Eleanor took that moment to hate Graham’s dead mother. Obviously she had never actually had a cleansing. No one could say that it didn’t hurt. The cramping alone was miserable, let alone the pain due to the stretching of her anus.
It seemed she was bent over forever, even after the entire contents of the enema bag had flowed into her. It took so long that she wondered if it was poetic justice for how sick she had made Fie—he’d been sick for hours and hours, and although she didn’t actually have the nozzle in for anywhere near that long, it certainly seemed like it.
Finally, she felt him slowly pull out the nozzle, and there was the numbing sensation of her anus being relieved of pressure. The cramping seemed even worse as she tried to hold the soapy liquid inside of her. “You can go relieve yourself now,” he said.
She stood up and walked to the toilet, but then looked up at him like she was very surprised, and very confused, to see him still standing there. “Can I have… a moment?” she begged, her teeth still gritted.
“No. This is a punishment enema—you don’t get the luxury of privacy here, just do your business so we can finish up.”
She swallowed and whined like a little unhappy Chihuahua, but eventually gave up and gently lowered herself onto the toilet seat. She didn’t look at him—not even his feet—as the soapy fluid in her bowels left her body.
She put her head in her hands. It was the most embarrassing moment of her life.
Ellie couldn’t imagine a way that the moment could get any worse. But then, after he made her stand up and then cleaned some lingering soapy fluid from her anus, he bent her back over the tub. At this point, her knees were shaking. She couldn’t believe that the punishment wasn’t over. “Please, I’m sorry. I’ll never do anything remotely stupid for the rest of my LIFE. I swear! I’ll do anything you like, anything you want, anything, anything!”
“Relax. This is just a test Fie suggested,” he explained, but he didn’t seem very sympathetic to her sobbing. “This goes fast.”
Before she could ask about ‘what tests’, she felt something very metallic, very smooth, and very cold rubbed against her clitoris. Ellie cried out when she felt it, embarrassed by how swollen her clit was, how tender she felt. Her flesh nearly throbbed. But then the smooth phallus-like object pressed into her. Once it was deep in her vagina, she felt it begin to expand. Her toe scraped against the floor, but Graham pushed her forward and held her in place by putting one of his large hands around her thigh.
She felt the cold object continue growing larger, even as it remained deep inside her, and she groaned nervously. But suddenly, the machine beeped. Slowly, it returned to normal size, and Graham pulled it out. He hummed and she heard him squiggle something on his electronic tablet. Then she heard him put that down and she felt him rummaging around for something else.
Then she felt his warm fingers pressing into her bottom again, re-lubing the entrance. “Please, no… I’ll be good, I’ll be good, I’ll be good...” she said quietly, when she realized what he was doing. She was being tested for elasticity—there was a machine trying to decide how much she could be stretched during a sexual session. At first the device was about equal in size to the enema nozzle, but it grew rapidly to the size of the anal plug with which Jazeel had punished her. Again, there was a beeping sound, and the pressure subsided.
She took a deep breath, hoping that was all over, but then a more plastic, smooth, room-temperature object pressed against her bottom’s entrance. It was lubed, but she still clenched her bottom tightly when it tried to penetrate.
Graham sighed. “Ellie, the sooner this is done, the sooner it’ll be over,” he reasoned, feeling the resistance from her clenched anus.
“You’re not putting a plug in me!” she sobbed defiantly.
“You need to be stretched to accommodate my girth, Ellie,” he replied wearily.
She gasped. “I don’t want to accommodate your girth! Ohh!” she squeaked miserably as he continued to push it into her. It was obviously cone-shaped; it was slender near the tip, but the further he pushed it in, the more the tender ring of her anus stretched. “Eeeep!” came her shrill squeak, and her hand went back to stop him.
He caught her hand, and began to pull out the plug gently. He did that again—pushed it all the way in, and pulled it all the way out.
She cried at how ashamed she was—she never wanted Graham to see this much of her, all her worst parts. The parts she’d learned to keep under cover since childhood. Now she was writhing against an anal plug slightly larger than the one she’d felt last week, the one that had made her so miserable. Her pussy continued to throb sorely. She brought her head up, suddenly feeling her muscles all lock.
She screamed again, but this one was shallower, more guttural. She was having an orgasm. Her body was shaking in violent jerks, but Graham held down her waist and continued pressing the plug in and out of her. Her scream turned into a groan that turned into a moan, which turned into breathy pants.
Finally, she was silent again, a victim of his continued movements until finally, he pulled out the plug. That caused his wife to give a heavy, relieved sigh, but then she continued sobbing as she curled her toes pathetically against the cold floor.
Her legs were shaking and she just wanted to sink into the floor and die. She recognized the inane cliché of what had happened… She was taken on board a mothership and probed by a giant alien. His large hands pulled her onto her feet, and walked her back into the bedroom and over to the corner, where he tugged the bottom of her skirt into the top hem and then took her hands and placed them onto the top of her head.
“Don’t move,” he instructed, and then he walked back into the bathroom.
She leaned into her corner and sniffled, listening to the sounds of Graham cleaning off his instruments, and then at the sound of him scribbling up a report, probably sending the results right over to Fie, who no doubt had been smiling earlier simply because he knew what awaited her when they got to the ship.
Eventually, she heard the door of the bathroom open. She pressed herself further into the corner as she felt Graham’s eyes on the back of her neck. “Do you understand what you need to do from now on?” he asked flatly. She didn’t answer—he only heard a sniffle. “Eleanor? What do good girls do?”
It sounded utterly pedantic, and she didn’t respond. He put his hand on her arm and slowly turned her around to face him. He put a thick finger under her chin and lifted her gaze up to him. “They obey, don’t they?”
She was angry, and it was obvious what about. She was humiliated, and hurt. It was the expression of someone who suddenly realized that they weren’t married to prince charming; they were married to someone who would punish disobedience thoroughly.
“They obey,” she finally said, her voice quiet and raspy, as if her throat was sore. Just crawl up into the fetal position, that annoying, new submissive side was saying. Apologize again. Promise to be a good girl. You want to be a good girl, anyway. You don’t want him angry with you. She nearly shook her head in response. No, no. She wasn’t too sorry. She was just sloppy with her execution, she decided. She’d never be so sloppy again. “I can’t believe you punished me so much,” she rattled quietly, her body trying to shrink out of his hold.
“It’s because I love you so damn much, woman!” he said, letting go of her body quickly and crossing the room with exasperation. “It’s not because I’m sadistic. Trust me, I’d rather just hump the living need of day out of you. That’s what I feel like doing,” he divulged. He then leaned forward threateningly, raising his eyebrows. “But I can’t. Unless you want to be stretched some more? Because as soon as ‘bad girl’ sex is available, don’t think I won’t use it.”
Her cheeks flushed again. She couldn’t imagine his cock fitting up her bottom. She couldn’t imagine anything bigger at all going up there. If you’d asked her earlier, she would have said that she didn’t think the latest plug could go up there, either. She stared at the ground, angry but not wanti
ng to be punished further—she felt sore all over, inside and out, already.
“Our relationship isn’t normal, is it?” she grumbled. “No way would an actual Swarii woman be okay with anything you just did to me.”
“Of course she would. She’d probably have seen it coming a little better than I guess you did,” he admitted. “Because this is pretty common… Pop suggested I just keep the plug in for a few hours, but it’s your first anal punishment, and since Jazeel did something similar, I—”
“Jack suggested that?” she interrupted, horrified. “Why is he evil? I thought he liked me!”
“He loves you, Ellie. You can tell,” Graham assured, stepping close to her to put his hands on her arms and to rub them soothingly. “When he and my mother had the union, she was quite a handful, supposedly. He just wants to spread the wealth of his wisdom… Like he always does…” He grinned, as if he had just made an inside joke that she was going to soon understand.
Ellie felt the edges of her mouth going up—for some reason, even with her ass throbbing inside and out, the obvious fact that Graham thought of his father as his biggest rival amused her. She didn’t want Graham to see her smile, however, so she pressed her face into his chest.
He pressed her tighter to him. “Are you giving me affection, or are you cold?” he finally asked after letting her hug him in silence for a while. “Either one’s fine. I was just hoping that since I have to dress you in something warmer, you’ll let me give that skirt you’re wearing a nice farewell.”
Ah, sexual references. She had wondered, deep down, how long Graham could go after shoving things up her vagina and anus before he restarted the sexual festivities. The strange thing was, she wanted it, too. Through the burning and soreness, she was still somehow aroused. Maybe it was his smell that kept her from being angry with him for too long—he smelt so good…
“As long as you don’t share the details with your father,” she replied simply, craning her neck to look up at him. “Or ask for his advice afterward.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” he purred, plucking up her skirt with his fingers. Little did she know, but as he hiked up her skirt the mirror on the dresser was giving him an excellent view of her naked, bright-red bottom. “I plan to explore you enough that people will be lining up to ask me advice on how one thoroughly makes love to one’s wife.”
“So, you plan to be a professional in this?” she purred, her cheeks suddenly blushing with lust instead of embarrassment.
“Well, I need to study first,” he smirked, and pulled her over to the chair he had sat on during her spanking earlier. “Come sit on my lap, you naughty girl. We have research to do.”
* * *
Ellie was exhausted. She was mentally tired from learning the Swarii language, but she was finally getting quite fluent in it after three months. It was the middle of the afternoon but, even though she mocked the theory that she needed an afternoon nap, there she was, hitting the sofa in the officers’ lounge like it was a featherbed.
“Hey Kid,” Peyton said, surprisingly in Swarii. Her brain ached when she listened to it.
“Hmmph…” she grumbled back dreamily, crossing her arms under her chin as a makeshift pillow.
“Kiddo?” Peyton raised an eyebrow as if he thought she was trying to be funny, but wasn’t sure. Then he heard her snoring. He shook his head before he reached down and rattled her awake. “Ellie.”
“Yes?” she said, annoyed.
“The Boss is coming down here. Supposedly he’s got big news for you,” he said quietly, not trying to startle her.
She rolled over and stretched her arms wearily underneath her head. “Urgh. Big news. You know what happened the last time I got big news? A giant shot in my ass,” she grumbled. “And then I got my mouth washed out for calling it ‘ass’. I tell you, I get no respect.”
“Yeah, well, your mechanic command test scores just came in…” Peyton acknowledged. “So, respect will be forthcoming.”
Her eyes shot wildly open. “Test? I didn’t take any engineering tests.”
“Yeah, well, didn’t Thorton ask you to change the radiator with only a mass-tedion and a pair of tweezers?” Peyton shrugged. He barely knew what a mass-tedion was, but he had heard that some of the mechanic tests were practically designed as a joke—they were nearly impossible to do, so he was guessing the tool was nearly worthless for the project; the tweezers doubly so.
“He didn’t ask. He mentioned the radiator needed to be fixed, and bet me his dessert portion for a week that I couldn’t fix it with just a mass-tedion and a pair of tweezers,” she replied, her brow crimped in confusion. “I think that’s why I’m so tired. I cannot eat cake for lunch, man. Puts me in a coma, especially after I’ve been speaking Swarii all morning—my brain hurts right now…” She shook her head and tried to focus. “But that was a test?”
“Thorton’s idea. He really wants you as his assistant…” Peyton said cheerily, as if he figured Ellie would be flattered.
Instead, Ellie snorted. “He should be my assistant. I invented the damn Fledge system, didn’t I?” Why the Swarii had decided to call her system for intercepting Frian signals “Fledge” was completely beyond her, but in any case it had been a sensation. However, the fact that the spy-device was created by a mostly-human had definitely been kept out of the limelight, and therefore Ellie felt that she hadn’t gotten the proper amount of pats on the back.
“I think the fact you did it in a way that would make a boy scout drool was more impressive than the actual invention to them.”
“That’s weird, though. Isn’t it? To regard the process more than the invention?”
“Well, it was a pretty simple invention, Ellie,” Peyton shrugged. “I mean, look at the simple stuff that has changed our lives: like can openers. Did you know people used tin cans for fifty years before somebody thought of the can opener? Until then, they just went at it with a big hammer to get the damn food out. You did that—you created the can opener—faster, better, more efficient, and when the Swarii looked at what you made, they couldn’t believe they didn’t think of it themselves. And that’s what they’re impressed by: you created somethin’ they didn’t. They have a really strange way of lookin’ at things… And DOIN’ things…”
Ellie grinned, knowing what Peyton was thinking. He was amazed that he was held in such high regard. He felt out-of-place at first—he was small compared to the rest of the Swarii, but the Swarii weren’t quite built for wars like humans were. None of their combat history had involved much hand-to-hand fighting, and so it wasn’t emphasized in their training. They thought Peyton looked like Chuck Norris on steroids, just because he was a skilled marine. He saw his own faults—he was getting into his thirties, now. He was getting a little slower than he was when he was twenty five and in ‘the bush’. He was out of practice. The Swarii, however, just saw him as a killing machine.
“You’re telling me,” she replied, unable to keep from smirking. “But you look hopeful about Graham offering me a position on his ship…” She lifted her eyebrows, obviously expecting a compliment.
Peyton shrugged, plopped his body down next to her on the sofa, picked up an eBook from the table in front of them, and clicked it to newspaper mode. “Yeah, well,” he said while he fiddled with the device and then slowly deciphered the foreign language squiggled in front of him. “I miss it when you’re not a constant pain in my ass, as it turns out. You spendin’ so much time on the mothership with the Admiral… those classes he makes you take, those engineers he makes you hang out with… I suppose it’s creating a bit of separation anxiety in Mary and me.”
“I come here in the evenings…”
“Yeah, to sleep,” Peyton grumbled. He rounded his shoulders as if she had hurt his feelings somehow.
“So sue me. Jack’s the big boss. Where he says to go, I go. When he says jump, I jump. And he decides how long I’m on the mothership—he’s the one that’s working me after hours. I don’t personally like it. The
y make this chicken dish in their cafeteria that is really dry… And I swear, the more I complain to the staff about it the dryer it gets. By next week, I’ll be eating jerky,” she grumped.
Peyton grinned. “I forgot you were a picky eater.”
“I’m not cool with mystery meat, including species of animals I’ve yet to come into contact with. I need to look them in the eye to trust that I can eat them,” she admitted with a chuckle. But then her expression became serious. “Graham’ll never offer me a position,” she said, obviously more to herself than to Peyton. “Jack won’t either. All this ‘military’ nonsense. Just the other day Jack told me that I should start inventing new kitchen tools.”
Peyton laughed. “For an encore, the Admiral should slap Hillary Clinton on the ass and tell her to make him a pie.”
“He’s slapped me on the ass and told me to do the same thing,” she assured. She shook her head. “It’s been a long, long three months. Full of leaps and bounds for Swarii feminism. And I’m not even a feminist. I would never trust my own car to a chick.” She smiled excitedly as she tried to make a joke that would betray her own sex the most. “Her boobs might get in her way when she’s working on the transmission.”
“Do your boobs get in the way?” Peyton laughed.
She thought about the truth in her own joke. “More often than you might think,” she finally decided. She shrugged. “Graham likes them, though, so I guess I’ll keep ‘em around.”
“Thank you.” Graham’s tall figure appeared in the door behind them, crossing his arms over his chest.
Ellie spun around in her seat so she could look at him. Yep—he was perfect. There was something about his captain’s uniform that she didn’t tire of even though he had been wearing it for three months straight. He looked so powerful, so confident, so drop-dead sexy. She was excited to get it off of him that evening. They hadn’t gotten a chance to make love for a whole week now. They had been too busy; they would come together at night too tired to do anything but fall face-down on their pillows and conk out. But he was in the mood—she could see it on him, even though his whole heart wasn’t in his grin—he wasn’t as happy as he wished to appear. Yet, she could see his eyes settle on her chest, then climbing up her long neck to her ponytailed head.
Never Submit! The Swarii Brides, Book One Page 17
