Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 47529 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 238(@200wpm)___ 190(@250wpm)___ 158(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47529 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 238(@200wpm)___ 190(@250wpm)___ 158(@300wpm)
“The first two clearly didn’t work.”
His palm meets my ass hard, and I shriek not just in pain, but in panic.
“ARK!” I yell for the alien who abducted me. “I’M BEING KILLED!”
Finally, Arkan makes an appearance, though not before Kahn gives me a good ten slaps right to the seat of my nightgown-covered ass. Every single one of them hits home, sending jolts of harsh heat rushing through me. I wail and thrash around in the attempt to escape, but Kahn has me in a tight grip.
“Kahn,” Arkan says, appearing at the top of the stairs. He looks sleepy and confused to find me in his brother’s grasp. “What’s going on?”
“I thought we agreed, no pets at home,” Kahn says, keeping his grip on me. “Especially thieving little animals like this one.”
“What are you…” Arkan looks around and sees the various knick-knacks and accoutrements of various bedrooms now strewn about the base of the stairs. He comes down the stairs clad in his alien pajamas, a shining robe wrapped around his body. His feet are bare. He stops where the sheet has been left, runs his hand through his long hair with a perplexed expression, and stares at me.
“What did you do, pet?”
“Nothing,” I lie.
The lie is accompanied by another fiendishly hard slap that makes me yowl.
“How are you out of your crate?” Arkan scowls at me.
“He’s beating me!” I wail plaintively. “Help!”
“You’ll get a proper whipping if you don’t start answering our questions,” Kahn lectures me. His voice is slightly rougher than Arkan’s, but he’s not quite as large in stature. Still, even being smaller than Arkan means nothing when he has the grip strength of an extraterrestrial primate.
I do not want to answer questions, but the price of silence appears to be pain, and I truly cannot take another one of those harsh alien slaps. I thought it was bad enough to be punished by Arkan. It is a thousand times worse to be punished in front of him by a complete stranger who regards me as nothing more than a common thief deserving of a thrashing.
I hesitate again, and once more I am punished with a sharp slap to my rear that makes me yowl like an actual animal. Kahn has me propped over his thigh, in a similar way to the fashion Arkan punished me earlier, in pretty much the same place. This is like a very painful deja-vu. All roads seem to lead to being put over alien laps and spanked. Why must I suffer this misfortune? What have I done so wrong? It seems all very unfair.
Arkan steps down a few more steps to stand in front of me. He takes my chin in his hand and directs my rebellious, self-pitying gaze to his handsome, befanged face.
“How did you get out of your crate, and what were you doing with all of these trinkets?”
Looking into his eyes while being held firm over his brother’s lap, I find myself melting into something close enough to obedience to allow myself to reply.
“Your crates suck,” I tell him. “And I was taking all this stuff because you took me. So you owe me. I was going to make, like, a planetary escape fund with it.”
There is a moment of silence in which I brace myself for a lot more pain. Surely I am going to feel an absolute thunder of slaps on my already over-punished ass.
Instead, there is a snort. A snort followed by a chuckle, and then a full peal of laughter. They are both laughing, Kahn and Arkan. I feel Kahn’s powerful body making me vibrate with the force of his amusement, my crotch pressed firmly and with a slight ache against his hard thigh. This is an indecent situation made no better by mirth.
“What the fuck are you laughing at?”
“Language, pet,” Arkan says.
“Respect, pet,” Kahn says at practically the same time.
My problems have just doubled. I am in an entirely new kind of trouble now. Escaping Arkan’s attentions was one thing, but now with his brother here it seems as though there’s no way to escape. Mostly because his brother still has me firmly in hand.
“Humans,” Kahn says in what sounds like long suffering terms. “This is why we don’t have pets at home.”
There’s silence in response, which means they’ve gone into their alien speak. They’re talking about me and I can’t hear it, which is very weird and inconvenient given I am stuck here over Kahn’s thigh with my rear burning in the most uncomfortable of ways.
“Where were you going next?” Arkan asks the question with a kind of stern indulgence. “Once you had your escape fund secured?”
“To get some food. I’m hungry.”
“Alright,” he sighs. “Let’s feed you. And then I’m putting you back in your crate, and you are going to stay there if you have any sense of what is good for you. Tomorrow, you show me how you escaped.”