Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
Training was coming along nicely.
Samulin was napping quietly on the floor in the corner, wrapped in her bedding and lying with her back turned to him.
He’d been a little worried when she wouldn’t eat that morning, thinking that perhaps the lack of appetite was due to stress or depression from having been captured, but thankfully she seemed to have returned to normal a few hours later.
Reclining on the only bed in the hold, Bralix turned his head to look at his new pet. “Samulin,” he said softly, and by the way her body stiffened inside her bedding, he could tell she was awake. She didn’t move, refusing to acknowledge that she’d heard him.
Stubborn pet.
This was the part of training he enjoyed—gently, yet relentlessly wearing away the defiance until all that was left was a sweet pet that was eager to please him.
He swung he legs over the edge of the bed and sat up, his legs dangling over the edge. His voice turned stern. “Samulin,” he rumbled, “dhavedad.”
Her body jerked under her bedding, but a moment later she sat up, the bedding slipping down over her shoulders to pool around her waist. She glared at him balefully, the effect somewhat ruined by the dishevelled state of her hair, but when he raised an eyebrow at her, she crawled out of her nest and stood.
She shuffled over to him, refusing to make eye contact, and two or three paces away, she lowered herself to her knees. She clasped her hands in her lap, her knees together, shoulders rounded, and refused to look up at him.
Unacceptable.
He slid down off the bed, his bare feet landing on the deck. She flinched at the sound, but didn’t raise her head to look at him. He approached slowly, his hands clasped behind his back, until he stood before her.
It was time for a new command.
“Dhavezhun.” With his foot he nudged her knees apart.
She resisted briefly, then complied, and he nudged her knees until her thighs were spread as wide as they would comfortably go.
He crouched beside her, adjusting her posture until her hands were clasped behind her back, and running his hand along her collarbones, he squared her shoulders.
He stood and moved to stand before her again, then with a finger under her chin, he lifted her gaze to meet his.
When she met his eyes, albeit with fire flashing in her own, he repeated the command.
“Dhavezhun.” He waited a moment for it to register, his pet stubbornly refusing to look away, and the second her eyes softened and she let out a soft sigh, he ran his fingers through the hair at her temple.
“Veine groone,” he praised, and he noted with satisfaction that for a second her eyes closed with pleasure before she met his gaze again, this time with something a little closer to submission.
Beautiful.
This was his favourite pose, because of how it put all of a pet’s best attributes on display, and already, her nipples had hardened into arousal. She may fight it, but just like in the human club, she wanted him.
She didn’t want to want him, but her body didn’t lie, and that thought alone pushed his arousal even further.
Her eyes had drifted down to stare at his cock.
He’d already started to harden behind his zipper—convenient human invention—and when her eyes darted up to seek out his gaze, his member twitched in its confinement.
She licked her lips and cleared her throat, then nodded at his crotch.
Her voice was soft and husky. “Um, may I?”
He felt the fire rise in his blood, and nodded.
She lifted her hands to undo his zipper, gently pulling out his hardening cock, and wrapping her hands around the base, she glanced up at his face before wrapping those plush lips around the crown of his cock.
Warm and slick. Pleasure. So much pleasure.
He rested his hands on her head, his fingers spearing through her thick hair. “Dhavezhun,” he reminded her gently, and her eyes meeting his again, she slowly clasped her hands behind her back again.
“Veine groone.”
He set a steady, leisurely pace, gently using her mouth to pleasure himself.
He didn’t want to push her boundaries too hard, not when she was being so good, but it was getting harder and harder not to thrust into her throat to the hilt.
Instead, he used their steady eye contact, and his gentle fucking of her mouth, to reinforce her training and strengthen her drive to please him.
She increased suction, upping the pace. He should slow her down, take back the reins, so to speak, but it felt too good to stop, and a split second before he would have come down her throat, he pulled out of her mouth and instead he painted her pretty breasts with his come.
She stared up at him, her mouth slack with surprize.
When the last of his seed had spurted onto her skin, he crouched before her, one knee resting on the deck between her knees.
Some of his cum had landed on her left nipple, and using his fingertips, he slowly massaged the fluid into the hardened tip.
She whimpered at the contact, her nipple hardening even more, and scooping up more of his cum from her chest with his finger, he gave her other nipple the same treatment.
“Are you my good girl?” He murmured, enjoying how the sound of his voice affected her.
She whimpered and he scooped up yet more come from her chest with his fingers, this time reaching for her pussy. Her hands had drifted away from behind her back again, her right hand holding onto his shoulder for support.
“Dhavezhun,” he reminded her again, and when her hands were clasped behind her back again, he rewarded her with his cum-smeared fingers on her clit.
She moaned, her hips rolling to seek out more contact. “Please don’t stop,” she said. “Please, that feels so good.”
“Because you’re my good girl,” Bralix purred as the tension grew in her body. “Good girls get pleasure.”
Her orgasm was beautiful.
The rhythm of her hips stuttered, and then her whole body tensed. Her eyes closed, her mouth slack, and as her pleasure crested, she let out her breath in an explosive grunt that left her panting and limp.
Her eyes opened to stare at him, her pupils still dilated from satiety. Vulnerable. Open. Beautiful.
He ran a hand through her hair again. “Veine groone,” he said softly.
She licked her lips, swallowed, then broke her pose to hug him. He lost his balance and toppled backwards to sit on the floor, and she crawled into his lap, huddling up against his chest. On instinct he wrapped his arms around her.
She clutched the fabric of his shirt in her fist, and the gesture moved something inside him—it was unsettling.
No. She needed to finish this lesson.
He picked her up off his lap and set her aside, then stood. He crossed his arms, forcing himself to stay cool and business-like, and looked down at her. “Dhavezhun.”
She stared up at him, and Bralix could read the hurt in her expression.
“Dhavezhun!”
It took her a moment to react, but she resumed the position he’d just taught her, although she didn’t meet his gaze.
That was okay; he didn’t think he could meet her gaze right now, either.
He pointed at her bedding, releasing her from her position, and she scrambled to her feet. The speed at which she retreated from him bothered him.
She picked up her bedding and wrapped it around her body, then without a backwards glance at him she disappeared into the maze of strapped-down crates.
Earlier in her explorations, Samulin had found an empty crate with a loose front panel near the back corner of the cargo area.
Sleeping out in the open on a pile of bedding, where he could approach her at any time, from any direction, just made her feel too vulnerable, and this little fox-hole did much to alleviate some of that anxiety.
So she’d dragged her duvet into the crate with her, lying on top of one half of the duvet and pulling the other half over her like an omelette.
She couldn’t stretch out or truly get comfortable, but at least she felt safer.
Samulin regretted ever wanting to earn a Veine groone and giving that bastard that much power over her.
He was a controlling asshole, and she was done playing his games.
She’d give him a piece of her mind, except her choicest epithets would probably zoom by over his head, completely unappreciated; what a waste.
But why did the asshole have to be so attractive? Half the time she couldn’t be sure whether the low-key simmer in her blood was due to fury or attraction; either way, no-one could deny they had chemistry. Too bad often the chemistry was like adding elemental sodium to water.
Kaboom.
She was done.
At least he distracted her from her other problems. She laid a hand over her lower belly. I’m sorry, Baby, she thought guiltily. You’re not a problem; not really. Not your fault your parents are stupid.
Next time you’re tempted to give in to his wiles, just picture him with your baby, she lectured herself. You have more than just yourself to consider now. No more alien dick—no matter how tempting he may be. He probably has no idea what to do with a baby anyway.
Footsteps on the deck just outside alerted her to Bralix’s presence, and she sat up, plastering her back to the back corner, pulling her knees up tight to her chest, and pulling the duvet up to cover herself.
Moments later Bralix’s shadow fell over the opening. The panel moved and Bralix crouched at the entrance, peering into the shadows of her sanctuary.
He was silent for a moment. “Samulin; Dhavedad,” he said.
Samulin stared at his silhouette. “No.”
He blinked. “Dhavedad,” he repeated, this time firmer, the syllables each bitten off at the quick, as if she’d simply not heard him.
“Fuck. Off,” Samulin replied, equally slowly, clearly, and with a side helping of irritation.
His face hardened, and fast as a snake, he grabbed her wrist to drag her bodily from her crate.
In a move well-practiced from self-defence classes, she twisted her wrist, chopping down on his thumb with the edge of her hand to break his hold, and when he tried to reach for her again, she slapped his hand away—hard. “I said no! Leave me alone, you jerk; I’m done playing with you.”
“Samulin.” He tried to grab for her duvet this time, but she snatched it out of his grasp in time and managed to stomp his arm against the edge of the crate with her foot.
He roared with fury, and when his eyes found her in the gloom of the crate, she met his glare with one of her own.
Her glare was ruined by a tear that rolled down her cheek. “Fuck. Off. And leave me alone.” She hated that her voice was shaky.
He glared at her for nearly a minute before he broke contact and stood, taking a deep breath and pacing outside her crate a few times before leaving her alone in her little hiding spot.
Samulin breathed hard for more than a minute. When it was clear he wasn’t coming back, she let out a relieved breath. Victory.
She couldn’t believe she’d won.
But as the minutes wore on, she was starting to wonder whether it was a victory she really wanted.
She wrapped the duvet around her shoulders again, suddenly feeling cold and alone.
Why did she suddenly have doubts about whether or not this was a true victory or not?