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I can’t help the way my face looks. I have never been one to put on a pleasant expression to make others happy. The best I can do is a straight poker face, and that is what I try for.
“Better,” he says, though in a tone that suggests he doesn’t actually think it is good enough at all. “You have an attitude problem, Raine. You are continuing to labor under the delusion that you are a creature with the right to determine her own actions. You are not. You are on our world now, and you are in my custody. I will tell you what you can do and when. I have complete command of you. And I have absolutely no intention of letting you go.”
I stare at him, my entire body still aching and stinging from his punishment, and I try to hold onto my sense of self. I remind myself that I am the pirate Raine. I am feared by thousands. I am respected by my crew. And hell yes. I am a mutineer. I am the kind of woman who does not follow the orders of anybody she does not respect.
He extends his big, scaled hand and reaches out to me, his fingertips brushing down my stomach until he finds that curling hair that attempts to hide my sensitive sex. It is no obstacle to him as he pushes further down, spreading my legs to allow his big, alien hand to cup my absolutely soaking pussy. I feel the roughness of his palm and the alien texture of his large yet agile fingers as he makes casual and yet complete claim of my body. He has already shown he considers himself entitled to discipline me as he pleases. What else does he consider to be his for the taking?
One hand slides back and forth along my sex, and my lower lips part as nature intended for them to do, leaving me open and vulnerable. One of his hands remains gripping my hair, pulling my head back so I must look into Avel’s dominant gaze, while between my thighs, his thick middle finger starts pushing inside me, opening me up, taking deep control of the very core of me.
I feel myself shudder, and the little moan that escapes my lips causes his brows to rise and the corners of his lips to turn up in what is unmistakably great satisfaction.
“You like that, don’t you? A softer touch after harsher treatment? Pleasure following pain?” His voice has dropped a little more, and his eyes seem to gleam more intensely as he leans down and his hair falls around his face. “You are a filthy, naughty little thing, and I know how to deal with filthy, naughty little things of any species.”
It has been a long time since I allowed anybody inside me. My vagina has been a vault. Now he is playing inside me, his large finger swirling slowly inside me, stirring up a physical kind of madness I had almost forgotten. Avel has an effect on me, but it may not be the one he wishes to have. He makes me wilder. He makes me wetter. But he will not change my essential nature.
He leans down, getting closer and closer, his wings spreading out to create something of a cover around the pair of us, making an intimate space from which there is no escape.
“I am going to make you hurt, Raine. I am going to make you scream and cry and beg for mercy, and ultimately, I am going to make you the thing you fear most.”
“What’s that?” I moan the question.
He purrs the answer in my ear. “Good.”
I pull away a little.
“I’ve always been good.”
“I find that very hard to believe, pirate.”
“I am a very good pirate.”
He chuckles, a deep, rumbling sound that I get the sense must be rather rare for him, because he seems as surprised to make the sound as I am to hear it.
“You have a mouth, don’t you, Raine.”
“I run a ship full of women,” I say. “It’s mandatory.”
He pulls his finger slowly from me, making me stifle another one of those thoroughly traitorous moans.
“Too many words can only lead to complications and arguments,” he says. “I do not tolerate talking back, nor do I allow impudence in matters of speech. If you wish to avoid punishment, you will keep your tone civil and you will be polite in all ways.”
I want to tell him to fuck off, but before I can form anything in the way of response, his finger is sliding back inside me and I am feeling all the emotional repercussions of that repeated intrusion. I can’t say he’s fucking me, really. The movements are too slow, too deliberate, and too calculated for that.
He is testing me. He is seeing how I work. He is watching me closely, his eyes sweeping over my face and down my body and back to my face again. I want so desperately to hide the effect he is having on me, but stoic as I am, he is breaking through my customary facade and finding all sorts of soft and sensitive places.
“Do you have a mate?” He asks the question in a rough, curious tone.
I hesitate a moment. I have no mate, but I wonder what he would do if he thought I did? Would he stop this exploration? Would he give my body, and therefore my mind, back to me? I am so addled right now, so entirely filled with sensations that make thinking almost impossible.
“I have a mate,” I lie.
I don’t owe him the truth, I tell myself, even as I instantly feel a very unpleasant twisting of guilt in my gut. He’s a hostile alien holding me captive. I am under absolutely no obligation to be truthful with him or to cooperate in my captivity.
“Liar.”
He growls the word and adds a second finger, pushing it inside me quite swiftly, filling me almost as full with two fingers as I would be if an average human male were to have his cock inside me. This is the fate of being female, to be filled, to have some part of me always close to being conquered. This alien is taking full advantage of my biology.
He is close to me. Very close. He enjoys leaning in and growling these things close to my ear. He has to stoop down in order to take me this way, which makes him perhaps slightly vulnerable. I spot that there is a part of his neck, right where it meets the shoulder, where there is something of a break in his scales. With two of his fingers buried in my pussy, and his accusation of lying ringing in my ear, I lash out with my teeth, biting him in what might be a vulnerable spot.
