“There’s another saying they have. Enough rope to hang oneself with. It means giving someone the latitude to get themselves into trouble. That is what I intend to do with Iris…”
“This is just one big game to you, isn’t it,” Naxus accused him. “The people don’t matter. The colonies don’t matter. Only the game matters.”
“And it is what I have done with you. Naxus, we exchanged punches, but I will not tolerate endless disrespect. If a king chooses to make sport, that is a choice which is his right to make. My right to make.”
A disgruntled general was the least of Archon’s concerns. He found himself looking forward to descending back down to the colony. He had enjoyed the experience of being taken for a human, being one of their warriors. The life of roaming the woods, hunting his own food and sharing meals with other transient males who wandered about the world looking for trouble, and more often than not, finding it, was very rewarding in ways the life of a king was not.
He had been quite aware of Iris sneaking out of the tavern room, and known all too well she would go back to her old ways. It did not surprise him that she was causing trouble. If anything, he relished it.
Naxus was right. This was a game. A game Archon was very much enjoying. But Naxus was also right when he said that all good things had to come to an end eventually.
So, Archon returned to the planet, a few hours away from the location he had last seen Iris. He could have been closer to her than before, or further away. He didn’t know, and that only served to make the game more intense.
With every step he took, he thought about her.
She was beautiful. He was hungry for her, in a way he had never been hungry for anybody else. He had rutted before, of course. When he first ascended to the throne, the female flesh was almost endless. So copious, in fact, that he had become utterly bored by it. Whenever he got the biological urge to mate, he would find the nearest willing female, who could be relied upon to usually be not much more than an arm’s length away, and fuck her until he was relieved of the burden biology put on a virile male.
This, however, this was an entirely different experience. He’d not had sex with the same female twice in years. He was surprised to find that he wanted to claim Iris again, but he did. He wanted to hunt that sweet human pussy down and bounce it on his cock until her toes curled and she screamed in that pretty way which made him spill deep inside her.
But it was going to be more difficult to find her again. She would be frightened, skittish. She would have gone to ground. He would have to use every single one of his tracking skills to…
A piece of paper fluttered at him in a come-hither sort of way. At first it merely caught his eye because of the motion, but as soon as he looked at it, he saw a very familiar visage
“IRIS, BORN OF FIRE, UNITER OF THE TRIBES. COME HEAR HER SPEAK! HEAR THE WORD OF THE FIREBORN DAUGHTER!”
Perhaps it would not be that hard after all.
The flyer made Archon very grumpy indeed. For one, he expected to enjoy a good hunt. He had been deprived of that. For two, he had expected that their last tryst would have made her afraid of him, or at the very least, mildly respectful. It appeared that it had not.
Archon’s ego was bruised by the mere sight of the picture. The artist had managed to represent the essence of her all too well. The lift of her brow, the rebellious tilt of her chin, and the narrowing of her eyes as if she were glaring at him through the parchment.
Now she was truly in trouble.
Chapter 14
“So, I say to you, it is time that we threw off the shackles of oppression, and revolted against the alien who believes himself king, though he has never earned any royal title on this planet, or among our people. He is not a king. He is a warlord. A tyrant. A brute. And I, for one, am done living in fear of him!”
There was a roar of approval and general agreement. The crowd liked what it heard. Iris had her speech down to a fine art now, and it was paying off. The crowds were bigger in every village she visited, and the plinths were taller too. More like pedestals, really.
Every time she gave a speech, she became that little bit more famous. She had splashed out on a dedicated hitch-wagon of her very own to allow her to travel from village to village, and artists to paint her in the middle of her speeches, so that the images could be spread far and wide.
“LIAR!”
The accusation came from deep in the crowd. She was used to heckling. Audiences always seemed to contain at least one person who had apparently come for no other reason than to argue with her. Today the heckler was loud and booming.
Iris smirked. “I am not lying. I have the blood of the tyrant king on my blade.”
“YOU'VE HAD HIS BLADE IN YOUR CUNT, MORE LIKE IT!”
She blushed furiously and stammered, momentarily lost for words. People didn’t usually heckle her that way. The night with Archon was a secret between two souls. Hers, and Archons. She hadn’t told anyone so…
Bugger.
“YOU!” She shouted down into the depths of the crowd. She couldn’t see him, but she could feel him. Better to call him out than be called out by him.
“ME!” He replied with a booming laugh, throwing off his hood and standing erect at his full height, which put him a good three feet above everybody else present.
“This is the tyrant king!” She declared, in case the massive height, scales, and weird eyes hadn’t given it away for everybody immediately. “Get him! Slay him!”
Before the crowd could form a mob to slay him as she suggested, Archon stormed up on the stage, grabbed her by the arm, and proceeded to thrash her in front of all those who had come to hear her speak about rebelling against him. It was all very quick, painful, and embarrassing. Iris was too slow to stop him, and too weak to flee.
His royal palm met the seat of her pants a dozen times in quick succession, one massive hand on the back of her neck, curling nearly all the way around. Iris wailed and squealed, unable to return to her talking points now that her pants were in shreds and her ass was being displayed to all and sundry, reddening with every subsequent slap. The pain was intense, but the shame was much more so.
The same people who had stared at her with adoration now stared in shocked amusement. There was no crowd anywhere in the galaxy who didn’t enjoy the sight of a reckless young woman being very soundly spanked by a muscular king.
It was bad enough that he was thrashing her, but then he ripped her pants off her, turning the leather to shreds with no effort at all, and exposing her to the whole world.
“Let me go! People are here to hear me speak!”
“People are here to watch you cause trouble. And now they’re watching you get into trouble,” Archon growled in her ear, slapping her bare ass with sharp, wicked slaps which sent blazing fire right through her. “Couldn’t be a good girl, could you? Now I’m going to have to show all these nice people in public what I did to you in private.”
“Archon!” She gasped his name, but it was too late to try to appeal to his mercy. She had agitated the king past the point of his considering any kind of mercy. She had shamed him before ever larger crowds, and now he was returning the favor.
This time there was no seduction. No foreplay. Nothing but punishment fucking. He spread her thighs wide with his massive hands and turned her away from him so she was facing the crowd she had been enthralling with her words of rebellion, spreading her for them so they could see her intimate parts spread for them. Her outer lips spread, revealing the slick pink slit and the little dark hole he was going to absolutely ravage.