Training His Human

Chapter 1-2

Was that why Seke was in charge of her? Had he asked to be the one to punish her? Since the very first planet rotation she arrived, he’d been solicitous with her, almost protective.

Am I to become Seke’s s*x slave?

The moment that thought tumbled through her head, she stumbled. Master Seke steadied her, slowing and showing a patience that, again, implied concern. Something in her core pulsed with excitement, even as her mind rebelled. She stiffened her spine, preparing her resistance. Though she had little choice but to ultimately submit, that didn’t mean she had to make it easy on Seke.

He led on, down a brightly colored corridor, the polished marble floors covered in expensive, hand-woven Ostrion rugs. Everywhere she turned, the opulence served as a reminder of the comfortable life she’d led there. This pod, no more than a giant spacecraft parked over Ocretia, was the sole seat of the Zandian kingdom until their species reclaimed their planet from the Finn.

He stopped before a door, which swished open when he placed his palm against the panel beside it. He pushed her into what had to be his chamber.

It was beautifully appointed, as was every room in the palatial pod. An oval sleepdisk hovered on one side, suspended as if by magic. The thick mattress was draped in the finest fabrics of amber, green, and midnight-blue. Crystal-amplified light shone through a skylight, making the room, with its high ceiling, light and airy. A workstation hugged one wall.

But what made her breath stop and her solar plexus twist was the cage suspended in the corner. The punishment apparatus on the bed. The tall basket filled with various manual implements, all designed to inflict pain.

A trembling started in her knees and traveled up her legs to her core. It turned her hands clammy and cold. To hide her terror, she lifted her chin and met the eyes of her new master. “So, am I to be your s*x slave? I’m past the ideal age for breeding. Surely you know that.” At forty-one solar cycles, her body could still reproduce, but the risks were higher.

Something in Seke’s face tightened, a slight strain showing beneath the marble mask. “No,” he clipped. “You have displeased your host. Prince Zander ordered your punishment and training, but he gave his word to Lamira you would not be used as a s*x slave.”

She wondered if he inserted the part about the prince ordering it as a subtle means of letting her know this wasn’t his own idea. Did he find it distasteful? She couldn’t tell.

“Release cuffs.” The cuffs, which had to be voice-commanded like the doors and locks in the pod, separated. “You will refer to me as master at all times. You will keep your eyes lowered and your hands behind your back unless otherwise instructed. I expect your obedience and complete submission. Defiance will be immediately punished. Remove your clothing.”

Even though she should have expected this treatment, his words struck her as if she’d been punched in the gut. From another male, it would not have wounded so badly, but from Seke, the male who had always shown her such courtesy, it came as a betrayal. Before she could consider the wisdom of it, her hand shot out to slap him.

He moved even faster and caught her wrist, twisting it behind her back so she had to either spin around or have it wrenched in the socket. She whirled, and he flattened her against the closed door, with one wrist pinned to her back, the other to the cool metal. Her cheek pressed against the door, and his body covered hers, pinning her with the whole of his chest, his torso, the bulge of his c**k against her lower back.

So. He did find this arousing. His hard muscles met most of her body, unyielding and warm.

The trembling in her legs grew stronger. “Seke,” she whispered.

She didn’t know what made her speak his name so intimately, as if they were lovers, not almost-strangers ordered by another to complete this strange scene.

And his breath was at her neck, hotter even than his flesh. “Defiance will be punished every time, Leora.” He, too, sounded more like a lover than a keeper. She didn’t hear anger or even danger in his threat. Only promise—sweet promise, as if he looked forward to conditioning her to his command.

She struggled then, terrified, not of the punishment, but of him and her body’s reaction to him.

He took her hand from the door and folded it behind her back with the other one, fastening the cuffs together once more. “Come.” Again, there was no bark to his words, only quiet determination. He turned and guided her to the sleep-disk, where he sat and pulled her across his knees, her torso resting on the mattress.

She understood immediately what he meant to do, but held back from struggling. Perhaps, if she was honest with herself, she’d admit her curiosity, her fascination with the scenario—of being held so intimately on a male’s lap to have a private part of her anatomy touched, punished by him.

When he pulled up her white robes, though, she came back to life, fighting against his obvious intent. Of course, her struggles were no match for him. He had only to scissor one leg over her kicking limbs to pin her in place. Her robes slithered up her back, the fine material sliding over her skin like a caress. The modest panties went in the opposite direction, down her thighs. He lifted his leg to wiggle them past it, and the cool air of the room hit her bare bottom.

She twisted, contorting her torso in an effort to bring her mouth to his arm to bite, but she couldn’t reach.

The first slap of his enormous palm came almost as a relief—the actual punishment was better than the anticipation that had been twisting and coiling in her belly. Then pain bloomed, and she started to fight anew. He s*****d her fast and hard, a steady pace that covered every inch of the lower half of her buttocks.

Though she tried to keep her lips closed, not wanting him to know how quickly he’d conquered her, grunts and gasps slipped out and, at the loudest, he stopped and rested his paddle-like hand on her blazing skin.

Her back heaved with panting, and she arched, lifting her head to protest the ignominious position.

“Tell me something, beautiful female. Did you fight your Ocretion masters this way?”

Beautiful female. She wished his words didn’t affect her, but she liked hearing the endearment far too well.

“No,” she admitted after a moment.

Abruptly, his hand crashed down on her bottom again, slapping hard and fast.

She let out a mewl of protest.

“No, master,” he corrected. “Try it again.”

She stilled her struggles and closed her eyes. Something stubborn in her didn’t want to give in, even though she knew she’d never win this battle.

“You may keep resisting, little human, but I will break you in the end. And your punishment for displeasing the prince has not even begun.”

Tears began to smart her eyes, not from the pain—the s******g wasn’t light, but it wasn’t unbearable—but from the humiliation.

“No, master!” she croaked angrily.

He stopped s******g, smoothing his rough, calloused palm over her twitching buttocks.

“Is this rebellion for me alone?” His words came softly, as much a caress as the hand circling her burning bottom.

Her heart thundered. Heat swirled in her core. She didn’t understand his question, or the angle behind it, but the truth tumbled out before she could stop it. “Yes...master.” Again, the tears burned.

And just like that, Master Seke righted her, letting her robes fall back down over her bared a*s as he plopped her on his lap, one arm looped around her waist. Her panties were still lowered, tangled around her thighs, which kept her humiliation in place.

He rubbed his knuckles over her cheek, and she resisted the irrational urge to lean into the touch. “This training was not my design, Leora.” Regret echoed in the heaviness of his voice. “But it must be. You will humble yourself to me. I will punish you. And I will care for you, for that is the role of a master.”

Her p***y clenched at the same time something twisted in her solar plexus. Desire in conflict with pride. Fear smeared around and between both. She almost wanted to give herself over to him, to let him punish and care for her.

Almost.

“Will I be allowed to see Lamira?”

“After your initial training, yes. Keeping you from her will be used as a punishment only—for both of you.”

If this training was her fate, she wondered what punishment her daughter had met at her mate’s hands. He’d be careful with her because she carried his young. Even without the pregnancy, he’d be fair, though. She’d seen his love for Lamira.

Seke pushed her to her feet. “Release cuffs.” The wrist cuffs sprang apart. “Remove your clothing. Being n***d before me is part of your training.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Why? I thought I was not to be used for breeding or sex.”

He landed a swat on the back of her thigh. “I will tolerate your questions today because you are adjusting to the change in our relationship. In the future, I expect obedience without question. The reason I require you n***d is to humble you.”

Again, something twisted in her solar plexus and anger flashed. Her hands free, she lunged for his face, fingers curled into claws, aiming for his eyes.

He caught her wrists, and one of his feet pushed the backs of her knees so she plunged forward. Her strangled cry morphed into a groan as her knees hit the finely woven rug at his feet.

Seke’s expression hadn’t changed—his eyes glowed purple, but his face remained an inscrutable mask. He lifted her twisting hands to his face and stroked his cheek with them. She could have clawed his skin, could have inflicted that small wound, but her fascination with his action made her go quiet.

What was he doing?

“These hands,” he murmured, still rubbing her fingers over his cheek, across his open mouth.

Was it her imagination, or had his horns stiffened and changed their angle—leaning toward her?

“These hands will learn to serve.”

Enraged, she tried to pull them away, but while his grip wasn’t harsh, his strength made it impossible. The next time he dragged her fingers across his mouth, he bit down—not hard—more sensually. Her eyes flew wide, heart stilled as she froze, staring up at him.

Shock danced over his features, as if he hadn’t meant to nip her. His blue-violet eyes locked on hers, and time stopped. The room spun. Desire throbbed between her legs as insistently as her bottom burned.

And then Seke released her. Suddenly. Violently. He tossed her hands down so hard they bounced in her lap, and he stood, lifting one leg over her head. He moved away from her, toward the door, where he stopped and folded his arms over his massive chest, turning back.

“Stand. Disrobe. I am losing patience.” His tone was much colder now—so unlike his usual courtesy, it wounded. And yet it made it easier to obey. This was a nameless, faceless master. Not her Seke. Just one of the hundreds of masters she’d had in her lifetime as a slave.

She clenched her teeth as she stood and pulled off her white robes, slid out of her tangled underpants, then stood facing him, hands neatly folded behind her back. She didn’t lower her eyes, though. They both knew her submission wasn’t genuine.

Something flickered behind his eyes. Pain or regret. He looked sickened, yet nothing in his expression had changed. Somehow, she read it, though. Perhaps it was the hint of instinct she had—that fraction of the psychic ability her youngest daughter possessed in spades.

His throat worked to swallow. He scrubbed a hand over his face then cleared his throat. “You will obey me.”

She lifted her chest. “Yes, master.”