“No. I just think you’re tameable.” I scoop her up and carry her from the bridge back to my chambers. The crew does not need to hear her emotional outbursts. We can do this in private.
“You’re in denial,” she accuses me.
She’s a cynical little thing. Not that I blame her. It is obvious that she has been told repeatedly throughout her life that she is a monster, and she has learned to live up to that reputation with incredible skill.
“How many knives do you have? I thought I took them all.”
“Oh. I don’t know,” she says, distracted. “Four? Five? Twenty? There’s always knives. No matter where you go. Always something to sharpen.”
She says it almost like she is imparting some deeper wisdom.
“I’m going to ask you to stop making endless weapons.”
“Why? You don’t. I bet there’s a weapons shop right on this ship. There has to be…” Her eyes brighten, and she starts wheedling. “Oh, please, Blackmane. Please. Show me your weapons shop.”
She's a cross between a serial killer, a puppy, and a model. I don’t know whether to spank her, fuck her, or shower her with treats. Probably all of the above.
“I want you to give me all the knives you currently have,” I say, keeping my tone stern but even. Anger has very little effect on Astaria. She’s been exposed to far too much of it over the years. “Without stabbing me,” I add.
She smirks and gives a little laugh, as if she had thought of that loophole herself and was seriously considering it, just for a joke. I have to keep in mind that her sense of humor could be seriously painful and perhaps even deadly if I am not careful. She is the wildest little refined thing I have ever encountered.
“Come on, little one,” I croon, lowering my voice to a deep purr. “Show me what you’ve made.”
She blushes furiously and giggles in a sweet pitch, all too pleased to have someone to share her infernal work with.
“Lay them out on the bed,” I suggest. “Show me what you have managed to accumulate in these short hours between being disarmed, deflowered, and now.”
She smiles quite sweetly and produces a tapered blade from between her breasts. It is made safe by a sheath which I believe has been fashioned from one of my leather harnesses.
Every item she extracts from her scantily clad body is made from something I own. All but one. One appears to have been shaved from bone. Fresh bone. I can still smell the marrow.
“Astaria…”
“Yes?”
“Who have you killed now?”
“Nobody!” Her eyes go wide. She is lying through her blunt little human teeth.
“Astaria, where is the body?”
“Nowhere.”
“This is from a fresh corpse, Astaria. Tell me now, or it will be the worse for you.”
“I’m not telling,” she says. “That would spoil the fun.”
“It’s fun you want, is it?” I growl. I am enjoying myself too, if I am to be honest, but I cannot abide this disobedience, not to mention, an ongoing killing spree.
Once again, I take advantage of her relative weakness and smaller stature. She lets out a half-wail, half-laugh as I grasp her by the upper arm and toss her face down on the bed and spank her hard. She’s wearing a short dress that is easy to throw up over her bare ass, and that is what I do, making sure she has no protection from the consequences of her actions whatsoever.
From the very first slap, a red print marks my disciplinary claim. Her flesh blushes so prettily for me. It is as though she was quite literally made to punish. Her temperament, her wit, and her ass, this absolutely divine canvas for my ire.
I spank her across the bed, between the clattering of her knives. They bounce and make pleasing little tinks and tings between one another. Her sharp gasps and occasional shrieks when I catch a particularly sensitive spot are very soothing to my ears.
Her bare ass takes my discipline, turning from a pretty residual pink to a deeper rose very swiftly. I cannot help but think this is not sufficient punishment. She is like a naughty animal, knowing better and yet refusing to follow the rules laid out for her.
I want to fuck her. I want to be back inside her tight human chalice where I feel that perfect connection. The dewy slit of her sex beckons me, and before I can think about whether or not this is appropriate for discipline, my cock is deep inside her, ploughing the depths of her tight little cunt.
She was a virgin before me. This is my territory. My flesh. My woman. I own every part of her and she will yield her will to me. I grunt and thrust roughly inside her, keeping her hot ass prone before me, the thick, ridged and scaled skin of my cock disappearing ever so perversely inside her lower lips, stretched tight as they can go with that delicate pink hue.