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My response does not come quick enough. I have barely parted my lips to reply when his hand comes down on my bottom in a punishing slap, which turns what might have been an apology into a screech of pain.
“You must obey me, Aspel,” he growls. “I have told you this many times before, but for some reason you seem to be unable to grasp the concept. Sometimes the lesson must be harsher before it can be learned. So I will not limit myself to my finger in this tight dirty hole of yours. You will take all of me there.”
I whimper as he withdraws the finger and replaces it with the head of his cock. Bent over, my fingers holding the soft, pillowy cheeks of my bottom spread, I submit to his punishment.
It is not easy. It is not without pain. This is not a part of my body that was meant to be penetrated, and with every part of him sinking inside me, it tells me as much. There is ache and there is sting, there is shame and there is another reaction I do not quite understand.
“You’re wet,” he says bluntly. The tip of his cock is inside my ass, but his fingers go to my pussy and scoop the viscous fluid of my desire around the shaft of his dick, making it easier for him to slide deeper. I am now fully complicit in my own punishment, giving myself to him without reservation.
“Bad, bad little human,” he growls. “Vishnua slicksik makhrashi…”
I know I am in trouble when he lapses into his native tongue and slams deep inside my bottom with one rough thrust. I scream, but the sound of my cries is lost in the triumphant growling of my master who is ravaging me freely. The tight ring of muscle that once tried to keep him out now pleasures him, loosening just enough to allow his impossible thickness to penetrate me over and over with punishing thrusts accompanied by hard slaps to my submissively presented cheeks.
Master Isu uses me until he comes. He does not care for my pleasure, because this is punishment, but he cannot stop the tingling in my clit or the way my pussy drips with lust. I do not think I could ever be with him without being overwhelmed with arousal. He has become absolutely everything to me in a very short period of time. I am ashamed at having led us both into danger, and I accept my punishment, thrust by thrust until he cries out with alien release and floods my bowels with his heated seed.
“Get up,” he says, slapping my ass. There is no time for me to receive pleasure, or even pain.
“What now?” I know I shouldn’t ask the question, but I cannot help myself.
“I’m taking you back to the burrow,” he says. “And I’ll deal with you further there. You will learn to obey your master, Aspel, or you will not sit comfortably for a very long time.”
“What will you do to me?” I cannot imagine what he could do more than what he has already done. I am dripping with his cum, and not from the proper hole for such things. He has repurposed my ass for his pleasure, and I know there is no limit to what he might otherwise do.
Isu looks at me with eyes black as night and an expression as grim as the line to the parts factory. “I will make sure you never disobey me again.”
I feel that wave of simultaneous guilt and fear wash over me again. This was my fault. I should never have disobeyed, but I did not know the horrors of this world. The farm sheltered me from the worst the universe has to inflict upon hapless, soft, sentient life. It is cruel, I think to myself, that I am able to see pain and destruction coming, but not be able to avoid it.
“Come,” Master Isu says, beckoning me up from the ground. “The wyrm has quietened. We may be able to make our way back before she rises again.”
I follow him, knowing obedience is my only option. My survival depends on this big, brutal alien and his ability to navigate the dangerous world I now inhabit with him.
He leads me out onto the surface, a place I once craved, and now fear. I find myself crouching low to the ground, moving in a skulking, skittering motion. I don’t know where I am going. One direction seems much like another on this planet devoid of geography, but Isu knows.
It takes far longer than I would have thought. The storm has swept us several hours away from the burrow. With every step I feel the grit of the sand against my feet, my mouth and throat becoming dry for lack of liquid. I don’t dare ask him for water. We had what his prey bled and nothing more to drink.
