She was moving in a grinding, rhythmic way, indicating she might be approaching orgasm. He would not allow that now.
“No!” He spanked her ass hard.
“What?” The question came in a squeak of surprise.
“You’re not coming yet,” he told her.
“I’m not?” She sounded adorably confused and desperate.
“I do not give you my permission to do so. You may release your cheeks.”
She let go, and the pert rounds sprang immediately back into place, keeping the pain root nice and deep inside her ass. Now he could do as he pleased with her naughty bottom. Now he could spank it without any impediment at all, and that was precisely what he did, heating her ass with hard, regular strokes that made her gasp and writhe in place.
“I don’t think I can stop it,” she whimpered.
“You can,” he told her, taking hold of the hair at the scruff of her neck and peppering her ass with quick-fire slaps until her hips wriggled all the way around to the left side in a vain attempt to escape.
She looked up at him, her breasts exposed, her entire body flushed with punishment and excitement, the sweet smell of her human nectar perfuming the air between them. Every single instinct he had told him to free his cock and conquer her completely. She was so wet and in such a state of biochemical submission he could have taken anything from her.
But there was still that duty bound, regulation heeding Authority soldier inside him that would not allow him to ravage this woman. She was an ensign. He was a commander. And commanders did not fuck ensigns.
This was fast becoming as much a torture for him as it was for her. His cock was painfully hard, every physical impulse demanding release.
In the end, his body made the decision for him. His cock was not like that of human men. It was not smooth and rounded and without danger. It was ridged and demanding, and the front of his relatively flimsy uniform had apparently been eroded by the force of it rubbing there.
His cock broke free from his pants, the massive length and girth of it pointed directly at her pussy like a homing missile. The carnal madness was growing as they breathed in one another’s pheromones and found themselves coated in chemical signals of desire.
“Holy…” Jerri gasped, staring at him with an expression of wonder and excitement. “You’re a fucking monster.”
Compared to her, he was a monster. There was nothing soft or kind about the physiology of a Kitari, and that did not stop at the cock.
It was copper in hue, just like he was, an almost mechanical-looking throbbing burnished rod of need. And it was fucking huge. Taylor’s cock had looked like a pale imitation of this mating rod. All human dicks suddenly seemed like cheap knockoffs of the cock now pointed at her with real intention.
She was already so fucking turned on she could barely take it. Humiliation and pain, heat from the alien root, and the incredible feeling of being handled by Atlas had left her right at the point of orgasm before he had denied her climax.
Atlas used the grip at the back of her neck to draw her blushing, dripping body up from the bed. His height meant that her mouth was right at the level of his cock. His intention was clear, and then it was fulfilled, that thick, rough alien flesh entering her mouth in a powerful stroke that went all the way to the back of her tongue.
He tasted like distant suns, masculine and animal and machine-like all at the same time. The ridges and flares of his cock played over her tongue, very easy to feel, but not so harsh that it did damage. This was the cock of a male designed to dominate his female completely. Jerri heard obscene sounds emitting from her mouth, gulping and slurping noises as she embraced his unspoken order to suck his cock.
Atlas had stopped speaking and instead only let out alien animal growls, his fiery eyes burning an even more intense red than usual as he rutted inside her mouth with short little strokes that clearly could not hope to satisfy him.
He growled something in his native language. She didn’t understand the words, but she understood their meaning. He had reached the end of his capacity for personal discipline. Instinct was taking over. And her little human mouth was not nearly enough to appease the monstrous lusts of this alien beast.
Atlas pushed her down on her back on the bed and grabbed what remained of her uniform off her knees and down over her feet with a snarl. Two big hands gripped her ankles, and the mouth-soaked wet head of his alien dick surged toward the final frontier of what had once been her innocence.