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She clenched her jaw and glared at him, her resistance returning. “That’s none of your business,” she snapped.
“It is exactly my business. I have long studied your race. You have a knack for internalizing a lesson quickly with the right reinforcement. This is my version of reinforcement. We will walk to your quarters, disrobed, so that all can see your inability to obey. I will remount the trainer into you. Then we will return here for the next lesson.” He issued a simmering look at her. “Only obedient girls wear clothing. Disobedient girls must be taught a lesson. You must be brought down to your proper place if you cannot obey the rules.”
She stared at him.
His lips seemed to resist a faint smile as he added, “You can always choose to beg for forgiveness.”
This final sentence traveled through like a destructive wind. The prospect of being marched up and down the gangway naked, for everyone to see, then being marched back with the plug very visible to all, twisted inside her. She didn’t want that, she insisted to herself. The cold feeling in her chest spread out, raising the hairs on her arms and making her squirm.
But the thought of begging Torian not to do this, too, came with a cold, humiliating burn. She considered indulging him, indulging herself. Either option was humiliating, and she wanted to object to both as much as she secretly, shamefully wanted to be subjected to them both as well.
But her resolve to be defiant—that was always her original resolve, wasn’t it?—returned to her, tipping the scales. She tipped her head back, chin held high. “Whatever,” she muttered. She walked toward the exit, taking care to swing her arms as if she didn’t care about it at all.
She passed him and stepped out into the corridor. The lights, which had been a pleasant temperature when she first arrived, now seemed far brighter, the glare making her wince. Had they been turned up or was it her imagination? Was it that she was about to be paraded down the corridor half-naked that had her squinting?
The shift she’d been wearing when she first arrived had been sheer but had at least provided some protection against prying eyes. This time there was no doubt or question that everyone they passed would be able to see everything.
Torian walked out behind her. The hatch slid shut. Instead of breaking into his usual brisk stride, he took a more leisurely pace.
She shuffled along next to him, her unsupported breasts bouncing and swaying as she walked. The hard steel gangway cooled her feet. She heard voices down the corridor. When she saw three females round a corner ahead, she hung her head, shame nearly overwhelming her senses.
They approached the women, who looked to be cooks from the mess. The three quickly stepped out of the way and stood at attention by the wall for Torian. But as she passed them, they stared at her wide-eyed. One of them opened her mouth and shook her head, obviously aghast at what she was seeing.
Quaia maintained her poise, despite her appearance. She reminded herself she’d never see these females again once this ordeal was over. There was no sense in getting upset about them seeing her like this, she told herself.
But for some unknowable, infernal reason, her body reacted by further lubricating the space between her legs. Her nipples stiffened. Arousal coursed through her. As if she were actually enjoying what was being done to her. She found that impossible to comprehend.
Even as many eyes, males and females alike, followed her, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, she couldn’t shake Torian’s words from her head. Only obedient girls wear clothing. Disobedient girls must be taught a lesson. You must be brought down to your proper place if you cannot obey the rules.
Her eyes ended up on the walkway in front of her, but she didn’t need to look up and see the faces of those she passed to know they were staring at her. Torian’s words continued to wriggle in her thoughts, snaking through her to reverberate between her legs, the same way her own juices trickled down her thighs for all to see.
Finally, they made it to the quarters she’d slept in. Torian opened the hatch and beckoned her inside. The space felt small and seemed to close in around her as he followed her in.
“Bring me the implement,” he demanded, his voice calm and rational, almost curved with tenderness. Firm. She could feel the heat of his body behind her, like radiation, prickling her skin.
She obeyed silently, walking to the bathroom and plucking the trainer from the sink before returning to face him. His gaze was calm and steady, but something simmered in his eyes, so she had to force herself to look at him. She held the object out for him as his stern expression dissolved her.
He wrapped his paw-like hand around it without taking his eyes off hers. He moved her closer to the desk with a hand on her shoulder, the heat of his touch rippling through her body and making her nipples hard. “Turn,” he ordered.
She obeyed, placing her hands on the desk. Already she could feel her body expecting the next stimulation, maybe even craving it. Seven Suns. What was wrong with her? This was all wrong, all so… against her sense of who she was. She must not give in to it, she thought.
“No,” Torian said. “This time you will hold yourself open for me.”
The deep rumble of his powerful voice touched a very sensitive spot inside her. There was something in his tone, something hungry, that made it sound like this was no longer just a clinical exercise. That perhaps he, too, was enjoying this on some level. In turn, it caused hope to flutter in her chest and then burn inside her. Her own reactions were more humiliating than anything.
She fought back against that notion that she’d heard something excited in his voice. She’d made the mistake once already of allowing herself to believe he cared for her in any way. She was determined not to repeat it.
She moved one hand to her bottom, unsure of what he wanted exactly. She wanted to please him, and she hated that she did. When he didn’t respond to this, she awkwardly rested her chest on the table to reach behind her with the other hand. Her own hands warmed her tender skin, and she pulled her cheeks apart hesitantly. Picturing herself only aroused her more, and her pussy clenched and dripped despite her praying that it wouldn’t.
“That’s very good, Quaia,” he said softly, his voice running over the sound of lubricant squirting onto the device.
She gasped and flinched when the cold tip touched her anus. Torian twisted the device, making the lubricant spread around. Her fingers trembled and he touched them, stroking the pads. “Hold yourself open. Display your submission and your obedience.”
She obeyed, the simple act of doing so making her shudder with the perverse, unbelievable pleasure of obeying. The cool tip pressed, and a sharp pain made her mewl before it was inside her, and started to stretch her.
“The pleasure of this device can only be felt when you cease to resist it,” Torian’s low voice purred behind her, as his free hand brushed delicately over her lower back. “Your body must be told to do what is best for it, not what it’s inclined to do. Push out, and you will open up, and then you will be rewarded with pleasure.”
She was getting hot; a cold sweat was forming on her skin. Torian’s bristly fur scraped her wrists and her back, and the plug continued to press in. But his hypnotic voice lulled her into obedience; she pushed out, doubting the advice. And then it slipped inside her, and pressed against the sore patches pleasantly. A tear threatened to fall from her right eye, but the pain was gone, and now she only felt a fullness and pleasure.
