Wild Beast: A Rough Sci-Fi Romance

“You can help it. It’s what you choose. Every day you choose this dungeon, this captivity. You could be free if you would only tell me what I need to know.”

“I haven’t done anything. I was left there, abandoned. You know why.”

“I thought I knew why. Now I’m not so sure.”

His fingers boast retractable claws. He crooks his middle finger and extends that claw just enough to slice through the fabric of my underwear. Sometimes I think he gave me the garments purely so he could enjoy ripping them off me. His hot finger slides against the entrance to my interior even as his masculine breath turns into a possessive growl. He presses himself closer to me and I feel his mating rod.

I am so much smaller than him. So much weaker. Yet when I see and feel the way my curves make him respond, I feel a sense of power. He feels it too, and that is why he growls and he snarls and he uses lash and tooth upon me. For a beast like this one, nothing short of total control will ever do.

He toys with me, one finger stroking inside me, the hard ridge against my bare thigh a promise of much more.

His claw extends again. There is no sound when it does, and yet mentally I always hear the sound of a sword cutting through air. His claws are viciously, dangerously sharp. He could drop my entire blood supply out of me with a couple of casual flicks. We both know that. I hold my breath, afraid, but not as deeply as I might be. He does not want to hurt me. If he did, I would be very hurt. My life has always been in his claws, from the first moment he laid eyes on me.

I feel the very tip of his claw dragging lightly over the skin of my inner thigh. Everywhere his sharp malevolence touches, I stiffen and tighten. It is like being stirred toward orgasm, though not one made from pleasure. One made from fear.

The beast plays with fear and pain the way some play with soft caresses and sweet words. This beast wants to punish me—and he very much wants me to know when I have been punished.

His claw lifts and moves, finding the down that fails to protect my nethers from him. He draws it slowly through the hair, cutting little curls free. I feel him approaching my clit, the fingers of his other paw spreading my lips to give his dangerous digit easier access. I feel him prick me ever so lightly. He is not just demonstrating his power. He is showing me his control, over himself as well as over me. I am responding to him as I always do, the slow clouds of submissive haze rolling across my mind. Endorphins are flowing from the secret glands deep inside me, enhancing the intensity of the moment.

I let out a shuddering sigh of surrender, my body relaxing automatically in my bonds and into his touch. He slides his claw away, retracting it before I can hurt myself with my involuntary human responses to his alien dominance.

“When are you going to obey me?” He growls the question in my ear, his teeth flashing and gnashing audibly. His frustration is real. He believes I am a traitor, an interloper. He considers me the worst of the worst, a captured invader.

“I am,” I whisper. Every word I say to him is taken to be a lie. I don’t know why I bother. Except for the fact that every lie must be punished, and so every lie and every word and every deed is…

“Unnghhh!” I moan as he thrusts two rough, furred fingers deep inside me in one easy stroke.

“Where is your resistance, human?” he growls, pulling them out and plunging them back in. “Where is your truth? You soft, wet, little liar.”

He punctuates every word with another rough thrust of his harsh fingers, twisting them inside me. His lecturing is just as harsh as his touch, designed to push me to the brink of what he thinks is honesty. But the truth is he already knows everything. I have nothing to hide. The heat between us is real and true, just like the throbbing of his cock against my leg, so close to my sex and yet so far. This must be as much torture for him as it is for me. He is holding me on the verge of satisfaction, opening his jaws now and settling them on the side of my neck so I can once more feel his strength and danger. My body answers with a fresh flush of desire.

“Fuck me,” I beg softly.

He snarls against my throat. He would like nothing more, but he has to keep the pretense of this being an investigation up for himself, if not for me. If it were to become apparent that he just likes mating me… that would be quite the scandal.