Page 14 of Dreikx

Personal Log. Dreikx

It is day two of my life with the Regha princess, and I’m already at risk of becoming a Regha Alpha, meaning losing my good sense and logical thinking patterns honed over years spent inside the presidential palace as a child of a beggar and a thief.The urge to describe Tamey’s many assets, not limited to her pussy, which, by the way, has both the clitoris and the inner marking which will heat up when I enter her and enhance the travel of my seed to her womb…I drop the pen. Clearly, I have gone and done that which I should not do. Record Tamey’s many assets.

I check the time.

It is eleven in the morning of the human hour, and Tamey has yet to join me for breakfast, although I have made it perfectly clear she ought to descend the steps a few minutes before eight o’ clock.

“House,” I say. “Ring the alarm.”

“What is the threat?”

“Don’t question me. Initiate alarms.”

“Yes, Alpha.”

“Sir,” I correct.

Tamey has trained the house, and now the house is Alpha-ing me. Unacceptable.

Alarms blare throughout the house, and I shut off my auditory senses, lean back in my chair, wondering what kind of excuses she will spout for not showing up for breakfast and following her Alpha’s clearly defined protocol. Wait, what? Wayward thoughts.I am not an Alpha.

I scrub my face, noting a very real threat to my body: the bulge in my pants. Sometime after Tamey came all over my glove, my penis swelled, and I can’t seem to shut off those sensors. This morning, I’m exceptionally annoyed with myself.

I sniff the glove. Her scent makes my testicles heavy. I should’ve changed out the gloves. There’s no washing the scent off, and I can’t wash it out of my brain either. Unless, of course, I begin the detox process of moving the scent memory from my consciousness into my subconsciousness, where I can lock it away. Hm. I think about it and conclude it would be a wasted effort, one I would have to work on continuously. After the mating hour has passed, I shall develop a defensive system for her extraordinary scent.

Tamey rushes down the steps and into the dining room. She wears a veil and a crown. That is all. I keep my eyes on her face, and her panicked expression makes me smile. “What’s going on?” she asks, looking around. I read her lips since I’ve turned off my auditory senses.

“End the drill,” I command the house.

The house shuts off the alarms, and I reopen my senses. “It seems you have either forgotten or discarded my request for the specific breakfast hour. Which is it so that I may find an adequate punishment?”

“Discarded.” Tamey sits down, puts her face in her palms, and scrubs. She opens two fingers and stares at me with one eye.

The amber color shines brighter this morning, as do the markings on her face. When she removes her hands and leans back in the chair, I stare. Even her hair is brighter. A colorful dream indeed. Beauty aside, Tamey believes herself above the rules, likely because Tayseer spoiled her and allowed her many freedoms. She is his jewel, which means her disobedience went unpunished.

“Disobedience will not be tolerated.”

“Okay.” Tamey picks up a piece of a carrot and crunches. “Mmm. I like this. Salty.”

“It is notthis. It is a carrot.”

She nods, glancing at me, then back at her food.

“I’m several hours late for work.”

“You know, you don’t have to wait for me to eat and leave the house.”

“Is that so?”

Reluctantly, she nods.

“Stand,” I order and move back in my chair.

Tamey stands, and I tap my thigh. “Over my knee.”

She blinks a few times, then takes her bottom lip between her blunt teeth but doesn’t disobey. Graceful as ever, she folds her body over my knee, her bottom up, the veil covering half of it. The scent of her arousal blossoms in the room, and only then do I realize I probably should not physically punish her because she will enjoy it. I should come up with something less enjoyable but not harsh. I’m not a sadist. Maybe only a bit of a control freak.

My black gloves glide over her smooth bottom, petting the place before I spank it. Tamey makes no noise. Not even a grunt, and I can see where this is going in her head because her pussy speaks for her. Liquid wets her folds. I run a finger over her entrance and scoop it up.Do not smell your finger.

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