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“Let me go. Don’t waste my fucking time or yours. Because I’m telling you, big guy. I’ve beaten bigger, smarter, meaner things than you.”
“I am an alien of the likes most of your species has never seen.”
He is big, that’s true. And yes, he has tusks and fangs. And yes, he has the bluest eyes of all time, and when he looks at me it feels like I’m being regarded by a deep and intense iceberg of a man — because for some reason I keep thinking of him as a man no matter how alien he is. His hair is thick and blue, swept to the side in a way that makes him look restrained and refined.
He’s hot.
But I’m not here to drop my now nonexistent panties for a hot guy, alien or not. I have my own mission to attend to. That means getting as far away from the city I came from as possible. Looks like I’ve achieved that. If I end up being owned by some freaky alien, the whole thing was pointless. I’ve got to convince every male who comes near me that I’m more trouble than I’m worth. I’m well on the way with Kahn.
“You are a wild little thing,” he growls. “You are badly behaved. You are rude. You are not suitable as a pet.”
“Good! I don’t want to be a pet. What is that supposed to mean?”
“Our species has a fondness for well-behaved humans. They live in our homes, their every need tended to. They are loved and they are cherished and they live out their lives in peace and safety.”
It sounds nice, too nice. The idea of being loved and cherished does make me feel a little weak at the knees, though I can’t let that be known, so I fall back on an old go-to and make a gagging sound.
“Gross,” I say, rejecting all notion of love. “Is that what happened to the girl with the pink hair? She fucks that other long-haired guy? What is he? Your brother?”
“She is my brother’s pet. Yes. She was reluctant at first, but she was trained. As you will be. You may not be suited to being owned, but you will learn to submit to my rule.”
“I’m not submitting to shit, asshole.”
Kahn releases my face and stands up, drawing in a deep breath. “You are combative,” he says. “You are poorly behaved. You are…”
I put my hands to the collar, wondering if I can take it off. It feels a little looser than it did before. The second my fingers touch it, it snugs up again. I’ve got to be real. This feels less like a piece of clothing and more like a sentient being wrapped around my throat, jacked into my body. It reads my intent. Or it seems to.
I don’t believe in a mind-reading strip of alien leather, though. There’s got to be a trick to this. Something I’m missing. I run my fingers over the indentations and ridges and such. There’s stuff inside the collar, but it’s not thick enough to contain all that much machinery.
“How does this work?”
I don’t think he’s actually going to tell me, but then he actually does. An expression of pleasure crosses his handsome alien face, along with pride. I make a bunch of deductions almost instantly. He made this thing. He wants to talk about it. I bet nobody ever listens to him when he talks about these little technical details. I bet he’s been in this room for god knows how long, putting together his twisted control devices, his dark genius unappreciated by those around him.
“It has certain capacities linked to our telepathic abilities.”
“You mean you’re controlling it with your mind.”
“Yes, that’s a simple way of putting it.”
Interesting. That means if he doesn’t know I’m doing something bad, then maybe the collar won’t know either. Maybe it’s not actually as smart of a device as I imagined it to be.
He looks at me. I look up at him. There is a moment in which we both size one another up and realize we’re both in trouble. I don’t think this guy is going to let me go. I don’t think he’s going to give in just because I’m hard to deal with. He has the demeanor of someone who likes challenges and problems.
Kahn
I am not temperamentally suited to the task of handing a badly behaved woman. Or at least, I did not think I was. But now I see my invention securely around the neck of a pet who needs it, and I see how well it is working, I have to wonder why I made it at all if I did not want to contend with a difficult woman.
I have been preparing for her, I realize. I have been making tools and developing strategies for just such an occasion.
“Sit up on your knees,” I order. “Your training may as well begin now.”
To my surprise, she obeys me. She stops trying to hide any parts of her body that she considers shameful and just does as she is told. In the process, she exposes her breasts and the soft curve of her belly. She shows me who she is, embracing her femininity. There is a kind of defiance in her expression. She is submitting physically, but there is no submission in those eyes.
I wonder if this is a test on her part. She is seeing what I want to do with her. Almost certainly. She is probably just curious as to what I want. That may be one of my biggest points of leverage with this pretty young human. Her curiosity, her rebellion, and her intellect. She is clearly far from stupid, even if she is reckless.
The motion and the position make her ass press against the backs of her calves. This pressure reignites some of the sensation the collar created just a few minutes ago. I hear a slightly hissed intake of breath, and I see the wriggle of her hips as she both tries to avoid the feeling, then settles down into it.
I feel a flicker of arousal while watching her. She is very appealing in her visage and in her body. Even after illness and recovering from a wound, she has a certain vitality about her. I remind myself that I need to be careful. She has been sick. And while her attitude and her mouth are busy creating all manner of reasons for punishment and discipline, her body is unlikely to be able to handle any of it.
