Page 57 of Her Alien Boss

He takes me to the bed, whips up my medical dress, yanks down my underwear and reaches for an infernal lash that he’s not used on me before. It has a grippy handle and a leathery protrusion that feels like hell when he plies it across both my bared cheeks.

“Ow!” I complain. “You jerk!”

The pain sucks, but it’s the indignity I react to first. I wail and I try to escape, but there’s no escaping a three-hand grip of a much larger alien.

I’ve accepted punishment in the past because I knew I deserved it, and maybe I deserve it now, but also fuck that. Fuck being spanked like a bratty little human when I have experienced so much and been so many things, and…

“Ow fucker!” I curse as the lash lands again. “Why do you even have that on you?”

“Language,” Arkon says firmly. “You need to learn to behave yourself again. All that zipping about the universe has given you delusions of authority and rebellion, neither of which will serve you.”

The third time the lash whips against my cheeks, crossing over the previous two and sending a bolt of flame through my body. I squeal again, and am rewarded with three more harsh lashes, each of which all burn even worse.

I know he’s being harsh with me because he was so afraid of losing me and facing that possibility has made him want to control everything, including me, so much more.

“I’m going to teach you how to behave,” he says. “I’m going to teach you what true obedience is. I am never going to let what has happened before happen again.”

Vague, but I get what he means. He thinks if he can just make me super obedient, nothing bad will happen again. He’s wrong, of course, but he can’t help the impulse to control. It’s built into him like each of his four arms.

He turns the handle of the whip around. It is a smooth material with a slightly ridged handle for better grip. It is thicker than a human cock, somewhere between the size of his two cocks in girth. I know this intimately, because he has begun to press it up inside me.

He fucks me slowly with the tip of the handle, pinning me in place with his many hands.

“Why,” I whimper as he commits this perversion against me. I’d understand it if he fucked me. That would make sense. But he’s not fucking me. He’s using a proxy to stretch my pussy.

“Because,” he says, understanding my question even though he is missing half of it. “This is not about sex for me. This is about establishing dominion over you before you have my child, before you become an interstellar menace, before I lose you again.”

He presses it more deeply inside me, those ridges working the slick walls of my interior with devastating efficacy. It’s pleasure, but it’s a pointed, dominant kind of pleasure. He’s making it very clear to me that he is going to turn both my pain and my erotic desires into places where he controls me.

Arkon has always been my boss. From very nearly the moment we met he had control of me and he ensured my submission through discipline, but not as much as I really needed. He left part of me feral, lawless, and wanting to explore all the worlds I could.

“You are mine,” he growls. “Mine.”

He keeps the handle moving inside me, all the way to the hilt of the handle, then out again in a slow stroke that makes my lips grip every ridge on the way out.

“I can keep you here, just like this, for as long as it takes to teach you what actual obedience looks like,” he threatens. “This pussy has always been the best way to get your attention. So I am going to get your attention by making both your pussy and your ass nice and sore, until I think you’ve finally understood what I expect from you.”

He fucks me with that handle for what feels like an eternity, slowly forcing it inside my soaking pussy and then pulling it free over and over for hundreds of impossibly stern strokes. I wriggle and writhe and I complain, too.

“This is too much…”

He gives me a light slap and keeps the handle moving inside my dripping pussy. “Oh, no. It’s not. It might be a fraction of what you need. Time will tell.”

“What will it tell?” It’s so hard to ask questions when I’m being manually fucked with an alien discipline dildo.

“How long you take to break for me, my love.”

“Never,” I say.

“Never say never,” he responds, sounding almost human as he slowly works that damn tool in and out of me, stimulating my pussy without giving me the clitoral satisfaction I crave. I can’t come. I just have to lie here and feel myself being sternly fucked. It’s not the worst thing that ever happened. As much as he might be trying to teach me a lesson, I am easily aroused and this is doing it for me far more than being whipped was.

There is a rumble, and a faint sound of screaming. Something like distress, but more intense, as if thousands of junior engineers cried out at once.

A hand comes crashing through the exterior wall. I say a hand, but only two fingers can make it through. Those two fingers pluck me up as finely as if they were surgical tools, whipping me away from Arkon and to the relatively un-fucked safety of her palm.

She grips me in her massive hand and pulls me out of the building, carefully keeping me inside the atmosphere, which is nice because choking to death outside would be a bad time. I find myself on her palm so far above the ground I would definitely die if I fell. But I do not intend to fall. And I do not think she would let me even if I wanted to.

I can see Arkon staring through the fist-shaped hole in the wall. He looks something between confused and very angry.