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“That is a human,” I repeat rather obviously. “There has not been a human on this planet in longer than any of us have existed put together. Killing her would be beyond a waste. It would be sacrilege, and you know it.”
He rumbles in reluctant agreement.
“Let’s focus on the Eponite movements,” I say. “I want a complete map of all their encampments and their troop movements. They may be nomadic, but even nomads have their habits. The more we know about them, the easier they will be to control.”
The warriors understand their roles. I am not telling them anything new. I am repeating our original mission to get their minds off the human.
“My men and I have uncovered quite a lot of data regarding their movements,” Porthos, one of my more intelligent generals says. “It would seem that there is a female among the Eponites who is attempting a similar feat like the one you undertook, my liege. She has declared herself Queen of Eponites. Less than half of the tribes have pledged to her, but she is without a doubt the most fearsome foe we are likely to face…”
My attention is drifting from the Eponite threat to the human. I can see her out of the corner of my eye, pacing the interior of her new home with a frustrated and annoyed gait. If she were a horse, she would be prancing in annoyance, tail up, ears pricked.
I miss her. How is it that it has been a matter of minutes and already I desire to touch her again? There was something very compelling about her captive orgasm, the way she writhed against me in the saddle. The smell of her, the innocence mixed with the arch way she understood precisely what I wanted from her.
I am drawn to her. She shares the pure genetic material of some of my oldest ancestors. She is a repository of pure humanity. Maybe that is what calls me, an animal curiosity based on the commands of the genetic code.
Whatever the reason, I soon find myself leaving the conversation with my generals and stepping into the small realm in which I have decided to confine her. This pen is heavily guarded and will remain so until she is broken to my will.
She moves immediately to the far side of the pen, a good sixty feet away from me. I walk to the very center and claim my territory, leaving her with no escape from me. Thirty feet, that is all she has, and thirty feet will not be enough once I unfurl the thick whip in my hands. I can touch her with the triple tongue tip at any point in this arena. She does not know that yet, but I see her glance at it and I know she is intelligent enough to extrapolate the meaning of it.
There is much she does not know. She does not truly know if I intend to hurt her, to punish her for the crimes she committed. She cannot understand my intentions, or my character, or my values. I am an enigma to her, and she must learn everything she needs to know. Much of it will be done here in this arena, at the end of my whip.
If this were a square, as humans love to build, I am sure she would retreat into a corner. But a pen has no corners, no places to hide, and so motion is encouraged. She feels the impulse to move and so she moves.
She paces for a long time as I watch her carefully. Observation is at the core of domination. You cannot control what you do not understand.
Sometimes she looks at me, but only briefly. She spends most of her time with her gaze averted. She is thinking hard. Trying to work out how to make another escape, I’d bet. But there is no escaping this pen. Even if she were to somehow scale the vertical stakes, the top wire is live with a current generated by two donkeys working in a circle generator not far off. When metal rotates against metal, powerful forces are generated. This is one of the discoveries of my empire. I know other worlds have many thousands more discoveries, but I am content with this one.
“You know I never meant to…”
She finds her voice, but just as quickly as it comes, it fades again. She trails off and is silent once more, a roving female trying to avoid my attention though she is at the center of it.
What did she not mean to do? What words is she searching for that she cannot find? They die on her lips as soon as they rise, little lies she might tell herself, but does not dare to tell me.
She lowers her head, turns, and keeps walking. I have not told her to walk, at least, not with words. It is my presence that pressures her. She is nervous, and well she may be. This is the beginning of a process that will change her life forever. It will bind her to me. It will break her will. It will make her eternally mine. It all starts with a whip and a stare.
