Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 45050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 225(@200wpm)___ 180(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 225(@200wpm)___ 180(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
“No,” he laughed, reluctantly, the sound emerging from between his teeth as if he regretted feeling mirth — or anything at all, for that matter. “I suppose it wouldn’t. But that is what most try first. You are in danger of another whipping.”
“Please, sire. If you want me to survive to continue to be tormented, I need something to cover my body with.” She tried begging, but it came out sort of sarcastic, which she knew wouldn’t please Konan anymore.
At a certain point, after days of captivity and a carnal ravaging so thorough she knew she was ruined for any other male, Elizabeth had found herself running dangerously low on what people back on Earth used to call ‘fucks’. She had no further fucks left to give. He was going to punish her for her imagined spying regardless.
“Sire!”
They both turned to look as one of the soldiers came down the gangway holding a floral dress. Not a dress with fabric and flowers printed on it, but a literal garment forged from the flowers of the ship and held together with tendrils and vines.
“The ship just produced this!”
“I see you have my vessel doing your bidding, human,” Konan grunted.
“I see your vessel wants to look after me,” she replied.
He narrowed those dark eyes at her, and she wondered what thoughts were running through his alien mind. He could easily hurt her quite badly, but all of his handling so far had been careful to avoid real injury. She was delicate compared to him, and he knew it.
“Very well, human. You may wear the dress, if only so I may tear it from you when you inevitably earn yourself a thorough thrashing for your impudence.”
“Thank you, sire. You are merciful and just,” Elizabeth replied, sighing with relief as the garment was handed to her and she was permitted to put it on. It was not a long dress. It barely covered her ass, but it was better than nothing, and it was beautiful in appearance, and perfume. The inner tendrils were woven in such a way that they sat softly against her skin, and the entire garment seemed to contract around her in just the right way to support her breasts, and form to her waist. It was probably the most fashionable thing she had ever worn.
“The ship’s attire flatters you,” Konan observed, pulling the chain leash out from the back so he could once more keep complete physical control of her.
“It does," she agreed. “Thank you for allowing me to wear it.”
Konan rumbled, and growled in that tectonic way he had when he was displeased. “Your politeness now would mean more if you had not displayed your sass so boldly earlier.”
“I experience much less sass when my ass is covered,” she quipped, then rather wished she hadn’t.
“Walk on, human,” he growled. “I do not have all day to stand about listening to you play with words.”
She did as she was told, though it did little to put distance between her and Konan. The chain was so short it kept her no more than a few feet from the king at all times, a restriction she had not expected with all the warnings he had been giving about what would happen if she ran off. There was no way to run at all now. She could barely walk away from him even if she wanted to.
Elizabeth chose to try to ignore the chain. It wasn’t as hard as it seemed. There was a lot going on outside the ship, a busy hub of activity as the aliens streamed out of various doors and ramps, their arms laden with fabric and various kinds of equipment.
Tents were being erected. Big, sweeping peaked beige canvas constructions which did not improve the landscape one little bit, though they had a particularly beautiful sweep and sail-like quality.
She’d expected a lot of little tents, but the tenting was soon combined to create one big home. Privacy was apparently not a concern for Konan, or any of his crew. They moved beds, cushions, rugs, and food preparation equipment off the ship and soon had the open space of the tent marked off in various sections. The king was in the middle of it all, a sheer curtain the only element providing a modicum of privacy.
A stake was driven into the earth outside the tent proper by a large soldier who did Konan’s bidding as if by telepathy — though Konan had probably ordered it in advance.
“This is yours,” Konan said, pointing at the stake.
“My what?”
“Your leash point. You can walk to the end of the chain and no more. I do not trust you, human.”
“That much has been obvious for quite some time," she replied dryly. “Are you expecting me to earn your trust? I can’t do it if I’m tied on a short leash.”