Taken and Mated Page 8

  His hand was gone, and Lana shuddered and mewled, but did not fight against her punishment. She would have to endure it.

  As he had explained, she had no choice. No choice now but to obey.

  Chapter Seven

  When her trainer came for her some hours later, Lana was still awake. She had perhaps slept a little, but not much. For hours she was propped in the position of submission, her thighs dripping, her pussy throbbing, and the sensation of the plug inside of her occasionally roaring to life in her senses, making her want to howl and relieve herself, or at least move the object around with her fingertips.

  By the time the doors opened and her trainer appeared in her room, she had given herself over to the punishment. His words had echoed in her mind as her knees became sore, and her pussy throbbed even more fitfully with each passing moment that she was restrained there, exposed and helpless, aware that someone was watching her, waiting to see if she would be disobedient.

  Now that he had arrived in her room, she had resigned herself to whatever he would do to her. She had abandoned her physical resistance, and when the weight of her restraints released, she remained as she was, obedient, determined to show that she had been broken. She could not fight them now, not here: she was at the mercy of her captors and they would do with her body what they pleased.

  The commander gave her time to use the toilet and eat a bland food, and promised to return shortly to take her to her next training session. She ate, sitting on her bed, not wanting to admit how ravenously hungry she was, or betray that fact to whoever was watching her. But there was no hiding it. Her bottom still burned when she moved it over the fabric of her bed, and her pussy was throbbing, aching, right within her reach, but she was determined to convince her captors that she had submitted fully to their slavery and humiliation.

  Lana followed him from the room, led on a leash, with less trepidation than she had imagined she would possess, and the conflict inside of her was more overwhelming than the humiliation she felt she should be feeling. She could feel her own body responding in ways she would never have expected to the training she was receiving, betraying her mind, craving the complete submission that she had been forced to endure.

  Her mind, though, was still resolute. At least she wanted to believe it was. She would remember her original plan, no matter how much she gave in to the training she was receiving. She would not let herself be brainwashed.

  She gave her body over to her trainer and to submission. She had to fight constantly against the tendency, ever stronger, to enjoy what was happening to her: the baths, luxurious and hot, the tender care of Anasi, the humiliation and fullness of the cleanings, and the ever-enlarging plug that they placed inside of her bottom.

  She fought hard to still the disquieting feelings that fluttered inside of her as she was instructed by her trainer in the arts of pleasuring an alien male. After several days of her quiet submission and anal training, the commander took her to a new room, and instructed her to get on her knees.

  She obeyed, waiting for the pull of the weights to contort her into yet another submissive position—craving it, in fact, with the same hope that, somewhere in her training, she would be allowed the release she had been craving for days. She had been given release by the trainer after her first full day of cooperation, but he seemed to enjoy making her throb and ache for relief, and then withholding it.

  The days went on relentlessly, until she had no real sense of how long she had been captive or how far she had traveled from her home. She repressed, with great difficulty, a disturbing feeling that she felt for Commander Golan—a desire to please him, to feel his hand on her burning bottom. She fought to keep her desire to escape alive, but it was so much easier to simply relax into the ordered world of training.

  Anasi was the one who, quite accidentally, snapped her back to reality.

  “You’ve been sold,” he whispered to her excitedly one morning, ushering himself into her room nearly bursting with the excitement of his secret.

  “You have been auctioned off to a Galleon, a prince,” he whispered, his eyes lighting up with almost as much pleasure as though he himself were an Atrix and promised to a prince. “So now, you will begin your training for Galleon males.”

  Lana looked at Anasi, her eyes wide. “Ga-Galleon?” she whispered.

  Galtor—the home planet of Galleons—was lightyears from her home planet. It was in the Imperial Realm, but it was well-rumored that the Galleon species was fairly untamable, vicious, and feral, and that the Realm had made a mostly mercenary agreement with them to broker a cease-fire. It was not the sort of place where a human could easily make allies or plot an escape. And though she had never even seen a Galleon male, they were reputed to be enormous, strong, and violent. More beastly than human.

  Anasi smiled. “Galleon,” he repeated. “You are so lucky,” he whispered. “Let’s get you dressed.”

  * * *

  In the corridors outside her cell, Anasi was silent and somber, so by the time Lana had recovered from her shock and formulated the questions she wanted to ask him, he had turned her over—with some giddiness—to the commander, who was waiting for her in place of a trainer.

  “You have been sold,” the commander informed her dryly. “Your training must be sped up and I will oversee it. I expect complete obedience, or I will have no choice but to punish you severely.”

  She implored the commander with her eyes. Her heart had sped up, and was kicking furiously at her chest: she was afraid of the news she had heard about Galleon, strangely excited by it, and had an even stranger feeling in her chest—a desire to be trained and punished by the commander, and a melancholy that he would be leaving her to another male. Unsure of what she was about to say, she started speaking. “Sir, I—”

  The commander stepped forward and put a finger to her lips. His skin was soft, dry, and warm. Lana’s eyes became heavy with pleasure in spite of the situation. “Slaves of the Imperial Realm do not speak,” he admonished. “It is expected that if you open your mouth, it will be to pleasure your mate. And that is what we will learn today.”

  Lana’s eyes went wide, and her gaze dropped to the sizable bulge in her commander’s pants. Heat burned her neck in a wave that lifted her neck hairs with it. So far, the commander’s treatment of her had been clinical, and while she knew that it could not remain so forever, she was suddenly afraid of what he would do.

  But unexpectedly, the commander turned to a storage compartment in the wall, opening it with the wave of his hand. “Galleon men are quite possessive of their females,” he said. “So, they have requested that your training be conducted entirely on surrogate forms. No real males. Lamentably, this technology is not as developed as we would like it to be...”

  He selected a large phallus from a collection inside the compartment. Lana stared at it. It was big, far bigger than a human member could possibly be, and the surface was strange, almost as if covered in ridges and bumps.

  “This is an approximation, of course,” her trainer narrated coolly, putting a hand to her forehead and tipping her head back so that she was looking up at him. “I suspect that if you have been purchased by a prince, who was once a warlord, you may find him to be bigger than this. But it will do. I assume you have no training in orally pleasuring a man?”

  Lana had been through such depths of humiliation that she was surprised this question could make her blush. She shook her head, still staring at the phallus.

  The commander used his wrist console to summon, from an instantaneous yawning in the floor, a pole, several feet in front of her. With the flick of his hand, probably using the same strong, invisible forces that bound her hands and feet, the commander attached the giant phallus to the pole, almost four feet above the floor.

  “In reality,” he said, beckoning her to walk on her knees to the pole, which she did, trembling. “Your mate will be much taller than this. But for the purposes of training, we will assume that you will learn to navigate his heig
ht of your own accord and simply require that you learn the skills of pleasuring a Galleon male properly, in generalized terms.”

  She was in front of the pole now, the blunt thickness of the phallus before her eyes. She didn’t want to admit, even to herself, that she was imagining not a synthetic replica, but the real thing, pulsing and hot, and attached to a warlord of towering muscle. Excitement tingled up and down her spine, and she resented, for the umpteenth time, her body’s betrayal of her mind.

  Fear pooled inside her chest at the same time; they were too big. She would be split in half by a Galleon.

  The commander had come to stand on the other side of the pole. Lana took a perverse pleasure in seeing that he was stimulated by this exercise. Even more base was her own arousal at the idea, which she refused to admit. Still... the phallus in front of her lips was thick, long, and blunt, the shaft bumpy and almost vulgar. How would she...?

  She looked up at the commander when her wrists pulled her arms to her back and secured her hands together at her tailbone. He returned her gaze, and reached out a hand, placing it at the back of her head. His fingers curled at the base of her neck, electrifying her.

  “Galleon males are extremely long-lasting and mate for hours,” the commander growled. “You will need to pleasure your mate orally if you do not wish to be unable to walk the next day. Open your mouth.”

  He pressed her forward, toward the phallic object, and Lana looked down at it once more.

  “Look up at your mate,” the commander insisted. “At all times, you must signal that you are submissive and obedient. It is his claim as your mate and your duty as his slave.”

  Lana’s mouth was watering, and when she opened it, she could feel the saliva roll inside of her lips. She met the commander’s eyes and humiliation burned through her like a fire.

  Her pussy throbbed as she stretched her jaw wide for the enormous cock. The commander pushed her forward, cradling her head, leaning closer to the pole himself. “Take all of it inside your mouth,” he commanded, as her eyes began to water and her stomach spasmed with a gag. Her mouth was full, and her jaw was already aching. The water in her eyes leaked out of the corners and the commander smiled. “Even more,” he urged.

  She breathed heavily, flaring her nostrils, and attempted to back away from the phallus, but the commander held her head firmly in place. “Relax your jaw, and open more, and use your tongue to stimulate the underside of his cock, where it is more sensitive.”

  Lana’s eyes dropped to the cock being fed to her and started to shake her head. She couldn’t... it was too much.

  The commander pulled her away from the phallus, and stared down at her as she breathed heavily, snapping her eyes back up to attention. Saliva clung from her lips to the tip of the phallus, and the arch of it slowly fell to the floor as she awaited the commander’s wrath.

  “You must,” he said, tightening his grip in her hair, “never break eye contact with your mate as you pleasure him. Now do it again, and take it all the way to the base, deep into your throat. Do not break eye contact with me, or you will be disciplined. We do not have time for games.”

  Lana opened her mouth and leaned toward the phallus.

  “What do we say?” the commander growled.

  “Yes, sir,” Lana mewled breathlessly. “Thank you, sir.”

  He pushed on the back of her head, and the thick rubbery phallus went into her throat. She fought to stare at his burning, cruel eyes, but they so humiliated her that she struggled not to look away. Her stomach rolled again as the phallus passed her throat, but she stretched and relaxed, and felt the length of it slowly fill her mouth and throat until she had to tip herself upward to take it all.

  The commander smiled cruelly. “Good,” he said. “Keep going.”

  She tried, and her eyes welled up with the effort. The commander tapped the back of her head three times, not quite a slap, but a less-than-gentle push, each time sending the phallus a little further down her throat. She made a noise, but it was quickly snuffed by the cock.

  The commander read something from his wrist. “That’s good,” he said. “The computer model enjoys your whimpering. Make sounds and swallow to please his cock. And,” he added, tapping her on the forehead, “do not close your eyes or look away. You are to submit completely.”

  Lana obeyed. At first, she did it only to further her cause: to make the commander believe she was obedient, to avoid punishment... to broker trust... at least that was what she was telling herself.

  But as usual, the humiliating stare of the commander, the fullness of her mouth and throat as she played the submissive female, and the promise of discipline had contrived to make her thighs slick and wet, as her pussy trembled with excitement.

  She was almost there, almost to the base of the large phallus, but she couldn’t go any further. The commander pushed her, and she dropped her eyes and shook her head quickly. He released her, and she stared at the floor in shame. “I can’t,” she squeaked. She looked up at him, his disappointment burning through her chest. “I can’t get any more in.”

  The commander’s lips curled. “You will,” he growled. “Or you will be disciplined severely.”

  Lana looked imploringly at him, and her abdomen quivered with desire.

  The commander seemed very impatient to make sure she was properly trained. It occurred to her that he must need her to be submissive and trained before he turned her over to the Galleon prince.

  So it was only half a betrayal to herself, really, when she looked at him defiantly, and she had to hide a strange smile that threatened to develop on her lips. “I can’t do it,” she told him resolutely.

  And she was thrilled when a flicker of lust flared in the commander’s eyes.

  “Then you will be disciplined, Atrix. And I am sure you will find, afterward, that in fact you can.”

  The commander’s words sent a shiver along her spine, which she tried to ignore, retreating within herself and silently vowing to remember her inner resistance, as the pole was swallowed by the floor and the magnetic pull on her wrists was released.

  Golan commanded her to stand, and she did so obediently, not wanting to stoke his ire any further. She turned at his command and saw that a table had materialized behind her.

  “Lean over the table,” he commanded her. “And take the position of your discipline.”

  Lana toyed with the idea of resisting, but her calves still ached from her previous punishment, and she found that her body was reacting ahead of her mind, turning to the table, placing her hands to her sides. She could feel the pulsing of her pussy as the plug in her bottom stretched her flesh and stimulated her against her will.

  The commander stood behind her, waiting, it seemed, for her to have time to contemplate what would happen next. She felt the silky material of her tunic sliding at his touch, up her thighs, caressing her bottom where he was about to, no doubt, leave the marks of her punishment in fiery licks.

  He applied a light pressure to the plug in her bottom with his fingers and rolled the object inside of her by moving the jeweled end of it in a circular motion. Lana’s legs wobbled, and her skin shook with an electric sensation, from the curve of her buttocks to her lower back, anticipating the sting of her discipline.

  The first of his innumerable spanks stung sharply and made her gasp. Heat engulfed her skin and her eyes stung, watering as they had from her oral training. The slaps continued to rain down on her bottom, each one sharper than the one before, spilling heat and sharp pain into the ever-growing lake of fire spreading across her skin. She chewed her lip and curled her fingers toward the table, noting that he had not activated her wrists yet; she could lift them from the table.

  As the intensity of the spanking mounted, one of her hands lifted involuntarily to cover her backside, but it did not reach her skin before it was pulled, by Golan himself, to the table. “You will take your punishment and thank me for it,” he growled, punctuating every other word with a harsh spank. “You will ob
ey, and submit to your training, Atrix.”

  Stifling a sob, she pressed her hand to the table and fought to keep it there as the painful slaps crescendoed in a fiery numbness, broken only by the sting of each new slap.

  “Yes, sir,” she sobbed through tears. “I am sorry, sir. Please... I’ve... I’ve learned my lesson.”

  The commander continued to spank her, and she lost the ability to speak, wondering when he would decide she was properly disciplined.

  The painful slaps stopped, and she felt the heat of his hand on her burning skin as he rubbed it, delivering an uncomfortable, but distinctly pleasurable feeling that cut through her core. “You will try again, and you will be obedient. And when you are finished, we will remove this plug, and replace it with another.”

  “Yes, sir,” she murmured.

  “And if you are good,” the commander breathed quietly, “you will be given the relief that you crave. But you must work for it.”

  Lana tried desperately to fight the shiver of pleasure that traveled through her body. How could she experience... pleasure? At the thought of submitting to this training, to becoming a slave to the sexual appetites of a wild, violent Galleon?

  “Stand up,” the commander told her. “Turn and kneel.”

  She obeyed, and looked up at the commander, who reached forward to wipe a tear gently from her face. The gesture confused her further, sending a stirring swirl of pleasure through her abdomen. “I can see that you want to embrace your nature, Atrix,” the commander said. “You will be happier when you accept your fate and learn to please your new mate.”

  The pole rose again from the floor, the phallus still attached to it.

  Lana put her hands behind her back, and opened her mouth, her eyes on the commander. The act of submission plucked a string inside of her, and she told herself that she would give in to what she was feeling only to convince her captor, only for that...