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I soften my slaps and rub her red flesh. She can be coaxed and punished alternately into understanding her new situation, but I will not be finished with her, and she will not orgasm again until she submits. I can see the wetness between her thighs. I can feel it slicking my fingers when I drag them down the inside of her legs in a soft caress.
“You belong to me, Jem. The moment you took my cock, you became mine. You chose me. I fought for you, and I won. Now we are bonded, and nothing on this planet, or off it, will change that.”
She lets out a little whimper. “That can’t be true.”
“Why not?”
“Because I have to be mine.”
“You are still yours,” I laugh. “But you are also mine. Understood?”
She squirms and lets out a little sound that is closer to a middling response than a negative or positive one. That’s progress. She will not be as hard to tame as she pretends to be.
I’ll reward her for that. And myself, as well. I am yearning to be inside her. My cock is rock hard and seeping with pre-seed. This human demands to be mated, every bit of her body, every moan she makes, every arch of her hips and grinding of her red rear. Jem was made to be mated.
I kneel between her knees, grip her hips and pull her backward onto my cock. She slides onto me, her cunt like a sheath. That human flesh wraps around me, perfectly tight around my cock. We let out a mutual sigh of satisfaction too long delayed.
I pull her back and forth, working her over my shaft, using her like the pretty little human fuck toy she is. Her curves are generous, but compared to my massive form, she is a light little thing. I pull her all the way back, seating my cock as far inside her as it will go. Holding her there, I make certain she understands.
“Who do you belong to?”
Jem
Fuck, he will just not let this go. His dominance and possession are both intense, and now that I am stretched around him, I find arguing with him much harder because I do feel as though I belong to him. His flesh is spearing me through to the very core of me. My pussy is not just being fucked, it is being taken. He is showing me his ownership, and I am submitting to it.
A sharp slap to my vulnerable ass reminds me that he asked a question and expects an answer.
“Ow!”
“I’ll enjoy spanking you while you squeeze and squirm on my cock,” he growls, his voice deliciously deep. “This feels even better to me than just being inside you.”
He proves that by slapping me once, twice, thrice more, setting the hot sting he left in my cheeks alight again. He’s right. It does feel good. In fact, it doesn’t hurt at all now. Heat and sting don’t feel like shameful punishment when I am stretched wide around a hot cock. They feel like extra pleasure, fresh sensation. My pussy grips his cock harder, and my hips dance in a way I cannot control. I am bouncing on his alien dick, giving myself to him, taking his punishment, but not submitting.
“Fuck,” he grunts. “Hold still.”
But I can’t be still, and neither can he. I hear the moment he gives up with a rough animal growl and instead pins me down in front of him and fucks me hard and fast, as if this is the only way he has any hope of teaching me his lesson of possession.
His fucking is powerful and so is the orgasm that rushes through me as he fucks and fills me, first with cock and then with cum. He wants to mark me. He wants to take me. He wants me to be entirely his. My toes curl and tingle, my fingers grasp at the sheets of his now messy bed, and I scream my orgasm throughout his cozy den.
“Fuck! Gruff! Fuck!”
I sound desperate and filthy. I sound powerless and passionate. I can feel my body milking him, my inner walls working his alien rod with human desire for seed. I get every drop of his alien cum before he pulls out of my now tender, aching, well-rutted pussy, leaving me dripping again.
We are both breathing heavily as he palms my ass. “Do you understand, Jem?”
“Yes,” I say, my breath ragged. I understand. I don’t agree, but I do understand.
5
Days pass, and though I am my own person and do not need permission to leave, I do not leave Gruff’s home. I think about it from time to time, but then I find some convenient and delicious food, or watch Strumpet play with the other does, and I lose motivation to run away. I keep it in mind as something I might do later, when I get time. I tell myself that I’m of course going to be leaving soon. I’m not giving up or giving in. Even if I have slept with him every single night since my arrival. Even if every time I look at him I feel myself giving into that chemistry and my own arousal.
I have somewhat lost track of time and come dangerously close to giving into his wishes, when an unexpected arrival abruptly reminds me that this is not my world, and my place in it is not assured.
“Who is that trip-trapping over my bridge?”
Gruff muses the question one long and languid afternoon. The light has just begun to change in quality, from the bright excitement of a warm afternoon toward the slow growing of eventual night. I am making my first dinner. Because of the strangely long day and night cycles, I eat Breakfast, Lunch, Second Lunch, Dinner, second Dinner, and usually midnight snack, which is more like third Dinner.
I don’t know what he’s talking about until a voice rings out from outside.
