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He really does seem to like it, and that concerns me. Every stroke makes pain sing through me, igniting my nervous system, and going straight to the traitorous little nub between my thighs. I feel my squirming legs start to become slick on the insides. I am barely able to think, but I am horrified by this reaction. I can’t be turned on by being painfully dominated. I don’t want to be, but I am…
The last of Avel’s terrible toys is a lengthy implement with a flat leathery tongue at the end. This he deploys across so much of my skin, I can barely take it. My ass and thighs have borne the brunt of it so far, but now he turns me about, using that powerful grip in my hair to reach the front of me. He flicks that damn lash against my breasts, teasing it across my nipples for a moment, then returning with another quick little snapping motion.
I curse and squirm, consumed by a blush that feels like it is covering my entire body. I have never been this hot. I have never been in this kind of pain. I have been wounded before and sustained injuries that would leave a grown man screaming for mercy, but this is a different kind of heat and a different kind of pain. This is a physical experience that is absolutely overriding my brain’s capacity for thought. I am pure sensation. I am swimming in humiliation.
He lets the tip of the crop travel down my stomach, to the dark V of hair that comprises the very last vestiges of my modesty. He taps it there, low, over the lips that protect the sensitive bud of my clit. He is not being harsh — yet. He is gauging my response. He is trying to see if I flinch, or if I show obvious signs of pleasure, distress, or fear. I do not want to show him anything. I want to hide my reactions. Those are all I have left to hide.
The tapping becomes more intense, and I start to feel a sting as he works it back and forth across the mound of my sex.
“Open your legs,” he growls softly.
I want to disobey him, but I find that my thighs have already parted for that devilish tool. Again, the tapping begins, and again I find myself held tightly by my hair, unable to escape all he has planned for me. My body is his playground of pain. I am being made his toy. Every time I meet his gaze, which is not often because the intense shame rushing through me makes me want to look at the rocky ground beneath us, I feel hot flushes pulsing through me.
He is still very much punishing me. This time with a sting that makes my loins come to life and my entire body pulse with need. Nothing that is happening now is acceptable in any of the planetary codes of justice that I am familiar with. I am not being treated like a prisoner. And that is because I am something else. I am his captive.
Avel makes that abundantly clear with every single one of his punishing actions. He does appear to be a master of discipline. He is certainly not new to this. Even if one were to ignore the fact that he keeps a full range of implements to hand in the middle of his home, the skill with which he wields them is undeniable. It would be very easy for a creature of his strength and unfamiliarity with my kind to seriously hurt me. He has not done that. Every time the lash makes its whipping motion against my pussy, there is a carefully moderated strength and force at play.
I start to dance again, though this time my hips are rolling and my nipples are hard, and every breath I take seems to make excitement rush through me. My skin is developing little goosebumps along my arms and thighs as the experience continues to be both punishing and ever-so-fucking arousing.
He can’t know there’s any part of me that likes this. I would die of shame if he were to suspect for even a second.
“Please,” I finally gasp, not because I cannot take the pain, but because I fear what I will do if the arousal does not stop. “I get it.”
My words earn me a sharp, snapping motion of his wrist that makes my outer lips sting. I gasp and squirm and look pleadingly into his alien gaze.
“Do you get it, foolish creature?” he snarls the question. “Or do you wish to die? How many more times will I watch you throw your wingless self into oblivion?”
“I wish to live free. Not as some alien’s owned thing. I would rather die than be your captive, sir!”
A triumphant smile spreads over his face. I have never seen him smile before. Should I be surprised that it makes him look incredibly handsome? I suppose not. He does have hard lines of cheek and jaw, not to mention an overall appearance of a predator. There is something about creatures made to hunt that is always appealing. There is a danger lurking in his visage that cannot be denied.
“You called me sir,” he says.
“I was doing it ironically.” It’s too late to walk it back, but I try anyway.
“I don’t think you were,” he says. “I think that whipping taught you a little respect.”
I narrow my eyes and try desperately to think of something disrespectful to prove him wrong, but the moment passes, and he is allowed to continue to think of himself as having made an impact on me with his brutish punishment.
He lets me go, and I am finally able to stand normally, but even settling into my normal state comes with a fresh flash of punishing sensation as my ass and thighs flex and the cumulative punishment that makes them all sting terribly.
“This is fortunate, Raine,” he says, folding his wings in a very satisfied way while lightly tapping the lash against his scaled palm in a way that makes my eyes lock on the horrid flat tip at the very end which has left too many little hot spots on my pussy to count. “Do you know why?”
“Why?” I like the way my name sounds on his tongue. He rolls the R just a little, his alien tongue caressing the syllables in a very deliberate manner.
“I enjoy meting out punishments. I like the way my lash leaves marks on your skin. You are very sensitive, and very responsive. A joy to thrash. So please, continue to rebel. I will continue to enjoy breaking you of that rebellion.”
My ass and thighs are one big stinging hot mass of pain. Moving feels bad, but standing around doesn’t exactly feel good either. I am very exposed, and now he is taking the opportunity to inspect me. Every part of me.
“Stand up straight,” he orders. “Put your arms by your sides. Lift your chin too. I want you to present yourself properly for me.”
I do not want to obey him. Not even a little bit. I want to tell him to fuck off. I want revenge for what he has already done. But I am not in a position to do anything about any of this. Right now, all I can do is submit to him and let him have his way with me.
Or… I could kill him. If anybody ever found out what he did to me, I’d have to.
There’s got to be a knife around here somewhere. Got to be a kitchen of some kind. Got to be something in the remnants of my suit. I notice he’s already swept that far away from me. These saurians learn quickly. They know that Sullivan and I carry a lot of tricks on our persons.
“Don’t look at me with that blatant hostility,” he lectures in those rasping saurian tones. “I can always punish you more. I can take you to the point where you will beg me for mercy without even the slightest hesitation. I can strip you of your pride just as easily as I have stripped you of your clothing.”
