The Alien Warrior King's Accountant - Loki Renard Page 0,14

inch by inch, scale by scale, this alien king conquers the very core of me.

“Ah! Fuck! My god! Tyrant! Please! Oh!”

I can form words, but not sentences. Tyrant does not speak at all. He growls and he snarls and he hisses, the powerful sibilance of his desire setting every nerve ending I have aflame as his cock finally finds the very deepest part of me and I am stretched past the point I knew I was capable of.

I am full of him. I feel as though I have become little more than a sexual appendage, his rough thickness so deep inside me, taking up every bit of available space. I am unable to move, trapped by his clawed hand and his scaled cock.

“My punishments of you will take many forms, human.”

I wail as he pulls out, slowly, denying me the gratification my body seems to have instantly become addicted to, the softness of my sex all swollen and puffy and so fucking wet. Without him, I am empty.

Suddenly, he is back inside me in one long, rough surge. He is fucking me with disciplinary strokes of his cock which use my pussy the same way he used my ass — to make a point. To tell me who owns me. To make it clear that my human notions of freedom and outspokenness will only end in a wailing, writhing mass of fractious desire. I can fight. I can whine. I can beg. I can cry. But in the end, my flesh will bend to his will.

I lift myself to him, my hips rising up amid the grasp of the punishment bench and the king himself. I feel him positioned perfectly to plunge in and out, long, straight, rough strokes which make my soaked pussy clench every time.

Submission is easy when there is no choice. There will be no defying this king. He commands everything in his presence down to the smallest atom. To him, I am nothing but a helpless little animal to be used for his pleasure, punished for his satisfaction.

I come hard, screaming and squirming, my hands grasping for something solid, but there is nothing solid in this realm besides what is making me orgasm. King Tyrant is the only thing that really exists. He is the harsh, rough arbiter of all things, and I am as much his as everything else aboard this ship.

At some point, the spanking bench thing retracts out of reality, and leaves me naked on my feet. Instead of being held by the ship, I am being held by the king himself. My naked body presses against his, his still-hard cock rough against my belly. I can smell myself on him, my human scent smeared all over his alien manhood.

I don’t know if he came, but I sure as hell did. I’m weak everywhere, but especially through the knees. Being held up by him makes it easier to steady myself, even though the feeling of my nipples against his scales feels dangerously stimulating.

His hands are running down my back, cupping my punished ass, soothing and caressing me. He is taking care of me in some small way, but I do not know if it would be stupidity or even arrogance to assume he cares.

In the aftermath of orgasm, I am humiliated. He gave me little choice in what happened to me, but I cannot deny that I wanted it as badly as he did. The moment he touched me, I surrendered myself physically and mentally.

“What are you thinking, human?”

I’m thinking that my name is Tania, not human, but names are hard. If his didn’t fit him so well, I’d probably have forgotten it already.

“I’m thinking that was as unprofessional as anything I have ever done. And I once went to work thinking everybody was a purple dinosaur.”

“What just happened was not something you did. That was something that was done to you.”

Well, that clarifies it, I suppose. I don’t have to feel bad about fucking the client, because apparently the client was going to fuck me regardless. I wonder if Mr. Rogers knew that was going to happen when he assigned me to this king. If he did, I have some serious recourse, or would have, if you could go to the police about aliens who don’t understand the basic concepts of consent.

“Human, I do not tolerate dissent on my ship. This is my realm. I control every part of it — including you.”

“Apparently.”

He narrows his eyes at me, and I feel every