Page 17 of Bred

Is the captain here to watch? He’s just standing in front of the door, his big arms crossed over his chest. He’s so handsome, even in all his alien-ness. I missed him. I catch that thought and repeat it mentally.Fucking hell, I missed him!What is happening to me? I’m losing my mind, I think. Several days of relatively mild captivity and I’m ready to give in.

Before I can think about that, Sir reaches for me from behind and pulls me over his thighs. Four hands make easy work of lifting and positioning me over his lap, my head down toward the floor, palms supporting myself, my ass raised high over his knee. It happens so quickly I have no chance to resist.

“You’ve been a very bad little girl,” he lectures. There’s something about that phrasing that makes me tingle as two of his hands roam over my bottom, one taking care of each cheek. There’s a moment in which they pull away, then, with a single motion, return in a hard slap.

My bottom is not fully recovered from the use of the belt two days ago, and neither is my psyche. I feel so fucking small, so utterly helpless, and now so very sore.

“That’s one,” he says.

One? One spank? That means I have eleven more and then I’m done? These aren’t nearly as bad as the belt was, I mean, they could be I suppose, but he didn’t smack me that hard.

I look up in hope and meet Talon’s eye. He is standing with his arms crossed, watching me take my punishment, and I sense that now is my opportunity.

“I’m really sorry!” I babble. “I know I shouldn’t have touched your ship, and I know it was dangerous and stupid and I am actually very sorry, so... eeep!”

I’m interrupted as another one of those firm, but not too terribly hard slaps lands against both sides of my cheeks.

“I’m really sorry!” I repeat as the third swat lands. Nobody is telling me to be quiet, so I keep tumbling out apologies as one swat at a time is delivered to my bottom, until in surprisingly short order, all twelve have landed and instead of writhing in pain, I am feeling quite warm in my seat and tingling in the private areas beyond, but otherwise okay.

Sir keeps me over his lap, though he moves me so I’m not tipped quite so far. I am able to lie there over his thighs, strangely grateful just to be pressed against another living body. Two days isn’t that long to be alone, but it is when you’re sore and scared and captive on an enemy vessel.

Two hands are still cupping my cheeks. One of the other arms is wrapped around my waist to keep me in position, and the other is now stroking my hair. After so much pain and then solitude, it feels good to be touched nicely, to have fingers scratching lightly over my scalp.

“I’m willing to forego the rest of your punishment,” Talon says. “If you’re willing to stop tearing up my ship every chance you get.”

“I promise I won’t!”

I do actually mean it. Breaking his ship isn’t the way to go, clearly. I’m going to lose badly if I try to challenge him that way. But maybe I can get back on his good side, and maybe, if he takes pity on me now, he could take pity on me later and return me to Earth. I don’t know. Truthfully, I am desperate and in spite of the fact that I’m lying calmly over the thighs of the alien who has me, I’m terrified I won’t ever see my home again, or the people who matter to me.

“You promise you won’t stop?”

“No. I’ll stop,” I sniff. Sir was right. The second time is worse. It’s worse not because it hurts more, but because more has been taken from me this time. Now I’m agreeing not to fight. I feel like I’m lying down and letting them win, and the fact that it feels kind of good to lose doesn’t make it any better.

I’m a coward. They’ve barely touched me, and here I am giving into them, because I can see how futile it will be to keep fighting them in any obvious way. There’s not much difference between surrender and submission.

“Let her up when you’re ready, Shank.”

So that’s Sir’s name. Shank. Does it fit him? I expected a reference to his many limbs. Hans, maybe. Or Arm-ando. I let out a little giggle as my brain tries to escape the helplessness of the situation by fleeing into silliness.

“I think she could do with some extended over the knee time,” Sir says, holding me a little more firmly.

Talon nods. “Very good. Report to me when done.”

He turns on his heel and leaves. I want to call out to him to stay. Some desperate impulse inside me misses him the moment he is gone. It’s as if I imprinted on him that first day I met him, when he made me feel pleasure unlike any I’ve felt before and being separated from him is now a pain in itself.

Now I’m left with this four-armed brute who is keeping me in this entirely embarrassing position for reasons I don’t understand. The punishment is supposed to be over, so why am I still stuck here over Sir Shank’s thighs?

The hand at the back of my head resumes its slow stroking. It does feel nice to be caressed, but I am not sure I trust it. I know he’s capable of striking me, of making me feel pain, and of leaving me in that pain for days afterward without so much as looking in on me. Neither of them cared how I was after that belting. I was nothing but a prisoner to be punished and put away. Caresses now only make that point more emphatically.

I squirm a little, and feel his arms tighten around me. There’s no getting out of this. I’m stuck over his lap for as long as it takes for him to decide whatever it is he’s going to decide.

“You’re lucky,” he says after a long pause. “Captain Talon must have a soft spot for you. If it were my decision, I’d be giving you a good long spanking right now.” His palms squeeze my cheeks. “I’d make sure it was hot and stinging, and I’d be certain you were a very sorry little human when I was done with you.”

His voice is deep and resonant, the stern tones sinking into me, finding places I didn’t know existed. I don’t like this. I can’t like this. Liking this would be indication of the onset of some kind of madness. He’s threatening to punish me, to make it hurt. I know what it feels like when he unleashes on me. I can still feel the effects of the belt now. He’s left his mark on me, even if there’s nothing to be physically seen.

“Do you want me to?”

“Want you to what?”

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