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His lecture is short, but harsh. He doesn’t know me, but somehow he’s breaking through all the shells and walls I’ve put up over the years. I feel my lower lip start to quiver. I must be sick or something, weak from my injuries. I am absolutely NOT going to cry for this big, mean, fanged and tusked alien who talks to me like I’m his personal problem and who has made my ass burn like it’s on fire.
Just when I think I will completely melt into a puddle of tears and hot contrition, he stands me up between his legs, takes my chin in his big, scaled, alien hand, and directs my gaze toward his. He has the most piercing blue eyes. Looking into them makes my heart skip a beat. I try to lower my eyes, but he doesn’t allow that evasion.
“Look at me,” he insists.
I look at him, my eyes meeting his stern, judgmental gaze. It’s a look that makes me swallow hard. I am in so much fucking trouble. I may never have been in this much trouble in my entire life.
“I don't know where you came from,” he says. “Or how you got yourself so sick and wounded, but you are in my care now. Understand? You will be obedient, you will be polite, and you will act with decorum — or you will suffer the consequences.”
This damn near headmaster speech is emerging from the wild, scaled, tusked and fanged face of a creature so much larger than me I am made to feel positively diminutive in comparison. My chastised mind does not know how to respond to this kind of energy from this kind of being.
Rebellious as I am, and will always be, for the moment, I nod.
2MY MISTAKE
Kahn
It was a mistake to keep this human on board, but she was so sick she could not be safely returned to Earth when the others were returned. Arkan is busy with his pet, and there is a small contingent of soldiers on board who he is ostensibly in charge of, so, since this little human’s arrival on this ship, I have been the one checking in on her multiple times a day, monitoring her vitals and ensuring that she is improving.
It is actually a pleasure to see her awake, and feeling so well that she has immediately broken through the shielding designed to keep her in a bio-safe environment. But that pleasure is immediately tainted by the realization that this human is wild. I already know by the defiant glint in her eye which, yes, remains even though she is being contrite for the moment, that she is not of a suitable temperament to be a pet.
I have trained hundreds of humans in my time. I know their anatomy, their psychology, and I am adept in their care. The humans best able to adapt to being owned by aliens such as ourselves are ones with a softer temperament who are amenable to being cared for and easily show affection and gratitude. This young lady does not fall into any of those categories.
And yet, she remains my problem and my responsibility.
At some point during the punishment, Arkan must have ushered his human pet away. That gives this human and me some privacy, which is a good thing. Humans quite often play off one another, and Arkan’s pet is also of a rebellious temperament. I wouldn’t put it past her to have created some of this agitated state in this woman just for amusement’s sake.
I make sure the door is locked before gently but firmly steering this hot-bottomed human into the nearest corner.
“You can stand there and think about what you’ve done while I clean up your mess.”
She does as she is told, which even after mere minutes of knowing her as a conscious creature feels like a significant win. Very rebellious humans will continue to misbehave even when they are at their limit for tolerating discipline. This is obviously a challenge for any alien who imagines he or she might make a good owner. Humans like these need firm boundaries. I leave her pants down, displaying her bottom, knowing that the added vulnerability of being deprived of her covering will make the lesson stick all the more.
Once I have swept all the broken pieces of the barrier away and disassembled the rest of it for insertion into the ship’s matter recycling system, I turn my attention back to the young female.
“You may pull your pants up. I want you back up on the bed. I need to see if you have done any damage to yourself as a result of running through a barrier.”
“If I got damaged, it was from you beating my ass,” she argues, immediately intemperate.
I don’t want to hear her arguing, so I simply pick her up under her arms and lift her onto the hospital bed, putting her where I need her.
I prefer to choose the humans I train, but there is nobody left on this ship to look after this girl except me. This brash, rude, undisciplined little human is now my problem, and I intend to take full and proper responsibility for her.
Unfortunately, I feel as though I have already failed in that regard. I should have checked her medically before spanking her. She’s been very ill and she’s only just woken up and here I am, whipping her bottom as if she’s perfectly sound.
I was rash. I was annoyed at her destructiveness and her brash behavior, and she paid for it.
Though I feel guilty, I know the only meaningful thing to do about a mistake is rectify it.
“Lie down,” I tell her.
She doesn’t obey, so I press her back down against the bed, her breasts soft beneath parts of my palm as my hand splays across her chest to ensure her obedience.
“Down,” I growl. “When I give you an order, you follow it.”
She makes a disgruntled sound, mixed with a yelp from the pressure of her sore ass being pressed more firmly into the firm bed.
I take the medical scanner we use for humans and run it over the length of her body. She has been fighting a great internal battle. The scanner shows that she has almost entirely recovered from a significantly serious infection, and that the wound from the brutally archaic bullet she was hit with has also largely healed.
