“Oh, he paddled you,” Drako says, gently tracing what must be the lines of the bruises with his fingertips in a way that makes my skin tingle in a lovely fashion.
I thought a Vikar would be rough and cruel, but it seems that for the moment, it is enough for Drako that I am in place and taking his cock. He is training me, I realize. It’s a strange sensation. It feels oddly cozy.
The last few days of my life have been so horrifying that this, by comparison, almost feels comforting. Yes, my pussy is being used, and no, I do not have a say in it, but Drako is in control and in charge and I am being taken care of.
If I am not very, very careful, I could get used to this. I can’t let him know that.
“You’re going to submit,” he says. “I don’t know how you survived that crash…”
“Someone up there really dislikes me,” I quip. “Someone wants me to fucking suffer.”
“And that someone could be me,” he says, stroking his thick fucking cock in and out of me. “But you’re a real piece of work, aren’t you.”
He says it like it is a compliment. You really can’t tell what these people mean.
“I’m not,” I deny.
“Yes, of course you are, I can tell by these marks. Either that captain was a brute, or you angered him deliberately.”
“He was a brute,” I moan. “And I pissed him off on purpose.”
“Of course you did. Just like you ran, when you could have frozen. Just like you argued with my men when you could have complied.” He gives me a deeper, harder thrust. “A girl like you needs real training and discipline. You’re going to get it. Now, are you ready to take your new owner’s seed? Because I am going to breed you.”
He doesn’t ask for a response. He slides his hand underneath me and starts toying with my clit as he picks up the pace, driving his thick cock inside me over and over. I have taken a lot of fucking lately. I let Thor use me like a toy. I wonder how enraged Drako would be if he had any idea that I am in no way pure?
“That’s right, up on those tiptoes. Arch that ass. You’re hungry for this really, aren’t you,” he says. “I shouldn’t have told you to stop running when I was trying to catch you. I should have told you to bend over and expose your pussy because it needed a fucking.”
He pinches my clit and rolls it between his fingers as he pounds me toward a mutual orgasm that I know he demands of me. I have to come for him, I have to take his seed, and that is what he wants of me, so I have no choice but to give it.
I cry out as I am overwhelmed by sensations. He has started to bump the vibrator back and forth inside me, so now I am being stretched in almost every hole I have.
“Here we go, sweet captive girl. Your first dose of your new owner’s seed.”
Drako comes inside of me, keeping me firmly in place as he fills me up.
I pant and gasp and moan and come along with him. There’s no choice. I have to do what he wants, and what my own bodywants. That traitorous flesh of mine is almost as much trouble as the brain who gets excited at the prospect of this kind of use.
We only just met, and I can feel the heat of his cum in my bare pussy. This is not a romantic thing. There is no pretense of love. This is a breeding and a using, pure and simple.
“Very good girl. I don’t think you’re going to be that hard to train after all,” the stranger who just filled my pussy up says. “You weren’t handled properly in that soft, decadent society you come from. But I know how to deal with you.”
He pulls out of my pussy, collects some of his seed and my arousal on two fingers, and grips the back of my neck with his other hand, while offering those fingers to my mouth.
“Clean them,” he says simply.
I shake my head.
“I like it when you resist,” he smirks dangerously. “Now, open your mouth, or I’m going to fuck it with my cock. This is the easy version.”
I obey him, because I do not want the consequence he is naming. I part my lips a little, and he slides his fingers into my mouth. I taste myself, a little. But mostly, I taste him. I have never tasted a man’s cum before. I’ve never let anyone do anything this crude.
“Good,” he says. “Now you know the taste of your bond to me. Now you understand.”
He stands back and looks at me up and down.
“You are going to need more appropriate clothing,” he says. “Not black and red, though. You don’t have the temperament for that. Something blue, like those pretty, watery eyes. Somethingpastel. A little skirt easily raised for use. But you need leggings in this environment, and warmth. So you can keep that uniform. It’s a good reminder where you came from.”
It’s a good reminder that I am from the ship. Why does he care about that?
