The Alien Warrior King's Accountant - Loki Renard Page 0,13
of her single mindedness to her work, when she eventually is allowed off this punishment bench to actually start doing something useful.
“Human, you are no longer on your world. You are in my realm. What is right and what is wrong is not written according to your laws. It is written by my hand. The same hand you feel now on your impudent flesh.”
I emphasize the point by slapping her again. The robe has melted away beneath my palm, the atomic structure of the garment obeying my rules — not hers. I can see the reddened rounds of her cheeks amid the remnants of her clothing. It makes me want to see more.
“Off with this!”
I make a gesture and every scrap of fabric is immediately swept from her body. Our clothing and hers is like mist in solar winds, gone immediately. I am treated to the sight of the rear of her, the thick length of shapely thighs which also bear some pinkness, and the very pleasing roundness of her ass itself.
She lets out a gasp as she realizes that she is no longer clothed, and her resulting squirming struggles allow me to spy two treasures hiding beneath her cheeks. There is a tight, dark little hole, and below that, a furry seam which is already swelling and parting, to allow a wet, pink unfurling of what look like inner lips.
What a delicate and ever so breakable little thing she is. What a work of art, and simultaneously an act of rebellion. The human species, like most of the species which have arisen on Earth over the millennia, makes little sense to itself or anybody else. Humans should by all rights be nothing more than food for carnivores. They are fleshy and ill-protected. Though she is lying face down, I can see the swelling of her mammaries when she tries to wriggle against the punishment bench. Every delicate and protectable part of her is out on display. Her holes boast no armoring. She is uniquely unable to protect herself from penetration. Indeed, she can be taken from almost any angle.
I stand there and I watch her wriggle. It has always pleased me to see my prey struggle. My mating rod is ready for her. I feel it at full extension, fighting against the restraints of my pants. Our biology is more or less compatible. I have a long, hard, thick cock to fill her tight little blossoming hole. The longer I look, the more natural it feels to release myself from the shackles of limited propriety and simply fuck her.
That will teach her the lesson a red bottom has not taught her. My cock, thrust deep inside the tightest of her holes, that will make her irredeemably mine.
It’s not why she’s here. She’s not a concubine offered for my pleasure. She’s an accountant here to do my taxes. But she could be both. For the moment she is serving little in the way of financial use. Why not fuck her? Why not feel that slick wetness being produced by the inner glands of her rampant human desire wrapped around my scaled rod?
* * *
Tania
He fists my hair hard, and lowers himself over me. I feel the room around me darken, his shadow falling across my field of vision as his thighs meet mine — and an alien cock slides across my slit, the length of his shaft enough to make my eyes fly open wide in complete shock.
He’s hot to the touch, and I can feel the massive girth of his royal alien manhood as he guides it along my exposed slit.
All my words of protest flee me in an instant. I am left with nothing but animal moans, guttural, frightened sounds of curious arousal.
He is going to fuck me. There can be no doubt about that. There is an inevitability about this moment, almost as if I was created expressly for this defilement, my entire nature limited and designed for him.
He drags his cock back down, and this time he presses not the shaft, but the massive head against my inner lips, spreading them with alien flair which matches my own anatomy with biological coincidence.
This is all happening so quickly. I have barely been on his ship for thirty minutes and already I am naked and spanked and sore and…
“Oh my godddd!”
… being spread around his cock which slides inside me slowly, the grip on my hair keeping me in place, my back arched, my aching cheeks quivering, as