© 2016 Snekguy. All rights reserved.
This work was made possible by the generous support of my Patrons:
Disclaimer: This work of erotic fiction is intended for adults only. The story contains the following themes: maledom, reluctant, oral, kissing, vaginal, large insertion, creampie, rough, biting, scratching, choking, hair pulling, size difference, muscle, sweat, multiple orgasms, angry sex, trash-talking, happy ending, feline, long tongue.
Please note that this is an older story that has not yet been edited to bring it up to my current standards.
“My Lord Patriarch, I will of course compensate you fully for the loss of the ship in any way that I can, I assure you that this was completely unforeseen.”
The Patriarch snarled, raising his hackles and exposing his sharp, carnivore teeth at the merchant, his pearlescent, ornate fur cape flowing behind him. The far shorter and plumper human straightened his tie uncomfortably, avoiding the penetrating gaze of the nine foot Borealan monarch.
Benedict sold used starships by trade, it was not an easy business to break into, even a second hand hull rendered unfit for naval service by battle damage cost a fortune to purchase. Fortunately his family was wealthy, and he had begun by recycling the hulks for scrap money. Recently he had discovered a far more lucrative business opportunity.
Borealis was a newly contacted planet, uncivilized and bordering enemy territory. The Patriarch who ruled Elysia, the most powerful and prosperous of the Borealan nations, was eager to modernize his military and not averse to paying for it. Benedict had been selling him used UNN starships, fixing what damage he could and bringing retired designs up to spec, in exchange for raw materials and precious metals that were abundant on the alien world.
The Patriarch had been delighted to have his own fleet, though Benedict doubted he knew to what extent the vessels were outdated or unfit for service, and had no intention of informing him. The world had no naval obligation to the multi-species Coalition that included humanity, and the ships were mostly decorative, used to intimidate and show off to the other territories of the planet.
The latest deal however, had gone badly. Benedict had purchased the UNN Alexandria at auction, a light cruiser that had suffered severe structural damage from a Betelgeusian smartbomb. The superstructure had been completely crippled, the damned ship barely holding together, and it had been sold for barely the value of its salvage after having been written off. He had gotten greedy, hiring a team of engineers to patch it up and reinforce the hull to the point that it was spaceworthy again, then had sold it to the Patriarch for three times the value of its scrap metal.
Borealis however had no space elevators and no orbital docks, which meant that the Patriarch had a bad habit of making landfall and applying unnecessary strain on his vessels. The Alexandria had broken up on reentry, killing her Borealan crew, and the monarch was furious.
“My people live by a code of honor,” the feline alien growled, glaring at the merchant with his reflective, amber eyes. They were sat at a long table in the Patriarch's ivory spire, and the enormous creature tapped its curved claws on the marble surface, tipped with ornate thimbles made of gold. The room was decorated with innumerable banners and tapestries, depicting great battles or royal standards. Guards of comparable size and ferocity stood to attention nearby, their gilded, red armor standing out against the white pillars that held up the ceiling. Their long tails flicked back and forth, their round, furry ears protruded from their helmets, swiveling to track the conversation.
“Borealans do not lie, we do not cheat. We have traded much in the past, Benedict, and I am grateful for your contributions to the might and prosperity of Elysia. But if I find that you have misled me, cheated me, I will take that as a personal insult.”
Benedict was sweating, both because of the intense heat and gravity of the alien world, and because of the way the creature's nostrils flared in anger as it stared him down. He had never seen the alien so angry before, going by the usual temperament of the Borealans it was a miracle that he had not been savaged yet.
“My dear Patriarch, you are my most valued customer! In all of Coalition space there is no alliance, and no business relationship that I would go further to maintain than the one that we share. I can promise you most assuredly that I will track down the original owner of the Alexandria and ensure that justice is served for your crew who so regretfully perished in the crash.” The alien was still angry, but he was listening. Benedict could still salvage this mess. “With your permission, I will return to human space and retrieve compensation for you, a vessel of twice the value of the Alexandria.”
The Patriarch scratched his chin, considering.
“That will be satisfactory, I agree to your terms,” Benedict breathed a sign of relief, but the Patriarch was not finished. “But on one condition.”
“Whatever you wish, Lord Patriarch.”
“I fear that if you return to human space, I may never hear from you again. You humans do not always reveal your intentions, and often talk at crossed purposes.” Benedict began to speak, but the alien cut him off with a gesture of his massive hand. “I will allow you to return and retrieve my compensation, however I will require that you leave your daughter in my custody. When the new ship is in my possession, I shall release her to you.”
“A...hostage?” Benedict was hesitant to use the term, but the Patriarch seemed deadly serious.
“Think of it as collateral. You have caused me a great deal of trouble, Merchant Benedict, but as this is your first transgression, I will give you an opportunity to redeem yourself. Do not disappoint me.”
Benedict wanted to protest, to negotiate some more favorable deal that did not involve leaving his treasured daughter in the hands of aliens, but the stern expression on the Patriarch's face told him that this meeting was over. He rose to his feet unsteadily, the crippling 1.3G gravity weighing down the already out of shape man, and he bowed deeply.
“As you wish, Patriarch.”
“Daddy you can't! You simply can't!”
Rebecca batted at her father with a silken pillow, her frilly nightgown flaring as she stomped her feet. The portly merchant tried to keep her under control, pulling the pillow from her hands and pleading with her to calm down. The desert planet hovered outside the window, her lavishly furnished quarters on their private yacht was her home during these extended voyages. She was in the prime of her life, and had reached the age when her rapidly developing figure had become a magnet for suitors. Benedict was overprotective, but he didn't trust her to behave if he left her on Earth alone. She had a driver's license after all, and was now too old for him to confine her to their villa.
“The decision has been made, Becky, please! I'll only be gone for a few days, I own a shipyard two jumps from Borealis. All you have to do is stay on the planet. The Patriarch is a king, he has all of the amenities you're used to, and I'll be able to send down anything you want before I leave.”
“It's awful and hot, and the gravity hurts my ankles,” the young woman pouted, giving in and collapsing onto her bed to sit with her arms crossed. “Why do I have to stay Daddy? Why didn't you just tell him no?”
“Daddy has worked very hard for this alliance, princess. Our family now has exclusive access to the Borealan market, we alone can exploit their materials and provide them with ships. These aliens are a backward race, it all depends on my personal relationship with their damned Patriach. If I upset him and don't make amends, he'll cut us off.”
Rebecca sulked, turning her head away from her father conspicuously. She was a spoiled, petulant girl, but how could the daughter of a rich merchant be anything else? She twirled her golden locks in her manicured finger, doing her best impression of a scared, innocent girl.
“I'm afraid, Daddy. You know those beasts are violent, what if they decide to eat me?”
Benedict sighed, he was all too familiar with this routine, she knew just how to push his buttons, and after her mother had passed away, she knew that she was all he had left. Carol had always known how to reign her daughter in, but Benedict was too soft on her, he didn't have the heart. She was the most precious thing in the world to him, but he knew the word of the Patriarch was good. It wouldn't work this time, too much was at stake.
“Darling, I have already agreed, now pack your things, I have to leave soon.”
A tear of anger rather than sorrow slipped down her cheek, and she pursed her lips, throwing a stuffed animal at her father.
“Daddy you're the worst!”
Rebecca removed her heels, walking on her long cotton socks as her father urged her along, the high gravity of the planet already making her joints hurt, and causing her usually bouncy, curled hair to sag. He dragged her massive suitcase behind him, filled with far more clothes than she could possibly expect to need.
“I look like an urchin, Daddy,” she muttered.
“I did tell you to wear something practical.”
“It's so dusty and dirty, my socks will be ruined.”
“I'll buy you new socks,” Benedict grunted, heaving the suitcase and passing it to a waiting servant. The eight foot alien, clad in a floaty, revealing gown took it easily, and carried it away into the spire. The building was the seat of Elysian power, towering over the surrounding city, which was made up of short, squat buildings. The gravity discouraged the aliens from building too high, and by human standards the six storey tower was laughable, but in this environment it was imposing. It was made from white stone that reflected the harsh light of the primary star.
“This must be Rebecca,” the Patriarch boomed in his deep, baritone voice. He was stood in the doorway to the spire, tall and wide enough to completely block the entrance. He was wearing his ornate, blue armor, embroidered with numerous scenes of hunting and war in fine, golden thread. His long cape fell behind him, the odd fur gleaming in the sunlight, the colors shifting hues depending on the angle of the observer. He extended his hand to Rebecca, who looked puny and fragile in comparison, the black and orange markings that patterned his skin visible beneath his sleeve. She hesitated for a moment, afraid, then after a quick glance at her father for reassurance, took the beast's hand.
The Patriarch leaned down and kissed her wrist, his massive head as large as the girl's torso. His mane of orange hair fell about her.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, daughter of Merchant Benedict,” the alien rumbled. He had been brushing up on his human etiquette. He turned to Benedict, his expression more stern.
“She is safe with me, return as quickly as you can. I am eager to put this affair behind us.”
Benedict nodded, and embraced his daughter, before turning back to the shuttle. Rebecca watched it rise from the stone landing pad, kicking up a cloud of dust, then fly away into the azure sky, the flare of its engines slowly fading.
“Please, this way, Rebecca,” the Patriarch said, gesturing for her to follow him with his long arm. She trailed after him, her shoes dangling in her hand, and did her best to avoid stepping on his cape as it dragged on the ground.
“Your father was very specific about your requirements, and has left us with a stock of food, and instructions on how to prepare it. Your suite has been furnished to your liking, and you will be provided with a guard and servant. Do not hesitate to ask, should you need anything. At your father's insistence you will be confined to that area of the spire, he believes you will be safer that way, despite my assurances that no harm can befall you here.”
She followed him down a carpeted hall, the walls lined with elaborate tapestries and alien busts carved from wood sitting on marble pillars. Everything looked so large, it made her feel like she had shrunk. After a moment they came to a door to their right, its size just as exaggerated as the other furnishings in the spire. The Patriarch took the knob in his massive hand, turning it and pushing the door ajar. He ushered Rebecca inside with a wave of his claws. She slipped past him, he was almost large enough to block her path entirely even standing aside so that she might pass him.
She emerged into an open plan room, far larger than the cabin on her yacht. There was a gigantic bed that looked large enough to fit ten people, its mattress covered in silken sheets and heaps of satin pillows. The walls were made from large blocks of stone, but they were covered in most places by huge tapestries and carpets, no windows she realized. Some were embroidered with fine, intricate scenes of hunting and battles, others with geometric patterns or floral designs that the girl found quite pleasing to the eye. The same busts on pedestals were present here too, and she noted that the arches that opened up the walls to her left and right were elaborately carved, as if some skilled mason had poured his heart into the stone once he had finished his labor. There were faces, animals, plants, it was quite tasteful. These arches led to what must have been a bathroom and perhaps a storage area. There was A/C of some kind, the temperature of the room was lower than the stifling native atmosphere, and the air was more humid. At least her hair and skin would not be damaged during her stay. What furniture there was, was carved from dark wood that resembled mahogany. As she stepped over the threshold she felt her stomach drop, warning her that she was floating. She looked down in alarm, but her feet were firmly planted on the ground, it was a gravity device of some kind, easing the crushing hold of the planet. Relief washed over her as the pressure was taken off her joints. The patriarch smiled at her obvious approval, bowing and waving his arm jovially.
“An AG field generator, my lady. Small scale, but I obtained one and had it installed in this guest room by my architects some time ago, so that it might serve to alleviate the strain on our human visitors. As you can see, your belongings were brought to your room already.”
“I must say, Lord Patriarch,” Rebecca said, turning to the giant alien as he awaited her response. “I am pleasantly surprised, your choice of décor is tasteful and you have taken many steps to make my stay here more comfortable.” She curtsied as her father had taught her to do when thanking high profile guests or dignitaries who he so often met with, and the Patriarch seemed delighted by this. “Thank you, my Lord.”
“As you can plainly see, your father's fears were unfounded, my lady. May I introduce you to your guard and servant, he will see to your needs during your stay with us.” He barked an order in his course native tongue, his baritone voice reverberating down the hall. He was kind and well mannered, she liked the great beast well enough, but she couldn't help but be intimidated by his sheer size and obvious strength.
Another Borelan trotted down the hall, standing to attention beside his Patriarch. This one was a little smaller than him, probably about eight feet tall with shoulders that were none the less far broader than those of a human. He had jet black hair and fur, like a panther she thought, and a skin tone to match. He had green eyes that peeked from below his brow, reflecting the light as her eyes wandered over his attire. He wore ruby red armor, emblazoned with golden figures and trim, it looked very ceremonial, some kind of royal guard perhaps? He was unarmed, not that the aliens seemed to need anything besides their wicked claws to fight, and the seemingly ceramic armor extended to his torso and limbs, ending at the hands and feet. A long, stabilizing tail protruded from behind his body, the same shade of inky black as the rest of him.
“This is Beltza, he will see to your needs. His English is adequate, do not hesitate to make requests of him, as I have ordered him to treat you as his Alpha.”
“Begging your pardon, Patriarch, but what does that mean?”
“Ah, you are unaccustomed to Borealan society? The Alpha is the highest ranked pack member, in this case it is an honorary title that requires him to obey any order given as if it came from my very lips.”
“I see, thank you.”
“He will stand guard by the door, call him should the need arise. I must bid you farewell, daughter of Benedict, I have much business to attend to. I trust you have everything you need?”
“Yes, Lord Patriarch. Thank you for your hospitality.” The great beast bowed, and then proceeded back down the hall the way they had come, his long cloak trailing behind him as it shimmered under the light.
Rebecca eyed her guard cautiously, now that they were alone together she realized how damned big he was. His size had seemed understated as he had stood next to the larger Patriarch. Becky was a fairly small girl, her figure was lithe and she could best be described as slight, though her golden curls and developed figure wooed her male classmates much to the distress of her father. At five feet tall her head barely passed the giant alien's waist. He was looking straight ahead as if he couldn't see her at all. She decided to just shut the door on him, this was not some influential ruler like the Patriarch, it was just some manservant, undeserving of her courtesy. Besides, the giant, orange-haired beast had made it sound as if the guard had to obey any order given. He would hardly protest her treatment of him.
Enjoying the lighter gravity and the cool air, she explored her room, there was indeed a bathroom and a storage area where most of her belongings were stacked. If the clumsy beasts had broken anything she would strangle her father, that buffoon. How had he allowed this to happen? He was like a jellyfish, no spine to speak of, a man should have stood up to that great furry creature and refused to have his only daughter serve as...as collateral to a botched deal.
Oh well, no matter, her room was indeed comfortable and attractively furnished. She sat on the bed, having to jump a little due to its exaggerated height. The mattress was soft and the sheets were fine indeed, perhaps finer than those on her own bed back home. She removed her long socks, feeling the texture of the carpeted floor between her toes, and wandered around the space admiring the artwork. The carvings were everywhere. Not merely confined to the stone arches, but on the legs of tables, chairs, on stones in the wall, chiseled into the pillars that held aloft the domed roof, and seemingly anywhere there was workable material that wasn't covered by tapestries or obscured by decorations.
She examined the tapestries, they looked heavy and they were held up by golden rods, secured in the stone walls by large hooks. Their designs were woven with colored threads, creating depictions of battles and hunting scenes, numerous embroidered representations of Borealans fighting eachother or chasing down prey animals. One prominently displayed what looked like a giant tarantula, which she hoped to God was fictional.
She became bored of exploring her surroundings, and so decided to unpack her clothes and personal effects. The chests were heavy though, and even in the lower gravity she was unable to move some of them. She considered just opening them and moving her belongings piece by piece, but a sly thought entered her head. She had been assigned a servant, had she not? One who was bound to obey her word as law.
“Beltza,” she called, and heard the wooden door to her room open as the giant alien entered. He found her in the store room and stood to attention. “Please move these chests into the bedroom, and help me unpack.” He obeyed without complaint, hefting the luggage with an ease that surprised her. He was incredibly strong, more heavily muscled than any human she had ever seen. His bicep must have been thicker than her torso. How much did these damned aliens weigh? Three hundred pounds? More in their own gravity. They would need such well developed muscles to even stay upright as large as they were.
It didn't take him long to accomplish his task, and he stood beside her as stiff as a rod as she opened the clasps and began to unpack. She heaped piles of clothes onto her bed, gowns, skirts, all manner of fineries and dresses that her father had insisted she would not need. She was the daughter of a prominent merchant however, and she believed in looking her best at all times, especially in the company of dignitaries. There was also the factor of her own considerable vanity of course, and she was not afraid to admit to it. She worked hard on maintaining her appearance and expected the people around to appreciate the effort.
The alien eyed her glittering jewelry as she placed it carefully on the bed sheets, a diamond necklace crafted from white gold that had belonged to her mother, along with matching earrings. These aliens certainly seemed to appreciate ornamentation, that was a quality she liked.
“Put these in the drawers over by the dresser, and do keep your claws away from the fabrics,” she chimed, gesturing to the piles of clothes. The alien did as she requested, carrying the garments gingerly on flat palms, placing them gently in the dresser.
“When these are empty, return them to the storage room,” Rebecca ordered, and the alien waited patiently beside the bed as she removed the last of her affairs. She retrieved her tablet computer from the bottom of one of the boxes, she had enough movies and books on here to keep her amused for the duration of her stay thankfully, though she wouldn't let her father forget the boredom he would surely be exposing her too any time soon. She missed the glitz and glamour of Earth, parties with her friends, the attention of jealous rivals and eager suitors. She hated coming on these long voyages, practically a prisoner in her cabin, but her father did not trust her to behave herself at home and knew that she would heed the words of no sitters or guardians.
He couldn't keep it up, he would have to cave and let her be her own woman eventually,
she was of age and she had the legal right, but she had to admit that he was holding out longer than usual on the subject. She doubted she would be able to send messages to her friends, these aliens wouldn't have wireless extranet in this backwater. She sat on the edge of the bed and attempted to check her messages.
Noticing that she seemed to be finished, Beltza started to move the chests back into the store room.
“When you're done with that, get me something to eat,” Rebecca demanded, not looking up from her screen as she waved her hand at him. “Something with sour cream, this damned heat has parched my throat. Blinis with salmon maybe, understand?”
Beltza bowed, and spoke in his course voice.
“Yes, my Lady. Will there be anything else?”
“Oh, so you do have a tongue? No, that will be all, you may leave me now.”
“It will be as you say.” He left and closed the door softly behind him, while Rebecca lay on her bed to tap at her tablet computer.
Beltza returned a short while later with a tray of food, as Rebecca had requested, and she sat up eagerly as he approached her bed. He leaned down so that she could reach the tray, it was covered in blinis topped with a sliver of smoked salmon and a dash of sour cream, her favorite snack. She took one between her thumb and forefinger, raising it to her lips and taking a bite.
“Adequate,” she said, wiping a blob of white cream from the corner of her mouth with her finger. “I blame my father for failing to provide sufficient instructions, but these will do. Set the tray down and leave me now.”
She waved Beltza away dismissively, turning back to her tablet computer and finishing the rest of her snack. He seemed a little taken aback by her reaction, had she offended him? It didn't matter, he was ordered to obey her, his feelings were not her concern. He placed the tray on her bedside table, then seemed to wait for her to speak to him again. Rebecca raised her eyes from her tablet and shooed him again with a wave of her manicured fingers.
“Off with you, do I need to repeat myself? Is your English poor?”
Beltza bowed submissively and slunk away, his tail flicking back and forth as he opened the door and left the room to stand outside. He was obtuse, he reminded her of a Martian nanny she had had when her father had been working in the Martian docks. She had been a tall, lanky woman who had grown up in low gravity and didn't speak a lick of English, Rebecca couldn't abide it.
She selected another blini and popped it daintily into her mouth. They were actually quite good considering that the alien chefs had probably never seen a salmon before, never mind learned how to prepare one, but one had to use a firm hand with the help to keep them in line. She lay back on the bed, holding her tablet above her face and starting an episode of her favorite drama show as she picked at the tray of food.
The next morning she awoke to the clanking of dishes, Beltza was setting up breakfast for her on her bedside table. She recognized her father's own china and silver cutlery, did the Borealans not have their own? They looked savage, perhaps they still ate with their bare hands, how unsavory. She rose to a sitting position groggily, rubbing her eyes and rearranging her silk nightgown as Beltza stood to attention.
“Ugh, what time is it? Who told you to enter my room and disturb me?” Beltza looked conflicted and lowered his eyes to the floor, his furry, black tail flicking back and forth again.
“Apologies, my Lady. I was ordered to bring you...breakfast.” He had trouble getting his tongue around the unfamiliar word, and seemed to slur a little in general. She appreciated that learning an alien language must be difficult, but it was the responsibility of her hosts to provide her with a servant who was qualified and articulate. She sighed and swung her legs out from beneath her sheets to dangle over the edge of the bed and examined the meal. Two fried eggs, broken of course, toast that seemed to have been unevenly cooked over an open flame judging by the burn marks, and hash browns that surprisingly looked properly prepared. She was irritated at being woken up, and she snapped at the alien who seemed to recoil as she berated him.
“What's this mess you've brought me? Take it back and do it again. These eggs should be intact and the bread should be toasted evenly so that the color is consistent, understand?”
“I...am sorry my Lady. I did not prepare the food, it was-”
“I don't want to hear excuses, you are my caretaker, are you not?” The alien seemed hesitant to answer, keeping his eyes fixed firmly on the carpet. “Answer my question.”
“Yes, my Lady.” He struggled to gather up the dishes and return them to the tray, fumbling with the small cutlery in his oversized hands. They were as large as damned dinner plates and tipped with curved claws.
“It is your responsibility, see that it is done properly this time.” He bowed his head, and made to leave. “And in the future, don't wake me up or bring me food unless I request it of you, is that understood?”
“Yes, my Lady.”
He returned some time later, and Rebecca was happy to see that the aliens could at least get a breakfast right when properly incentivized. She ate while Beltza stood nearby, hovering nervously. She had to admit, if there was one thing she liked about these Borealans it was their strict adherence to the pecking order. This one had been informed that she was an important guest, and he treated her with the fear and respect he might show superiors of his own kind, Rebecca could appreciate that attitude.
Beltza seethed with barely controlled anger, his tail flicked from side to side in an expression of conflict and irritation as he watched the minuscule alien eat. The Lord Patriarch had granted this whelp Alpha status for the duration of her stay in the Elysian spire, Beltza was to obey her as if the orders came from his very mouth, but she had only been on the planet for a matter of hours and she was already testing the limits of his patience. Beltza was not an off-world soldier, he was a royal guard to the Patriarch and his family, and as such he had not undergone integration training on the Pinwheel station in order to learn the skills necessary to interact with humans. He had been briefed on the basics, and had assured the Patriarch that he could tolerate a certain level of impertinence and audacity, self-control and discipline were part of military life after all. But to have this frail creature, that looked as if it might come apart at its frilly seams were he to grip it too tightly, treat him like some kind of idiot slave was driving him to distraction.
He flexed his claws as she ate her meal, she was so small, so fragile. Humans were short to begin with, how they made effective soldiers Beltza couldn't imagine, but this one was some kind of juvenile which only compounded her lack of stature.
He didn't understand the Patriarch's obsession with the humans and their technology, Beltza couldn't see the purpose of the human spaceships his ruler was expending precious resources to sink his gilded claws into. Let the enemy come to the ground if they wanted to fight, Beltza reasoned, to destroy an enemy from the comfort and safety of an armored ship in orbit was an act of cowardice. An unearned victory would sour the taste of 'raises the hair'.
The idea that females would be smaller and weaker than males was an odd enough concept, and he hadn't believed it until he had seen the two genders side by side, what evolutionary path could have resulted in that being a survival strategy? To be both female and juvenile resulted in a creature so small that it would hardly make more than a mouthful were he to eat it. He had caught fish far larger than this human girl in the lake. As tiny as she was, she was oddly...developed. Her figure was uncomfortably familiar, both their species shared similar sexual features.
She seemed to be clueless on the subject of Borealan social norms and etiquette, every word out of her mouth, every gesture was as a grave insult to him. Were she a fellow Borealan he would have given her some good scars to teach her a lesson in manners, and as she shoveled food into her pink-lipped mouth with the strange silver eating implement, those primal instincts gnawed at the back of his mind.
The desire to discipline was overpowering, but the Lord Patriarch forbade it. He had explained that humans were so fragile that even a scar given in punishment might be a mortal wound to them. He was not to lay so much as a claw on her or he would face the Patriarch's wrath in person. It was that threat that kept him in line, as satisfying as it might be to carve her pale flesh, the Patriarch's fury would stay his hand.
It was not his place to question, only to carry out the will of his Alpha, and for the next few days this human girl would bear that title.
Rebecca snapped her fingers, waiting impatiently for Beltza to enter the room. She called his name when he didn't hurry.
“Come along Beltza, I've finished my supper, take away the dishes.”
“Yes, my Lady.” He walked across the room to where the girl was perched on the edge of her bed, curling her golden hair with an iron. As he was collecting the dishes, she reached out a hand to grip his silky forearm. He froze, ears flattening against his head as she ran her slim fingers through the downy fur.
“You're just like a big cat, aren't you?” Beltza tried to compose himself, it had taken all of his willpower to save from swiping her head clean off her narrow shoulders for the unsolicited contact, in Borealan culture she might as well have called his manhood into question and challenged him to a bout.
“What is a...cat?” Beltza asked, struggling to control the anger in his voice, but she seemed unaware of the threat signals he was giving off.
“A furry little pet humans keep, they're adorable, I have one myself. The resemblance is uncanny you know, of course they're far smaller than you are.” She seemed fearless, even in the face of an apex predator as large and as visibly armed as he was. Her bravery bordered on stupidity, had she never known fear or pain? Was it possible to live a life while encountering no danger or hardship of any kind? The idea bemused him, but he couldn't think of any other explanations for her inexplicable behavior. After the initial shock of her unintentional challenge, he calmed and allowed her to 'pet' his fur, as she put it. She seemed fascinated by his physiology, and he couldn't deny that her strange features had him curious too.
Her body was smooth and hairless, besides on the top of her head, her skin was the same color and looked to be a similar texture to that of a pale Equatorial. Beltza had black fur on his forearms and lower legs, which seemed to interest her. His torso, upper arms and thighs were as smooth as her skin was, of course, but it was concealed beneath his red armor.
“Is your whole body furry,” Rebecca asked, “or just the parts that aren't covered?”
“The parts that aren't covered,” Beltza replied, hovering over her bedside table with a pile of dishes in his clawed hand. “If you please, My Lady, I must take away your dining implements.”
She released her hold on his arm and shot him a strange look.
“Very well, as you were.”
Rebecca was bored, she had exhausted her supply of media already, and her father was taking his damned time returning with the replacement ship. It had been days, and she was becoming sick of the food they were bringing her. The wealthy merchant had left crates of fine food that he knew would be to her liking, however the aliens were poor at preparing it, the spire chefs being unaccustomed to feeding picky humans. She frequently had to chastise Beltza and order him to take the food back to the kitchen along with instructions on how to accomplish the task properly. How to boil an egg, how to spread caviar without just spooning lumps of it onto a slice of baguette, they couldn't even prepare a caesar salad which basically just consisted of slicing vegetables. She regretted not demanding that her father's cook leave the yacht to stay with her, though how might the fussy Italian react to being locked in a kitchen with the giant aliens? She chuckled as she imagined him in his tall, white hat, red-faced and screaming at Borealans who couldn't so much as butter bread properly.
She passed some of the time by trying on clothes, she had brought these from Earth and hadn't worn many of them yet, she was a staunch believer in novelty and refused to be seen in the same outfit twice. The aliens had provided her with a full-length mirror and so she put on her own fashion shows, having Beltza stand nearby and hold piles of garments for her as she paraded in her glamorous and often revealing gowns and dresses. Her father didn't much care for the way she dressed, but while many of her outfits left little to the imagination, she assured him that whatever she wore was tasteful and above all at the height of Earth fashion. She missed attending glitzy parties with her friends, the way the boys in the clubs and social venues tracked her with their eyes, the way they would shower her with praise and gifts just to get a few moments alone with her. Without male attention she felt like a flower wilting in darkness.
Beltza seemed curious enough, she was not afraid to change in front of him, he was an alien after all and should have no interest in her. However she had noticed his eyes playing over her exposed skin whenever she stripped down to her underwear and pulled a fresh outfit from the pile, it was hard to tell why he was looking, but where was obvious. Was she an alien freak to him, or an object of desire? Let him look, she thought, he can look but he can't touch. Teasing the alien might be a good way to pass the time, he was bound by strict orders to obey her and seemed as obedient as a dog.
Serving as caretaker to this human was torture, every day she became more brazen and more belligerent, like some feral kitten who had never tasted the claws of its parent. Society on their mother world must be strange indeed if this frail, impotent creature considered herself to be as a Matriarch, behaving as if her place as his Alpha was earned or deserved. Borealans ruled by strength and ferocity, though only a wise and beloved Alpha would see his reign last for more than a few winters, those who led their pack poorly would fight so many challengers that even the strongest Alpha would be whittled down eventually. The Lord Patriarch was one such leader, he had brought prosperity and strength to Elysia, and thus no Borealan would seek to challenge his leadership. Beltza respected him as a rightful and noble ruler, and would follow his orders to certain death if it would serve the pack, but giving the honorary title of Alpha to this human girl was a miscalculation.
Their kind seemed to live as beasts without structure or hierarchy, they insulted and challenged without even being aware of their actions. Despite the rigid pyramid that was the Borealan social system, a superior could order an underling to obey the orders of another as if they came from his own mouth, thus the instinct to dominate the weak and the outrage of insubordination were bypassed. It created a parallel, temporary hierarchy in order to accomplish some task or complete a project that required someone who was not the most physically imposing, or the best fighter to instruct others.
A meek engineer ordering far more imposing laborers to build a bridge or a dam was one thing, but he would understand that his position was tenuous, temporary, and not to be abused. This human girl had no such apprehensions, knew no boundaries, and her ceaseless provocations were wearing him down.
Beltza's frustration and growing anger were compounded by her teasing. Borealans were not a particularly modest people, revealing clothing was common and there were sexual undertones to basically every interaction. Battles for dominance often ended in copulation, the desire to procreate with a defeated challenger was overpowering and doing so ensured that only the strongest and most dominant genes were passed on to the next generation. Weakness, vulnerability, these were as aphrodisiacs to the strong, and in Borealan society the weak were smitten with their superiors, desiring to serve them in any way that was required of them.
As a high ranked member of the royal guard, Beltza had fought his share of battles. He was covered in the scars of women he had unsuccessfully challenged in his youth, taking his losses with a submissive eagerness that still made his heart flutter to this day, despite his elevated social position. The youth of a Borealan was filled with conflict. Victories, losses, it didn't matter how the blood was drawn as long as it was followed by rough, uncompromising sex. It had all felt like a game in those days, it wasn't until one reached adulthood that the need to climb the ladder became urgent, each new rung signifying a higher status and a higher quality of life along with it. A Borealan must always seek to improve his position, because to stagnate would mean putting himself at the mercy of those below him.
This girl had no scars, her smooth, milky skin was like a canvass begging for the crimson brush strokes of his claws. He longed to teach her, to punish her maddening insubordination by drawing fresh blood and flooding her with his seed until she learned her place and begged for instruction. But the Patriarch said that he must not, no matter how much she provoked and teased, that was not their way and the fragile creature might break if he were to do as his instincts demanded.
And so he steeled himself as the little alien paraded before him like a morsel of meat dangling from a hook over a fire, oblivious to his waning resolve.
“Beltza! Come here!”
He ground his teeth, opening the heavy wooden door to her room and entering to stand obediently before her. There were items of alien clothing strewn about the floor in heaps, she was so messy and disrespectful of her abode, it was all that he could do to attempt to retrieve her used dishes before she simply discarded them on the nearest available surface. Rebecca was lounging on her bed, wearing a revealing nightgown and a pair of long, white socks that ended at her thighs. She was reading some manner of paper media, leafing through the pages, and didn't even raise her eyes when she spoke to him.
“Clean up, would you? It's a mess in here, you know where everything goes by now.”
He wanted to tell her that he was not a janitor, that a royal guardsman did not stoop to pick up after a guest as if they were some unruly kitten who had strewn its toys about the house, but he was sworn to obey her no matter how much her commands might humiliate or degrade him.
“Yes, my Lady.”
He began to walk around the room, crouching to retrieve her garments and draped them across his forearm. She had joked of 'fleas' earlier as he was handling her clothes, some form of Earth parasite perhaps, the humor had been lost on him. He would be glad to be free of the wretched creature when the merchant Benedict finally returned with the Patriarch's compensation, he might seek out a lower ranked female and take out his frustration on her as soon as he was on leave from his duties. If he didn't feel a female squirming beneath him, gasping as he raked his claws down her spine soon, he might go feral.
He stepped on an item of her clothing as he was daydreaming, and felt something shatter under his foot. There was an audible crack, and Rebecca looked up from her paper book with a scowl on her face, sliding off the bed and marching over to where he was stood.
He lifted his paw-like foot and she pulled the green, sequined dress free. Beneath it was her tablet computer, the screen cracked into a dozen pieces and the shell dented by his weight. Her pale face reddened, she balled her fists and looked as if she were about to explode. Beltza steeled himself for an outburst as he stood with a pile of her clothes in his arms.
“You idiot creature!” Rebecca howled, her voice shrill and hysterical. “How could you be so stupid? You broke my tablet! Do you know how expensive those are?!”
“My apologies, my Lady, but it should not have been on the-”
“I don't want to hear your excuses,” she exclaimed, “what am I supposed to do now, stare at a wall until Daddy comes back to fetch me?” She was furious, but it was her own fault, if she had not been careless with her belongings the device would not have been damaged. One did not argue with an Alpha, one simply followed orders, but the shrill human's illusion of leadership was slipping. To have such a small and weak creature berate him like this was more than he could countenance.
“I'll go get the Patriarch,” she interrupted, “and I'll tell him how useless you are!” Beltza was bristling now, his round, furry ears were flat against his skull and his hair was starting to stand on end. Rebecca seemed oblivious to the subconscious threat display, signals that would have told a fellow Borealan to back down immediately or risk escalating the confrontation. She made to pass him, but he moved his massive bulk to block her path.
“I have orders not to let you leave this room,” he snarled.
“So what am I, some kind of hostage? When my father hears about this treatment you'll be sorry, you'll all be sorry!” She crouched to pick up a fluffy slipper, and hopped up to slap at his face with it. The fabric was limp and she had no strength, she could barely reach his chin and she couldn't have hurt him, but the gesture was enough to send Beltza over the edge.
He snarled and bared his pointed teeth, closing his massive, furry hand around her throat and lifting her clear off the floor. She weighed so little, especially in the controlled environment of her guest room, and he launched her across the room to land on her bed. She bounced on the mattress, stunned and confused, Beltza stalking towards her with his hackles raised.
Becky was confused, what had happened? One moment she had been chastising her servant for his clumsy behavior, and the next she had been flying through the air. He could not have retaliated, surely? The help did not talk back, they did not raise their hands against their employers. It was unheard of. He was sworn to obey her, it would spell the end of his career as...whatever his position was here.
She rose to a sitting position as the mattress settled beneath her, looking towards Beltza who was approaching from the end of of the bed, his green, reflective eyes fierce. He looked some wild panther about to eat her up, his carnivore teeth were exposed and a string of saliva hung from his jaws. This wasn't right, this couldn't happen. She made no move to escape as he rounded the bed and came to stand beside it, a foot away from her as she looked up at the creature.
He was so huge, eight feet of black fur and iron muscle, a physiology that would have put any human bodybuilder to shame. His biceps were as thick as her torso, she could almost hear his armor creak as they bulged beneath it.
“Y-you can't do that,” she muttered, dumbstruck as he unfastened his ceramic chestpiece and let it fall heavily to the floor. It made an impact that sounded like an anvil being dropped from a height. He removed his leather undershirt, exposing his smooth, dark skin. Rows of bulging abdominal muscles protruded from beneath, glazed with a layer of glistening sweat, and his pectorals were larger than her damned head. He seemed to have no body fat at all, a result of his protein-rich, mostly meat diet and the crushing gravity of his homeworld. Rebecca could make out every subtlety of his musculature, like some Greek sculpture carved from black marble. He looked so angry, his chest rose and fell conspicuously and his emerald eyes fixed on her with an intensity that made her avert her gaze.
He leaned over her, gripping her by the ankle, and positioned her so that she was facing him with her lower legs dangling off the edge of the bed. She felt so vulnerable before the massive beast, clad only in her nightgown and socks. Her curled, golden hair splayed across the silken bed sheets as she looked up at him.
He brought his head down to her neck, and she turned away, closing her tearful eyes as she waited for a killing bite to come. But there was none, he hovered there, his hot breath washing over her slender neck and her shoulders as if he were sniffing her like some giant bloodhound. He opened his mouth, and Rebecca felt the slap of an impossibly long, heavy tongue on her skin. It was warm and slippery, and he dragged it across her throat like a wet flannel before it disappeared into his maw again, was he deciding whether or not to eat her?
She yelped as he hooked his shiny, black claws into her gossamer nightgown and tore it from her body, shredding its frills as if they were cobwebs. She lay exposed on the bed beneath him, her white cotton underwear now all that shielded her from his claws. She realized she was shivering violently, and that she had pressed her pale thighs tightly together.
“W-What are you going to do,” she asked with a trembling lip as he leered down at her. He pressed his claws against her flat belly, as long as her fingers and as sharp as knives, then dragged them down to her waistline leaving red welts. He didn't break the skin and cut her, but applied just enough pressure to draw a stinging pattern that made the girl yelp and suck in her belly. She squirmed as a drop of his thick saliva dripped from his jaw to land with a splash between her pert breasts.
She heard another heavy thunk, and looked down to see that the alien had removed the lower body armor that ended at his knees, and was pulling off a pair of leather shorts. His conspicuous bulge broke free as he tugged them away, and a vulgar, brutal organ the size of her forearm slapped heavily against her thigh. It was as thick as her damned wrist at the base where it protruded from his dark flesh, and tapered into a point from which a string of clear fluid drooled. It was grotesquely vascular, covered in veins that looked as big as her fingers, and innumerable nubs of flesh that protruded from its red, shiny surface like dull barbs. Her blood went cold, she began to feel dazed, and yet somehow her loins were warming and moistening despite her fear. Did he intend to use that horrible organ on her? It looked as if it would turn her inside out. She had been with boys before, granted, but this was, was...too damned big!
She placed her tiny hands on his chest, trying to push him away from her, but he was immovable. She could feel the muscles under his skin, as hard as steel beneath her slim fingers, and as she felt the beating of his powerful heart his member jumped in rhythm. She could feel it throbbing against her creamy thigh, almost hot enough to burn her as it leaked fluid onto her skin.
“Y-You can't! I'll break in half,” she whined, but he seemed indifferent to her plea. He hooked his claw under the strap of her bra and sliced it loose, exposing her breasts to bounce gently as they settled. They were shapely and firm, a prized feature that she enjoyed showing off with low cut blouses, never failing to draw the covetous gazes of men.
Now they were bared before this beast, and he wasted no time in sinking his fingers into the supple mounds of soft flesh. He squeezed roughly, kneading a globe that was hardly a handful in his massive palm, and Rebecca squirmed under his cruel touch. Gasps of mingling discomfort and pleasure escaped her rosy lips as he kneaded and twisted, seeking out the firm breast tissue and pinching her puffy nipples. He was careful to keep his claws out of the way, but his strong, demanding grip sent shivers rolling down her spine.
“Stop, s-stop it,” she groaned, arching her back as his second hand found the other breast, mauling it with his thick fingers. Her mind was clouding, her nubile body responding to him in carnal, primal ways that none of her prim suitors and inexperienced partners had managed to elicit before. He was so powerful, so demanding, and while she feared what he might do to her, a fresh, guilty excitement was rising in her belly as if her stomach were full of fluttering butterflies.
She rubbed her thighs together, feeling the heat of his engorged, swollen member on her skin. He let go of her breasts, leaving them sore and aching, running his claws down her ribs to her hips, pricking her skin as he moved to tear her panties loose. Before she could protest he shredded the soft fabric like confetti, exposing her leaking loins. He brought his massive head down to her crotch, sniffing like a dog, then she watched his tongue leave his mouth. It was like a snake, a long, thick rope of slimy muscle that wound towards her nethers as if it had a life of its own. Oh lord, was he going down on her with that thing? It looked as if it could reach all the way to her womb, it was almost as thick as his cock, would it even fit ins-
She let out a wail of surprise as an intense flash of pleasure wracked her body, sending a jolt of electricity up her spine. Heat spread through her lower body, her loins beginning to flood in earnest as the alien dragged his rough tongue between her labia. He was exploring her, coating her mound and inner thighs with his hot, slippery saliva, dwarfing her own copious emissions as his muscular tongue pushed her lips aside and lapped at her vulva. She covered her mouth with her hands, losing control of herself as he closed her hips in his massive hands to keep her from wriggling loose, big enough to wrap her lower body in his powerful digits.
He seemed to find her opening, circling it with the tapered tip of his tongue as she squirmed and writhed in his grasp.
“Wait, I'm not re-”
He forced his slimy organ deep inside her, undulating and rippling like some kind of thick, meaty worm, forcing a primal grunt from Rebecca that shocked her. She sounded like a sow being bred, she had to control herself, this was...unladylike. Her eyelids fluttered and her eyes rolled back into her head as he roved deeper inside her, licking her inner walls and tasting her in places that no human could have hoped to reach. It was rough, the surface of his tongue was covered in barbs like those of a cat, though somewhat duller. As they grazed her walls it sent almost unbearable bolts of harsh, raw pleasure burning through her nervous system. She felt so hot, her body was practically steaming, sweat coated her smooth skin and a mixture of her flowing juices and Beltza's viscous saliva leaked free to coat her thighs and belly.
She realized she was panting, her mouth was open in a silent, perpetual moan as she rolled her hips and wriggled, unsure of whether she wanted to escape or to drive his merciless tongue further inside her. She gripped the silken sheets in her fists, moving her groin reflexively to fuck his tongue as if it were the member of a lover, her body running on base instincts as her mind clouded and lost control. The appendage had a life of its own, squirming and coiling inside her, driving itself into her tender flesh and searing her nerves with heat and fiction. Her tunnel fought the invader, her pelvic floor muscles contracting around it, battling to contain it as the organ slid around and pushed against her most intimate reaches. So powerful, so vigorous, she couldn't fight it. She didn't want to.
Beltza lifted her lower body off the bed, leaving her almost upside down as she felt his pointed teeth on her shaved mound, he pushed the entire length of his tongue inside her. He had to coil it so that it would all fit, inflating the thickness of it and stretching her insides to the point that it was borderline painful. His saliva, or maybe her own excitement, trickled down her belly to pool in her navel and dribbled between her butt cheeks, dripping to the mattress in thick strands. She rocked her head back, tongue lolling from her mouth as one of the coils of his tongue jammed against her g-spot. He couldn't possibly have known where it was, but he had filled her to capacity, his roiling coils pressing against every inch of her tunnel.
She came, hard, shuddering as if she were being electrocuted and closing her legs around his head. Her spine arched to the point she felt it might snap, and her toes curled so violently that her muscles cramped, guttural vocalizations unbecoming of a sophisticated woman escaping her throat.
Her tunnel contracted and rippled with the throes of her orgasm, as if trying to force out the foreign object, but it was futile and his tongue remained lodged inside her as she climaxed around it. He held her there, the wriggling of his tongue unceasing, driving her to heights of pleasure that began to hurt her aching muscles. He wrung out every last quiver of her orgasm, every last aftershock, then dropped her unceremoniously to the bed. She lay there trying to catch her breath, lying on her side and gasping, shuddering as a few stray twinges of pleasure rippled through her body. She had never come so hard, never felt so fucked, her muscles burned with the strain of it and she felt as if she had sweat all of the moisture in her body out through her pores.
Before she could recover, she felt Beltza's fingers close roughly around her pear-shaped ass, the springy fat spilling between his fingers as he tested its firmness. He rolled her onto her belly, gripping her by the hips and dragging her back towards him so that her legs hung over the edge of the bed, and her shapely butt was exposed. Her toes dangled off the floor due to the height of the bed, and she turned to look over her shoulder at him. The massive alien had his equally massive member in his hand, angling it towards her.
“It won't fit!” Rebecca protested, “you'll ruin me with that thing!” She gripped the silken sheets in her hands and tried to pull away from him, but he took a fistful of her blonde hair and tugged it sharply, snapping her head back.
“Unf, you pig...”
Becky groaned, arching her back and raising her still dripping loins towards him, watching the broad-shouldered beast from the corner of her blue eyes as he claimed ownership of her. The sting of him pulling at her carefully maintained hair as if it were her leash, why did it excite her so? Why was she presenting herself to him, offering herself to be broken by that giant, ugly organ? What part of her wanted this so badly that she was salivating?
Beltza was so rough, so course and strong, like some primal force that sought to ruin her, indifferent to what pleasures or pains it might inflict in the process. She could smell his masculine scent, the sweat on his skin, the unmistakable sexual musk that wafted up from his loins. Oh yes, she wanted this, every bruise, every scar, every burning orgasm that gnawed at her sanity. Bring it on.
Beltza seemed to sense the change in her and hooked his hand around her throat, pulling her upright and pressing her back against his hard torso. She felt his muscles flexing beneath his slick skin, and she wound her tiny fingers around his forearm. She couldn't even wrap it with two hands, and her eyes began to water as his steely grip on her neck increased, his claws pricking her skin. He curled his other arm around her belly, squashing her against him in a bear hug. His member had passed between her thighs, she could feel the blood pumping through it, pulsing against her dripping mound as she looked down at its length. It had such weight, such girth, was he really going to try to fuck her with that brutish thing? What would it feel like?
She raised her head and looked up at him, he was so tall, he seemed so far away. He lifted her chin with a clawed finger and leaned down to kiss her, Becky parted her lips eagerly, awaiting his embrace. His tongue pushed into her mouth, filling it with thick muscle and scraping the back of her gullet. This wasn't a kiss, it was a penetration, invasive and obscene. She could still taste herself on him, and she gagged a little as his organ pushed into her throat. She felt dizzy, her eyes were becoming unfocused as his organ roiled inside her head, licking her inner cheeks and the roof of her mouth. He painted her tongue with his thick saliva, coiling around the smaller organ, and she felt his member jump between her legs, slapping against her wet vulva.
He drew back, a string of his saliva falling across her face, then with one hand in her golden locks and another on her plump ass he forced her back down onto the bed.
She was shivering with anticipation and fear, the conflicting emotions mingling in her head, maddening her as she felt the feverishly hot head of his cock slap between her cheeks. He dragged it down, rubbing the tapered tip along her labia, coating it with her oozing nectar. The wait was killing her, she felt as if her heart might break free of her chest and bounce away across the sheets as much as it was hammering.
His grip on her hip became tighter, and she winced as she felt the head of his cock press against her entrance. His claws pinched the skin of her belly as he applied more pressure, and Becky began to feel as if it wouldn't fit. She felt a popping sensation as he forced his way past the resistance, then her eyes widened as he thrust into her.
His impressive girth splayed her tunnel, stretching her almost to breaking point, so large and thick that it drew her clitoris from beneath its protective hood, exposing the sensitive bud to the air. He pushed more of it inside her, and she collapsed onto the bed, twitching and drooling as the blend of harsh pleasure and cloying pain drove her senses haywire. She enclosed him like a vice as a cock the size of a human arm drove its way into her, the pulsing veins and maddening, protruding papillae grating against her tender insides and threatening to pull her guts out were Beltza to withdraw too quickly. God, she could feel everything, every throb of his member that drove hot blood through the pulsating veins, the dull nubs of flesh that raked her walls as they clung to his shaft, it was enough to have her foaming at the mouth. It hurt, it ached, she loved it.
He seemed to be having trouble too, he was wincing as he pushed deeper, she must be so tight by his standards that it might almost hurt. Were it not for the copious excitement that spilled from her hole, matting the tuft of soft pubic hair at the base of his shaft and lubricating the monster he was trying to bury inside her, he would have torn her fragile flesh like wet satin.
She felt the pressure increase, he leaned more of his weight on her as he tried to get deeper, serving only to push her further up the bed. He held her more firmly and tried again, this time gaining a couple of inches. The sensation of him inside her made him feel even bigger than he really was, and she arched her back to take him deeper, braying as she felt the tip of it glance her womb. He felt her flinch and backed off a little, now sure of her depth.
He paused for a moment, she waited with bated breath, unsure of what he would do next. Just having him resting inside her was enough to drive her close to another orgasm, it was as if the organ had been designed to ruin women, every twitch was like a thrust from a lesser member. She realized that she might not be able to go back after this. How would awkward fumbling in the back of a limousine with paltry humans compare to this? How could a future husband satisfy her after she had tasted this flavor of sex? Beltza didn't care, and she felt her heart throb in her chest as he took her by the hair and started to move.
He went slowly at first, the delicious sensation of his barbs scouring her walls making sparks of light dance before her bleary eyes, his calloused fingers tugging at her scalp. He squeezed her ass so hard that it made her yelp, and she squirmed under his weight as she felt his digits knead the flesh, surely bruising it.
He started to go faster now, his pace increasing incrementally, he cared nothing for her comfort but it seemed that his indifference did not go quite as far as gutting her with his cock. He gauged her reaction, clearly restraining himself a little, but finding a more brutal rhythm as her juices eased his passage, welcoming him despite her.
God, she was being impaled, but with every thrust the pain diminished and the tingling pleasure mounted, she couldn't believe she was taking so much of him. He was so large, so heavy, he leaned so much of his weight on her hips with every powerful thrust. He released his hold on her and loomed over her, one massive arm resting on either side of her head, and she shivered as she felt him brush aside her messy hair and press his lips glance her neck. She grunted as his teeth pressed against her skin, and he gripped her gently in his jaws like a tomcat scruffing his queen. She gasped and wriggled, clawing at the bed sheets with her painted nails, but he held her down. She felt so vulnerable, and that sensation only compounded the pleasure that washed over her in ever hastening waves that left her dizzy and out of breath.
The bed was shaking now, the springs creaking their displeasure as they absorbed the impacts of Beltza fucking her into the mattress, the metal feet of the frame scratching the floor as it moved. He reached down and dragged his hooked claws along her spine, from her shoulder blades to her ass, leaving trails in her delicate, milky skin that throbbed with stinging pain. It heightened her senses, and she bit into the sheets, taking the silk fabric in her teeth and clamping down on it.
She could hear the obscene, wet sounds of their coupling rising up from between her thighs, her juices overflowing from her loins as Beltza dragged his member out of her only to bury it to the hilt once again. His barbs raked her quivering walls, the bumpy veins scraping her, and she started to lose herself to the pleasure.
The brute was fucking her like he hated her, maybe he did, what a wonderful thought. She had never experienced anything like this before, her last fling had been a student of her own age, he had a nice car and his father owned a yacht rental service. He had been eager, but had trouble making her come, and eventually she had given up on him. Now she had to summon all of her willpower just to prevent herself from dancing like a puppet on the end of this beast's cock, trying her hardest to suppress the urgent, mounting orgasm that threatened to steal away her last vestiges of self control and see her beg for more like some kind of tramp. She sensed that she was losing that battle, feeling an all too familiar heat welling in her pelvis.
She slipped a hand between her thighs and brushed her fingertips against her exposed clitoris, then convulsed as if she had been tazed. Beltza slowed, curious, then she returned her fingers to the swollen nub now wet with her nectar, and began to rub it ardently.
“Don't stop now, you great ugly brute,” she snapped. “Fuck me, I want it to hurt.”
The comment seemed to annoy him, and he gladly obliged, gripping her harder in his jaws and slamming into her with enough force to knock the air from her lungs.
“Oof, that's...more...like it,” she panted between thrusts, “nice to see...you can do something right...you dumb...animal.” His teeth broke the skin, and she felt a trickle of warm blood drip from her neck. Damn, that might leave a mark that her father would see, but it felt so fucking good...
He was hammering her in earnest now, a sore, dull ache permeated her lower body, but it was a deeply satisfying pain. She couldn't keep this pace up for long though, he might really hurt her, but she was so, so close to the edge. She had a feeling this would be the most powerful orgasm of her life, she was almost too afraid to let it come, but she needed the release so badly.
She rubbed her mound again, getting herself off as Beltza railed her as if she were his property and his to break, feeling her climax surge through her body. She was rendered speechless, inarticulate, her body shuddering with cramps and contractions that would have been agony had they not been accompanied by such a wonderful, seething pleasure. She bellowed into the mattress as she came, a flood of fluid escaping around Beltza's member as her muscles forced the liquid out of her to splash down her thighs and damped the sheets. The great creature had to hold her still as she convulsed, releasing her neck from his jaws and grunting as her small, tight hole undulated around him and wrung his cock. Her grip on his member drove the brute over the edge, and with one final thrust he forced his cock as deep as she could take it, flooding her belly with an explosion of hot, thick alien seed. He pumped it into her like a damned hose, every throb of his member sending a fresh spurt of his ejaculate slamming into her depths, every rope of it driving another maddening orgasm through Becky's body.
Again and again she climaxed, and with every contortion of her body and contraction of her vagina, Beltza pumped another load into her. She was so full that she felt swollen, the unspeakable mixture of their fluid was dripping from her loins in thick strands, there was no more room for it now. They didn't need protection, two different species couldn't breed after all, and the sensation of her most intimate reaches being drowned in her lover's come satisfied her in ways only a woman could know. After what felt like an eternity to her addled mind, but could not have been more than a few minutes, the last of the aftershock subsided and she felt the head of Beltza's organ slide out of her. She lay on her belly, the bite marks on her neck, her bruised boobs and ass, the welts on her back and stomach throbbing in tandem with her pulsing afterglow. She could feel the Borealan's ejaculate pouring out of her now that his cock wasn't there to act as a plug, and he stood over her panting, his now flaccid member connected to her loins by a strand of who-knew-what.
“Fuck...” she moaned, raising her head as if waking from a dream. She looked back at Beltza as he watched her cautiously. Of course, he had disobeyed all of his orders, all so he could get a piece of Becky. She was flattered, and quite smitten with the giant creature. He began to pull his leather shorts back up, but she shuffled over and stopped him with a dainty hand on his hard belly. She ran her fingertips up and down, tracing the lines of his abs, and bit her lip.
She was still shaky, but she leaned over to weigh his now limp member in her palm. Even now it was almost too heavy for her to lift one-handed. She looked up at him with her blue eyes and batted her thick lashes.
“I'm your Alpha, remember? You have to do as I say.” He cocked his head and looked down at her, confused. “I'm not done yet, get me some water, then lets go another round.”
“Yes, my Lady.”
Rebecca trotted towards the shuttle as it landed, greeting her father with a hug as he left the landing ramp, the blowback from the engines making her hair flow like a golden waterfall.
“Welcome back, Daddy.”
“Becky! You're chipper, I take it Borealis wasn't so bad after all? Were you well treated? Did the Patriarch provide you with everything you needed?” She paused to consider her reply.
“It was a little hard at first, but I got used to it after a while. Yes, I had fun.”
Benedict seemed relieved, and walked past her to greet the Patriarch, who stood in the doorway to the ivory spire, his blue, embroidered armor reflecting the harsh sunlight.
“You have honored the terms of our deal, Merchant Benedict, I have received word from our control tower that the UNN Aegis has been handed over to our orbital personnel. She appears to be intact and spaceworthy,” he boomed in his rumbling baritone.
“Everything is as we agreed,” Benedict affirmed, wiping sweat from his brow with a handkerchief. “As promised, I have delivered a new ship of greater value than the one that was lost. I hope that we can put this whole affair behind us now?” It was phrased as a question, and he waited eagerly for the Patriarch to answer.
“I believe that we can. Consider our business relationship restored, Merchant Benedict. As per our bargain, I return your lovely daughter to you. She is well mannered for such a young example of your race, you should be commended for your parental competence.”
“Parental competence,” he repeated with a chuckle. “Oh Becky, what would your mother say to that?”
The girl smiled, she really did seem happy, Benedict thought. Perhaps his worries had been unfounded. He said his farewells to the Patriarch, then joined his daughter at the shuttle. The aliens delivered her baggage as the pair strapped in to the military style crash couches in the troop bay and prepared for takeoff.
“Becky,” Benedict asked with a questioning look, “why are you wearing a scarf? Aren't you unbearably hot in this weather?”
“I'm fine Daddy,” she replied dismissively. “Hey, next time you do business with the Borealans, can I come with you and stay a while?”
“Well this is a turn of events!” Benedict exclaimed, “what brought this on? You never stop complaining about your parties and your friends whenever I drag you along on one of these voyages.”
“I don't know, maybe I like the adventure. Going strange places, meeting strange people...”
“I'd be delighted, Becky. I really would. I worry about you at home, you know.” He winked at her. “Hey, at least there are no boys on Borealis, right?”