The Commander - A Sexy Alien Invasion Story.

Chapter 6 - Commander Basitan

He put her face down to do the delicate work of cutting away the last coils of ropes around her arms. The name day blade was the wrong edge for this, but they way her eyes widened whenever he brought it close was too delicious to ignore. One wrong move would cut her badly.

Her focus on everything he did crackled between them, a static energy raising the fine hairs on both her arms. It added to his the building need in his own center, a solid, deep insatiable started by the ingestion of her blood.

He'd lied. It hadn't calmed him.

Biting her lip, she fought her response to his physicality with endearing fortitude. Not that it was going to do her any good.

The ropes unraveled, and he caringly showed her how gentle he could be. "The Red Hats were rough with you, cruel, I know. I know your shoulders hurt. Your head? From that blow you took? I have something for that. You are exhausted. Hungry. Hurting." He whispered, rubbing his hands over the muscles in her arms, up to the joints of her shoulders.

"My clothes." She tried to cover herself.

"You don't need those right this minute. Go slow before you try move too much," he said with as much empathy as he could muster. He liked her unclothed. It wasn't natural for her, and her skin wasn't a sustainable protection against the elements, but the shape and feel of her under his hands was a sublime delight.

"What do you want? What are you going to do? You said you would release me." Expression turned mulish, her reminder came out like an accusation. 

Basitain ignored it. 

Allowing him to hold her, support her, she focused on the blood rushing under her skin, and being free of the restraints.  His eyes ate up her naked back, the curve of her ass, the delta leading to the hole would take him in and squeeze him.

"They were very rough with you, Kitten. I don't like that so much. How would you like it if I got rid of those who did this?" He counted the bruises left behind by their care. Looked like his ranks would be short a few grunts. It was time to line the streets to the town with some fresh meat, anyway. Control might balk at sending down a fresh duty, but they would deal.

"Just do what you said. Let me go. Let me stand. I'm fine. Do you have-is there something I can wear?" She asked her questions so meekly, he wished he could appease her.

Thankfully, the errant wish passed. There were other games to play, first.

"Take some deep breaths. Regain your strength. Do you remember what I said about how to get out of the school? You will need to trust me on taking the proper turn. I am not lying about that, or the broken door."

"I remember."

"I am going to step back from you in a moment and count to twenty. It will go like this: one, inhale, exhale, two, and so on."

She gave him a confused expression that said she didn't understand.

"You can do it with me. Like we did before. When we breathed together. Show me." Naked, lined in rope marks and sitting on the table, she was the prettiest, pink and pale treat he'd ever seen, displayed for his pleasure. Fatigue darkened the area under her eyes, and stress tightened the bow of her mouth, but it only made her strong, incredibly appealing as a mate. She was a survivor. Bastian could see that, clearly. She looked like she might be strong enough to survive him.

As if stepping away set her free, she looked over her shoulder at the closed door, the window above his head, and finally back to him.

"Not yet, Kitten. It might be harder for you to stand and run than you think, and I don't have the water for you that you humans need. Take a moment. Breathe with me. You are good at following directions, and I want you to understand exactly what I will be doing. One—Two—Three. Good girl. Do you understand what I'm going to do next?"

Trying to figure him out, she didn't respond. She was overthinking this. And that was not what he wanted. Returning to her side, he pushed her head down, ass up and smacked her on her shapely ass to get her attention. Ignoring her shouts and instinctive kicks, he used the same rhythm he would use when he counted to twenty. Noisy, sharp slaps on the roundest part of the curve.

"What am I going to do?"

"Breathe. Count. What do you want from me? Stop!"

"I'm going to count. Like this." Bastian demonstrated until he was sure she wasn't making plans.

"Count. You're going to fucking count," she seized on the answer and screamed it out.

One more swat, to make sure his handprint would glow on her ass like a warning sign to any stupid grunt whose attention she caught, and he stepped back from the table. "That's right. Just so. You were caught unfairly, between a group of alien dicks and a group of human dicks, is that right? Not you're fault. And I can't have that. So now you have another chance. One chance. You have until I reach the number twenty and then I'm coming for you."

She blinked at him. He didn't wait for understanding to dawn on her. "Run now, Kitten. Run."

She didn't move.

Bastian counted, "One." He breathed in and out dramatically, his hands going to his shirt to unbutton it.

Ten different scenarios crossed her face, twisting her mouth-not a single thought disguised from him. Should she run? Was this a joke? No clothes? He said he wouldn't kill me, what's happening? One thought after another as her legs moved and she slipped to the floor in a clumsy, stiff- bodied maneuver.

He took in each quiver and sway of her tits, the nipples the color of flower petals, tips drawn tight. The flutter of her belly as she took panicked breaths, the way the muscles worked as she stood, turned, wobbled, and went for the door to take her chance.

He kept counting, all ready to the number four, by the time she looked at the door, then back at him and then to the door-deciding to run. Showing him his own handprint again, she pulled the exit open, and dashed, wild and terrified, into the hall.

Five.

Six.

Seven.

Undressing while he counted, removing every barrier between them, Bastian counted and breathed, exerting all his control. The research into this species and their effect on his kind had been correct. Over before it begun, Bastian wasn't going to waste time attempting escape from a luscious inevitable like Kitten. His body had slicked up good and hot in readiness. He'd have to go after her, with a full erection, broadcasting his need to mate, to take, to breed.

He would keep his word, wait until he reached the number twenty. Catching her would be too easy. He hadn't said which room hid the broken door. If she didn't stumble, if she went straight there, she could make it before he stopped counting.

He'd set male prisoners on this gauntlet before, a catch and release and catch again game to break them down.

The Red Hats could be evaded. But humans had no chance against a Prime Battler.

He'd memorized Kitten's smell, ingested it, broke it down, owned the different flavors of it. He'd memorized her down to the cellular level. This was the mating ritual for him, even if she didn't know it. She could not escape. And could not hide.

He counted. Waiting. Listening as she reached the end of the hall and made the turn, feeling the vibrations of her progress through the floor and in the air. She was a blaze of frantic red in his mind's eye.

She opened one door. There was no light to see by-not even from the windows in every room. Someone had painted them black before the Sarrian ever took over the building, and that darkness defied the common sense that she'd feel a difference in the air if there were a permanently broken door somewhere. She couldn't resist the two hopeful steps in, then out, on the run again.

Precious time wasted, though.

Fourteen.

Fifteen.

Sixteen.

Another wrong door opened. A sound of denial followed by one of pain as she did something to hurt herself. More time used.

Eighteen.

Nineteen.

Twenty.

"Here I come, Kitten."