“No, Zara. Open. I know you want this. I can see it.”
His ability to see what she was capable of doing was her new vulnerability. Whatever she might say in protest, her very flesh would betray her. She knew, in her heart, that she was turned on. So wet, she was probably dripping. The firm padding of his lap provided support, while his arm held her steady. She hung her head and breathed deeply.
The tip went in smoothly, far easier than she anticipated. She braced herself for something worse, because the bulb would be wider, but as he rotated it, gradually driving it deeper, the pain never materialized. Instead, there came a sense of fullness and weight. She’d barely noticed the stretching required to accommodate the widest part of the plug.
“There. See.” He sounded pleased, almost chirpy.
She wanted to enjoy it. She tried hard to imagine it as enjoyable by thinking about his cock, instead of the glass plug. “I guess it’s okay,” she said sheepishly.
The smack of his hand on her bottom took her by surprise. It wasn’t hard, only firm and swift.
“Ow,” she grunted.
“This stays in, yes?” he growled, bringing the edge back to his voice.
“Yes, sir.”
Another brisk slap, then another. Unlike the mean strap, these were more playful, and certainly less painful. He rubbed her ass before spanking her a few more times. They felt like pats. He was using them to make a point and nothing more than that.
“I shall leave you now, Zara. You will meditate on your behavior.”
She would be thinking and it would be unlikely if it was anything to do with her behavior. Instead, she would imagine Galen in his uniform and hope the sexy picture made things more comfortable with regard to her bottom. “Thank you, sir,” she whispered with a sniffle of resignation.
He helped her to her feet. The tattoos were there, vague and lacking in clarity, and not as she’d seen them before. Probably because she wasn’t on the cusp of an orgasm. Instead, she was in a place of contentment, if that was possible. She’d made a mistake and atoned for it. Galen seemed happy once more—his eyes had that inviting sparkle to them.
She liked his eyes. She liked that he was happy.
Fuck it. A bunch of tattoos, a sexy judge, and butt plug all together held her in some kind of erotic captivity. Life didn’t get much stranger than this.
* * *
Galen returned to work in a better frame of mind than when he had left it. Fortunately, for Zara, he’d not been in the courtroom when Bisma had contacted him and therefore he’d been able to deal with the matter as quickly as possible.
Bisma’s obvious indignation at Zara’s behavior had spurred him into action. A little backchat during the tattooing might have been tolerable, but swearing at his servant was not. He’d stormed into his house and Bisma had handed him the strap and plug. There would no excuses, no holding back because Zara was human. Entering her room, her expression was everything he expected to see—shock followed by contriteness.
The strapping had not elicited any change in her tattoos. He hadn’t expected it to, given it was intended to stun her into submission. It also swiftly abated his anger. She bore the punishment better than he’d anticipated and with a level of meekness that mitigated the necessity for any further penalties. Five with the strap had been sufficient.
What had pleased him most was her response afterwards, when he tended to her sore ass and prepared her for the plug. The coloration of the secret tattoos had again shown him she was not adverse to stern commands when combined with sensual touching.
Back at his office desk, he tried, and failed, to concentrate. The human shouldn’t have this power over him, he fretted. The tattoo was supposed to be a tool to guide him. Its advantages might become dangerous to him if he wasn’t careful and especially if she realized its potential beyond signaling her arousal. If he didn’t keep in control of situations, things could spiral into a different abyss, one that he wasn’t prepared to enter without advice. He knew whom he had to contact—Governor Marco, the only other Vendu with intimate knowledge of human females.
He wrote the message, carefully wording it. The importance of protecting his status meant he must not reveal anything that would put his position in jeopardy. What he was querying was potentially treasonous because humans were supposed to be the inferior race. Galen suspected there was a reason why the Vendu were drawn to these aliens and their ways. On every other world they’d conquered, the population had been enslaved and the planets taken as colonies. Earth had suffered a different fate—a partial conquest and a standoff lasting decades during which neither side were prepared to either negotiate peace or bring resolution through absolute war. There was no budging on this policy by the imperial government, and yet they’d left the Earthlings alone. Until… he reread the contents of his message and sent it to Marco. Until now.
At home he dined alone in his chamber. The longer she had to wait, the better. Bisma had reported she was quiet and contemplative. He believed that was the effect of the plugging. It often calmed the mind of a submissive.
He changed out of his formal attire and wore loose clothing that ensured he remained covered from neck to ankle. She hadn’t earned the right to see him bare.
She was kneeling by the bed. The need for the position of first offering was no longer necessary. He’d seen her assets, just as Brynt had done on his first night with Astra. The difference was that Brynt had plundered every one of Astra’s holes that same night, while Galen had chosen to wait and give Zara time to adjust to her punishment.
It appeared the Vendu assumption that human females were incapable of submitting fully for the pleasure of another was wrong. Zara was more than capable and she had become aroused during the insertion of the plug and the brief spanking he administered afterwards. Her capitulation was a good sign his plans were working. He would continue to punish her ass as often as he pleased if that was what it took to tame her.
He stood over the diminutive Zara. “I’m pleased, Zara. Pleased you have obeyed me. Kneel on the bed.”
She moved slowly, nervously glancing at her body. It should come as no surprise that the tattoos were visible. They’d sprung to life the moment he walked into the room. Following her over to the bed, he pushed her down onto all fours. The position enabled him to admire the end of the glass bulb nestling between her gorgeous ass cheeks. The swollen head of his cock pressed against his pants, forcing the fabric to tent.
He fingered the plump folds of her sex. Wet folds. She emitted a tiny mewl when he probed the entrance to her uncharted pussy and when he combined that exploration with a twist of the plug in her asshole, she squealed and burrowed her face into the pillow. He worked the two together, teasing her with the occasional slap of his hand against her rump or upper thigh.
“You want to come, don’t you?” The evidence was visible—the tattoos couldn’t lie.