Wild Beast: A Rough Sci-Fi Romance

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…

“Oh, God!”

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…