Wild Beast: A Rough Sci-Fi Romance

Humans, it seems, are made almost entirely out of erogenous zones. She responds to her clit and her nipples, but more than that she also melts favorably when I lick the side of her neck and nibble her earlobe. Fresh flushes of hot moisture coat my cock when I am more gentle with her, but it is a rougher thrust or a harsher word that makes her cunt grip me and her moans rise.

I fuck her slowly, carefully. I use her for my pleasure, but not without thought. I have never liked humans, but I do need to learn how this one works if I want to truly master her.

She comes on my cock unexpectedly, her hips bumping and grinding against me, her inner walls rippling with a sucking motion designed to draw the seed of a male all the way up deep inside her. I help her by prolonging the motion, bouncing her up and down the length of my shaft and strumming her wet clit with two of my fingers.

When I am done with her, she is collapsed in her shackles, panting and sweating and weak. I have to free her to stop her from hurting herself and lay her on the dungeon floor. She is beautiful at my feet, the place she most belongs. I look down at her. She looks back at me with an expression I can only describe as filled with tremulous hope. Yes. This is good.

I nudge her with the toe of my boot. She opens her eyes and looks at me.

“Up.”

“What?”

“Get up. It is time you were spanked.”

“Wha?”

“I told you, pet. You would regret disobeying me. And now that you’ve come, it’s time you felt the lash. Hands and knees. Now.”

* * *

Penelope

He is relentless. A monster. A tyrant. He did warn me, but that does not make this treatment any less merciless. I barely have the energy to move, let alone submit to his latest twisted notion of fairness.

“What if I don’t want to be yours?”

He laughs at me. “The way you just came on my cock? After giving your virginity to me? The moment we met you were so aroused you couldn’t help yourself. And you think you have a choice in whether or not you are mine? There is no choice in this, pet. Not for either of us. You were made for me. And I was made for you. It is fate.”

“I don’t believe in fate.”

“You believe in trying to get out of the punishment you’ve earned yourself,” he says, bending down and sweeping me up into his arms. He lifts his leg, resting his boot on an upraised bit of convenient wall and puts me over his thigh. I dangle there, awaiting the rest of my discipline, but thinking about what he just said. Are we fated to be together? Is there no such thing as free will in this great, terrible universe?

“I can’t be yours,” I whine. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“The universe speaks in sex,” he tells me. “Reproduction. Creation. Mating. These are the moments where life is thrown forward in time. You are mine. Your body knew it from the beginning. The fact that your arrogant human mind is slow in catching up is not surprising. Your species has always had difficulty understanding that their thoughts and ideas mean little to nothing in the face of the entirety of everything. I know better than to fight the universe. That is why you are over my knee, and why you will bear the pain of disobedience.”

He spanks me. Hard. Very fucking hard. My ass is already tender and sore, and having been forced through multiple orgasms has left me shaky and weak. I do not have any energy to resist this punishment.

This is pure discipline. Every slap is a harsh reminder that I am the weaker, the lesser, the disobedient subordinate who cannot escape her way out of a paper bag. In between hot flashes of heat and pain I wonder why I ever thought I might have some ability to decide my destiny. Every important thing that ever happened to me was entirely out of my control.

Again and again, he spanks me firmly and sternly. He says very little. He focuses on keeping my increasingly wriggly body over his upturned thigh and spanking me in just the right places to make me exquisitely sore.

I could sulk and resist, kick and wail. I do most of those things through the first few series of slaps, but as time and the spanking goes on, as I get hotter and sorer, and as it becomes apparent he is not going to stop until he considers me appropriately punished, I have to find some other response. Fighting him isn’t going to work. It’s going to hurt. And I’m not going to win.