took a minute before Jio responded, and when he did, even his shal’ta sounded confused. “Yeah…”

  “Ever hunt a human woman before?”

  “No… Why?”

  “We got one on the run. I thought we might help out our dear Beast friend, who got wounded in her capture.”

  There was another long response time. Probably because both Brahm and Jio were too busy laughing. “The Beast is woundable?” There was another pause and then, “Okay, I’m up for a challenge.”

  “Good man. Let’s go hunting.” Thorton grinned and rolled up his sleeves.

  * * *

  Mary hated the fact that she felt ashamed about things that were far beyond her control, such as being in this position. She was suddenly feeling attuned to how Ellie was feeling when Peyton had carried her down from the sublevel—she felt betrayed. She didn’t feel she had done anything to either Thorton or Jio when they hunted her down, tackled her, bound her hands and knees, and then tied her hands to her own headboard.

  She had certainly fought her darndest against them
, but she found that two Swarii—both who viewed the whole episode as a game—could certainly get the better of her. Now, there was nothing to do but wait for Peyton to come through the door.

  She heard the bedroom door slide open, where Peyton walked through the door, sighing, but then his footsteps stopped. He was very quiet, obviously surprised to see his wayward wife tied to the top of his own bed.

  He took a moment to think about whether or not he was angry at whoever it was that did this, but then feeling the throbbing pain still radiating from somewhere above his left ankle, he decided that he wasn’t. “I never figured you’d be this difficult,” he admitted, listening to the sound of her sniffling.

  “I don’t deserve this!” she cried.

  “I certainly wasn’t the one who slapped you across the face,” he replied simply, limping over to the top of the bed, where he tried to unravel the tie. “You have gotten away with a thousand times more snark than any other girl I’ve ever met in my life. Obviously, I don’t like the idea of spankin’ you, Mary. But I don’t like you thinkin’ I wouldn’t do it if I felt I had to—like when it comes to your safety.”

  As her wrists felt a little bit of slack, a little bit of her fear subsided. It didn’t appear like Peyton was going to use her unfortunate position to his advantage. It seemed like maybe he was coming to his senses. He did seem much calmer now.

  Her throat was dry, so she bravely swallowed. “Look, Sweetheart… I’m sorry I slapped you. It was uncalled for, and I was wrong. I was just angry that you threatened me,” she explained, her voice smooth and rational.

  As soon as he untied her hands, he untied her knees, but he was quiet as he worked, and quick. Mary knew that he was gathering himself, and what he wanted to say. But she didn’t expect him to say what he did when she was free and his eyes snapped onto hers. “Now, are you going to take your spankin’ like a good girl this time?”