Never Submit! The Swarii Brides, Book One (13 page)

It was too bad; she used to be good at it until he came along. Her face flushed. “It’s embarrassing, Graham! Let me up.” She squirmed but he kept her in place.

“Was it a plug?” he guessed, his voice was hard. She was hoping his frustration wasn’t towards her. “Were you
plugged
?” He repeated, still quite horrified at how far Jazeel went. Not that Swarii didn’t use plugs. They did constantly—it was just not something he had ever considered a lizard thinking to do. It was hauntingly perverted.

“Are you
surprised
?” she snipped. “I had one in me half the day yesterday. You’re welcome, by the way.”

“He did this because of
us
?” he asked incredulously.

“Because of
you
, specifically. You nearly got your face blown off!” she reminded. “I don’t know how you survived seven captures. I don’t know how you survived
one
, let alone oh—” She closed her eyes as he reached around to the front and cupped her pubis in his hand.

He pulled her up next to him and rolled over on top of her. “I’m sorry. I wish I'd met you earlier, to get your out of there earlier. If I could have known, you wouldn’t have spent one day in the palace, one day suffering by the lizards,” he told her—and the apology was strangely sincere. And she found herself believing him; he would never let her get captured by Frians again. She never had to fear anyone again.

Again he made love to her. Even though she didn’t have the sickness, it didn’t matter. There was still the union—she still had the magnetic pull towards him, the desire to touch and be touched by him. It felt just about as good as the first time, even though she was so sore already. It was as if putting her in absolute ecstasy was the most important thing he’d ever do, and it was so easy for him.

Afterwards, she didn’t cry this time when they finally lay together sated. She let him cradle her, content, in his large arms. “You’re mine,” she sighed happily, feeling herself falling back asleep.

His chest rumbled with a chuckle. “Yes,” he agreed. “I am.”

Chapter Six

Graham was counting. Ellie obviously just wasn’t aware of it—she was acting as if she was in a glaring contest where the one who moved their eyes to the floor first would lose.

Her face was flushed bright red from embarrassment; and even worse, Peyton had betrayed her. Sure, she wasn’t supposed to work on the motorcycle she found on level two—nor was she supposed to step foot on that level, but she never would have thought that Peyton, of all people, would catch her and drag her to the command room for reckoning. And then he threw salt in the wound by alerting Graham that she needed her mouth washed out, whatever the hell that meant, and proceeded to repeat all the names she had called him when he dragged her down from level two.

Graham’s jaw was set. “Eleanor, I told you not to even GO on level two, didn’t I?”

“You’re not
my
commander,” she replied, as snotty as humanly possible, crossing her arms casually and sticking her nose aloofly towards the ceiling.

Graham seemed to disagree. “Go to the bedroom, take down your pants, stick your nose in the corner,” he ordered, causing her to flush red, “and wait for me.”

And that’s when Ellie, startled by the order, which he delivered in front of all of his men, shifted her feet as if she planned to stay there for quite a while.

The countdown was over. He stood up and stepped away from the command chair and turned to Brahm and said something in Swarii, it sounded pretty much that he just explained that he was going to have to step out of the room. Brahm just nodded and looked behind him towards Ellie to deliver an expression that clearly stated that he hadn’t an ounce of sympathy for her, and he would not trade places with her for the universe.

Graham marched towards her.

Suddenly, if felt like she had been doused with cold water. She had antagonized her seven-foot-tall husband, and suddenly she couldn’t even remember why.

She turned around and ran. She nearly got to the door, too, but Graham caught her arm and hoisted her under his arm and carried her kicking and screaming out of the control center.

Even from the control room, they could hear Ellie miserably protest all the way to their bedroom. Her voice echoed sharply around the ship. “This is
ridiculous
! Drop me!” she cried. “You can’t punish me! I’m an adult! I’m your
wife
!” THAT statement was a first. Obviously she was trying to swing the idea to her advantage. “You can’t bully me like this! Put me down! You’re on watch! We don’t have time for this! Graham! Graaham! Ohhh! I hate you!” After that, the voice became much more muffled as Graham had brought her into the room and shut their door behind him.

Thorton got up from his chair and stretched. “Well, I’m gonna go get a drink of something… or something,” he excused, putting his hands in his pocket as he walked towards the hallway.

Peyton stood up just to stand in Thorton’s way. “No way. You just want to listen in.”

Thorton sighed and said, “Well, I suppose there’s room for both of us…”

“No way, Bro. Give them some privacy.” Peyton couldn’t help but laugh at Thorton’s strange, perverted ways.

Thorton groaned. “But… But this is
live entertainment
!” he argued. He straightened his coat. Suddenly, his eyes lit up with excitement from an idea. “Wrestle you for it, Beast?”

Peyton smirked and took off his jacket. “Sounds good. You’re gonna be cryin’ louder than
her
at the end of this, though. For your mother.”

* * *

“Let’s be rational here,” Ellie suggested as soon as her feet hit the floor of their private bathroom. She didn’t know what he planned with her in there, but she didn’t like where this was going. “I think we’ve merely had a misunderstanding…” She put her back up against the sink area, putting her hands protectively against her rear.

Graham’s body seemed to fence her in by the sink area. He reached around her and washed his hands quickly. “The only misunderstanding we’ve had is that you thought you could do and say whatever it is you want to, and that I would let you.” He dispensed some soap on his finger. “Open.”

She’d suddenly recalled this ‘washing your mouth out’ threat. Peyton used to constantly threaten to wash her mouth out, but she always thought it was a turn of phrase. She didn’t actually think there was a punishment featuring
soap
. She locked her jaw and stubbornly turned her head from him.

“Open
now
,” he growled.

She shook her head, looking at him like he had lost his mind.

He rinsed off his finger in the sink, his own jaw locked firmly. In the next moment, he spun her around and hoisted her up a foot so that she was bent over the sink, her feet dangling off the floor. He reached around her front as she was struggling to climb back down, and in a flash her pants were dangling at her calves.

She really hoped that this was a sex thing; that his next move was just to free his phallus and insert it into her.

Nope. In the next moment, he lit into her backside with the palm of his hand with a fierceness that made their first night together seem like a couple of pats, not even spanks. She shouted out in protest, furious at this treatment. “You’re hurting me, you asshole!”

It suddenly got worse. She didn’t think it could get worse, but if she thought about it logically, of course it could. He wasn’t using all of the strength in his arm. Probably only a small fraction of it—he was nearly two feet taller than her; she was child-size in comparison to him.

Tears of anger started to stream down her face. He was setting her bottom on fire! And there was nothing dignified about the process of getting wet from sink water, which was still running, with having her bottom exposed like a naughty kid’s… For some reason, when Peyton did it, there was an air of it being part of ‘the business’.

“Are you ready to be compliant?” he finally asked above her cries.

“Yes!”

Suddenly, back she was in the old position, soap was back on his finger, and he looked more determined as ever. “Open,” he said, dismissing the tears on her face, if he even noticed them at all.

Hesitantly, she opened her mouth. She didn’t have much choice in the matter.

As soon as he saw her opening, he shoved his soapy finger into her mouth, efficiently filling her mouth with the burning, disgusting, jarring flavor of the soap. She started to sputter. She tried to yank her head away from him, which worked only for a moment when he grabbed her chin with one hand and continued with the other. “Bite me and you’ll regret it, little girl. Let me tell you,” he said in response to her mutinous glare.

She gagged and sputtered, but he continued to run the soap over every tooth, all her gums, her tongue, and the roof of her mouth. “Swearing in ANY language is not tolerated,” he reminded firmly. “You were warned. On my planet, words actually matter. Get used to taking responsibility.” He turned her around. “Spit.”

She was glad to. She spit the stinging flavor out of her mouth quickly and repeatedly. She grabbed some water into her hand and tried to swish it around in her mouth, but before she could do it more than once, he turned her back around. “Got more filthy language or insults?” he asked.

She shook her head, grinding her teeth together. She was light-headed from the discomfort. She was practically shivering.

“Are you sure?” he asked threateningly. 

She wanted so badly to slap him. Or kick him in the nuts. To unleash any pain—any pain at all—would be a delight. “
Positive
,” she growled.

“Good.” Without a hesitation, he grabbed her arm and walked her out of the bathroom and to the bed, letting her trip on the pants around her ankles only for a few feet before he stopped, reached down and pulled them the rest of the way off.

She was quickly beginning to worry that he planned to spank her more as he sat down on the side of the bed and began to tug her over hisr knees. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry!” she cried, recognizing the moment as not a good time to be brave.

“
I’m
sorry,” he told her grimly, positioning her over his knee skillfully. “Obviously I’ve given you the wrong impression of me. When I ask you to do something, I expect you to obey me. You don’t have to like it—but I expect you to obey.”

She gave an angry sob. “I’m not your pet! I don’t have to do what you say!” she immediately regretted it. The skin on her bottom was already tender and burning. He put his hand over her bottom then, and she was able to recognize again how large his hand was. It easily covered most of her bottom and would make his work quick and easy.

“You’re my wife. And if you DON’T learn to be obedient, you’ll find yourself in this position very often, I assure you. There is ONE leader in this relationship, and that’s me. Get that clear.”

“I hate you!” she shouted, defeated and frustrated. There was no getting out of this position—she was no match for him.

“Fine; hate me. But you WILL obey me,” he snapped, his voice sounding actually hurt—and frustrated.

And then the spanking commenced.

She didn’t know how long. Probably for only five more minutes, but it felt like days.

She went through a volley of emotions—anger, certainly, was the first one. She clenched her teeth shut, hoping to play the bad ‘whipping boy’ and suffer in silence. She gave that up after the first twenty seconds, and then she began to kick, cry, and wail.

She was surprised when remorse actually hit. She had felt it before during Peyton’s spanking—hit a moment of reflection when she realized she deserved punishment. But she didn’t expect to feel remorseful about
this
.

This seemed to hit her like a wall. What was she thinking?! Sure, there was a motorcycle that was jet-propelled, like something out of Return of the Jedi, and that was certainly
alluring
although ‘against the rules’, but if she was looking for something to fix or to do, there was plenty. The ship had the internet, for cripe’s sake. Tons of information was available of all of Swaraan and many Frian planets. There was even Swarii television available!

But no. She
had
to go to the second level, where she was specifically told not to go because it was so beat up after years of transport service. There were places where she could fall straight through the floor. So why did she do it?

Because she had WANTED to disobey Graham. She liked the
sensation
she got when she disobeyed him—that fluttering feeling in the pit of her stomach. The new, submissive part of her triggered it, gave her the excitement from doing something wrong, the thrill. She desired to be put-in-line by him. She
wanted
this on some strange level.

She
wanted
a childlike chastisement that would reduce her to tears? No, no—this seemed like a simple case of not thinking things through.

Her tears took on a whole new volume—they were now quieter. Her throat was sore and dry.

“Are you going to be a good girl?” she heard him ask.

She sobbed in response, “Y-y-Yes!”

And finally, the spanks stopped, the pain seared. Her bottom felt like it had been tenderized. She didn’t even want to put her hand back—she knew rubbing wouldn’t make it feel any better. If anything, touch would make it worse. Just after she felt completely healed from the switch, she went and did something stupid like
this
.

Graham petted the hot-to-the-touch bottom on his knee, considering. This spanking would do for now, he thought, but during the spanking, it had struck him that he didn’t know what her limits were.

He couldn’t spank her even as hard as he might have spanked a Swarii child—humans might be more delicate, and she was putting up quite a fuss… Maybe humans felt more pain. Maybe half-Swarii even felt more pain than a
human
…

He considered even the puckering rosebud of her anus, which was visible yet obviously very tender to Ellie, as she flinched if his finger ever even went near it. Anal sex was quite popular among the Swarii, but he didn’t dare even attempt it with Ellie. Not yet—even when he had sunk himself deep into her pussy it was excruciatingly tight, and it had been a full week since he had broken her hymen. From sex alone she had been walking sore for a while; she was tender, and because of it they hadn’t had sex for about three days.