It’s perverse, sure. But this is a perverse situation.
My tone seems to amuse him. Perhaps I read his expression incorrectly, though. His upper lip curls a little, and his markings flash over with a ripple of golden fire, brief enough to be missed or make me think I imagined it. My heart beats rapidly, and it strikes me again, at full force, how much larger than me he is, how much stronger, how much more dangerous.
“Lie on your back,” he tells me.
I turn to face the door, and then slide back onto the table. It’s soft, cushioned, but very firm. I lie down.
He reaches for my right wrist and moves my arm above my head. I don’t resist him, or react. He moves me gently, his fingers warm, the strength coiled in them a menacing afterthought. He shackles my right arm in the fearsome leather restraint, above my head. Then my left, leaning over me to do it. He walks around the table to take my ankles, one at a time, and clasp the leather shackles around them.
My legs are spread open now, and this makes a real fear set in. I have never felt this exposed, this vulnerable, in my entire life. I tug at my arms and legs, trying to do it surreptitiously, just to get a feel for the level of restraint.
I can’t move them at all.
He walks back around the table and retrieves something I can’t see, and then lifts my head to put it under me. Now my head is propped up at an angle, so I can see my naked torso, my legs, the center of them, where my pussy—bare after Trasmea’s treatment—is throbbing, wet, and totally open to him.
His claws are out when he begins. He lets me watch them extend from his fingers as his hand hovers over my face. Seeing them up close is terrifying: they are razor sharp, and don’t look like they could so much as touch me without cutting my skin. I close my eyes.
“Open your eyes,” he says immediately.
I do, without even thinking about it. His voice is the kind of voice that makes you just do, and think later.
He touches my lip with the long index claw, and slowly moves down my chin, then to my neck, lingering at the hollow of my throat. As he drags this fearsome claw down the center of my body, detouring to give my nipples a feathery pass before moving down, he speaks. Quietly, calmly. Terrifyingly.
“As Kapsuk to General Kirigok, I’m responsible for training you. The general has very specific qualities that he desires in a wife. And you are going to have them when I’m done with you.”
His finger passes over my navel, down to my mound, and a sound escapes my throat, which makes his eyes shift quickly up to mine. He pauses there, making a slow, delicious circle over my mound, promising to dip into my folds and touch my clit—I want him to so badly that I feel like I could scream.
“You must learn to be submissive,” he says.
I gasp, because he’s dipping his finger into my wet folds, putting pressure on my clit, sending shivers through me. The danger of his sharp claw is terrifying, but it makes me wetter, more hungry. I wish it wasn’t like that. So very much. But there is no way to stop it, or control it.
“You must learn to provide pleasure to Kerz males, to submit to them, to be used by them and be grateful for their seed so that you will breed. You must come to be aroused and climax whenever it’s demanded of you, and never when it’s not.”
I’m panting already, so when he slips his finger inside of me, my breathing doesn’t change. But I feel my body react, and I can’t stop it. I mewl as he curls his finger toward the root of my clit, finding in two seconds the place no man I’ve ever slept with seemed to be able to find, ever.
“But you are very responsive, Anya Mann,” he says, stroking my g-spot and making me squirm, straining against the restraints. I have gone from terrified to about to have an orgasm in seconds. My stomach is convulsing in pleasure, I’m so close…
Just as I feel a climax building, almost tipping over, he slips his finger from inside of me. My breath leaves in a shocked puff. Blood pounds in my ears.
He makes a face, a little like a smile. “You must learn to beg.”
My head is spinning.
I force a smile. Is this all he has? I mean… it’s pretty intense, but I’m not going tobeg.
I laugh. “And if I don’t?”
He plays with the object from the table in his hands. “You will.”
CHAPTER11
Rysethk
She is stronger than I had expected. I don’t know what game she’s playing, or why; she’s aroused, responsive to punishment, the kind of human female who enjoys control and discipline. Humans are a strange civilization, one that denies the inherent nature of its males and females, so that their women, like this Anya, don’t submit even when their biology screams that they want to.
I have marveled at this all my life, but now that I’m training Anya Mann, I can understand it in part. There is something deeply pleasurable about her resistance, something I savor about knowing that she will, eventually, submit to me.
But she fights it all the same.
