Her rear has a particular shape which I find very alluring. This is the first female human I have interacted with on my ship. Usually they send men. Human males do not have this roundness and fullness to their hips and rears. They have no allure for me, but I must say this woman is a different matter. Even in this state, half-covered, unwashed, wailing like the brat she is, she makes my cock throb.
“Stop your cursing, human. Use your voice for apologies and promises to behave better.”
I shouldn’t have to explain proper submissive behavior to a professional woman, but here we are. This entire journey has been somewhat strange. I have never had to travel so far just to pick up a paper shuffler, as humans call them. But even I can only evade my obligations to the Department of Intergalactic Costs and Duties for so long.
I make a gesture to Terrible. He doesn’t need to be here any longer. He can go and manage the Martian offensive. I am entirely entranced by the human, both her physical form and her behavior. The former of which is stunning, and the latter of which is completely unacceptable.
I should send her back. I do not think she has the level of professionalism required for a mission this sensitive and important. This little human will hold our lives in her primitive calculator-wielding fingers.
“This isn’t fair! I have nothing to apologize for. I made a mistake, and that mistake was made because I was told to try something.”
“You do not have the luxury of mistakes. You must be careful.”
“I am careful in my work, but I can’t be careful at things I don’t know how to do. That Terrible asshole set me up! And you can send me back to Earth, thank you, I don’t work for violent sociopaths who turn their violent sociopathy on me.”
She is still face down on the punishment bench, her ass very much exposed to me, vulnerable to further punishment. She seems to have little regard for her own punitive self-preservation. In fact, the more sore she becomes, the more she speaks out against me.
It is a brave and bold move, but foolish in the extreme, and again I wonder about the judgement of this little female Mr. Rogers has sent to me.
“When is the last time Mr. Rogers punished you?”
“Never! Of course! This is illegal on our planet. This should be illegal everywhere.”
She is very headstrong, and opinionated. I hope she brings some of her single mindedness to her work, when she eventually is allowed off this punishment bench to actually start doing something useful.
“Human, you are no longer on your world. You are in my realm. What is right and what is wrong is not written according to your laws. It is written by my hand. The same hand you feel now on your impudent flesh.”
I emphasize the point by slapping her again. The robe has melted away beneath my palm, the atomic structure of the garment obeying my rules — not hers. I can see the reddened rounds of her cheeks amid the remnants of her clothing. It makes me want to see more.
“Off with this!”
I make a gesture and every scrap of fabric is immediately swept from her body. Our clothing and hers is like mist in solar winds, gone immediately. I am treated to the sight of the rear of her, the thick length of shapely thighs which also bear some pinkness, and the very pleasing roundness of her ass itself.
She lets out a gasp as she realizes that she is no longer clothed, and her resulting squirming struggles allow me to spy two treasures hiding beneath her cheeks. There is a tight, dark little hole, and below that, a furry seam which is already swelling and parting, to allow a wet, pink unfurling of what look like inner lips.
What a delicate and ever so breakable little thing she is. What a work of art, and simultaneously an act of rebellion. The human species, like most of the species which have arisen on Earth over the millennia, makes little sense to itself or anybody else. Humans should by all rights be nothing more than food for carnivores. They are fleshy and ill-protected. Though she is lying face down, I can see the swelling of her mammaries when she tries to wriggle against the punishment bench. Every delicate and protectable part of her is out on display. Her holes boast no armoring. She is uniquely unable to protect herself from penetration. Indeed, she can be taken from almost any angle.
I stand there and I watch her wriggle. It has always pleased me to see my prey struggle. My mating rod is ready for her. I feel it at full extension, fighting against the restraints of my pants. Our biology is more or less compatible. I have a long, hard, thick cock to fill her tight little blossoming hole. The longer I look, the more natural it feels to release myself from the shackles of limited propriety and simply fuck her.