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“I haven’t touched you, except to spank your spoiled, impudent bottom,” he growls. “Put it on.”
I don’t really have any choice, do I. It’s this or keep wandering around naked, and as much as I’d enjoy teasing him, there are advantages to being clothed. So I stop complaining for a minute, and I slide my legs one at a time into the suit before pulling it up over my body and zipping it in the front. Just like I thought, it snugs tight wherever there’s a curve. It’s not restrictive, but it does feel supportive, of both my ass and my breasts, most notably.
I should be grateful for how comfortable this is, I suppose.
He also provides socks in a similar, though lighter fabric, and a pair of boots that match the outfit. They too, snug in place.
“So this is all one-size-fits-most, huh,” I muse as I pull the first black boot on, finding that it comes up as high as I want it to, which in my case is just below my knee. This is actually a badass outfit. I love black clothing, and I love clothes that hug my body, and the feeling of being contained and supported is really nice. It’s like being held in a gentle, but firm continuous embrace.
“I designed that outfit for nervous humans,” he says. “Pressure is calming to your species.”
He’s not wrong. He must have studied us for years. He seems to have the kind of understanding you only get when you’ve done a really deep dive into a subject. There is an intensity to Kahn that I’d find really attractive if he wasn’t… aw, hell. I have to admit it to myself. I find him attractive. He gives me the feeling that I might have met my match — and that has never happened before.
Kahn
She looks adorable in the pet uniform I designed. She has a cute body. Her ass was made to be spanked, and her attitude practically demands discipline. I find myself uncharacteristically aroused, half-wishing I had not gotten her dressed. I can always undress her, I suppose. That will be enjoyable too. I can let her get used to the luxury of being clad, only to strip it from her, exposing her to my gaze all over again before claiming her rebellious body and making it mine….
Get a grip, Kahn.I speak to myself inside my head. Our telepathy is usually reserved for speaking to others, but sometimes I like to telepathically talk to myself. It allows me to have conversations without the inconvenience of having to tolerate anybody else’s opinions.She’s a spoiled human girl, and she’s trouble. Mating her would be a mistake.
But she’s attractive. And smart. And brave. And bold. And you like her, even though you barely know her.
A part of my mind that rarely gets to have a say speaks up from one of the deepest recesses. I’ve put away this part of me even deeper than my desire. This is my romantic side, my softer side, my capacity for love. I don’t listen to him anymore. Not after seeing how my family was destroyed by love, my father betrayed and killed by the the mother of his children. I don’t trust this softer part of myself. It is weak and it will get us all killed if I listen to it.
“Stay in the room,” I tell her. “Stay in this room. There is a bed in here you can sleep in, and I will bring you food if you need it. The ship is not yours. And touch nothing…” Looking around, I realize I cannot leave her in here. There is far too much for her to get into.
“Actually, never mind. I am going to put you in one of the human containment rooms. It will be more suitable.”
“Sounds like a cell.”
“It is smaller, but also has a bed.”
“Is that what you think people want? Beds?”
“I think not having a bed is very uncomfortable for a human, but if you’d like to continue to be ungrateful for what you are given, I can remove it.”
I see her eyes widen a fraction as she digests my words. They are designed to remind her that she is here at my pleasure, and that everything she has comes from me. They are supposed to put her in her place. They absolutely fail to do that.
“Such a fucking asshole,” she curses under her breath.
She’s rude and she’s self-possessed. She’s not going to be grateful to me for small mercies because it doesn’t occur to her that she needs to be grateful. She thinks the universe owes her something, and therefore, I owe her something.
The temptation to spank her again, this time for no reason other than she is a spoiled little brat, rises in me. She could do with a series of painful lessons. Perhaps they would teach her some humility and appreciation.
Then again, if being shot didn’t bring her down a peg or two, as the humans say, perhaps nothing will. Or… perhaps being shot did bring her down a peg or two, and she was even more insufferable beforehand. She is an unknown quantity, one I intend to become entirely knowledgeable about.
“Come with me,” I say. “We will find a suitable room for you.”
“It better have more than just a bed, or I’m going to fucking riot,” she replies.
“Oh? What other accoutrements does the lady require?”
She glances up at me, and even from her relatively diminutive height, I see that she has the spark of a little dominance in her. She does not like being spoken down to. She likes to be taken seriously. I suppose I can understand that.
“I need some form of entertainment so I don’t go completely fucking mental,” she replies brashly. “And I need to be able to exercise. And ideally, I need to be able to, uhm, escape.”
I laugh inadvertently at that last addition.
“Where would you escape to, even if you could? We are on a ship light years from your home.”
