The Alien's Captive (7 page)

Chapter Seven

“Again.” Bron was sitting on a high chair just above where Phaedra was once again forcing herself down onto the polished floor. To his right was a holoscreen showing the nine required pet postures. Phaedra had mastered two—the basic kneel and the supplicant—but was having trouble with the first of three presentations.

From the short conversation that Phaedra had with Matron Sharad, she’d expected this sort of training. What she’d not expected was the audience. Bron had informed her that once she’d mastered her postures, she’d be presented in a very public and televised assembly. But the training itself was done in a sort of arena that reminded Phaedra of a medical theater, where the elite males came to catch glimpses of the newest Earth Pets.

“Again.”

“I can’t.” The position required Phaedra to sink to her knees and arch her back, thrusting her ochre-tipped breasts with their jeweled nipples forward. But try as she might, she could not get the correct angle to her back to signal the success tone that filled the chamber when she got a position right.

She stood, without his permission. “I tried,” she said. “I can’t do it.”

There was a murmur from above.

“You will try again,” he said. “Or you’ll get the loop.”

She flushed, her face warm from strain and humiliation as she dropped back into position, guided by the disembodied voice of the on-screen instructor to retry the position. “Shins pressed into the mat, back arched slightly back, palms forward, chest out, out, out. Bend, bend, bend.”

Phaedra knew why she was having difficulty. It wasn’t physical. It was mental. The garment she was dressed in consisted of little more than a short, sheer skirt and a harness that crisscrossed under her breasts, lifting them obscenely upward. To tilt her chest toward the man who called himself her master in such a lascivious fashion went against everything she believed. But the thought of public punishment, of having her bottom stung by that horrible implement as these strangers watched? That was worse.

The tone sounded and Bron rose from his chair to the sound of smattering applause from the audience.

“Open your mouth, pet,” he said, and Phaedra obeyed, trying not to show the resentment she felt as Bron popped a small sweet treat onto her tongue. It immediately melted into the most delightful flavor reminiscent of ripe summer fruit and butter and cream. But beyond that, it gave her a temporary sense of well-being.

“You please me,” he said, and the shadow of a smile crossed his face.

“Three out of nine? At this rate, she’ll be ready for next year’s assembly…” A reedy voice caught her attention and Phaedra, still kneeling, turned to see a tall, elegant Traoian male in sapphire robes walking in leading a cat-eyed brunette on a golden leash. The woman was wearing what looked like a breastplate, but with holes that exposed her breasts. The breastplate was short, ending at the middle of her ribcage. From there, the garment was looked like a golden waterfall that fell to mid-thigh. The sandals the brunette wore were laced to the top of her calves by golden straps. Phaedra couldn’t help but to stare.

The man jerked the leash attached to a thin gold collar, pulling the slave to him.

“First presentation,” he said, and the brunette dropped, beautifully arching her back and presenting her nipples. Her master reached out and pinched both so hard that Phaedra gasped. But the slave only moaned with pleasure.

“Very good, Dakara. Stand.”

She rose, and now she too was staring at Phaedra with something between condescension and hatred.

“Senator Primus,” Bron said. “I wasn’t expecting you to be back from your campaign to Sector 3.”

“I’m sure you were hoping I’d miss the embarrassment of this display. My Dakara mastered all the positions in the first day.” He reached out and ran a hand down her hair, as one might pet an animal. “Your little flame-haired pet is unusual and comely, that I will concede. But I must ask, General Bron—was she injured during transport? There must be some explanation for her obvious learning disability?” Beside him, the brunette smirked.

Phaedra found herself riled by this insult to her intelligence. “Not all of us were born simple beasts. For some, it takes longer for us to lose our identity and bow to simple males.” The words were out of Phaedra’s mouth before she could stop them, and the shocked silence of the others had Phaedra quickly realizing her mistake.

“Well…” Senator Primus smiled broadly. “She’s surely eloquent, and bold enough to dishonor you, General Bron. Tell me, do you plan to give her a platform at the assembly? Perhaps have her emasculate you publicly by speaking in your stead? She certainly is good at it.” He chuckled. “My, oh, my. And you’re the man seeking to convince this district of your strong ‘leadership’ skills? Well, let’s just say I have my doubts.” He looked down at Phaedra. “It was nice to see you, little human. I’m sure I speak for everyone when I say I look forward to the outcome of this battle of wills. It will be interesting to see which one emerges as master, and which as pet. Come along, Dakara.”

She’d humiliated him.

That much was apparent even before Phaedra looked into the disapproving eyes of General Bron. And it gave her mixed feelings. On one hand, she’d been dehumanized and humiliated since her arrival. On the other hand, what happened left her unsettled. Senator Primus had clearly baited her. If she’d trusted her instincts, she’d have ignored his barbs and remained silent. What had she done?

“I’m taking you home.” The statement was delivered coolly.

“I can try again. With the positions, I mean.” Phaedra felt a sudden sense of dread and put aside her pride to try to repair the damage. “I can go onto the next position.”

“No.” Bron took her arm. “I clearly need to conduct some sessions privately. Senator Primus is correct. You are overly proud, Phaedra.”

“Are you going to beat me?” Her voice was shaking.

“No. What I have in store is something much more effective.”

She felt sick as the pod sped back to this compound. The loop had been terrible, but obviously General Bron didn’t think it was enough.

He’d removed the leash from the thin silver collar she wore, but now as he snapped it back on, she noticed that General Bron’s touch was rough. She could feel his power, his irritation. And those two things combined made Phaedra feel very small.

Think!
Her mind screamed the word.
There has to be some way out of this!
But she knew there was not. If she ran, it would be useless since she couldn’t breathe the air.

You can fight back. Resist.
But she’d already been spanked nearly raw for passively resisting. If she actively struck him, what would he do?

Phaedra dropped her hand to her thigh and pinched, childishly praying as she did that this was all just a dream and that she’d wake up. But there was no escape from her reality, and as the pod pulled up and locked onto the entrance of Bron’s huge edifice, she knew whatever he had planned could not be avoided.

As they entered, even Jollin seemed to know his master was in no mood to be disturbed. He all but melted into the background as the general walked in with his pet reluctantly in tow. Phaedra did not ask where he was taking her, but knew it was not to her quarters. And she did not have to ask moments later where she was. There was no mistaking Bron’s private bedchamber. The furnishings were all Traoian—heavy, imposing, with lots of odd carvings and fabrics in colors that did not exist on Earth’s spectrum.

His bed was huge and high, and before she knew it, General Bron was picking her up and depositing Phaedra on top. She rose up on all fours, backing away from him to the edge, but did not go any further; it was quite a drop.

She looked back, her eyes big and fearful. And she knew she must present the very image of an owned thing, crouched there as she was on all fours with her breasts exposed and her ass barely covered by the short, sheer skirt. She was bare underneath, save for the little gold cap covering her clit. As she watched, Bron shed his thin metal breastplate. His chest was bare and broad as he stood there only in his tight trousers, his cock visibly straining.

He grabbed the leash, jerking her forward so that she was splayed on the mattress. Then he joined her there, saying nothing as he held her down while his fingers undid the straps of the harness. Phaedra was naked when he flipped her over onto her back and deftly snapped two cuffs onto her slim wrists. He attached the cuffs to a short leash on a swivel mount attached to the headboard. Only then did he remove the leash. For a moment, he stared down at her, saying nothing. When he finally spoke, his voice was deep, hard.

“Today,” he said, “I teach you control.”

Her heart was pounding. What did he mean? He was completely silent as he loomed over her, but then a finger dropped to her collarbone and trailed lightly down her skin, and something in so light a touch from so huge a man caused a shudder to run through Phaedra’s small body. When that finger reached her breast, the tip of it circled the areola, sending tiny goosebumps of flesh on her skin and causing her nipple to harden almost painfully.

She could feel the wetness starting to form between her legs as his finger now circled the other nipple. Phaedra scrunched her eyes shut tight and squeezed her thighs together, as if that could stop the throbbing of her pussy. When she opened her eyes, she could see Bron looking down at those clamped thighs, and when he dragged his gaze up to hers, she could tell he knew her body was already betraying her. The corner of his mouth was curved up in a knowing smirk, and at that moment Phaedra’s anger flared.

“No!” She began to pull against the restraints, to kick her legs, to arch away from Bron while calling him every vile name she could think of. And he—the beast!—was perfectly calm as he raised her legs high and held them as he began to spank her with hard, heavy blows.

“Owwww!” Her first spanking had been over his lap. This was worse somehow; now on her back, she could see him restraining her legs, could see the sternness on his handsome features as he punished her bottom with a wide, open hand. Her protests and profanities turned to sobs and pleas as that hard hand fell and fell and fell. He did not spank her quickly, but methodically, carefully timing the blows and letting her whimper in expectation of each one. He was suspending her in a full state of helplessness, forcing her to connect with it.

Where the other spanking had been corrective, this one sent a message: I have all the time in the world to spank your bottom. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.

The burn of the spanks went subdermal. Her bottom felt as if it were throbbing. Each spank echoed through the room. When Phaedra looked back in one frantic, pain-filled moment, she could see Bron staring between her kicking legs. This made her wail even louder, for she knew what he saw—an exposed pussy glistening wet with need.

“Please!” Her voice was hoarse now, and she could barely expel the word. Bron was rubbing her sore bottom, his hand inflaming the burning surface with each pass. For good measure, he squeezed a punished cheek before wordlessly letting her legs down. Her bottom was so tender that Phaedra arched away from the bed, but when Bron placed a hand on her pelvis, his expression was so serious that she dropped her pulsing haunches to the mattress, tears of defeat leaking from her eyes.

“Again.” It was a single word that marked Bron’s intention of resuming his lesson, as if the spanking were merely a trivial interruption. His finger went back to her nipples, circling one and then the other. And despite the discomfort in her bottom, Phaedra’s pussy once again clenched hungrily. She did not shut her legs this time; there was, she decided, no use trying to hide what he could so easily reveal.

The finger moved between her breasts, trailing down and down and down past her navel to the crest of her Venus mound to the top of the deep cleft of her pussy. He ordered her to spread her legs wide, and after weighing the cost of disobedience, Phaedra obeyed, focusing on the ornate tiles of the high ceilings for want of distraction.

But there was no distraction great enough to draw her attention away from what he did next. Bron parted Phaedra’s labia with two large fingers and touched the little gold shield that covered her clitoris. It all but melted away under his finger, and when the air hit that little nub of flesh, she felt it pulse and swell and throb.

“You’ve drugged me.” She looked at him accusingly, unwilling to admit that her arousal was a natural reaction, given her situation.

“I’ve no need to drug a female.”

“You’ve drugged me.” Phaedra’s tone was insistent, angry. “Why are you making me act like this?” She moved her hips, desperate to dislodge the finger that was now moving on that sensitive little pearl in maddening circles.

He laughed. “Oh, little human. You seek to keep your dignity by denying the truth. You need no drugging. You are under the sway of your own natural desires. You cannot control your passion, whether it be the desires of your body or your urge to unleash your tongue when you should remain silent.” He paused as his finger moved up and down, and Phaedra moaned. “You must learn to curb your passions.”

His large finger slipped into her then, the size of it thrilling her in spite of herself. Phaedra tried to stop her hips from rocking onto the probing digit, but could not. Even as she dug her nails into her palms in one last effort to deny the building pleasure, she felt herself soaring under his touch.

“Stop!” His voice filled the room, and Phaedra’s body jolted.

“What?”

“Do not release.”

She was panting, the rhythmic clenching of her pussy so intense… she was so close. She threw her head back onto the bed. “I have to!”

He removed his hand and was suddenly looming over her, his face fierce, the face of a warrior. “I said
no
.”

She quailed beneath him and felt the building pleasure recede. For a moment she wanted to cry, and then she did cry. All the fear, the humiliation, all the forced subservience and he was denying her this one moment of pleasure?