“Time to eat, pet,” my master growls. Orgasmic liquids coat the inside of my thighs. I have performed for him as he wanted me to perform. I have given him what he wanted me to give. My writhing, screaming, desperate pleasure, which always ignites when he enters me, no matter the part of his body, or the hole of mine.
I remain shackled as he eases me down onto all fours. He does not like it when I walk on two legs. He says it makes me seem too proud. I have not earned it. I have not given him my honesty.
I crawl because he commands it, hands and knees on rough stone floor. My mouth is watering. The Vulpari, which is the species my master belongs to, eat but once a day. He considers hunger outside a single great meal to be a sign of decadence and indulgence.
Following after my master, I wonder if I will ever feel the freedom I experienced on that alien planet again. Will this collar ever leave my neck? Would I know what to do with myself if it did?
He stops, but I keep moving, not noticing that he has come to a halt. The result is that I brush up alongside his leg. He looks down with a hint of a smile and runs his fingers through my hair.
“Eager little pet,” he murmurs. “You will have your meal soon enough.”
The doors in front of us, which are the reason he stopped, slide open. With their opening comes a rush of warm air and convivial sounds. I can hear chewing and gnashing, shouting and singing. They howl their happiness and their togetherness to all the moons surrounding the ship. The ceiling of the dining hall is not solid and opaque as the walls are, as my dungeon cell is. Instead it is transparent across the entire span of the room, allowing in the light from an infinite number of stars that seem to drift by slowly above. Truly it is the vessel that is moving, and not at the slow glide that the stars imply with their glittering distance. We are moving at an impossibly swift pace from one place to another.
This is the one chance I have to see the light of what may as well be day. When a sun is near, as one is now, the dining hall is suffused in radiant light. From my floor-seat beside Volt’s chair, located at the head table that runs horizontal to the other tables I can see solar panels opening all around the room. At first I thought they were plants, but now I realize they are technological facsimiles of plants. They open and flower and spread their electric traced leaves to catch the rays from above. The ship thrums with power given to it by the universe through which it travels.
I was taught that the universe is vast and empty and cold, and that to move through it one had to burn or fuse bits of it in order to get through it. The Vulpari do not labor under that illusion. Their technology takes full advantage of the endless flow of energy around them.
Volt’s crew is eating spread out along a series of three long tables. This is how they eat every meal, once a day coming from all corners of the ship to join in a feast complete with booze and carousing.
I settle into my place beside the captain, very much aware of the eyes that run over me every time I make an appearance. They have not accepted me entirely as yet, not because I am the captain’s pet, but because I am ever so edible. These Vulpari believe themselves to be entirely civilized, but they cannot help themselves when it comes to me. The captain keeps me locked away for my own safety as much as his pleasure.
They lick their lips and they slaver with hunger. The food they are eating is the closest they can fabricate to roasted meat, covered in the richest gravy.
“Eat, pet.” Volt distracts me from my observations by presenting me with a sliver of meat from his fingers. I have not fed myself in a long time. Every bit of nourishment I receive comes from his hands. I take the food between my teeth gently. I have learned not to be rough, even when hungry. I have learned not to be too eager, or to beg—except when he wants me to beg.
He turns his attention to his own meal, but he does not forget to feed me steadily throughout. Every second mouthful he takes, he provides me with some nourishment. I wonder, sometimes, if he might love me. I know he desires me. I know he protects me. But is he capable of love? Or am I nothing but a distraction on a long voyage?
I can think of little other than him, though I do not know if I love him or not. I am dependent on him, kept captive by him. I desire him. It was my desire that trapped me with him. If only I could have stayed away, I might have been free. But I did not stay away. I came to him and I spread myself for him and I allowed myself to be captured. I do not know that I could ever explain to another how that happened, why I did not call on all my powers of resistance, why I did not demand my freedom while it was still in my grasp. He told me what would happen to me.
Now it is happening.
One hunger is soon sated, and then a second hunger rises.
Volt lifts me from the floor and bends me over the table. There are howls and yowls from the assembled crew. This is not a sight they are treated to every day, but when they are, they enjoy every moment of it. He stroked me to orgasm before dinner, but he did not come himself. I should have known that he was saving me for dessert.
My thighs spread of their own accord, my hips arching, my cheek finding the cool surface of the table. It is polished to a high shine, and I know that when I am pulled back up from this position there will be an outline of my body there. My curves will stay on display after I am gone, my scent will hang in the air and the crew will partake of some small part of me.
Volt takes his time caressing me, sliding his hand up along my back until he finds the nape of my neck and curls his fingers around my throat.
“You have pleased me,” he tells me, his praise sending warmth through my body. “But you have yet to completely submit. You have yet to tell me the truth.”
I have stopped trying to argue with his insistences that I have lied to him. He believes what he needs to believe. I know what I need to know. I belong to him. Our bond was forged when we met, and no matter what might happen between us, or between our species, we are one.
I feel his hard rod between my thighs. He restrained himself earlier when we were alone, but Volt adores making a scene—and perhaps so do I. Is it shameful to be exhibited in all my sensuality? The first time he mated me before others I was certain I would never live the humiliation down. Now I feel a hot flash running through the very core of me knowing that I am being observed, my every reaction, every moan being seen by those who look upon me.
“Behold and bear witness!” He barely has to raise his voice to make it boom all around this great dining chamber. All eyes go to the captain as he has commanded. “Witness the breeding of this human. See how she submits to my Vulpari cock, draws my semen in, turns it into a whelp inside her soft belly.”
There is a rumbling, growling, predatory response from the rest of the crew. Animal eyes lock on me as I am treated as if I am nothing more than a beast, a bitch in heat to be mated. The captain’s cock slides along the wet slit of my sex, his fingers tighten on the back of my neck, and…
He surges forward, his cock plunging deep inside me, thicker, longer, rougher, harder than any human rod. I let out a gasp, which is quickly lost in many moans as he fucks me with these powerful, dominating strokes that go all the way to the sensitive neck of my womb, the once secret place now turned to his personal playground. He will use this part of me to make his pups. He will turn me from a free human woman into the mother of his offspring, and he will make me pay every moment he does it.
I writhe against the table, my juices spreading from my toyed and teased pussy. I slide back and forth with his every thrust, hissing and moaning, making all manner of shameless noises. My face is flushed brightly with the knowledge that this image will be emblazoned in the minds of the crew for a long time. This is a tale that will be told to others, passed among ships and worlds.
He slaps my already spanked ass, reigniting the hot flashes of pain that serve me so well as reminders of my submission. I wail and arch, and there is a laugh from nearby as the higher ranking officers see how I respond to punishment. He would never let them touch me, but he keeps very little secret from them. Even now, they can see the wet, messy place where his cock and the furry base of his muscular abdomen meet the soft lips of my sex. He pulls out slowly from time to time, unsheathing himself so that those with the privilege of office can see the way my human pussy lips grip his rough alien cock.
These moments leave me gripping the far edge of the captain’s table, feeling him lift my hips up now that my pussy is empty. I am truly on display, the parts of my body always intended to be private becoming immensely public.
I am lifted all the way up, turned around. He handles me easily. I weigh a fraction of what he does. He is all muscle and bone, alien rage and domination. I am soft human curves, a vessel for his lust and vengeful needs.
He climbs atop the table with one big athletic step and holds me aloft, one hand under each of my thighs, spreading me open like a book. I put my hands to my face, as if that will stop the Vulpari crew from seeing the rest of me, my erect nipples, my heavy breasts, the sweat dripping down between them, making a slow trail down toward the red down at the apex of my thighs, and the ravaged lips puffy with the exertions of taking his cock.
I hear his snarl and then I am plunged down again, impaled on his cock. This time there is no hiding on the table. Face down, ass up may feel like a humiliating position initially, but this exposure brings with it hot flushes of excitement and shame all wrapped together.
Alien fingers snake around under my thigh as he lifts me up and down with slow and purposeful strokes. He is not rushing this breeding. He is making sure the memory is strong for all of us. I feel the tip of his finger brush against my clit, a skillful and tender caress that makes a wail escape me as I feel my orgasm stirred back into potency. Being with this alien captain means being at his mercy. It does not always mean being hurt. He knows how to pepper in little moments of softness that make the harder ravaging all the more…
I scream for an old deity as he starts to fuck me hard, plunging me up and down on his cock with ever impatient strokes. I can feel him swelling inside me. I know he is getting close. As a Vulpari, when he comes his cock knots, thickening and stretching me, making it impossible for either of one of us to escape the other. It is coming. He is coming. I feel him growing evermore inside me. With an animal grunt he jams me down on his dick as far as I can go.
His knot expands inside me and his seed shoots deep into me, directly against the opening of my womb. There is no escaping this impregnation. My womb is his to use and to fill and it is all I can do to lean back against him, my head on his shoulder as he keeps my legs spread lewdly wide, all seeing the intimate act now taken to its complete conclusion.
“The breeding is done!” He shouts the words in triumph and the crew goes mad, barking and howling their approval and excitement to the stars above.
But we are not done. We are never done, he and I.
He steps down from the table and sits back in his chair with me in his lap. He returns to eating and drinking, leaving me sitting there with his knotted cock deep inside me. It will take quite some time for it to reduce in size and slide from me. Until then I must sit and ache on his lap, my spanked ass hot against his thighs, my tender pussy clenching against his cock. I do not know if I will be allowed another orgasm. He might think I have had enough pleasure already. He might not think about my pleasure at all.
Slowly, surely, I feel the tension in my pussy start to abate. The swelling is easing and his cock is starting to retreat, some of his seed coming with it. I cannot help but squirm, and when I do he feels our juices escaping onto his thighs.
“Messy human,” he chides. “Are you wasting my cum?”
“No, sir,” I gasp.
“I think you are,” he says with a rakish smile. He knows all too well I cannot stop his cum dripping from my pussy. This is another pretext to punish me, to show me off, and maybe to make me orgasm.
“No drop of seed is to be wasted!” he declares, lifting me up again and depositing me in a seated position on the opposite side of the table, facing the crew once more as he looms behind me. He kneels over me, his arm extending over me. I feel him cup my pussy, that tender, sore little vessel of his need. Then his hand slides away and returns in a light slap.
“Bad girl,” he says. “You must keep every drop of my cum.”
I do not answer. There are no words that would satisfy him now. He is asking the impossible without any sense of irony or shame.
With my legs spread wide he spanks his seed into me. It keeps escaping, of course, sliding from between my pink and swollen lips, only to be slapped back against them and rubbed in, absorbed by my skin.
My yelps and whimpers earn me no mercy, perhaps because he can see the way my thighs are trembling and knows that I am approaching another one of these filthy torrid orgasms only possible when being handled by an alien beast. Every slap takes me a lot closer, and also a little further away from my climax. He is driving me forward with rough stimulation and then pulling me back with the stinging pain. I could cry. There are tears in my eyes, but they are not from helpless pain or need for mercy. They are from the overwhelming intensity of my impending orgasm. It is coming from all parts of me, being drawn down from my skull through my spine, coming from the tips of my fingers and toes, shooting up and through my overwhelmed nervous system. My eyes are half closed, my mouth open to allow a near continuous wail. I am sweating, I am shaking, and he is holding me through it all, my steady beast, my tormentor, my lover, keeping me right where I need to be, giving me exactly what I need…
“Ooohhhhhhhhhhh!” I let out a final raw cry as climax explodes deep inside me, wet slapping forcing me over the edge into a void of pure sensation and absolute pleasure.
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