Chapter 4 #2
Drak nods slowly. “If that’s the way you want it,” he says. “You do technically have seniority when it comes to personnel.”
“I do,” I agree. Hard not to be defensive over Evie when I feel so possessive over her.
“Where is she, by the way?” Drak asks the question with the calm demeanor of someone who already knows the answer and also knows that I won’t have it.
“She’s in my office,” I say, knowing even as I utter the words that there is almost no chance of her actually still being there. Of course she has wandered off by now. I should have taken her with me. She has a collar and a leash for a reason, and I have not been using them to their full potential.
“I can tell you where she is, if you like?” Drak offers. He is enjoying this far too much.
“Yes.”
“She’s currently attempting to steal the Facts Machine. I’m not sure what she intends to do with it, but I can assume…”
“Gods. She’s still doing that?”
“Still?” He raises a brow.
“She likes to steal things. It’s a human trait. Seems to be stronger in her than I thought. I think I can train it out of her. A good spanking will work. She needs to be…”
I trail off as I think of all the things I need to do to her.
Fuck her, for starters. Stretch that dripping pussy around my cock until she forgets her kleptomaniac urges.
Spank her round cheeks until she cries out for mercy, then continue to punish both her holes and her ass until I am certain she has actually learned her lesson.
I think about all of these things as I stride to the room where the Facts Machine is kept. I wasn’t aware we left that open, but Drak was right. She is in there. And she is getting into trouble. She’s taking the damn thing apart.
She freezes when I walk in, half the damn machine in her hand. It’s almost as if she thinks I can’t see her if she’s still. The instincts of a simple prey animal.
I am, for a moment, unable to respond because the audacity of her act is so brazen that I am not entirely sure what to do about it. I mean, of course I know what to do about it, but…
“What are you doing?” I try to ask the question calmly, conversationally so as not to spook her. She looks like she’s on the verge of bolting and I don’t want her to hurt herself. On one level, she is stealing machinery; on another, technically, she is machinery of the irreplaceable kind.
“Nothing,” she says, so patently guilty looking it is adorable. Humans think they are talented liars. This one is absolutely not.
“Put that down,” I say firmly. She does as she is told, looking thoroughly sheepish about it.
“Come here,” I say, beckoning to her with a crooked finger. It’s a human affectation I observed when I was trying to learn how to interface with humans effectively.
It certainly seems to work. She blushes furious red and takes a hesitant step toward me.
“Now you know better than that, don’t you,” I say gently.
“Uhm, I got curious,” she says.
“It’s not the first time you’ve gotten curious,” I remind her. “To potentially disastrous effect. You could have poisoned yourself with our food and now you seem keen to be on the wrong end of a high voltage discharge.”
“Oh, is that what those thunderbolt insignia were for? They’re so similar to Earth ones, actually… ow!”
I spank her bottom, one firm slap that makes her gasp and scoot up onto her toes, her hands dropping the machinery as they slide back to try to cover her cheeks.
I use two of my hands to control her arms, spreading them out against the wall while my foot kicks her legs apart and my lower right hand starts to give her a very good spanking.
Thrashing her in front of Drak is, well, probably less than ideal. I am sure he is enjoying the scene; this round-bottomed, light-fingered human being punished is probably fun to watch for a sadist like him.
But she needs it. She needs the punishment, and she needs it to be public.
I need this thievery to become so repellent to her that even thinking about it makes her ass tingle.
So I toss up her skirt, pull her underwear up into the crack between her cheeks, and I spank her long and hard until I hear her tears start to fall.
It is not long, and I do not think it is because of the pain.
I think she dislikes the semi-public nature of the punishment, and that’s good information for me to have because I am already certain she is going to try something like this again.
“Are you sorry?” I ask the question sternly. “Because I certainly am sorry to have left you unattended. I trusted you to behave yourself to the very minimum limits of good behavior and professionalism, and you decided none of that applied to you. You truly are earning leash, cage, and collar.”
She bursts into sobbing tears, her reaction to my lecturing much more intense than the one to the actual spanking. The way her face crumples is almost too much for me to bear. She looked naughty and guilty right up until she looked straight up heartbroken.
I find myself gathering her up into my arms and cradling her against my chest as she cries.
Drak, who had looked approving about the punishment, looks much less happy about my efforts to comfort her. I am sure he thinks she deserves harsher handling. He thinks everybody deserves harsher handling. That’s why the juniors, the seniors, and everyone in between comes to me when they need help.
“She’s going to do it again,” he says. “You coddle her. Humans need discipline. Thieving little wretches like that one need to be punished until they understand that there is no world in which they will get away with even the smallest infraction.”
I don’t listen to his opinion. He doesn’t understand humans as well as he thinks he does.
He is simply working on inflated ego. He thinks he has to ruthlessly dominate everything he encounters.
That is why none of the juniors come to him for help and it is also why we run the risk of having problems we don’t know we need to solve.
I know my human isn’t well behaved. That’s part of her charm. He would never understand that.
“Don’t worry about her,” I tell Drak. “She’s more under control than she’s ever been.”
She has stopped crying as intensely now that she has been comforted. I carry her back to the office, caressing her gently and helping her soothe herself back into a semblance of calm.
“Back to work,” I tell her.
“Really? After that?” She looks up at me with tearstained cheeks, and it is tempting to give her a little break.
It is also tempting to take her home, strip her, and bed her thoroughly.
She is such a naughty little creature. She is almost never doing what she is supposed to be doing, and keeping up with her is in itself a full-time job.
“You getting into trouble on your breaks and getting spanked for it doesn’t change our targets,” I tell her. “You still have work to do, and a lot of it.”
She pouts at me, which is cute and quite funny because this is barely the beginning of the consequences she is going to face for trying to steal things while on the job. I have no intention whatsoever of letting her get away with that.
I put her back into the machine, where she is strapped down and therefore not a theft or flight risk, and I make some preparations while her red-bottomed self is back at work.