Page 37 of Alien Boss. Human Pet

I roll her nipples between my fingers, feeling them harden instantly. The contrast of my golden scales against her pale skin is mesmerizing.

"Your mind is not on business, Ms. Christian," I rumble. "Get back to work."

Her head falls back against me, her red hair spilling over my forearm. Her small hands clutch at my wrist, not to push me away but to keep me there.

"Please, Mr. Keong," she whimpers, her voice thick with need. "I need it so bad I can't stand it."

I release her abruptly and spin her chair around to face me. Placing my hands on the armrests, I lean down until my face is inches from hers, dominating her field of vision.

"You need what, precisely, so bad you can't stand it?" I challenge, watching her squirm under my gaze.

Her eyes dart away, unable to meet mine, and her cheeks flush a delightful shade of crimson.

"Do I have to spell it out for you?" she growls with unexpected defiance, grabbing my hand and pressing it betweenher thighs. The heat emanating from her core is scorching, even through the latex. It takes every ounce of my self-control not to rip the material away and claim what's mine.

"That didn't sound very respectful, Ms. Christian," I say, keeping my voice steady despite the fire in my veins. "And that's the second time you've tried to move my hand where you wanted it to be...as if you were in charge. What should I do about this situation?"

"Well," she replies with a sarcastic lilt that makes my blood simmer, "maybe if you tied my hands to the armrests, I couldn't touch you anymore?"

I click my tongue against my teeth, feeling my control slipping. Her bratty behavior is deliberately provocative—she knows exactly what she's doing, pushing me to take control, to dominate her completely.

I yank open my desk drawer, the contents neatly organized but no less intimidating for their order. Bundles of silk rope, each a different color, lie coiled like waiting serpents. My fingers brush over them before I select a bright red one, its color as bold as her defiance. I place it on her lap, the silken length pooling there as I roll up my sleeves, my scales catching the light.

“Is that supposed to intimid me, SIR?” Willow asks, her voice dripping with cheek. She glances down at the rope, her lips curling into a smirk. “Putting the rope in my lap so I can ponder how I’m about to be restrained with it?”

I let out a sharp exhale, my gaze narrowing. Her insolence is as infuriating as it is exhilarating. She tilts her head, her green eyes locking with mine, and the look she gives me is pure challenge.Oh yeah, what are you going to do about it?The unspoken words hang in the air between us.

I don’t bother responding. Instead, I open another drawer, my claws clicking against the polished wood. Inside lies a ring gag, its design as unyielding as my resolve. I grab it, the coldmetal biting into my palm, and without ceremony, I shove it between her teeth. She flinches but doesn’t resist as I buckle it tightly behind her head, the leather straps digging into her skin.

Her mouth is forced open wide, her lips stretched around the unforgiving metal. Her breathing quickens, and I can see the flicker of unease in her eyes, though she doesn’t let it show in her expression. Not yet.

I loop the red rope around her neck, the silk sliding effortlessly against her skin. I tie it off into a choke leash, the knot firm but not cruel, and use it to pull her to her feet. She stumbles slightly, her balance thrown off by the sudden movement, but I don’t give her time to adjust. I grab the other end of the leash and secure it to a beam in the ceiling, forcing her to remain standing unless she wants to choke herself.

Her arms go behind her back without prompting, and I pull them into a right angle, lasering the rope around her wrists and welding them to her torso with meticulous precision. The latex protects her skin from rope burn, so I pull the ropes extra tight, savoring the way her breathing quickens with each tug. Her chest heaves, the ropes constricting her torso, and her eyes widen as I pull out yet more rope.

“I’ll bet you’re regretting that smart mouth now,” I say, my voice low and triumphant.

“Fuck you,” she mumbles—or at least, I think that’s what she says. It’s hard to tell with the ring gag stretching her mouth wide open. Drool pools at the corners of her lips, and her chest rises and falls rapidly, her breaths shallow and labored.

“Very well, if you insist on firmer discipline, I can oblige you, Ms. Christian,” I say, my voice calm but laced with menace. I grab another length of rope, my claws flexing as I prepare to tighten her bindings further.

I chuckle darkly as I find the zippers hidden in the seams of her latex blazer. With a sharp tug, I pull them open, baring herbreasts to the cool air of the office. Her nipples harden instantly, dark and pebbled against her pale skin. I don’t waste time—I grab the red silk rope and begin winding it around her chest, binding her breasts into swollen, taut balloons. The ropes dig into her flesh, making her gasp behind the ring gag, and I can’t resist dragging a clawed finger across one nipple. She squeals, her body jerking in the bindings, and I smirk.

“Are you ready to behave yet, Little Flower?” I ask, my voice dripping with mock innocence.

Her response? She lifts her leg and kicks me lightly in the shin. I burst into laughter, the sound echoing in the room. “You are really putting me through my paces today, you know that? Very well.”

I grab another length of rope and kneel in front of her. She’s still balancing precariously on one leg, her body trembling with effort and arousal. I wrap the rope around her right thigh, pulling it tight before looping it down to her ankle, effectively immobilizing her leg. She wobbles, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps, but she doesn’t fall. Good girl.

“Let’s see how you handle this,” I mutter, adding more ropes around her torso until she’s practically mummified from the neck down to her waist. Only her swollen, rope-bound breasts protrude from the intricate coil of silk. I step back to admire my handiwork, my cock throbbing with anticipation.

“Have you been tamed yet?” I ask, my voice teasing.

She doesn’t answer with words. Instead, she whimpers, her hips thrusting forward as much as the ropes allow, her pussy desperate for attention. I laugh again, the sound low and dangerous.

“Still defiant, I see. Let’s fix that.”

I grab another length of rope, doubling it over, and she lets out a sound somewhere between a scream and a laugh. Her eyes are wide, but there’s a spark of excitement in them that Ican’t ignore. She’s enjoying this, even as she squirms against the bindings.

---