"It's not the pain and the wounds that are the worst... The worst is the humiliation."
― Pascal Mercier, Night Train to Lisbon.
PART III
Gar'ja was momentarily relieved when the matron removed the whip and put it back on the shelf. The huge female had said she wasn't done yet. What else would she have in mind? He thought.
Without giving him time to rest, the huge albino female perched on the stone and dropped her body onto his. Her enormous weight forced his breath from his lungs. Bhu'ta began to rhythmically rub the slit of her yon'i against his lax ze'pha.
-"The fight that began would not end until the end," she mocked, reciting the old dialect, "Rise!" she roared, commanding the appendage to harden.
It took great effort, but Gar'ja managed to obey. The female had almost completely drained his zak'ti, but his pride kept him from giving up.
The cerulean shaft stiffened and found its way inside Bhu'ta's yon'i with little guidance. The huge albino rode him like a kha'dga, digging her long claws into his pectorals and pressing her strong legs against his waist. Gar'ja growled, one of her talons had cut the flesh.
While it was true that Yaksa females took the initiative in rituals and were generally violent, Gar'ja had always managed to maintain some semblance of control. This feeling that was being forced onto him, this helplessness… Never before had a female humiliated him like this.
Bhu'ta humped fast and vigorously, grinding her weight against him harder and harder. He grunted, pressure was beginning to build-up at the base of his ze'pha, his time was near. Gar'ja knew she would grab his dreads before she actually did.
His entire body tensed as she wrapped the rubbery appendages around her fingers and tugged. Her cunt milked his ze'pha unmercifully, he bellowed in pain as she uprooted his tress at the base. His vision turned white and he whined pathetically, fluorescent th'wei dripped from his crest.
-"Silence!" The matron's voice boomed in the semi-darkness, positioning her yon'i over his face and rubbing it against him.
-"It seems Bhu'ta has gotten her zul'ka," she pointed out with a chuckle. The albino giantess dismounted him, and displayed the appendage like a trophy, "Now, I want mine, Z'van."
Gar'ja's eyes widened and then narrowed angrily. What did she mean by trophy? He was no one's prize. Bhu'ta had been savage with him; the matron, ancient though she was, seemed far worse.
-"I'm going to need a new throne," the matron spoke matter of factly. She seemed to understand the kau'tika's thoughts, "Keep that insignificant khar'ka unsheathed."
His ze'pha had already begun to soften and that was not to the liking of the Matron. She made her displeasure known by grabbing the organ with her paw. He held his breath when she gripped him mid-shaft and gave a vicious yank. A pained squawked was ripped from his throat, his eyes clenching shut. He struggled valiantly in the bonds before she tugged again. This time he screamed, his mandibles parting, his cock was on fire. She was turning it into pulp.
The smooth cerulean shaft turned cyan as the blood flowing to the tip of his ze'pha pooled, hardening it again painfully. She only released him once he maintained the erection. Gar'ja watched as she moved to his feet and released the manacles that held them steady.
The cold metal from the shackles had excoriated his ankles as he writhed on the cold semi-spherical stone. He barely had time to move his feet in a circular fashion when the matron took them and lifted them over his chest and head. From the ceiling, two more shackles lowered and the matron used them to re-imprison his ankles. Gar'ja found himself bent vertically, with only his neck and upper back resting on the cold stone. Making him indeed, a living throne.
-"The last mur'kha male broke earlier than expected," the matron warned him, "I hope this time my expectations are met."
She perched on the stone and grasping the erect organ in one paw, settled upon it. The weight of the massive female caused excruciating pain to his battered body. He felt his internal organs crushing.
-"You do not cum until I command you, z'van!" The matron exclaimed, clenching his ze'pha with her yon-i.
Agony shot up his back as the female snapped her hips in a semicircle. Her movements caused him to forget the pain for a brief moment. Again, his release became nigh. She stopped suddenly as though she knew how close he was. He hissed and twitched his cock inside her body trying to force himself.
She chuckled, "I did not command, Z'van," she purred, her mandibles lifting, "I have not reached satisfaction."
It felt like hours, this constant stop and go. She would bring him within reach of his ejaculation only to deny him. His head throbbed from the missing dread, his ze'pha burned like the fires of the suns, his internal testicles hurt in an indescribable way. Lightning danced along all his nerves, heightened to an uncomfortable degree.
His entire being was trained on the Matron as she arched her back and snarled, "Release now!"
He keened in pain, his stomach tensed as a thick hot stream gushed from his agonized ze'pha, filling the interior of the matron's yon'i. Gar'ja clicked and shuddered, his rod's sensitivity intensified, "Stop," he growled once, but the matron ignored him completely, and continued, without slowing down.
Gar'ja whined and tested his bonds for weakness. There was no breaking free, he closed his eyes and tried to not focus on what was happening. He needed to conserve his energy… he went limp in the chains, his body no longer resisting what was being inflicted. The matron eventually rose, the pale blue ze'pha slipped, flaccid, from her yon'i.
-"This is not a mating ritual" she proclaimed, moving around the stone and approaching his face once more, "I will not birthe a suckling from a m'rkata like you."
The matron placed her powerful legs on either side of Gar'ja's head. With one of her paws, she parted the slit of her yon'i and used a finger to scrape the whitish semen out. The thick liquid fell like a thread toward the male's jaws.
Their eyes met through her parted legs, "Clean your filth, z'van!" She ordered calmly.
Gar'ja chuffed in disgust and twisted his head back and forth. He had never been humiliated like that! Spilling the essence was unheard of… and to eat it… blasphemy! She pressed her wet core against his face, his seed spilling into his eyes and mouth. "Clean," she repeated, dropping more weight on his head, his neck cracked back. His long tongue slid out from his abused mouth and without further prompting, he licked up her soaked cunt, tasting himself and her.
A slight, uncontrollable expression of pleasure crossed his face.
-"It seems you have accepted your place after all." The matron smiled, her mandibles lifting at his continued ministrations. She beckoned with a hand to the other female, Bhu'ta pressed some buttons out of sight. The shackles that held Gar'ja's hands and feet were released suddenly. The big female he'd been laving moved aside and he fell, face down, to the ground without warning.
-"Get up!" Bhu'ta grabbed a handful of his dreads and raised him with a mighty arm. Gar'ja roared in protest, but was quick to get to his feet, "You are ours," she said, "and as such, you must be marked."
The matron extracted a strange black blade from a container. His eyes narrowed, it was not a blade. It was the sharp end of a familiar creature's tail, a r'ksa. A yellowish-green liquid dripped from the tip as though to confirm it, r'ksa t'hwei.
A drop of the putrid substance fell to the stone floor, it bubbled and hissed violently.
Gar'ja understood that the matron was going to mark him as having finished his first hunt, but he doubted it would be the symbol of his clan. This was not going to be pleasant.
He tried to resist but Bhu'ta put her arms under his shoulders and held him firmly. Gar'ja looked at the approaching matron, clicking with excitement.
She used the blade impregnated with the fell blood and carved a mark on his left pectoral. The meat hissed and the smell of burning scales filled his olfactory cavity.
Gar'ja glared at the promises of a thousand deaths, the matron had engraved the word 'pet' on his chest.
- o -
Gazes were immediately fixated on Gar'ja once more as he strode slowly towards the jelly-like creature holding his equipment near the exit of the venue. It was not the proud and undefeated Yaksa warrior who had entered earlier, rather, he was completely naked, his shoulders drooped a little. There were dozens of bloody diagonal cuts all along his back. He limped and was covered in k'rewh and cum.
He felt that several cycles had passed since then, but Su'rya had only drifted a few arcs in the sky. The red giant was already skimming the horizon, turning the blue sky into shades of orange, red, and purple.
-"My weapons," he ordered, raising his head and squaring his shoulders. The octopoid creature gurgled something unintelligible and handed him his armor and mask.
He dressed quickly and unceremoniously, but just as he finished adjusting his mask, he saw another of the tentacled creatures pass by, holding a large wa'hela skin. Gar'ja recognized the object. The most prized trophy in his collection. The creature had taken it from his ship.
-"How dare you steal-!" he exclaimed, flaring his mandibles.
The alien stopped, but a thunderous voice answered from behind it.
-"Steal?" the matron arched a row of spine along her brow, she was back in her usual place, "Do you think you can come here and use my services as you please, z'van?" She chuckled, "This is a business, after all." Gar'ja grunted, his eyes narrowing behind his biomask as she continued, "Get out of my sight before I decide to put you in one of these," the matron taunted, her talon tapping against a jeweled collar attached to a huge mastiff with large fangs and hisurtas dreadlocks on its back.
Gar'ja clenched his jaw. She wouldn't dare- his thoughts trailed off as his eye noticed the other mastiff to his left. He was glad for his mask in that instant, for his eyes widened drastically: it wasn't a mastiff, it was another yaksa male… on all fours. His maw went dry, his tusks pulled against his face tightly, the flaxen male was crawling on the floor like a vile r'ga s'van.
The collared yaksa must have realized he was staring for he growled, his jaws snapping in defiance.
The challenge had barely been issued before it was silenced by the Matron. She languidly pressed a button on her chair, sending an electric shock to the collar. He shrieked before subsiding immediately.
Gar'ja made an almost imperceptible bow and left the place. It would be wise not to test the Matron's limits. He boarded his ship without fuss and moments later, the man'daca shot up into the starry sky.
- o -
A few cycles later, Gar'ja's ship was parked on the wide landing pad on his home world. The ramp descended in a cloud of steam and condensation as the cerulean yaksa headed toward it.
Two hunters called out to him, causing the proud warrior to stop and turn to the newcomers.
-"Jyok! Gar'ja son of Ghora'an," one of them greeted, raising an outstretched paw. "What will your next hunt be?"
-"Darad," he informed them, "I could use a few wa'hela skins," he added, a hint of satisfaction crossing his face.
THE END.
A/N: Finally, we reached the conclusion of this short story. I hope you had enjoyed it as much as I did. Again, thanks to my editors AO3 users elven_prophecy and Prickly_Panda. This story is for them.
Don't forget to comments and here's the Glossary.
Bhu'ta - Pale-as-a-ghost.
div'ra - Orgasm, ecstasy.
Darad - Mountain, an unknown mountainous planet.
Gar'ja - He-who-growls.
kau'tika - Poacher.
kha'dga - domesticated beast, cattle.
kha'rka - worm, insect (insult).
k'rewh - Blood, coagulated blood.
man'daca - Scout ship.
mur'kha - Useless.
m'rkata - Monkey-like
r'ga z'van - Tracker dog, hound.
r'ksa - Wild beast, not confused with kha'dga.
thwei - blood
wa'hela - the bear wolf. A predatory woolly creature with large, sickle-like claws.
yon'i - female sexual organ, vagina.
zak'ti - Stamina, strength.
ze'pha - Male sexual organ, dick.
zul'ka - Trophy, Prize.
Z'van - Dog, pet.