Human Pet Prison (Possessive Aliens #7) - Loki Renard

Human Pet Prisoner



That’s the sound my prisoner makes when pleasure overwhelms her. The music of this human’s desire is a grunting moan accompanied by quivering thighs and little humping motions of desperate hips, lower lips desperate to be wrapped tightly around the hardest thing she can find. But she remains empty for the moment. Her satisfaction will only come when she satisfies me. Through slow degrees and careful torment, I have made her ravenous for release she will have to earn.

She cannot rise from the floor thanks to light but strong chains, which run across her body in a way I find particularly aesthetically pleasing. There is something about a soft human curve weighted down by heavy metal which makes me stir.

The chains also serve to amplify her desire. As much as she fought them when I strung them about her body and used them to bind her to my will, I think she has come to enjoy them. This is a woman who has come to me to be broken. She has not surrendered one inch of ground in the battle for her soul, but I have claimed her body completely.

I let my gaze run over her bound form slowly, appreciating every inch of her human beauty. There is a reason we scythkin desire human females above all others, even over the matriarchs of our own species. A human female is evolution’s ode to lust. She is made almost entirely for the act of copulation. Her breasts are perpetually swollen, as if in milk, though there is no milk in them. Most species will only develop udders when they need to feed their young, but a human female always has her mammaries thrust proudly on display. Every part of her body is curved, every inch of it is in service to the tight little wet sex hole between her lips, guarded by the most delicate flowering of tender flesh, and a light down of dark hair which does nothing to hide the treasure beneath. The lips of her face pout red and full, reminiscent of her sex when it is in the full flush of desire.

Is she aware of the effect she has on males of our kind? I think so. This is no innocent captive wrapped in my chains. This is a woman who can respect no mate who cannot overpower her. Many have tried to tame this female. Some have been cruel. Others, kind. Neither approach works for a woman who needs to be owned.

I removed the gag her previous captors fitted her with. They found it impossible to silence her sharp tongue, but I have means of turning her rebellious curses into animal grunts and physical gyrations which tell the truth, something her tongue rarely does.

She is greedy and demanding. These are good traits for a pet. They will make her easy to train. For now, she still believes she’s free. Even trussed up in these bonds, begging me silently for carnal release, she thinks this is about a simple human obsession. She has mistaken me for one of her own. She thinks I want sex. But that is only the beginning of what I want, and it is the very least of what I will take from her.

It is my job and personal purpose to punish her. I have been charged with the task of breaking her will and remaking her in the image of a perfect pet. One who is obedient. One who will sit at her master’s feet and beg for scraps of attention, slavishly needing his approval.

It will not be easy. This is as wild a human as I have ever encountered before. Her flesh may be human, and therefore weak, but her mind is strong. She has resisted many attempts to tame her thus far, but where others have failed, I will prevail.

My fingers drift between her thighs, find the tight little nub which always telegraphs her desire. The moans increase as her hips rise and fall. I let my fingers, usually rough and devastatingly dangerous, toy with that little bud. With humans, it is always the smallest things which have the most powerful effects.

The chains jingle and dance as she shudders with desire. I know what she wants. She wants these soft nether lips to be spread around something hard. Preferably, my flesh. She wants to be violated. She wants to be taken roughly so she does not have to admit to her own desire.

She is gagged, but that does not