“Ow! Ouch! Ow!” She begins to make sounds of complaint, whimpers and whines and little gasps. I feel her reach back and grab at my hand. She manages to catch one of my fingers in her grip.
“What are you doing, princess?”
“I’ve had enough now,” she says in that formally polite way she has about her. “Thank you.”
It takes me longer than it should to understand what is happening here. I thought I was sternly punishing my captive princess who has taken life, raided my food stores, and turned my ship into a traveling caravan of body parts, in that order. She does not seem to be on the same page.
“Are you under the impression you decide when the spanking is over?”
“I am. Is that incorrect?”
“It is very incorrect,” I tell her. She’s the most adorable little murderous maniac I’ve ever had over my knee. Her cheeks are a very sweet pink hue. I am certain she’s barely feeling the effects any more than a hotness. I am far from done with her.
“But then I might not enjoy myself.”
“That’s the idea.”
She lets out a small, affronted gasp. “Had I known this at the beginning I would have never allowed you to take hold of me. I would have resisted you with all I am.”
“And you would have ended up here anyway, because you are a human princess, and I am a four-hundred-pound warrior.”
“You continue to underestimate me, brute,” she laughs.
That laughter turns back into gasps as I return to the very urgent task of punishing her. I punish her not only because she deserves it, but because this girl needs it more than any female or male of any species I have ever encountered.
There is no making her cry, I realize. There is no making her sorry at all. Usually a brat being punished gives in once the punishment begins to breach their ability to tolerate it. But no matter how much I spank her, how red her cheeks become, she shows no sign of giving in to submission. I keep on. I will break her, that I vow.
Astaria
It hurts. A series of sharp pains flash across my ass and then sink into my flesh, congregating in my body with increasing intensity. My skin is stinging, but my ass is aching. The heat is too great to be contained there. It starts moving through my body, coiling low in my belly and rising up my spine. There are brief intense moments where I think it might even feel good, where the heat meets some secret part of me. But then another slap lands and I am both jolted against his hard alien thigh and into reality. I am being punished.
I have never been properly punished. Many have tried, but I always had my weapons and my wiles. Blackmane has stripped me of both. He took the physical tools I had to defend myself, but more than that he has taken away my mental ability to defend myself against this pain. He has somehow made me vulnerable because he has made me care.
And that hurts.
It hurts not just my body, but my pride. And not just my body and my pride, but some other deeper part of me that I don’t even have a name for, some part that makes me want to curl up against the world and hide forever because this punishment has made me small.
I don’t know when he stops. Is it after ten of those horrible strokes of his palm? Is it after a hundred? Common sense indicates it must be somewhere in between.
All I know is that I am still writhing when his hand stops landing across my tender skin, that I am grasping at his legs and I am making the strangest sounds which I only later recognize as begging.
Something suddenly breaks inside me, a dam of emotional reaction I did not know was trapped. Hot, salty tears coat the cheeks of my face as my high-hoisted rear burns with his alien discipline. I do not know if I will ever be able to sit again, or if walking will be possible. The skin feels so terribly tight and absolutely swollen.
“Shhhh, princess…” His voice is deep and dominant as he lifts me from his knee and wraps his arms around me. I am being held as I have not been held in too many years to count. One large alien hand slides under my punished bottom, snugging me close against his massive chest. I hide my face in his neck in a sort of instinctual reaction.
I am sobbing, though I do not know why. I learned long ago that feelings do not matter and expressing them is nothing but weakness to be exploited by those who wanted to hurt me. I suppose Blackmane has already hurt me.