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12
Lyssa
“Are you sure this is really necessary?”
I am nervous. And I am naked. This is a punishment for doubting my place. And it is another of Manik’s lessons for his subjects. Now that he has an entire planet to dominate, he is more intense than ever.
“It is absolutely necessary. And I think you will enjoy it. You have some twisted desires locked away in that pretty human head of yours. Submit to me, and you will feel no pain. Fight me, and I will make more of an example of you than ever.” He looks down at me with those flashing golden eyes. “You are my pet,” he reminds me. “Forever. In all things. And as you are trained, so will my subjects be.”
Manik has taken me into a very grand hall where he has told everybody he intends to make an announcement on the future of the planet. There are thousands of his richest, most powerful citizens present, thronging the hall. Some of them seem pleased, others look outright scared. This world has been in chaos and I doubt they trust Manik to…
“DIE!”
A loyalist to Enchante rushes at Manik from the curtains at the edge of the stage. He is wearing the uniform of a server, and he has the kind of mad intensity in his eyes that marks the actions of a zealot.
Manik kills him so casually and so easily it is almost like it doesn’t happen at all. One moment the assassin is rushing with a knife, the next he is lying on the ground with a broken neck.
A couple of servants rush in and sweep the body away. They seem disturbingly practiced in the act. The crowd seems barely affected. I can only imagine what typical assemblies are like on this world of particularly volatile and warlike aliens.
“Hear me well!” Manik announces.
The assassination attempt distracted me from my human nudity for long enough that I didn’t feel the flushing shame and the light tug of the collar. Manik has brought me before his people as a captive trophy. He tried to prepare me for this moment, but I do not think you can be prepared for finding yourself bared and exposed to an entire hall of aliens.
There’s a hush in the hall, a sort of general low-level terror. This is the effect Manik has on others. He’s never really had it on me, not for long. I have become comfortable with his monstrous capacity for complete and total violence because I know in my gut he would never turn it on me. They cannot be so certain.
“This human was sent to kill me. Out of the many thousands who were sent, she was the only one to survive. Do you know how she survived?”
Nobody answers, and instead of telling them, he shows them.
He lifts me up in his powerful hands with my back to him. I face the crowd as he spreads my thighs, one in each hand, and pulls me back against him. I feel his cock head seeking the entrance of my body, as it has so many times before. This could be an act of humiliation, but it feels like one of celebration. My human impulses for sexual shame are washed away by the first full thrust deep inside me. I am his cock puppet, his human tool and toy. I am here, but I am not here. I am an object to be displayed, and a thing to be used. I am treasured and pleasured.
If Stan could see me now, he might see a shamed woman being defiled by a brutal alien king. Or he might see a woman who survived him and found a much richer guy with a much bigger dick. I like to think he would see the latter.
Another thrust, and all thoughts of Stan are driven from my head. I belong to Manik. My flesh is his flesh, my thoughts are his thoughts. I cannot feel my separateness as I once did. Instead, I feel like a floating consciousness inhabiting a flow of pure pleasure, neurons and nerves all dedicated to the highest cause of feeling deeply good.
Everybody can see the place we are joined, his big thick cock stretching my pussy lips lewdly wide. I should object to this base display, but I think Manik is proving a point to me as much as he is to everybody else.
I writhe, my hips squirming, his cock matching my movements both externally and internally as he thrusts slowly in and out of me, making me an example and proving a point. He will never be vulnerable to the courtly machinations of the nobility again because he will never be emotionally vulnerable again. I am not just his fuck toy. I am his mate. I am his shield. I am his everything.
As pleasure starts to become unbearably potent, I start to cry out. My cries become his cries, and his cries become the cries of the crowd. The air is thick with pheromones and the crowd is caught up in this sexual sacrificial display almost as much as I am. Manik is mentally impaling them on his massive prehensile cock. He is mind fucking them, showing them something they’ve never seen before, exposing them to his most intimate, decadent dominance. I writhe against him, my hips dancing, my pussy grinding with soaking need around that rippling rod.
I am going to come, or have I already come? I can’t tell. The waves of orgasmic energy are ripping through me back and forth, my whimpers and moans are being taken up and exaggerated by the crowd and either somewhere drumming has begun, or that is my own hammering pulse as Manik fills me with his royal seed before lifting me off his rod like an inverted chalice and letting his hot cum pour down the insides of my thighs all the way to the floor.
I am wrapped in his arms as he rams the final lesson home to the onlookers.
“She submitted. She obeyed. She took her punishment. You will need to do all of these things if you wish to survive in the coming months and years.”
“You’re crazy!”
“He’s crazy!”
A few desperate, brave dissidents raise their voices, but their cries are not taken up by the greater whole. The king has returned, and he has come not in blood and fury, but in dominance and commitment. He has cast a primal spell over all those present, and we all know whoever leaves here today without learning his lesson will surely come to ruin.
“I am,” Manik replies to his critics. “And it is time you got crazy too. In this room are several of Enchante’s ladies-in-waiting. Each of them has a choice now. They may pick a lord, or lords to act as guardians over their wayward, willful ways, to watch over them as they attempt to atone for their many sins, or they may choose exile. No female will be forced against her will. Submission must be a choice.”
I had no idea this part was going to happen, but I suppose it makes sense that the queen had some female allies in the court. I know Manik does not like to kill women, that was half the reason he ended up in exile originally. But a punishment and a claiming like this is intense indeed.
The ladies are brought forward, a dozen conspiratoressses. That’s not a word, but it should be. They have the grace to look a little ashamed.
