Wretched

It was a wretched existence to say the least of it. Always having the mistress demanding those awful things of you and berating you for your ineptness the whole time. Wixlig had often pondered how he would like to show the mistress just what he thought of her, but he knew better than to give her even the slightest excuse to punish him. He knew all too well what happened to those servants that failed to bow to her every whim.

Today was turning out to be particularly awful as the mistress was in one of her moods. She had already beheaded several of Wixlig's peers for the smallest of reasons and had now been using him as a footstool for the last two hours. His back ached from the weight of her booted feet and the pain in his hand from when she had stepped on it with one of her stiletto heels still lingered.

The way she treated him did not normally bother him; it was his place as servant to accept whatever treatment she deemed appropriate. What bothered him today, however, was that he was not yet accustomed to such personal attention from the mistress. He had been third servant for going on three years now and during that time she had not once asked his name nor gave any indication that he existed. Now, in the span of four hours he had gone from third servant to first servant and had already come close to finding himself headless. Losing one's head wasn't necessarily the worst fate that could befall a Tyrgli (tear – glee); it had to be better than being sent back to the mines.

Truth be known, he enjoyed working directly for the mistress. And therein was the root of his current problem. Although she was more demanding of loyalty and instant obedience than the foremen of the mines, she was also more aesthetically pleasing than the pudgy three-legged foremen; the private quarters given to her servants were far better than the cold rock floor of the mines he would otherwise be sleeping on as well. Although the Tyrgli no longer needed to physically mate in order to reproduce, which was a good thing considering the females of the species had long ago died out, they still had the organs needed for the task. Wixlig had accidentally permitted the mistress to see him aroused after she had promoted him (or rather demoted his predecessors) and instructed him to dry her after she finished her bath.

It was not all that unusual to him to be attracted to her given that he had no females of his own kind to look to. What had surprised him was that the mistress had not beheaded him at once for the transgression. Instead, she had ordered him to sit in front of her throne on hands and knees while she propped her boots up on his slightly emaciated back while constantly reminding him that she was far to beautiful to let such a grotesque creature become aroused by her without proper punishment.

By comparison to her, he certainly was a grotesque creature. His sickly green mottled skin was covered in small, unsightly lumps that were considerably larger along his spine. His head could only be called misshapen by human standards. His large completely black eyes slanted downward towards an almost skeletal nasal cavity. Below that was a slightly elongated, almost insect like, mouth. Above his eyes was a domed forehead that tapered off slightly to the rear until it finally ended in a slightly rounded knob just behind his neck. With the exception of his clawed hands and feet and the genital region, the remainder of his body was fairly similar to a humans. Normally, the Tyrgli genitals remained enclosed fully inside the body, protecting it from injury; when aroused, however, the male appendage protruded outward prominently from its hiding place at the crotch. Slightly larger in both thickness and length than a typical human male, it was still easily conceivable that the Tyrgli and Human species were physically capable of copulating though there was no doubt that the possibility of offspring was biologically impossible.

Had he not been promoted so quickly and so suddenly, he might have had time to better prepare himself to conceal his attraction by eating some of the plant leaves known to repress such physical responses among his kind. As it was, he had quite suddenly and literally found himself under the mistress' boot. To make matters worse, whenever she noticed that his arousal was fading, she would lift one of her feet from his back and use the cold leather tip of the boot to rub his genitals slightly until it became fully erect again. Then, seeing that he was still being disobedient by remaining aroused she would quickly push one of her heels into his side and strike him once or twice with the short whip she kept handy to punish her servants with while belittling him for being so blatant in his disrespect for her. He was sure that she would tire of his continued disobedience and have his head removed at any moment.

The moment seemed to arrive at last as the mistress suddenly removed both feet from his back and stood to stand directly in front of him. The toes of her boots came to rest barely a thread's distance away from his cramped and tired hands. He felt strangely sad that she seemed to be tired of her game with him and that she was now likely to send him back to the mines while at the same time he was relieved to have the weight of her feet lifted from his aching spine.

She gently pressed the tip of her whip against the back of his skull, indicating that she now expected him to fully prostrate himself before her. He pressed his forehead to the ground in a submissive bow, as he knew she would expect of him. Above him, he could hear the slight rustling of cloth then felt movement on either side of his head.

There was a moment of protracted silence during which he became sure that his continued service to the mistress hung by a thread. Finally, he felt the handle of her whip press under his chin, lifting his face up slightly from the ground and then pushing him fully up onto his knees so that he was kneeling eye to eye with the mistress.

He could now see that she had removed all of her clothing except for her boots and know knelt in front of him bare to his view again. There was something different now than from the last time he had looked upon her naked form after she had bathed as she was now acknowledging the act by inviting him to commit it openly.

"Do you find me attractive, servant?"

Wixlig now found himself in the midst of a moral dilemma. On one hand, he wanted to confess to her that he did indeed find her very attractive, but on the other hand he knew it was a grave breach of protocol to speak ones opinion of their master. The mistress seemed to sense his dilemma and moved closer to him. His hesitation vanished as he felt one of her hands close around the appendage that had gotten him into such trouble in the first place.

"Answer me." She commanded.

Wixlig decided it would be a far greater breach to disobey his mistress than to tell her the truth.

"Yes mistress." He responded as her fingers continued to fondly his thick shaft. His thick accent and the clicking noise of his mandibles were a harsh contrast to her own voice that had taken on a soft quality he had never heard from her before.

"Have you ever been with a woman?" He wondered how much longer he would be able to withstand the attention of her fingers on his cock.

"No mistress, you are the only woman I have seen. The women of my species have long been extinct and we now reproduce artificially" "Did you know that I have been in charge of these mines for two years now and have not seen another of my species since I replaced the last administrator?"

It was then that Wixlig realized that his mistress was feeling just as vulnerable as he did. While a position as mine administrator was financially lucrative, it did little for one's social environment. The desolate planet barely qualified as habitable and it was only by virtue of off-world trade that it was able to support the small population of miners at all.

"I haven't felt a man's touch in two years and until this afternoon I didn't even think it possible for a Tyrgli to be aroused by me. I also never thought that I might be aroused by one in turn." She leaned in and kissed him. Although their mouthparts were different he quickly found the experience of feeling her lips pressed against his mandibles pleasurable. As he pressed back against her, he could feel her give way to his strength and he soon found himself on top of her as she guided his erection to her waiting pussy.

Wixlig lost himself as his manhood slid into her humid depths. All other concerns faded away as her hands clawed at his back. She moaned loudly as he reached her full depth. She began to writhe and moan beneath him when she felt his cock begin to move inside her. Already in the grip of her first orgasm, she could feel the bulb of his cock begin to develop small bumps as he worked back and forth within her with growing urgency.

Neither of them could have imagined the storm of passion and turmoil that would follow in the wake of Wixlig's climax; and at the moment that he unleashed a flood of his seed into her depths neither of them would have been willing to avoid it had they known.

The rush of his semen into her womb would eventually be seen as the turning point in Tyrgli history, the point when a race of slaves would set out to become the masters. In years to come his people would look to him to lead them in revolt, his mistress at his side as they fought for more than just their freedom. They would one day fight for the life of the Human-Tyrgli child they had just conceived in her womb.