She was too stunned to understand anything more than that Rychor was speaking. The words traveled like an amorphous blob through one ear and out the other, only distant sounds. She felt a kind of tunnel vision happening, her conscious mind floating away to a dark corner, almost like she was watching herself. She felt distant, subdued, submissive, and she felt the pleasure of his finger in the foreign place, stimulating untouched patches of pleasure that had always been inside her.
He curled his finger, and the pressure inside her shifted and made her spasm in pleasure. “Tell my assistants. Do you like this penetration?”
This time she heard him, and even as she lifted her head to howl in painful pleasure, no sound came out. Her predicament flashed through her mind. Strung up with her hands and arms splayed above her head. Legs willingly parted to accept him. Her spectators watching as she was forced to make this humiliating admission. Her pussy throbbed.
“I… I… I…” she panted.
Rychor pressed his mouth to her ear. “Don’t tell lies, what you would want your human companions to hear. Only the truth,” he said. “Look up at them.” He pressed the wand against her chin and raised her head until she had no choice but to look at the three who watched her with clinical interest.
“I like it,” she whispered quickly.
They nodded, also clinically.
“You like this sort of penetration,” Rychor growled. “Say it.”
She shuddered. She couldn’t help but wonder if this was some psychological play on his part. Showing her who was in charge. Who owned her and whose commands shehadto obey. And again she felt a pulse of arousal and pleasure at being in this situation. At having no choice but to follow his will. At being stripped of agency, a puppet in his hands. What should have been deeply embarrassing and utterly humiliating was instead… erotic. Even thinking about saying the words was, to her dismay and confusion, making her pussy overflow with moisture.
“I like this sort of penetration,” she said slowly. With each word, fresh humiliation blossomed inside her. It crashed over her like warm ocean waves, the ache in her pussy swelling to an almost unbearable size within her.
The three nodded again.
Rychor let the wand fall slowly across her body. Down past her chest, her belly. Finally between her thighs where he pressed it against the soft petals of her femininity.
“You may scream if you feel the need,” he said into her ear, the hand supporting her working up to her throat, fingers splayed around her delicate neck. With his wiry strength poised to crush her windpipe with a mere flex, the power differential between them was starkly illuminated, and it sent fear coursing through her that enhanced the high she already felt.
Scream?she wondered, but only for an instant, before Rychor twisted the implement and the excruciating pleasure flowed directly through her clit and caused an orgasm to begin building, rapidly, inside her. But it just kept rising, soaring up to an incredible crest that never broke.
She did scream, though she had no idea when she began doing so.
Her body jolted, the muscles in her legs and stomach contracting as that hot, pinching bliss drove itself deep into her core. “Oh god!” she moaned. “Oh god, oh god, oh god!”
Before any of this she’d entertained another fantasy. That if she were put into such a situation, she would submit but not give Rychor or any of them the pleasure of knowing how it affected her. She had entertained the notion that she would remain as stoic as he through whatever ministrations they subjected her to. Now that idea was almost laughable.
Rychor didn’t take his time twisting it this time. He gave it a crank, doubling the sensation in an instant.
Her body slumped back against him, driving his digit even deeper into her ass. She didn’t care. Her jaw fell slack and she stared up at the ceiling as waves of ecstasy rolled through her. It was almost painful, having just climaxed moments earlier. She didn’t care about that, either. She couldn’t bring herself to care about anything. She felt like a jellyfish. At the mercy of whatever stimulus Rychor deigned appropriate. Not a sentient being on par with him, but rather a toy for him to play with.
As the thought materialized as words in her head—the idea of being a toy, at the mercy of an alien—it sent her tipping over the edge.
She screamed again. The sound echoed along the cavern walls and went tearing out into the corridor for any passersby to hear. Her pussy contracted and released, contracted and released as she flailed her limbs uselessly in her restraints.
Rychor kept her firmly pressed against his thick chest, holding her still, his heat and rushing blood against her skin, their sweat mingling.
As the high of her orgasm subsided, she was left a sweaty, panting mess, dangling from the ceiling by her arms, held up by Rychor’s thick muscle. Her body was completely limp, sweat rolling in droplets from the base of her neck, along her spine. The sweet, tangy juices from between her legs smeared the insides of her thighs, and every nerve of her body screamed in agonizing sensitivity to even the slightest motion.
A long silence passed, and her senses slowly returned. She became aware again that there were three others watching her, observing her being used and reduced to a moaning mass of quivering flesh.
She hated Rychor for that a little bit. Because there was a feeling she was trying to resist and increasingly failing. A dangerous, terrifying feeling. A feeling that she knew she should fight but didn’t feel able to. The feeling that maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if he did that to her again. Just… maybe, not with so many observers.
She shook her groggy head, trying to chase the thought away. It was useless. She was exhausted, broken and defeated. Rychor had won already, and she knew she would let him do to her whatever he pleased. The only uncertainty she had was why? How had she succumbed so quickly?
He let her feet drop to the floor, and she swung them at the ground, but her knees buckled when she shifted her weight to them. Rychor adjusted his grip on her body, supporting her a little so that the weight didn’t divert to her bound hands. His hands moved over her body, sliding in her sweat, caressing her breasts, her navel, her back. He manipulated her body with ease, bending it any way he wished. His touch left a ripple of electricity and longing in its wake, and she sobbed a little, expecting more torturous pleasure to be delivered through the wand. Her last orgasm had left her depleted, almost unconscious; the thrill had been close to terrifying. He slipped his finger from her ass, making her writhe in his grip. The feel of it sliding from inside of her made her feel dirty and used in a way that was perversely appealing, and when it was gone, she felt the dull ache of craving and emptiness, a tighter cousin of the longing that throbbed in her pussy.
“Now will you consent to your examination?” he asked, as his hands swept over her body, massaging and stimulating her nipples, setting fire to her skin.
“Yes,” she whispered, and a tear squeezed from her right eye as she closed it. It was a tear of frustration, for herself, with herself; she had been turned so easily into a complacent doll, and she didn’t even care. Her flesh just craved more. Her mind had been numbed, and she felt she could no longer resist.
CHAPTER5
