Page 58 of Bred

“Then take your spanking,” he says, leaning back against the arm of the couch where he is sitting and extending his legs along the cushion, crossing them at the ankles so casually as he watches me get my ass beat by this stern stranger to me.

“I will get you both for this...oww!”

“You will do nothing of the kind,” Shank lectures. “You may have forgotten how to behave, but I will remind you, girl.”

“I don’t give a fuck what you do to me! You can’t make me do what you want! I’m not that sort of person anymore.”

“So you have changed,” he says, pausing for a moment to let my ass burn on its own.

“Yeah, of course I have.”

“What happened down there? When you came back to consciousness?”

“They asked me lots of questions, like you’re doing now, and then they retired me.”

“Sounds reasonable.”

“Fuck reasonable.”

* * *

Talon

Watching Lyra get herself into trouble with Shank was amusing, but it is also instructive. He’s asking the questions I should have asked, but didn’t. I needed her, had to be inside her. I didn’t have time to stop and interrogate her on her experiences on the surface of her world, or even ask how she came to be here.

She wants me to save her, but I’m not saving her from the consequences of her actions. He’s right. She can’t act out however she pleases, and she certainly can’t assault the crew with milk beverages whenever they say something she doesn’t want to hear.

She looks good over his lap, the twin curves of her ass on beautiful display. What she can’t see, and I can, is how hard Shank is fighting with himself to do this to her. He is not an emotional creature, and part of me wonders if he didn’t nudge her into the fit she just threw so he would have reason to spank her, to feel her body over his thighs and under his palm.

* * *

Lyra

“Oh, god, fucking ow! Cut it out!” I curse as this alien whips my bottom with the flat of his palm, not relenting, keeping me in place, trying to make me sorry for what I did—but I can’t be sorry for it. I’m not made that way anymore. I don’t care what so-called superiors think or want for me. I do what I want, when I want, to hell with the consequences.

“How did you get to our ship?” He asks another question, giving me another space for pause.

“I stole a shuttle,” I admit freely, proudly, even.

“You stole a shuttle and you intended to go where?”

“Anywhere, I didn’t care. I was tired of the planet. Dying in space was better than dying down there.”

“That is reckless and foolish and had an overwhelming likelihood of ending in your death,” he growls, his palm connecting with my ass in a much harder slap. “You were always somewhat reckless, but you seem to have gotten infinitely worse. Stealing a shuttle and heading nowhere is even worse than the first thing you did to earn punishment from me.”

“What did I do?”

“Among other things, you attempted to sabotage the ship by cutting into a power line. You could have killed yourself instantly.”

“Huh.”

“Huh? That’s all you have to say?”

“Well, I just stole a shuttle from the organization I worked my entire life to be a part of,” I say. “So I guess, compared to fleeing my home planet, breaking a power cable seems kind of... lame.”

“Lame?”

“Yeah. Old me was lame. New me is a real go-getter who abducts people. Kind of like you guys. Got upper management written all over me.”

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