“How would I know?”
“I feel like you do. I feel like you agreed to go there way too easily, especially for a dude who is terrified of a diplodocus and wants me tied up all the time. You don’t take risks. But this is a risk you’re taking. Why?”
“Eat your breakfast, and stop asking questions.”
“Why?”
“Eat your breakfast, or I swear you will be gagged again, and…”
“Stop threatening me and just answer the question, Rex.”
I can be all sharp and strident and stern when I want to be, too. I can speak to an alien king as if he is a naughty dog. I can be a strong, independent woman depending on an alien man for her survival.
That doesn’t mean it actually works.
Rex takes a root out of his pack without another word and starts working at it with a knife. I fall silent, because I have that uncomfortable feeling you get when you’ve gone too far.
Have I gone too far?
“Rex?”
He glances up at me briefly, then looks back down at the root he is carving with inordinate care. There’s silence between us. Silence all around us. I do not like this silence. There is some kind of intention to it. More hidden things. More silences. Silences inside of silences. Pimp my silences.
I’m getting nervous. I decide to edge away a little.
“Sit down,” he says, two heavy words which nail me in place.
“Uh…”
He looks up at me again, his pitch black gaze intimating I really should not move, and he returns to his whittling. He whittles what feels like a very long time. Long enough for me to squirm where I sit and wonder what he has planned. Dessert? Some kind of seasoning? Maybe. But also, probably not.
He puts down the knife, gets up, and grabs me.
No warning. No orders. Nothing besides the harsh and immediate grasp of his overlarge hand pulling me over to the place he was sitting. He returns to sitting, but this time, with me over his thighs.
Oh fuck.
The skirt I’m wearing offers absolutely no protection from him. And I basically haven’t worn underwear since I arrived here.
“King Rex? Sire?”
“You need a lesson in respect,” he growls, smoothing his rough alien palm over my ass. “You speak as though we are equals. We are not equal. You are mine, human. You are mine in every way. I have many ways to show you that.”
I brace myself for a spanking, but he does not slap my ass. Instead, he wraps one muscly arm around my waist and snugs me against his body, using the hand of that same arm to part my cheeks. I feel a sudden cool breeze against very intimate areas of my body. I tighten the filthy part of me. He can’t be interested in…
Gel from the aloe plant, or this world’s equivalent thereof, is smeared across that very spot. I let out a moan of confusion and yet also understanding. He is a twisted, dark, demanding king. I forget that sometimes because of how much time he spends looking after me, teaching me, and giving me more pleasure than I can take.
He works the shaved nub end of the root into the tight hole nobody is ever supposed to go near. No matter how much I wriggle, or actually the more I wriggle, the easier it slides in. It’s a narrow little rounded nub designed to slip into the tight ring of muscle and make way for the thicker intrusion to follow.
“Rex, come on, I just wanted the answer to a question. It… eep... owww…”
It doesn’t actually hurt. It stings. It tingles. It shames and inflames me equally. Rex has been keeping this root for just this purpose, I feel. Somehow he knew what it would do to me, and he has chosen to deploy it just as I began to think I was starting to work out how to best him.
But he has bested me. He has bested me and now he is filling my ass.
“Get up,” he orders. “Make sure it stays inside you.”
I let out a whine, but he is not going to take mercy on me this easily. He must know what the infernal root does, how it keeps making me hotter on the inside by the moment. The delicate tissues of the most secret parts of my body are being tormented all the more every second the root remains in place.
He helps me stand, but it is my hand that must reach back between my cheeks and ensure that my clenching ass does not lose the root plug he has placed there.
“Sire…”
He likes it when I call him sire. But we are long past the point where a little subdued nod to his ego is going to work. He looks at me with his dark gaze, his face a stern mask. I really have gone too far. There’s no doubt now. I’ve been working my way toward this for a long time, a thousand little chances taken, boundaries ever so slightly overstepped. He warned me, and he showed me the potential for harsh discipline, but he let me have my head.