Chapter 11: Taboo

They squared off, Zhari struggling to keep her balance as she shuffled on her knees, her hands confined to the stiff gloves. How the hell was she supposed to fight like this? She had to wonder if McGregor was really trying to level the playing field with his antics, or if this was another one of his elaborate schemes. It was more likely to be the latter, considering that he had retrieved this strange gag from the box, the contents of which all seemed to be associated with sexual deviancy.

It was distracting, blocking her mouth so that she couldn’t bite down, her saliva leaking from her lips as they struggled around the ball and her tongue lashed against its inner surface. It was made from some kind of plastic or silicone, secured around her head with a band of leather. She felt that she could crush it, it was no doubt made with humans in mind, and her powerful jaws and sharp teeth would have made short work of it.

It was McGregor’s will that she wear it however, and she would not disobey.

Borealans were less suited to kneeling than humans due to the shape of their digitigrade legs, and she balanced precariously as he circled her, his fists raised in an offensive stance. She had seen the humans fight before during their training, they used fancy moves and complex combinations of throws, kicks and punches to incapacitate their enemies. She often wondered why they bothered. They couldn’t take on a Betelgeusian drone in close quarters, wasn’t that the entire reason that the UNN employed Borealans as auxiliaries? Stop dancing about and just let the Mad Cats handle it, that was her advice.

McGregor surprised her, darting forwards in an attempt to grapple with her. He was faster than she had anticipated. She batted him away with the back of her massive hand, the padded mitten softening the blow. He was sent reeling regardless, regaining his equilibrium as he began to circle again.

This was not a dominance battle, it was sparring, and thus there was no standing to be gained or lost. That fact had been drilled into her since her youth, only rote memorization and practice allowing her kind to suppress that side of themselves for even the small amount of time that it took to engage in a mock fight. She would hold back a little of course, even with the ‘handicaps’, as she was strong enough to throw him across the room and dash him against one of the walls.

“Human rules,” McGregor said, hopping from one foot to the other. “First one on their back for a count of ten seconds loses.”

She nodded her understanding, her feline eyes dilated wide and fixed on her prey. She could pin him under her weight easily, he wouldn’t have the strength to throw her off, but actually catching him when her faculties were so limited might be a problem.

He danced towards her again, and she reached out her long arms to trap him in a hug when he drew close enough. He ducked under her, gripping her by the fur of her forearm and hooking his hand behind her neck, turning and pulling her arm over his shoulder as if trying to wrench it out of its socket. He was trying to throw her, she realized, pulling her over his shoulder and sending her tumbling to the ground. She was far too heavy however, and she batted him away easily.

A fight between two Borealans revolved around fast claw strikes and leveraging their weight and their powerful legs to knock enemies to the ground. The opponent would give in either when they were downed and no longer able to mount a defense, or when sufficient pain was inflicted from cuts and lacerations. Humans seemed to find the practice barbaric, but they couldn’t seem to wrap their heads around how fast Borealans healed. A scar from a Borealan talon would knit practically overnight, it was little more than a bruise to them.

Her claws were covered by the mittens however, her ability to grapple similarly hampered, and being on her knees stopped her from taking an aggressive posture. She would have to respond to his attacks, try to nab him between her arms when he drew near.

McGregor darted around to her right, Zhari struggling to keep him to her front as she shuffled on her knees, the little human out-maneuvering her. He got behind her, and she felt his arm hook around her neck, this time using one of his feet to knock her off balance.

It was surprisingly effective, and he managed to trip her, pulling her over backwards. She toppled to the carpet, McGregor careful to avoid being squashed beneath her bulk. One she was on her back, he wrapped his arms around her wrist, hugging her long limb against his body as she felt his legs close around her neck. He applied pressure to her throat using his thighs, no doubt in an attempt to choke her out, but his limbs weren’t even as strong as a Borealan’s arm.

Zhari could see how such a move would have completely immobilized a fellow human, but she was far stronger than any human could have hoped to be. She lifted him clear off the floor as he clung to her arm, her bicep bulging, flinging him off her as if he was little more than a clinging kitten.

He rolled across the carpet, ending up on the wooden floor of the open plan kitchen. He rose to his feet again as Zhari struggled to her knees, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Almost had you,” he panted.

“No ‘ou didn’t,” she mumbled in response, her gag muffling her speech.

He ran at her, and this time she was ready, anticipating that he would try to duck under her arms and clotheslining him. He was knocked off his feet, landing heavily on his back, the air forced out of his lungs as he wheezed. She fell upon him, one gloved hand resting on the carpet for balance, and the other laying across his chest to stop him from getting up.

Ten seconds he had said, those were the human rules, and she began to count.

“One, doo, free...”

She couldn’t stop herself from drooling with this damned ball in her mouth, and a strand of it rained down on his face as he struggled to catch his breath.

Her knees buckled as she felt a sudden burst of pleasure, her muscles turning to jelly as McGregor slipped a hand beneath the lace of her bra and sank his fingers into the meat of her breast. His digits dug deep, teasing the sensitive tissue that lay beneath the fat, catching her nipple between his fingers and squeezing it in the way that he knew she liked.

He took advantage of the distraction to wriggle free, climbing to his feet and scampering out of range of her arms as she shook her head in an attempt to clear it of the lingering pleasure. Her cheeks felt warm, her nipples hardening and brushing against the delicate fabric of her lingerie.

“Cheater!”

“Hey, I didn’t lay down any ground rules about conduct,” he said, with a wide grin on his face. “You Borealans are so concerned with honor and playing fair, you forget that people can fight dirty.”

She grumbled under her breath, preparing herself for the next attack. McGregor cracked his knuckles, weaving back and forth like a boxer, trying to keep her guessing as to where he would strike next. He wasn’t faster than she was, no chance, Borealans had reaction times and quick fire muscles that made humans look downright sluggish in comparison. But she was being forced to fight in such a compromised position, she couldn’t bring any of that speed to bear.

This time he ducked left, and she reached out a hand to bat at him, catching him in the face with the padded mitten. He stumbled, dazed by the blow, and she leaned forward to grab him. He skirted out of reach, avoiding her by a hair, shaking his head to clear it. She was pulling her punches, so to speak. If she used all of her strength she could give him a concussion or snap his neck, even through the mittens. It wasn’t too different from sparring with a Borealan, going for the throat or the eyes, or any other vital point was against the rules. McGregor was just one big vital point.

Her human partner attempted to dart around behind her again, but this time she was ready for him. Her serpentine tail shot out to trip him, tangling around his feet and sending him toppling to the floor. He scrambled to his hands and knees, but in the time it took him to right himself, Zhari was upon him. She spun around, rolling him onto his side and knocking him off-balance, pouncing on top of him and pinning him against the shag carpet.

McGregor struggled ardently, the little human surprisingly slippery, but she managed to trap his arms at his sides, pulling him upright and squeezing him against her body in a bear hug. Her strong arms wrapped around him, compressing him as he tried in vain to wriggle loose, her heavy breasts squashing against his chest and deforming as they enveloped him. She gave him a hard squeeze as a warning to stop struggling, his face resting in the nape of her neck as he caught his breath.

Surely he would give in now, there was no way for him to escape her grip.

Zhari realized that she was actually breaking a sweat, the odd limitations that McGregor had imposed on her demanding more effort than usual, making her skin slippery as she held him tightly against her chest.

Her quarry lay still for a moment, and just when she expected him to throw in the towel, he leaned forward and sank his teeth into her neck. They were dull, unable to break her skin, but the possessive bite of an Alpha sent a burst of tingling pleasure shooting down her spine. Her muscles immediately relaxed, her legs turning to jelly and a low sigh escaping her lips as he bit her as hard as he could manage.

A bite to the neck or shoulder was a deeply sexual and provocative act in Borealan culture. It was usually performed either shortly before or during sex, commonly to anchor the submissive party and keep them still while the dominant one had their sordid way with them. A bite also served as a mark, the scar signifying that the Borealan in question had been claimed as a mate, and that a very deliberate and exclusive breeding would soon ensue.

It was like a switch had been flipped in her head, her demeanor changing immediately, a wave of warmth spreading through her body as she released her hold on him. The plucky human kept up his biting, doing his best to approximate how an Alpha would have done it. His jaw was weak, and his teeth were flat, but the dull pain set her nerves aflame with passion. Her thighs snapped together, trembling as her juices began to dampen her lace panties, McGregor standing level with her as she kneeled before him on the soft carpet.

Taking advantage of her new weakness, he trapped her in another grapple, throwing her to the floor and looming over her. It was like all of the strength had been sapped from her body, Zhari finding herself unable to mount a resistance.

This wasn’t more of his mind games, she wasn’t letting him win, he was beating her. Her loins burned and ached at the prospect. She might have been handicapped to the point of uselessness, but she had been convinced that his efforts would be futile. Even under such odd conditions there was no way that a human could have overcome a Borealan, it was impossible.

Yet here she was, on her back, as malleable and overwhelmed as a youth who had just lost their first bout.

The eight foot tall alien squirmed beneath McGregor as she lay on the carpet, her muscular body writhing and flexing, beads of sweat glistening on her pale skin as they caught the simulated firelight. Her eyelids fluttered as if she had just taken a hit of some drug, her cheeks flushed pink, the red indent of his bite mark prominent on her neck.

He had done his research, and Zhari had responded in exactly the way that he had anticipated. She must be swimming in a soup of arousal, anticipation and shame right now. She had lost a fight to a human, and she had been bitten, every cell in her body would be screaming for her to submit to him. This was a fantasy that she could never express, and now he was making it a reality.

McGregor was just as aroused as she was. Seeing her lying on her back like that, knowing that he could do whatever he wanted with her, it made his erection strain painfully against his pants. He quickly slipped out of them, pulling his tank top over his head and exposing himself, Zhari’s golden eyes playing over him covetously as she lay there.

Beating her in a fight was only the first stage of his plan, now the difficult part began, maintaining the facade of a powerful and domineering Alpha without letting slip how adorable he found her. He couldn’t throw her around like a chew toy in the way that a male Borealan could, but McGregor had other, more subtle tools at his disposal.

He straddled her chest and reached down to grip her lacy brassiere, tearing it open, her heavy breasts bouncing free as she loosed an anticipatory moan from behind her ball gag. Gravity immediately wrested control of them, but they were surprisingly firm, maintaining their shape despite their exaggerated size. McGregor always expected them to sag like a pair of water balloons, in the way that a large pair of human breasts might, but these were appropriately scaled up for her stature and they were wonderfully pert.

Her black lingerie now discarded, he mauled her breasts, feeling her massive body writhe and squirm under him as he squeezed and clawed at the malleable flesh. He could feel her nipples beneath his hands, hard and erect, pressing into his palms as he delved deeper. Her skin was as smooth as glass, her meat as pliable and as elastic as a stress ball. He dug for the firmer breast tissue that lay beneath, Zhari’s saliva bubbling around her gag as she arched her spine, almost lifting McGregor clear off the floor as he straddled her chest.

She was trembling like a leaf, her massive thighs rubbing together as her juices dripped down onto the fluffy carpet, her body warm to the touch as if she had a fever.

He slid down her torso, his erection pressing into her skin, the veneer of sweat making it glide across the prominent bumps of her abdominal muscles. He brought his head down level with her bust, taking one of he mammoth breasts in his hands, her flesh spilling between his fingers as he struggled to lift its weight. It was as heavy as a fully laden military rucksack, how she could even stand with two of these hanging from her chest was beyond him.

He wasted no time, sucking her erect nipple into his mouth, trapping it cruelly between his lip and his teeth as he manhandled her. It might have been rough treatment by human standards, but Borealans were as tough as nails and they liked things rough, generally rougher than a human could hope to be.

He circled the fleshy protrusion with his tongue, biting softly, sucking and mouthing as Zhari warbled and groaned beneath the gag. After a moment his gentle chewing abated, and he moved lower, planting lingering kisses and teasing her with soft bites as he crawled down towards her loins. He traced the deep channels that her abs carved in her belly with his tongue, tasting the salt on her skin as he roamed lower, pausing to push his tongue into her navel. Her wide hips rose off the floor for a moment, crashing back down to the carpet, the impact of her heavy ass making her thighs shake like a plate of jello.

McGregor bit her hip, feeling a shiver roll through her as she lay her head back on the floor, reveling in the sensations as her human lover explored her magnificent body with his lips and fingers.

As he neared her loins, his cheeks brushing the burnished surface of her inner thighs, and he felt her tense. The powerful muscles in her legs and belly froze up, Zhari shivering with anticipation as he hooked his finger around the waistband of her lace panties and pulled them down. They were glued to her, the fabric soaked with her excitement, ropes of it breaking to fall to the carpet below as he tore them away. She raised her knees in order to help him, the damp garment sliding over her furry feet to be discarded on the carpet behind them.

Now exposed, she propped herself up on her elbows, watching with a covetous expression as he hovered an inch from her swollen sex. He breathed warm air on her dripping loins, Zhari so ready and so sensitive that even his breath set her nerves alight with tingling pleasure. She was as wet as he had ever seen her, a thick strand of her clear fluids leaking from her glistening vulva, her puffy lips glazed with glistening moisture as she waited for him.

There was no more need for foreplay, that had been the purpose of the sparring, and so he wrapped his arms around her hips and delved between her parted thighs.

Zhari’s spine left the carpet once more, the alien loosing a muffled moan through her gag as his tongue lashed at her sensitive anatomy, pushing between her lips and scouring her vulva. Her tail flicked back and forth, her toes curling and uncurling like a house cat kneading its favorite blanket. He was wanton, shameless, licking and kissing as her juices dripped down his chin and coated his cheeks in a sticky sheen. He strayed from her pink flesh, mouthing at her inner thighs, dragging his tongue across her mound as he skirted the tuft of delicate fur that served as her pubic hair.

She was beside herself, slowly fucking the air reflexively, her hips moving on their own as he dug his fingers into the meat of her ass for purchase. Her sour taste filled his mouth, but he didn’t care, leaving no stone unturned as he coated her lower body in a mixture of his saliva and her flowing juices.

He felt one of the oven mitts on his head as he found a fervent rhythm, her hand pressing him deeper, urging him on as he pushed his organ into her winking opening and licked the inside of her slimy passage. Her muscles attempted to take hold, but the combination of drool and her slippery lubricant hampered her efforts, her tunnel contracting desperately as he teased her.

He moved higher, seeking out her clitoris and lapping at it, forcing two of his fingers deep inside her. They sank up to the knuckle, her loins gripping him with all the strength of an angry fist, like slimy velvet as they did their utmost to crush his bones into powder with their violent seizing. With considerable effort, and only because she was so damned wet, he began to move them in and out. He found a harsh rhythm, fucking her with his fingers as he drew her clitoris into his mouth, battering it relentlessly with his tongue as she cooed and mewled.

Zhari’s saliva was leaking past the gag, unable to close her lips due to the obstruction, trailing down her cheek as she watched him over the twin mounds of her breasts with wild eyes. Her thighs closed around his head, strong enough to crush a watermelon as if it was a grape, but she was careful not to apply too much pressure. It wouldn’t do to crush her lover, not while he was engaged in her favorite activity in the world, at least when salted caramel ice cream was off the menu.