Her Alien Protector: A Sci-fi Romance

Part 49

Rigel

Ava guides our flight over the valley. The moment we land near the river and close to an incredible-looking cave system, Ava detaches her safety harness from me.

"Count to twenty, and then come find me, okay," she says, patting my wing.

"What happens when I find you," I ask.

Ava giggles, already disappearing into the cave.

"1, 2, 3..." I can barely contain my excitement. Will I get a prize or is this Ava's way of making me earn my wing grooming? "—18, 19, 20."

I race to the cave.

The cavern is incredible. Because of the numerous holes in the ceiling, moonlight streams through, creating a mishmash of light and dark on the cave floor. In the center of one of the illuminated patches is Ava's backpack and former safety harness.

"Ava," I ask, wondering where she might be.

Her giggling and glowing silhouette give away her hiding place. I scoop her up and place her on the puffy safety harness.

When she looks up at me, her body still has an otherworldly ethereal glow, like a light around her body. There is something about the moons, the atmosphere, or the cave itself causing this illusion.

"You won," she says, placing her hand on the center of my belly. "Time for your prize— a massage, but you won't need this," she says, tugging at my pants. "Take this off and then lay on the sleeping bag."

I'm so excited about another massage and possibly more wing grooming that I immediately drop my pants and flop onto what Ava calls the sleeping bag. I spread out my wings for my Ava.

She climbs onto my hips, her weight shifting as she leans forward on my back. "Ready?"

My feathers quiver in anticipation.

She spends a long time massaging the muscles of my neck, back, and wings. "You're so gorgeous, Rigel, and you have the most beautiful wings."

I bask in her praise and flutter my feathers. Her fingers curl between my feathers, pulling on them, and praising me, telling me my wings are pretty and perfect.

Oh, my stars. My vision whites out.

***

She has spent so long on my feathers, every single feather on the outside of my wings must be perfect.

"Roll over," she says.

When it comes to my wings, Ava is my master. I must do as she commands. I roll onto my back and spread the underside of my wings wide.

I flutter my feathers but for some reason, Ava is rummaging through her backpack. Then she slowly walks around my prostate body and crouches near my feet.

Should I tell her she is at the wrong end of my body? Ava seems focused, rearranging my feet so that they no longer touch and are far apart. Then she bends down and wraps something around my legs, making it difficult for me to move my legs—is that rope?

She walks again, this time stopping out of my line of vision and above my head. "Give me your hands."

I comply. There is an audible click.

I tug at my wrists, but I'm stuck. "Ava, what are you—?"

She straddles my stomach. "Look at you, spread eagle."

My mind does not know what to think of this situation. Ava doesn't know but as part of her initial behavioral assessment aboard Hydra, I tested her, the same way I test most of Hydra's pets. Ava is submissive by nature, and I lean toward the dominant side, so this scenario is the exact opposite of what anyone would predict.

Something about seeing my little Ava taking charge in ways I did not even imagine does something to me. My cock, for one, is twitching and weeping.

She moves her body forward so that she sits on my chest and then leans so close to me that our faces are inches apart. "Open your mouth."

I comply. Her hand comes closer to my face, and I think I recognize what she holds. Is that Kayla's muzzle, the one I gave to Tarak to use with Kayla as part of her behavioral amelioration plan when they were my patients?

"Ava, is that Kayla's muzzle? Why is it here and what are you planning to—mmph—"

Ava presses a ball into my mouth and tightens the straps, muffling the rest of my question.

"Perfect," says Ava, cupping my cheek. She taps the strap, and it makes a tinkling noise. "Oh, look it has a little bell on it, which means... you are my pet now."

I moan.

"Tonight, is all about me pleasuring you, but I want to meet your needs, so listen carefully..."

Oh, my stars. I strain against the bonds, and I flutter my feathers for her, trying to encourage her to stroke and pet me. Touch me.

"So sometimes I will ask questions to check in with you. If you are okay with what I am doing or am about to do, I need you to ring the bell. Can you show me you understand?"

I shake my head and the bell rings.

"Good pet. I'm going to put this bone-shaped toy Kayla had been making for Glow Ball in your hand. When I put it there, I want you to squeeze it."

The moment I feel the weight of the toy I obediently clench my fist, making high-pitched squeaks.

"Good, pet," she says, cupping my cheek.

I'm good! Even though I'm tied up, I flutter my feathers to show her that yes indeed, I'm good and ready for her fingers to massage me.

"Now it's time to test the cuffs and the ropes and even your ball gag. If anything feels uncomfortable, or if you don't want to do this, squeeze the toy and we can stop and talk about it. If instead, you want to play and are ready to proceed, then I want you to ring—"

I shake my head, desperately ringing the bell.

"Rigel, I want you to test everything first."

I tug, unable to move my wrists or ankles. Everything feels fine and what I need now is... I need her to hurry up! I ring and ring and ring the bell. What is taking her so long? It sounds like someone is whining. It takes me a moment to realize...

Oh, I am the one making those noises.

She cups my cheek. "Are you a needy pet?"

I shake my bell.

"We will continue but I want you to remember, if you ever want me to stop, I want you to immediately squeeze the toy. I will halt the activity and we can fix it before continuing. If you understand, ring your bell."

So much bell ringing.

"Good boy. Now, your inner wings look disheveled and dirty, and I'd like to groom them. Make them pretty, like you," she says, running her fingers along my chest. "So, can I groom them, my pretty angel?"

What?! Why is this even a question? I need her to groom me and run her fingers all over my inner wings. I'm like an animal, desperately shaking my head and making the bell tinkle.

"Okay, Rigel," she says, pulling something else out of her backpack. She holds her hand up and, in the moonlight, I see her hairbrush.

Brush, brush, brush. Slowly she combs and teases the feathers along the inside of my wings. Sensations of pleasure shoot through me.

I can't stop fluttering my wings and slobbering all over the ball in my mouth. Brush, brush, brush.

She carefully combs through my wings and then puts the brush aside. Her delicate fingers gently smooth my feathers, telling me how pretty I am. I tremble. Tingling runs through my entire body. I feel like I am on fire when the sensations run from the base to the tips of my feathers, and my feathers stand on end. No part of my body is spared. Even my engorging member leaks and stands at attention.

I am just a slobbering mess, basking in her praise. May she never stop.

I lose track of time. I am suddenly aware that she crouches near my waist. Her fingers slip into my boxer's waistband, and she peels them back. My fully erect member springs out.

"Is this for me," she asks, reaching for my shaft.