Her Alien Guardian (Galactic Discipline)

Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

T essara

As the general spoke, I felt my legs begin to tremble. The weight of everything I had witnessed threatened to overwhelm me. Sala must have sensed my distress, for she moved silently behind Alpha’s chair, coming to stand beside me. Her arm slipped around my waist, offering silent comfort and support. I leaned into her touch gratefully, drawing strength from her presence.

Alpha’s deep voice cut through the general’s speech, his tone severe. “General Vex,” he said, his silver-violet eyes flashing with an intensity that made even the battle-hardened Vionian officer pause. “Before we proceed further, there is something I must ask of you.”

The general straightened, his expression a mixture of curiosity and wariness. “Of course, Captain Alpha. What would you have me do?”

Alpha’s massive hand gestured toward me, and I felt my heart leap into my throat. “This young woman,” he said, his voice softer now but no less commanding, “is Tessara. She was a concubine aboard one of your Imperial starships, subjected to unspeakable cruelties in the name of your former Emperor.”

I felt all eyes on the bridge turn to me, and I wanted nothing more than to disappear into the floor. My cheeks burned with shame and fear, my body trembling despite Sala’s comforting embrace.

“I want you,” Alpha continued, his gaze never leaving the viewscreen, “to apologize to her. Personally. For all that she and countless others like her have endured under your empire’s rule.”

Shocked, I shook my head violently, terror coursing through my veins. What was Alpha thinking? Surely this would only incur the wrath of the Vionians, bring their anger down upon me even from across the vast distances of space. I opened my mouth to protest, but no words came out.

The general’s eyes widened in surprise, then softened with understanding. He took a step closer to the camera, his gaze seeming to pierce through the viewscreen and meet mine directly. To my utter amazement, I saw his eyes begin to glisten with unshed tears.

“Tessara,” he began, his voice thick with emotion. “I… I cannot begin to express the depth of my sorrow for what you have endured. The atrocities committed by the Emperor’s regime, the pain inflicted upon innocent souls like yourself—it is a stain upon our world that can never truly be washed away.”

He paused, swallowing hard before continuing. “On behalf of all free Vionians, I offer you my most heartfelt and sincere apology. We failed you. We failed countless others like you. Our silence, our compliance, allowed unspeakable horrors to be perpetrated in the name of Imperial glory.”

Tears continued to shine in the general’s eyes and his composure seemed to waver as he finished. “I know that words can never undo the damage that has been done, but I hope I and the new regime can find ways to make real reparation in the years to come.”

I stood there, frozen, as the general’s words washed over me. His apology, so heartfelt and unexpected, sent a wave of conflicting emotions coursing through my body. Gratitude warred with confusion, relief with a deep-seated shame that I couldn’t quite shake.

My mind reeled, memories flooding back in a dizzying torrent. I remembered the cruel punishments aboard the Conqueror of Bresla , the pain and humiliation that had been my daily existence. But alongside those dark recollections came flashes of something else—moments of unwelcome pleasure that had left me feeling dirty and broken, wanting more but despising myself for it.

I recalled the way my body had responded to Lieutenant Jorg’s rough touch, even as I tried to stop myself from feeling it. The shameful wetness between my thighs when he would spank me, the forbidden thrill that ran through me when he used me roughly. I had told myself it was just a survival mechanism, my body’s way of coping with the trauma. But now, faced with the general’s apology and the promise of freedom, I found myself questioning everything.

The recent memory of Sala’s soft flesh only added to my confusion. The exquisite pleasure she had given me, the tender way she had kissed and caressed my body—it had awakened something within me that I couldn’t ignore. And now, standing here on the bridge, the thought of watching Alpha claim Sala in front of everyone sent a jolt of arousal through me that made me want to curl up and hide.

I felt more tears begin to fall, hot and fast, as I struggled to reconcile these conflicting feelings. How could I accept the general’s apology when part of me still craved the very things I had been conditioned to endure? What did it say about me that even now, in this moment of historic change, I found myself aroused by the thought of forced submission and brutal dominance?

Sala’s arm tightened around my waist. I pressed myself against her, grateful for her presence even as it added another layer to my internal turmoil. The gentle contact of her bare skin against mine made me shudder at the ambiguous reminder of the hot, forbidden intimacy we had shared in her and Captain Alpha’s cabin.

Alpha’s deep voice cut through my swirling thoughts. “General Vex,” he said, his tone grave but tinged with approval. “On behalf of Tessara and all those who have suffered under imperial rule, I accept your apology and your unconditional surrender.”

The words seemed to hang in the air, heavy with the weight of history being made. I watched, still trembling, as Alpha and the general finalized the terms of surrender. The Magisterian Federation would oversee the transition of power, ensuring that the people of Vion were given the chance to build a new, more just society.

As the transmission ended and the viewscreen went dark, I felt a strange emptiness settle over me. I was free, it seemed, though it also seemed that I technically belonged to Captain Alpha, just as Sala did. I bit my lip, thinking about it, my eyes going to his handsome, exotic blue face. Was I free? What did it all mean?

Alpha rose from his command chair, his massive form towering over everyone on the bridge. The crew snapped to attention, their eyes fixed on their captain with what seemed to me a mixture of awe and reverence. The air seemed to crackle with energy, the momentous nature of what had just transpired palpable in every breath.

“At ease.” Alpha’s deep voice resonated through the space, somehow both gentle and commanding. “I want to thank each and every one of you for your service during this campaign. Your dedication, your skill, and your unwavering commitment to our cause have made this victory possible.”

His silver-violet eyes swept across the bridge, meeting the gaze of each crew member in turn. I watched, mesmerized, as hardened officers seemed to stand a little taller under their captain’s approving look.

“Today,” Alpha continued, “we have witnessed the fall of a tyrannical regime and the birth of a new era for the Vionian people. This victory belongs not just to us, but to every soul who has suffered under Imperial rule.”

A murmur of agreement rippled through the crew. I felt a lump form in my throat, overcome by the gravity of the moment and my own conflicted emotions.

“As is our tradition,” Alpha said, a note of anticipation entering his voice, “we will open our victory celebration in the time-honored Magisterian way.”

My heart began to race as I realized what he meant. Sala had told me of it, yes, and I had—despite my embarrassment—longed to see it, but until this moment I had scarcely believed it could be true. Yet now, as I watched Alpha’s massive hands begin to unfasten his uniform, I knew it was no mere tale.

“I will possess my senior wife,” Alpha announced, his voice dropping to a low, sensual rumble that sent shivers down my spine, “here, before you all, as a symbol of our triumph and the rewards that await us.”

The crew’s reaction surprised me. There were no shocked gasps, no scandalized looks. Instead, I saw anticipation, even excitement, on many faces. Some of the naked concubines present on the bridge moved closer, their eyes gleaming with desire.

To my utter amazement, Sala gracefully sank to her knees before Alpha. Her black hair cascaded over her shoulders, framing her beautiful face as she looked up at her husband with adoration and submission in her blue eyes.

“My lord,” Sala said, her voice clear and steady despite the intimacy of the moment. “Before you claim me, I must confess something.”

Alpha’s eyebrow arched, curiosity mingling with desire on his striking features. “Speak, my love,” he commanded gently.

Sala took a deep breath, her gaze unwavering. “I… I seduced Tessara, my lord. In our quarters, while you were busy with the final stages of the battle. I pleasured her with my mouth and made her pleasure me in return.”

I felt my cheeks burn with embarrassment and arousal, the two emotions impossibly intertwined, as Sala’s words rang out.

“I beg you to punish me for my lewd misbehavior before you take me, my lord,” Sala continued, her voice trembling slightly. “I know I’ve displeased you by touching another without your permission.”

Alpha’s expression was unreadable as he gazed down at his kneeling wife. The silence on the bridge was deafening, every eye fixed on the scene unfolding before them. I felt my heart racing, torn between guilt for my role in Sala’s transgression and a shameful excitement at what might come next.

“Very well,” Alpha said at last, his deep voice resonating through the room. “You know the consequences of disobeying me, Sala.” He turned to his first officer, a tall, lean man standing nearby. “Mero, bring me the naval cat.”

As Mero hurried to comply, Alpha’s gaze found mine. “Tessara,” he said gently, “come here.”

On shaky legs, I approached, acutely aware of my nakedness and the eyes of the entire bridge crew upon me. Alpha’s massive blue hand came to rest on my shoulder, his touch surprisingly gentle.

“The naval cat,” he explained, his silver-violet eyes holding mine, “is the traditional disciplinary implement of the Magisterian starfleet. Its design was taken from the navies of old Earth, refined over centuries to serve its purpose effectively.”

Mero returned, reverently presenting a sleek, formidable-looking whip to his captain. My eyes widened in terror as I took in its appearance. The handle was wrapped in supple leather, polished to a soft sheen. From it extended multiple slender tails, each knotted at intervals along its length. It looked nothing like the brutal implements I’d known aboard the Conqueror of Bresla , yet it radiated an aura of authority and controlled power that made me tremble.

“Oh, no,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “Please, don’t hurt her. It was my fault too. I should be punished instead!”

Alpha’s expression softened, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Your concern for Sala is admirable, Tessara,” he said. “But this punishment is not about pain or cruelty. It’s about reinforcing the bonds between us, about Sala’s willing submission to my authority. In fact, if I’m not mistaken, my lovely wife is playing a game with us, for she knows that the true, most ancient tradition is that the commanding officer’s wife be whipped before her husband takes her with his hardness.”

I blinked in confusion, but the captain only smiled in response, and turned back to Sala, who remained kneeling, her head bowed.

“Prepare yourself, my love,” Alpha commanded softly. “Mero, please bind this offender to the block.”

I frowned, looking around the bridge. I saw nothing like a whipping block, nor did anyone seem to be bringing one.

Sala rose gracefully, her black hair shining in the light of the bridge. With fluid movements that spoke of practiced ease, she bent over the command chair. I gasped as I noticed for the first time that the chair was not merely a seat of authority, but an implement of discipline as well.

Gleaming metal rings were strategically placed along its arms and base, their purpose now horrifyingly clear. The seat itself was wider than I’d initially perceived, with a slight curve that would perfectly accommodate a bent form. The backrest was lower than standard, allowing easy access to the occupant’s—in this case, the punished one’s—exposed bottom.

Mero moved with swift efficiency, producing padded leather cuffs from a hidden compartment in the chair’s base. He secured Sala’s wrists first, binding them to the arms of the chair. The striking contrast of her pale skin with the dark synth-leather brought a furrow to my brow.

The first officer knelt to fasten cuffs around Sala’s knees, spreading them slightly and anchoring them to the chair’s legs. Finally, a wider strap was placed around Sala’s narrow waist, holding her firmly in place. The entire process took mere moments, yet each click of a buckle or clink of a chain seemed to echo through the hushed bridge.

Alpha’s deep voice broke the silence. “Tessara,” he said, his tone gentle but commanding, “come stand beside me as I discipline my wife.”