I was helpless. Vulnerable. Punished.
I choked back a sob, but then a single tear escaped out the side of my eye, slowly sliding down my cheek, and then another followed. I couldn’t hold back anymore. I sobbed over his knee, my ass sore and welted from his belt, feeling like a very sorry and truly punished little girl.
The belt didn’t stop, but it slowed then. Each stroke was just as punishing as the last, but then it finally stopped entirely. He’d placed it over his shoulder, and I felt his palm caress my punished cheeks, smoothing over my sore skin.
I had no doubt that I would have trouble sitting for quite a few days. His palm cracked against my ass, the feeling far more personal than the belt, and I cried even harder. He spanked the entirety of my ass and my thighs and the more he did so, the more I realized that I was getting wetter and wetter.
He knew I was turned on, that my thighs were coated with my arousal, and he also knew that it had been the result of being punished by both his belt and his hand.
I shivered at what that meant.
He stopped then and gradually placed my feet on the ground.
“Pull your pants up. You’re coming with me,” he demanded, and I glared back at him, tears still dripping down my face. What right did he think he had where he could just grab me, beat me with his belt, and think I’d follow him to wherever he wanted to take me where he was probably planning on raping me or selling me to the highest bidder?
Not a fucking chance. Not if I had anything to do with it.
I didn’t say anything at first, but I did pull up my panties so that I could cover my nakedness. I sucked in a breath as the fabric caressed my welted skin, but I dutifully ignored it as much as I could. I wouldn’t show him how much of an effect he was having on me. Then I gripped my pants and pulled them back up around my waist before I stood up and scowled in his direction. I faltered slightly when the cloth of my pants pressed against my punished flesh, but I recovered as quickly as I could, hoping no one had seen my tiny moment of weakness.
I took a deep breath and prepared myself. I wasn’t going down without a fight. I’d show him that I was tough, that I was stronger than he thought I was.
He moved in my direction, but I was ready. I crouched, just a little, and then jumped up, using my momentum to propel my right knee up between his legs as hard as I could. At the same time, I curled around him and gripped the holster of the weapon at his waist, pulling it free as he fell backward. My assault was flawless, and I couldn’t stop a grin from creeping over my lips.
I’d caught him off guard and he lost his balance, falling over onto the ground on his ass. I chuckled and fingered the weapon I’d stolen from him, lifting it up. It was a gun. It looked vaguely familiar, likely powered by neodymium ions, a technology that allowed it to emit vicious blasts of green lasers with very high energy and power. A shot from this thing would probably result in a hole the size of a basketball in the middle of his stomach, straight through. Shit like this was expensive. Lucky bastard.
Who the fuck was this guy?
I lifted the gun toward him as he pushed himself to his feet. His expression was sheer amusement as he stared back at me. He cocked an eyebrow, furrowing his forehead even more, and I gritted my teeth. Why was he acting so damn arrogant when the gun was pointing at him?
“I’m impressed. I like my girls feisty. I think I may keep you, little human,” he muttered, a smirk growing at the corners of his lips.
“Don’t fucking move or I’ll shoot,” I threatened.
“I dare you, little girl,” he answered, his face lighting up with sheer enjoyment. In response, I lifted the gun just a little bit and aimed it at his head, cocking it as I did so. Then he took a step toward me and I tightened my fingers around the trigger.
“I said don’t move,” I said, my voice rising just a bit with my panic and still he moved toward me, one step and then another as he strode to me.
I knew people were watching. That they would see that I hadn’t had the guts to pull the trigger yet. I couldn’t have that. I was tough and to survive I’d have to protect myself, no matter if it meant I had to kill someone.
My finger tightened and then I made a decision.
I was going to kill him. I had to.
Time seemed to slow as my finger squeezed tighter and tighter until I felt the trigger push back against me. I pressed harder and then the gun clicked.
And nothing happened.
The man came toward me, chuckling as he did so. He grabbed the barrel of the gun, twisting it out of my hands. I was so shocked at the lack of fire that I didn’t react when he pulled me back toward him and pinned my arms behind my back.
“My gun is biometrically locked. It will only fire for me when it recognizes my DNA on its surface,” he explained, and I closed my eyes nervously before opening them once more.
Of course it was. I should have known.
He laughed a bit more and I was surprised to realize that he didn’t seem angry. He pulled me flush against his body, my arms pinned behind my back, and I gasped with surprise when I felt the hardness of his cock press up against the curves of my ass. He was aroused.
“You know, I’m proud of you for pulling the trigger, little human. Maybe you’ll be able to make it here on Dryac on your own after all, but all things considered, that doesn’t mean that you aren’t going to pay the price for kicking me in the balls and trying to shoot me,” he said, his voice warm but firm and commanding. I tensed, trying to wriggle out of his grasp, but it was useless. He was far stronger than I was, and I couldn’t break his hold on me.
He held my wrists in one hand while his other arm snaked around my waist, unbuttoning my pants and swiftly pushing them down my hips. His fingers snaked over top of my panties, over top of my clit, and then ventured further down, discovering the wet fabric that gave away the rampant arousal between my thighs. I tried to bend forward and escape once more, but it was useless. He had me.