Disciplined by an Alien

He flexed the strap in his hand. Would this work? How much of this deep-seated need in him for discipline would she understand? It wasn’t just about spanking her; it was everything else, the whole package. As she watched him stretch the strap and snap the two sides together, her mouth gaped slightly. Her bright eyes reminded him of the fire rabbits he hunted as a young boy on planet eleven. The name came from the amber glow of the rabbit’s eyes. The color was different in her eyes but their intensity had triggered the pleasant memory.

He circled around the desk, approaching her from the opposing side. She was balancing on the tips of her trembling toes and her knees were knocked together, locking her slit out of sight. He tapped her heels with the end of his boot and slowly nudged her legs back apart.

Such an ass. He’d admired many a fine ass in his time, but this girl had one that could take the crown for best ass. The lobes formed perfect semi-circles at the tops of her thighs—two smiles to greet him. The skin was smooth and until he’d spanked her, the color had been an even shade of pale pink. Now each buttock had a round red patch in the middle. His handprints had merged together exactly where he intended to strike with the strap. He’d prepared her well. Too little and the strap would be intolerable; too much and the rawness would break the skin’s surface.

“Please don’t hurt me,” she implored. She twisted her head around and looked over her shoulders with those startling eyes.

“I’m punishing you,” he reminded her. “Don’t expect this to be easy. You must remain in position. If you move excessively, I shall repeat the stroke.” He was resolved. He had to remain firm and consistent. It was the mainstay of his leadership technique—don’t deviate from a decision.

Her lower lip trembled, but she kept bent over and her legs apart. He positioned himself, raised his arm, and slapped the strap across both ass cheeks.

She bolted upright, cried out, and clutched her bottom with both hands.

He sighed. “That one will be repeated, Freya. Back down.” He pushed her between the shoulder blades, encouraging her to return to position. She whimpered, a little sound, but complied. He examined the mark—a single line had formed a welt. He traced his finger along it and noted it was hot, but the skin was intact. The next would strike a little lower.

He switched sides and whipped the strap across her rump with a backhanded flick of his arm.

Once again, she jerked, but managed to halt in time. “Better. That one will count.”

“I can’t do this,” she sniffed. “I can’t hold position.” She clawed at the smooth surface of the table. He understood. Her need to stand up was unintentional; a reaction, not a decision.

“I can help you, but you have to trust me. I can tie you down.” He waited, gave her time to consider the option. The second red line on her bottom had lifted, giving her two parallel marks. She was so unlike the other women he’d spanked. One Vendu woman had taken thirty strikes before uttering a sound. Vendu women were hardy but often seemed to him detached and dispassionate. He had to spank them for a long time before they surrendered to him.

“Please help me,” she finally uttered.

He laid the strap on the table and returned to his secret supply. Implements he’d brought with him, which he’d collected over the years from various locations, including Earth with its delightful supply of soft leather.

He selected leather cuffs and a thin rope. “Hold out your wrists.”

She blinked away the tiny tears as he carefully slid the cuffs around her wrists and linked them together. Then, as she lowered her body onto the desk, pushing her breasts against the console, he crouched down and hunting beneath the table, he located a small hook, something that probably was used to carry cables. It was perfect for what he needed. He coiled the rope around it, snapping tension into it as he forced her arms straight out in front of her head. She clasped her hands together.

“Legs too, I think.” He had leg cuffs and they easily fitted around her slender ankles. He tied each one to the corner legs of the table, stretching her wider and in doing so, parted the folds of her glistening pussy. He resisted the temptation to graze his fingers along her slit and feel the wetness. Now wasn’t the time. Just as he had to control his stiffening cock, he had to hold back on the caresses.


She muttered something. He guessed it wasn’t appropriate. Earthlings enjoyed humor in times of difficulty—a perverse reaction, but one he might come to appreciate.

“I asked a question,” he said sternly.

“Yes, sir.”

He aimed carefully, ensuring he didn’t land the strap on top of the two previous blows. Accompanied by a loud thwack, the leather thong collided with her ass and she jolted, cried out, but remained held fast to the table.

He inspected his handiwork. The line was horizontal and slightly above the natural crease between her thigh and ass. “Two. You’re doing well. I understand this is difficult for you, but I will complete this punishment.”

She released a tiny sob and buried her face in her outstretched arms.

He waited. She needed to process the pain. Unlike Vendu men, who when flogged or whipped were treated to a barrage of blows in rapid succession, women were punished differently. For men it was about demonstrating their mettle and enduring the pain and brutality of military discipline. For the women, it was showing humility and meekness. If she understood this, then he hoped she would meet with his other requirements.

When he whacked the strap against her bottom, the loop of folded leather cracked together. The noise made her jolt and its purpose was intentional. The sound exaggerated the effect of the strap, tricking her into believing he was inflicting a harsher punishment.

“Fuck!” She pulled on the rope.

The word had other meanings, he’d learned from listening to the broadcasts on Earth. Leaning over her, he inspected the cuffs. There was no evidence they were harming her. He noted two teardrops on the desk. “Nearly there,” he murmured into her ear.

He backhanded the next. By switching sides he ensured the marks were evenly distributed along with the pain. She screamed with the penultimate lash of the strap. The noise wouldn’t bring anyone running to her rescue. He’d given strict instructions not to be disturbed.

The last one had to count. He waited for her to catch her breath, for the white of her knuckles to fade as she unclenched her fists. The fire in her ass must be close to the edge of her tolerance. This first spanking of his had to be the least amenable for her. The next, if it came to happen, would be different. He would prefer her over his lap and under his hand. Then, of course, if things went well between them, she would be introduced to other forms of punishment. He eyed the little star of her anus. That was one place he liked to discipline.

He drew back his arm, lifting it more than previous times, and swung it fast against her bottom. Not a sound escaped her mouth. It was as if she had shut down. Her ability to adapt, to learn to cope was commendable.

“Done,” he declared. He dropped the strap on the table and swiftly dealt with the bindings, releasing her quivering limbs. She was sobbing so softly, it wasn’t until he helped her up that he saw the tears streaking down her cheeks. He brushed them away with the tips of his thumbs. “Brave girl.”

With the punishment over, he wanted to move on. No more holding back. He combed his fingers through the loose strands of her hair, coiling them into a ponytail and tilted her head back. He pressed his mouth against her breathless one and kissed it hard. She moaned and closed her eyes, releasing more tears as she squeezed the lids down tightly.

 ~ Chosen by the Governor