Page 17 of Alien Psycho


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“Lazy,” I mutter under my breath, earning myself a sharp slap to both my cheeks at the same time.

Manik

She is a cocky little thing, and that cockiness makes me curious in the extreme. It also makes me want to punish her until she cries for me. It is possible to have great affection for a woman and also want to bring her to heel. This human brings out this instinct in me more than anybody I have ever met.

“Lazy? Let me show you how very hard I am capable of working,” I growl, unleashing a volley of slaps on her still covered rear before yanking the covering down and exposing her pretty, smooth flesh. Humans are so devoid of natural patterning or much in the way of hue variation — though the latter criticism can be remedied by striking them the way I am striking this one. Her skin deepens and pinkens with every slap I deal to her squirming cheeks. “If there is any work harder than taming a mouthy human, I am yet to encounter it.”

She laughs. Right in the midst of her yelps and her yowls, she laughs at me. I find myself both respecting her spirit and being more motivated than ever to break it.

It is better with her bare. When she is bare there is nowhere for her to hide and I can see the effect every touch has on her immediately. I can also see the secondary effects, the way her hips start to grind and her legs spread and she emits that sweet scent of human desire.

I have missed female company. Actually, missed is too small a word. I have craved it. I dreamed of the day I might return to civilization without the label of Mad Butcher and take a female for my own. Coincidence and terrible bounty hunting practices have bought me this female, and I intend to be very careful with her.

I let my hand fall, catching her upraised cheeks with a very satisfying slap. Punishing her for her insolence is very satisfying, just as I knew it would be. What begins with attitude could turn into real rebellion if we are not careful, and I intend on being very careful with her.

“You will speak with respect, and you will obey me in all things. I am more than your mate. I am your master. I am the one who owns you. And you will…”

“Are you trying to think of another word for obey?”

I have to be so careful with the force I use. She’s so sassy and so very deserving of punishment. When she interrupts my lecturing to mouth off, I know I am not being harsh enough with her.

So I grab a strap, a lash made of leather. It was to secure clothing, but it will do nicely as a means to punish this disobedient human. Using this, I am free of the burden of worrying about hurting her. I am free to lash her deserving bottom with all the intensity she needs.

Lyssa

“Ow! Ouch! Fuck! Manik!” I am crying out his name, as what started as a playful little spanking turns into an out and out thrashing. The strap is a nasty, terrible implement and it makes me squeal and squirm. Heat is flashing through me with incredible intensity, followed by stinging pain that threatens to takeover my entire rear.

“It’s too much! You’re going to hurt me! You’re going to kill me!”

That just makes him strap me harder.

“Don’t try to manipulate me by making me think I am going to hurt you. I know exactly how to handle you, and I know precisely how much punishment you can take.”

With that, he pushes my thighs apart and proceeds to let the lash curl around the inside of my thighs, catching skin so sensitive I shriek every time the leather makes contact. I have never felt pain like this before. I’ve felt pain that was objectively worse, but I’ve never felt this kind of hurt, the kind that seeps all the way through my flesh and finds the core of me and makes me sore and sorry.

“At first, I didn’t think I enjoyed punishing you,” he says conversationally, holding me in place as he lands the lash more intermittently, slowing the pace, but keeping the intensity. “But I think you need this. I think there’s something inside you that wants to hurt and needs to hurt.”

He might be right. He thinks I got my bounty hunter’s license to escape the wreckage of my old life, and he’s right. But I also wanted the chance to be hurt, I think. I chose a path that put me on the road to pain. And here I am, being hurt. Being hurt by someone who likes to hurt me.

I am a twisted human. And he is a fucked-up alien. And we work, I think. We shouldn’t work. We can’t work. But we do. And every time his lash bites into my flesh, I feel not just the pulse of pain but the bolt of heat going right to the core of me. I feel my hips starting to dance and grind against his hard alien thigh. I feel desire slicking my inner thighs.

“You need to be hurt until you’re good,” he says, leaving the lash across my cheeks, just laying it down there. His fingers drift lower, and then he finds my pussy again. The moan I let out is deeper, throatier, and more real than any of the whining complaints I let out while being punished.

He growls something unintelligible. Something not in any of the characters of Intergalactic speech. And then he is pulling me up onto his lap, making me straddle his alien girth. He holds me so tenderly, his big hands caressing and scratching lightly against my scalp and back as he guides me down…

His alienhood claims me, finding my outer lips, then my inner lips, surging… pushing… pulling me down.

And then he’s inside me. Stretching me. Using me. Giving me more than any man ever did. Caring for me. Cupping my strapped ass and making all those little welts reignite with lava rushing to my core. My pussy grips him tighter and tighter, needier and needier.

This position could be one in which I ride him, but I am never in control when I am in Manik’s grip. He pulls me down on his cock time and time again, making me full, time and time again. He gives me everything he is, and he takes everything I am. He fucks me with heartfelt sensuality, he makes love to me. This massive, cruel, monstrous alien makes love to me with more tenderness and care than any man ever did.

I feel the space between us, the great emptiness that resonates between our species. I feel the effects of a lack of knowing, of wondering who he really is. He might be a monstrous, murderous creature, but he has to be more than that.

We come together, holding onto one another desperately, gripping and grinding and growling our lust to each other. And then everything is absolutely perfect.

And then it’s not.

Because he is still wanted, and I am still… lost.

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