Page 6 of The Commander

Rolling her to her back, he showed her his name day blade again, waving it dramatically. “Big nasty thing, yes? Just like me. You don’t say it, but I see it in your eyes. Can’t stand to look at me, can you?”

She blinked at him as a shudder went through her body.

“You don’t think I’m handsome?”

“Handsome?”

“Are those rebels you played with better looking than me? Are they stronger? Faster? Do they have such fine teeth?” He grinned.

“The rebels? What are you talking about?”

“Human women always keep to the towns. I’ve never seen them wandering around alone.”

“Please. I wasn’t doing anything wrong. I was trying to follow your law. But sometimes it’s impossible. Don’t you have any rules for that? Extenuating circumstances? Tell me what you want. I just want to go back to Springfield. Can’t you send Brenda and me back?”

“Springfield? That is miles from here. No one’s going back there. It’s much too late now.” He didn’t like the idea of her going anywhere but where he could see her.

“Are you going to kill me?”

“You might wish you were dead,” he told her.

But he didn’t think he wanted her dead anymore. It didn’t sound as good as all the other interesting things filling up his head now that her body lay helpless under his hands. He gradually pulled the loosened cloth around her left leg and watched the progress of the cloth’s removal play across her features in accompaniment to fearful little whimpers.

“I told you everything,” she insisted, trying to roll away from him.

“Have you told me everything? Why do you know how to make a snare? Did you have human weapons on you? A gun?” He stopped her wiggling but had to keep himself from tracing his fingertips over every inch of pale human flesh he revealed and sucking off the dew of her scent.

“You don’t allow humans to have guns. It’s one of the laws.”

“Would it help you to know that there is no human made gun that can kill me? I don’t allow them in my town because you humans use them to cause trouble. I know your history. Think of what Mister Danov would do if he had guns. Where did you learn to make snares?”

“My dad.”

“Really? The dad you disappointed? How did he know?”

“He knew.” Her volume dropped as if the memory pained her.

“Don’t get short with me now, Kitten.” He drew more cloth away, exposing her center completely, her thighs, her lower belly. Would blood from such sensual places on her body taste different than blood from her neck?

“Please. Oh, God. Please.”

“God? Are you religious then? Am I trespassing on sacred territory?”

Humans had their countless gods, but none came close to the Sarrian goddess who shaped the prime battlers—to serve, to protect, to worship. A mate bond would demand the same devotion, that same all-consuming dedication. It was why Bastain swore never to hunt a mate.

He might break that vow for a red-headed human who smelled surprisingly tasty.

“Sacred? What the fuck is wrong with you? Stop it. Just kill me.” She bristled up, her emotions a storm inside her. Humans could only maintain so much terror for so long. Even though she hadn’t lain on the table for more than an hour, the high stress of her day was getting to her, dragging at her.

Good. He could use that stress against her. Get more answers. Entertain himself more. The interview didn’t feel close to finished yet.

“All the humans in my towns have one or two functions,” he mused as he took his time slicing at little pieces of her clothing. Keeping one hand on her, he allowed a fingertip on bare skin, circling. With each touch, he discovered more parts of her, unwrapping her by slowly pulling at what rags of clothing he could get without rubbing her raw.

Had no other male mapped the geography of her skin? If so, he could be the first to claim the territory of her body. Every first shiver and sigh cataloged into his memory next to his favorite killing strategies. He would own her most sensual secrets, taste them with the sensitive tip of his proboscis, melt them in the heat of his mouth, more addictive than any prey he’d stalked.

Wiser logic tried to intervene in the growing fog of want, but that wisdom dissolved against the feel of her pulse. His well planned future dimmed next to this female, this scent that sang through his blood like an ancient from all the primes before him.

“Don’t.” She kicked her legs, trying to dislodge his hands.

“What is your function? Some humans in the towns dig in the dirt or keep plants and cows alive. There are several steps necessary to prepare the tax for transport, which requires many skills.”

“My function? My job? I did what I was told. None of it is hard. It’s all sheep work. I’m no one. Can you stop this?”

“Stop? Why should I stop? I doubt any sheep know how to make a trap to catch meat; they are too busy for that. That is an unusual skill. Your father knew and taught you. That is also unusual. Where is your dad figure now?”

“Dad figure? Father? He’s dead.”

“Mother?”

“I only knew Dad.”

“Was he a rebel?”

“No. No, he wasn’t. I’m not. You don’t understand what the wankers do to their own people,” she said.

He did know but didn’t tell her that. He’d still seen humans give them aid and shelter. “I understand that they are an annoyance. What about other family?”

“Please. I don’t have anyone. Just let me go.”

“But you were hunting for others, for that Brenda?” he pressed.

“She is a friend. And they were helpless. I told you. Didn’t I tell you?”

“No one? Grandparents, siblings?” That was curious. Was she hiding them to protect them? Family groups were important to humans. Control encouraged them. Other family members like herself meant others with her DNA.

“There was an alien invasion, you know. People died,” she shot back, an adorable wrinkle appearing between her eyes.

“Yes.” His hidden proboscis quivered at her scent, already cataloging subtle markers in her chemistry. “I heard that. Poor little lost girl. No family to love you. How old are you?”

“I don’t know.”

The name day blade glinted as he flicked it against her earlobe—precise, clinical—a warrior’s move. A single crimson drop welled up, and his second mouth flooded with enzyme-rich saliva. Her genetic code would reveal everything: age, breeding compatibility, hidden Sarrian markers.

This distanced them. Kept it clean and cold. Unlike his hands that ached to clasp her throat, unlike his cock that lurched behind its seam, straining toward her.

She saw the flash of his blade and yelled, but he knew she felt no pain. Dark new blood immediately welled there. The mark was tiny, but her fear, that rapid heartbeat, helped it bleed faster. This was his favorite part.

Her instinct was to fight more, but he didn’t want any of her precious blood to be lost, so he moved his hand to protect her skin and applied enough pressure for her to know he wasn’t joking. It would be an easy thing to break her ribcage without exerting any effort.

With denser bones, he weighed much more than she did. “That is a very pretty color.”

Bastian didn’t think she heard him over her whimpering. He had to spank her five more times on the thigh where the rope didn’t block his hand—what a delight—before he tried to hold a conversation with her again.

Cutting her clothing off from beneath the ropes had loosened the remaining bindings around her chest area; only a few scraps from her many layers still covered her human tits. With her every movement, soft, fleshy breasts jiggled, pulling his attention away from other parts of her.

He was going to play with those.

“Please. Please, I don’t know what you want,” all she could do was beg him.

She did it so prettily, with full lips, bright cheeks, and tear-glassy eyes. He didn’t mind her flat back teeth when her front canines had fine porcelain points.

“This is such a small thing, really. If you listen to me and do what I say, this might end well for you.”

It wouldn’t end well, he lied. But was it a lie if it was spoken to a defeated, invaded race?

Breathing through her mouth, she panted, trying to calm herself. Her eyes closed, shutting him out again to calm herself. He was getting very tired of her doing that.

He allowed it this time, drinking in the sight and smells set out on the table before him, cataloging the unique points of interest on the naked woman. The ropes were a bit in the way, but he enjoyed the way her limbs contorted to fit them, feminine shape outlined by the bindings.

With her facing him, he switched his hold, pulling out the last straps of cloth from her arm, her shoulder, and getting closer to her intriguing human chest. Poor thing looked uncomfortable, pink with distress but seductively attractive. Shoulders pulled back from her tied arms, her breasts thrust out, stiffened nipples tempted his hands to squeeze and pinch.

Tightly bound at the ankle, knee, and twisted to the side, her closed legs concealed the front facing furred V of her sex. But he could see the engorged, puffy lips perfectly well from behind. After hours of media visuals, Bastian knew that his cock, as the primary mating organ, went right into the major hole where he would deliver his sperm and connect with her special little alien enhanced egg.

She lacked the correct suckers to receive his sperm. He would have to go inside her undeveloped body because she could not meet him halfway. He’d seen the old videos. He would do the work. Thrusting. Pumping, sinking his cock inside the moist cavity of her cunt.

That data cluttered his mind, input like everything in preparation for this planet. He’d never planned to use it, but meeting this little kitten in person changed those ideas. He was corrupted by her. In a way that infected his brain, spoke to his cock, and rearranged his goals. He couldn’t lift his hands from the texture of her skin. Her shape. The glisten of her tears on her cheek.

Her female pocket would squeeze his cock like a fist, and he knew from experimenting that he liked that. The moisture might be nice .

“Have you noticed that human blood inebriates the red hats? They must have got into the rebel’s blood before dragging you back here because all of them were sotted off their asses. Did they taste yours?”

There were bruises and scrapes on her body, but the only deliberate cut was the place on her ear.

“I don’t know. Did they? Did they? What does that mean?”

“Mean? There is no deep meaning behind hunger and depravity, is there? Since your blood would make them idiots, what do you think it might do to me?” he asked.

“Nothing! Don’t touch me. I don’t want my blood to do anything!” She screeched at the idea.

Bastian felt a very superior sort of laugh rumble through his chest. Had she forgotten that she was tied up on a table and that he had cut off most of her clothing? Her only weapon, her only mode of resistance, was her mouth. She couldn’t stop him from doing anything he wanted. “Do you know what female human blood does to my kind?”

“What? Your kind? I’ve never seen your kind before today. Why are you talking about blood? Are you finally going to kill me?”

“I imagine your blood tastes delicious.”

“Taste?”

He squeezed her arm. “Stop that. No screaming. I’m not going to kill you. I think it will be more fun to taste you. Blood is also a drug for my kind. But it will calm me. You want me calm now, don’t you?”

He lied again. Easily. It would not calm him.

Sheathing his name day blade, he pulled her into a sitting position, reveling in the feel of her gorgeous pale skin under the darker, mottled blues of his hands.

“Calm you? What are you doing?”

“If I am calm, perhaps we can finish talking and I will decide not to molest you. I’d be sleepy and complacent then, wouldn’t I?” With her sitting up, he could curl around her, pull her into him, cradle her while he opened his mouth on the cut on her ear. Or, if he chose, sink his teeth into her neck. She couldn’t stop him. She couldn’t even wobble back and forth to escape.

The thought whipped his mating organ to life under his skin, and he willed the monster still. If his face and shape disturbed her, seeing his member would break her and send her straight to madness.

Not that he didn’t want her broken to some degree. But not that way. There was no denying how satisfying he found her weaker position. She was flesh, fear, rope—all his favorite delicacies together.

“Yes. Be calm. But…” she hesitated. He was sure that the scrunched expression on her face was confusion. Drink her blood? Her eyebrows moved up and down, and her mouth pinched.

Humans were strange in their moralistic judgments.

“You broke curfew. It is a law,” he whispered against the lobe of the ear he had cut.

Her nostrils flared, and her pupils expanded as his personal aroma invaded her senses.

It was her turn. Her ancient coding reacted to him.

“You are bleeding, Kitten. If you agree to feed me that small amount of blood, you will ease my hunger, and this interrogation will go easier for you. You won’t miss what I take, I promise you. I will be calm. Or you can deny me a taste, and we shall see what happens.”

She shivered in his arms and not from the cold. “Feed you?”

“No place to run, Kitten. I’ve caught you in my snare. Do you agree?”

A variety of delightful emotions flittered across her face as she took in his question. No matter how hard she tried not to see him, take him in, she couldn’t stop him from seeing her.

“Choose. Say, ‘drink me, Commander Bastian.’ Of course you can say, ‘go fuck yourself, Commander Bastian,’” he coached her.

Closing her eyes, she turned her head away from him, trying to escape herself. Him. The entire situation she had gotten herself into. “Fine.”

“I told you what to say.”

“Drink me, Commander Bastian,” she said.

Beautifully forced and tortured, one tear after another fell from her eyes at the

violation.

Somewhere in her bones, did she feel the long reaching ramifications of her choice? He doubted she understood or expected the possibility of alien DNA lurking in her dainty little white blood cells that would change her life forever.

He couldn’t help what she didn’t know and didn’t feel obligated to tell her. She’d figure it out soon enough, after all. It had been right there, waiting in her code all along. Not his fault if stupid humans never read directions.

All the reports were right. These little human breeders grabbed a prime by the cock and didn’t let go.

The desire to taste her overwhelmed him. Beat him. Knocking him right at the base of his spine, right into the root of his cock, a newly formed, instant addiction to her threatened to keep him like this until a biological imperative had been reached.

He’d lost when the grunts brought her in—lost when he took in her scent for the first time. Arrogance was always a prime’s downfall.

“Thank you,” he said politely before taking his first taste of beauty.

His mouth closed around her earlobe and the tiny nick in her skin. He had to suck hard since the blood had already started to coagulate.

Kitten’s whole being hardened, screaming in resistance, a beautiful litany of cries for help to her deity tumbling from her lips in tortured chants. She acted insulted, like he planned to eat her up. He was going to say something about that, but then his brain registered her life force on his tongue and took over.

Good fucking goddess. This woman. This human. She was heat, life, death, battle, and his ultimate fall. Delicious. He sucked like a glutton, rubbing that little bit of skin with the tip of his tongue, stroking her there like he soon would stroke her everywhere. Her cries turned to whimpers as his sensual touch warred with her horror.

He knew she didn’t know what was happening, didn’t want this, would rather die, her mind fighting her body. Her lack of consent was clear.

But lawbreakers and prisoners had no rights to consent. This wasn’t Sarria, and she wasn’t Sarrian. She was human. Even expecting how she might react to what he wanted next, he wouldn’t stop. Self-denial was not one of Bastian’s strong suits. Giving in to the temptation to taste her pushed him over the edge.

A mad hunger opened in his core for the woman. Unable to resist her flavor, he opened the secondary mouth in his chin and let his proboscis uncurl to chase down every bit of her blood, slip into the cut, sip her up. Nothing of her would be wasted.

He leaned in deep, fiery want shooting down his back, down his legs to his heels, surging painfully into his dick and fully engorging it. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. His seam started to open.

As if he were a youth, he had pushed his cock back into its pocket and applied pressure to keep the seam from opening. He should have felt like an idiot, his mouth nursing blood from a woman’s ear while he palmed his cock. Instead, he didn’t care. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but her. This.

That tampering, the Sarrian seeding, that had been done to her ancestors was supposed to bond them, but he did not know it would be like this.

Unable to see what his face was doing, but feeling it on her skin, little chill bumps raised up on her neck. He smoothed the sweetness of her sweat down with his thumb, one hand on her throat to keep her still.

She wasn’t ready to see his chin split open, observe the dark, rude flush of his inner skin. She couldn’t understand anything about what was happening. She felt his touch, his mouth, his breathing.

She responded, involuntarily or not. His awakened her body, areolas darkening and nipples standing up to hard points. A perfumed whiff of pure arousal leaked into the air, escaping the squeeze of her legs.

Her rising hysteria at her predicament was a palpable thing, hot and sweet, quite tasty.

He wished he had his shirt off for this, the better to feel every inch of her. The earlier sweat produced by her fear from her apocrine glands, full of unique lipids and proteins, dampened his shirt. He wanted that precious spicy secretion on his own skin, where his finely tuned alter sensors would read every change, every flavor, every delicate note. A need to fully taste the minute traces of the salty musk of her arousal, buried under that hot fear, was making his undressing an imperative.

Damn fucking clothing. It was unnatural. No special make of fabric for primes worked the way Control said it would.

“Calm now, Kitten. Shh. You have had a hard day, but you can’t escape me. The best you can do is work with me.”

She was adorable, cute in every way. In his world, all the cute things were gone, eaten up before his birth. Her hair made no sense to him, cut without reason. He’d have her grow it out. But it had to be off her face, like this, so that he could see the tiny dots across her nose highlighted every time her skin changed color with her emotions. The girl broadcast every feeling like an interface light board. Even in silence, she’d never be able to hide anything from him.

“I didn’t do anything, please,” she mewed.

“Breathe with me, in and out. Come now. In and out. Slowly.” He breathed like he wanted her to.

Obediently, she matched him.

She may not like his looks, but he knew she liked his smell and his voice well enough, both in a specific range of favor for breeder females like her. She would find him appealing even if she didn’t want to. The closeness would work on her in the same manner it worked on him, proximity acting like a virus, activating dormant instincts, awakening a mating drive she didn’t know she had.

He instructed, “Close your eyes. It’s okay. Keep breathing for me, Kitten. I’m not going to kill you. You are such a small thing. What is the point? Do you hear the truth in my voice? I’m not going to harm you. Let’s breathe together. In and out.”

The need for air was something their bodies shared, a convenient similarity of physiology he’d use to his advantage. His lungs had a greater range and adaptability for the intake of oxygen mixes than hers did, but he could use this technique to normalize himself for her.

He enjoyed holding her like a child swaddled up in bindings as she listened to his heartbeat and voice. They breathed together until her scent changed, and her mind gave up its struggle to stay in a panic, exhausted and confused. Perfect. “One more deep breath now. In and out. I know I’m a scary motherfucker. I hear your people say it all the time. But can’t you hear my heartbeat, Kitten? I’m really just like you.”

All the things she knew about her world’s invaders, and all the things she didn’t know, plus her own prey instinct, contrasted with the stark physicality of their two bodies.

She was small and fragile, and he was her opposite in every way.

The human mind was such a fun toy to play with.

“Please,” she begged, soft and sweet against his skin, under his chin.

“I know this is scary for you. I’m dangerous to you, and every system in your brain tells you so. My kind are predators, a level above yours, I’m afraid. It’s best if you do what I say, answer all my questions.”

“I answered. I’m telling the truth.”

“There is something I don’t understand, Kitten. Do you think you can escape the law? We are all slaves to the law, I’m afraid, and I can’t escape the Control Board any more than you can.”

“I was looking for food, checking the traps. And wankers—”

Setting her back on the table on her side, he curled over her upper body, keeping her warm with his higher body heat. Staying where she could hear and see him, he said, “Listen now. Are you listening? I am going to give you a chance to get away from me. You have been such a good girl. I think you deserve it. That is a part of our law. Maybe you don’t know this?”

“You are going to let me go?” Her voice cracked.

“I am going to undo all your bindings and let you go. Do you know this old children’s place, this school? Did you go there as a child? Hum, no?”

She shook her head. Bastian could see he had her full attention now. She met his eyes, looked at his mouth, confused, distrusting the offer to let her go. Smart girl. She should be very concerned.

“If you go down the hall and take the first right and follow it, it circles all around to the other side of the building. Don’t go straight. That is where the red hats are, and you don’t want to run into them again. You will see several doors that lead to classrooms. Those rooms all have doors that open to the back of the building into big wide fields. What were they once, some kind of game field?”

He paused, running his hands over the ropes one last time before he had to cut them. They were so pretty on her pale skin, but she’d been in this position too long.

“A game field and then the woods. There were houses on the other side of the woods.” She swallowed and licked her lips again.

Poor thing. If she got through this next part, he’d have to remember to get her some water.

“Before I came here. Yes. You would have been a child then. But pay attention, Kitten. There’s nothing there now, just more woods. Many places to hide. Freedom, if you like.”

Her eyes darted over his face. Searching. He liked that. Unfortunately, now that she was paying attention, it was time to let her out of his sight. “One of those classroom doors to the outside is broken. Destroyed at some point, and I didn’t have it replaced. It keeps things interesting, I think. Anyone who gets to it can leave the building and run away.” He made a motion with his hands like a fluttering bird.

She flinched away, missing the graceful move. Kitten had terrible manners. He was going to have to do something about that.

“Away?” She encouraged him to continue.

“Yes. Away. There are red hats on the grounds—watching for rebels—but they know not to touch any human who comes out of that door.”

Her lips thinned into a line, as if she were afraid to ask for clarification. Bastian waited. How brave was she? How daring? How much did she want to risk escaping that tendril of arousal he’d tapped inside her?

If she didn’t ask, he wouldn’t say. Instead, he petted the skin of her back, her thighs, her upper arms, learning her. She shivered when his hand brushed her lower back.

“What are you saying? What do you mean?”

“I’m going to release you. Let you go, Kitten. And I told you how to leave this building untouched.”

“You’re not.”

She didn’t believe him. He couldn’t blame her.

“You don’t want to leave? You have said you are innocent. That this is all a mistake. I’m going to let you go.” He gave her what he thought was a teasing smirk.

She winced, cocking her head back and away.

So much for that. There was improvement needed there, then, on his part.

“Please. You’ll let me go?”

Taking his knife again, he swiftly cut through the bindings at her ankles, above her shoes. Human feet were so tender.

He’d be nice to her and let her keep her shoes.

Seeing that the bindings on her ankles had rubbed into her skin, he rubbed the marks and hurts away, enjoying how her breathing increased as he touched her. Fear and desire.

Her bones were like a bird’s. Very fragile. Alluring. In comparison, their physiologies were the same—head, body, arms, and legs. But the ease with which she could be broken compared to her ability to survive fascinated him.

“Does this feel good when I rub your feet, your calves? How do my hands feel on your skin, Kitten? Do you like that?”

She made noises of denial, as if she wanted him to stop. He ignored them. His touch bothered her, and not because she was afraid. Some prey could block pleasant sensations out, but she was not some prey.

Too late for her. She was his now. Meant for him. She could never block him out.

He cut her bindings off from her knees, planning in the back of his head when and where he would use rope again. He looked forward to it, to everything.

“Hold still now while I do these for you. Be still, Kitten. Do you need me to help you be still? Don’t struggle.”

“You don’t have to. I can get free now.” Her arms tied in back, she couldn’t brush his hands away from her ankles and her thighs as he rubbed at the pretty lines the rope left behind.

The sight made him purr with delight.

She attempted to resist, muscles tensing to kick, taking a breath like she was getting ready to jump into an icy lake. Quickly, he stopped her on the table, holding her there with one hand and cupping her damp center with the other. He didn’t move a single finger.

Wanted to. Fuck,he wanted to. But not yet.

“You don’t like my hand here, do you Kitten? Don’t like my hand on your mound? What did I hear it called, a pussy? Yes? You humans have such interesting words and such interesting bodies.” He squeezed.

She made a noise of shock. New color washed over her skin, making the freckle dots stand out. “Don’t. You said you were letting me go.”

“We aren’t on that part yet. Is it my touch that is frightening to you? Or are you a ripe, unplucked cherry? Don’t think I am not seeing how ripe this pussy of yours is. You are plump and swollen here. Are you aroused, my dear? You are wet, but you don’t want to be, not for a monster like me. I understand. I do.”

“I’m not.” The color of her face deepened, almost as red as her hair. She lied. They both knew she lied.

“You are. This is your nature. There is something in your blood—more than usual. You are very, very special. That means there is no shame that I arouse you.”

Her mouth twisted, keeping back the words she wanted to say. It looked like Kitten didn’t want another spanking. Too bad. With the ropes out of the way, Bastian would love to deliver one.

He drew his hands over her skin as she mewled like the kitten she was, over her thighs, opening his palms to touch as much as he could, like the greedy son-of-a-bitch he was, a not-so-subtle claim on what’s mine. Resisting the impulse to squeeze her, to part her legs wide, to taste, caused avaricious growls to rise in his chest.

He wanted this girl. Innocence and inexperience flavored her fear, a hot perfection.

It called him to her like bait, invited him to take, drink, claim.

She bucked, refusing him. In response, he stilled her with his hand at her throat, squeezing, letting her know he could take her last breath. “Stop. No, pet. No. Remember. Obedience. I said to be still. I will not say it again. You will hold still. Do you understand me? Nod your head. Good. Good girl. We will try again. When I put my hand here, you do not kick or fight.”

He cupped her again, moving his hand back and forth without parting the labia, a soft grind to stir her up, showing her how wet she was when his hand came away soaked.

Pupils blown open so wide he couldn’t see the iris; she met his gaze. His scent and a connection she didn’t understand infected her like a drug.

He saw all the welcome signs. Her nipples hard, tightened points in the middle of puffy areolas, and her pussy swollen and wet, blossoming, waiting to be fucked, longing to be mated.

And he saw her trying to fight it.

He wouldn’t let her escape the truth. Much too amusing to make her face it.

“I like it when you look at me. That’s right. Take me in. I can smell you, girl. I can see you. I know what is happening to you, that little flutter in your belly and tingle in your pelvis. I know your nipples hurt, and that pussy is clenching on empty, your clit throbbing with a need for pressure. I know my hands on you feel good. And I know you hate it. Is that true? Answer me. Quickly.”

“Yes. All true. Hate it. Hate you. Just kill me. Let me go. Stop this.”

He smiled. “No. Not going to kill you. But didn’t I say I’d let you go? Good, I’m glad to see we are on the same page. I’m going to undo the ropes on your arms and bring them to your front. It might hurt. So, let’s go slow.”