Page 4 of Tamed by the Alien Warlord

GEORGIA

T he door to his quarters seals shut behind us. It’s quiet. Too quiet.

The leash coils tight in his grip, a gentle but insistent reminder of what I am right now. His.

My arms are manacled behind my back, the cold bite of alien metal snug around my wrists, forcing my shoulders back and my breasts forward. The collar around my throat pulses faintly with each of my breaths, the leash trailing from it to Lanz’s massive hand.

I open my mouth to say something—anything—but he’s already moving behind me. I hear the low rasp of bone on fabric before I feel it: his claws at my jacket, slow and sure, peeling it open like he’s unwrapping a rare, fragile gift he also fully intends to break.

The fabric parts under his grip, and I shiver as cool air brushes across my exposed back.

“Hey,” I whisper, though my voice is more breath than words. “What are you doing?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Just keeps undressing me, layer by layer, those black claws catching every edge and hem like he’s stripping away more than fabric—like he’s peeling down to the core of me.

“I’m doing exactly what you’ve needed me to do,” he says at last, his voice low and deep, scraping through my spine like dark velvet. “Tell me I’m wrong, little human.”

I should resist. I should at least pretend to.

But my thighs are already slick. My nipples tighten under the open air.

I don’t say a word.

Instead, I turn to him, manacled, bared, my chest rising and falling like I’ve just run a race.

He takes my silence as the answer it is.

His mouth crashes onto mine—hungry, rough, devouring . There’s no softness, no apology. Just heat and hunger and the possessive fury of a creature made of shadow and bone.

He kisses like the world is ending, and I kiss him back like I’m begging for it to.

His claws rake lightly along my ribs, over my hips, tracing my thighs. The leash tightens in his grip as he shifts behind me, and the tension on my collar makes my breath catch.

He pulls gently but firmly, just enough to remind me I can’t go anywhere.

Just enough to remind me I don’t want to.

“You’re trembling,” he murmurs, lips ghosting over my jaw. “Are you afraid of me?”

“No,” I say, my voice wrecked with need. “I’m desperate for you.”

He growls—a sound low and feral, vibrating through my bones—and backs me toward the obsidian slab of his bed. He lifts me easily, like I weigh nothing, and deposits me face-down on the cool surface, the leash taut between us.

My cheek presses to the sheets, slick now with my own heat. My wrists are still bound behind me, forcing my spine into an arch. I hear him behind me, the rustle of his clothing falling away, the almost-sinister click of his cock's bone spurs flexing in the air.

When I feel the thick heat of him press between my thighs, I shudder.

He doesn’t rush.

He kneels behind me, spreading my legs wider with those massive hands, his claws dragging along my inner thighs. The head of his cock slides against my soaked folds, teasing me, not pushing in.

Yet.

“Say it,” he growls. “Say what you are.”

“I’m yours,” I whisper, breathless.

The leash jerks, just a little. “Louder.”

“I’m yours!” I cry out. “Your little human. Your fucktoy. Your property. ”

He snarls, satisfied. Then he thrusts into me with one smooth, brutal stroke.

I scream.

He stretches me impossibly wide, every inch of that alien cock forcing me open, molding my pussy around him like it was made for this. The spurs near the base flare slightly as he sinks deeper, dragging along my walls in ways no human body ever could.

It’s too much. It’s perfect.

He doesn’t move for a moment, just holds himself there, buried to the hilt, my bound body trembling beneath his.

The leash tightens again as he pulls it backward, forcing my head up, my back to arch even more.

“You feel this?” he rasps. “Feel how you grip me? This is what you wanted. What you begged for.”

“Y-yes—please, move?—”

He does.

He pulls out slowly, dragging every spur and ridge against my inner walls, then slams back in, hard enough to jolt me forward on the bed. The leash pulls again, countering the motion, holding me in place like a tethered sacrifice.

My pussy clenches around him, greedy, aching, needy .

“You love this,” he snarls, his hips pistoning into me, heavy and relentless. “You love being used. Owned.”

“Yes!” I sob. “I love it—I love you ? — ”

He reaches around me, claws surprisingly gentle as they flick across my clit, rubbing the bundle of nerves in maddening circles. Every thrust shoves me closer to the edge, and the leash keeps me grounded in this wild, helpless spiral of pleasure.

“You’re coming for me,” he growls. “Do it. Now.”

And I do.

I shatter.

The orgasm rips through me like a nova—white-hot, body-wracking, all-consuming. My arms strain against the manacles. My legs shake. I scream his name until my voice breaks.

But he isn’t done.

He fucks me through it, deeper, harder, rawer. His pace becomes erratic, hips slamming into my ass with the fury of a dying star. The spurs on his cock flex and shift inside me with every thrust, hitting places I didn’t know existed.

Another orgasm builds before the first has even finished unraveling. My pussy pulses around him, milking him, pleading for his release.

He jerks the leash again, making me cry out.

“I’m going to fill you,” he snarls. “Mark you. Breed you.”

“Yes—yes, daddy, do it—please?—”

With a roar, he thrusts one final time and holds himself there. His cock throbs inside me, and I feel it: pulse after pulse of hot, thick seed flooding my womb. I moan helplessly, my body spasming around him, every nerve on fire.

We stay like that, tangled in heat and possession, his cock still inside me, the leash still taut.

Eventually, he leans forward, brushing my hair from my face with clawed fingers, his lips pressing gently to the back of my neck—right over the collar.

“You’re mine,” he whispers again.

And I whisper it back.

“Yours. Always.”