Kosh's Omega

by Carolyn Faulkner

  She poked carefully at his stuff, not finding a key but finding a slim little pen knife and something like an Allen wrench with the ends cut off, and she set about trying to pick the lock as quietly as she could, panting nervously the whole time, praying she wouldn't drop either of the implements she was working with, because that would surely wake him.

  But when she heard his loudly commanded, "Stop," she dropped them, anyway, of course, although she immediately reached down and palmed the knife, holding it out defensively in front of her.

  He simply lay there in the bed for a long moment, looking at her, then he rose, slowly.

  Tura knew that her cause was already lost. She hadn't been able to open the lock yet, so no matter what, she was still going to be stuck in this room with him for who knew how long until she got the next opportunity, which she hopefully wouldn't screw up.

  But she wasn't going to go down easily this time. She wasn't going to allow him to wrap her up in that haze of sensuality it seemed that she could never completely shake off. She would stay sharp, stay angry, and fight to the death if she had to.

  Kosh rose enough to sit on the end of the bed. "You realize that you are going to be punished for this bit of naughtiness?"

  His words and the slightly disappointed, chiding manner in which he said them might as well have been his fingers stroking over her clit. She actually had to swallow down a whimper on several fronts, even as she reminded herself that she shouldn't be looking forward to him taking her again, or the inevitable harsh discipline he was going to inflict on her, either.

  Then he stood—all she-didn't-want-to-think-how-many feet of him—towering over her, even from across the room. Kosh put his hand out. "Bring me the knife and I might be convinced to go a little easier on you."

  "Fuck you!" she yelled, assuming a fighting stance.

  The grin that spread across his face was unholy. "No, my dear. Fuck you—which is exactly what I intend to do once I've disarmed you and disciplined you thoroughly."

  It was a humiliatingly short fight.

  He strode right towards her, and she misjudged the length of his arms, trying to stab at him with the knife and ending up having her wrist caught by him, which he twisted hard so that she had to drop the knife as her arm went numb, then hauled her up against him fit to knock the wind out of her, twisting that arm high up her back and marching her back to the bed.

  She expected to be bent over it again, but instead, he sat down, and to her utter surprise, let go of her, commanding, "Bring me the knife and whatever else it was that you were trying to use on the lock."

  Her eyes found his in astonishment. "What?"

  "Go get what I asked for and bring it to me. Feel free to try to fight me again, if you like. But you're a smart girl. You know that's just going to piss me off and it's going to end the same way, and plus, your punishment is going to get worse because of it." He reached around her and swatted her bum hard enough to leave a livid handprint. "Now do as I say."

  More stunned than she wanted to admit, Tura's feet had a mind of their own and they brought her to where she could collect the two tools, then back to hand them to him as if she was some meek and mild female.

  "Good girl."

  She hated it when he called her that, and she had a feeling that he knew that, too.

  He had already reached down to loosen another strap from his armor to set it next to him on the bed. Then his fingers looped around her wrist and gave a slight jerk, and she ended up where she least expected to—over his knees.

  His legs were so tall that none of her touched the floor and so long that she didn't even have the bed to balance herself on—just his thick, unforgiving thighs as she hung there, helplessly naked, with her bottom a prime target.

  And she had no idea what it was that was making her do this—none that she was in any hurry to acknowledge, anyway—but she was literally gushing cream all over the two of them, which, of course, he noticed immediately, and she thought she heard him actually chuckle, which sent her humiliation skyrocketing. Which, in turn, made her flow even harder.

  He didn't lecture. It wasn't as if she didn't know what she'd done wrong. Trying to escape was wrong, as far as he was concerned, and wielding a knife at him was very wrong. He didn't think he needed to explain that to her. Kosh wasn't much of a believer in talking unless something needed to be said, so he simply spanked her.

  Well, it was simple on his end, but certainly not on hers.

  His hand easily rivaled the bath brush for effectiveness. In fact, it was bigger, catching all of her at once, each time, and setting those curvy cheeks to jiggling vigorously in a way that they wouldn't really stop until he did.

  Tura promised herself that she wouldn't disgrace herself this time as she had when he'd first punished her, but that lasted about as long this time as it had the prior one, and when the fifth horrid crack resounded through the room, her somewhat stunted yowl did, too, just after.

  From that point on, though, she became wholly unable to keep herself from vocalizing her torment, and although she continued to try, as always, there was no escape from it, either. He had tucked the hand that wasn't chastising her under her far hip, essentially leaning across her back, although careful not to hurt her with too much of his weight as he did so, and even when she was able to reach back and hit him, it just bounced off his massive muscles and gave her a sore hand—while he was giving her a very sore behind.

  And it didn't seem that he intended to stop anytime soon. He spanked slowly and deliberately and methodically, sometimes across both cheeks, but often dedicating himself to just one for a while, which was God-awful for her.

  He didn't know the cause of it, and he hadn't noticed the lack of it before—for which he castigated himself—but eventually, twenty or thirty spanks in, she was not only yelping with each smack as he roasted her behind, but he could hear that she was also crying quietly.

  Nothing he'd done to her before had brought her to tears, and he thought it was a good thing that she was getting some of her feelings out. If that helped her to accept her situation, then he would spank her like this every single day.

  She was nearly as much of a control-freak as he was. He had a feeling that it was several things that conspired to make her lose control like that, but the largest of which was the sheer intimacy of being put over his lap. Being bent over the bed or one of his tables or whatever left her very separate from him, and he wanted to promote their bond as best he could, which was why he'd chosen to spank her this way. It couldn't be easy to continue to believe that she was some hardened warrior woman when she was being held in such a childish position, with her wildly kicking feet not even able to touch the floor.

  It was unlike him again, but he hadn't kept count of how many swats he'd delivered. He had half a mind to start over, but the parts of him over which she was constantly wiggling objected quite strongly to that idea, so he didn't.

  Instead, he paused and reached for the strap, which he put on the small of her back while he readjusted her position a bit, because he had a feeling that all of that twisting and squirming she had been doing throughout her spanking was going to get a lot worse once the strapping began.

  And he was right.

  Tura didn't know why he'd stopped—not that she was objecting, of course, having forgotten about the strap in the midst of the misery just his hand had caused her—but then he laid the thing across her back and she knew exactly what was coming next.

  "Please, no!" she sobbed, wishing she could recall the words as soon as they were out of her mouth, knowing they would have absolutely no effect on him or the situation she found herself in, and she hated appearing weak in front of him.

  His voice was soft, but his tone was implacable, "I will always punish you when you deserve it, Tura. It's part of my responsibility as your Alpha to correct you thoroughly, in a manner you wouldn't like me to repeat, when you've done something I disapprove of. And I would say that trying to escape and threatening me wi
th a knife are definitely things I disapprove of."

  She had never danced before, but she danced wildly at the end of that strap he wielded with agonizing effect, so much so that, eventually, he reached down and gathered her thighs up in his spare arm, too, in what was a terribly humiliating position that forced her bottom—and her privates—into prominence, and they were sometimes caught in the crossfire of those tremendous slices he laid viciously across her nates.

  When the last slash fell across a bottom that was very thoroughly ravaged, as red and swollen as an overripe tomato, she was nearly as exhausted as she had been from mating with him, although not quite.

  Kosh moved her like a rag doll. She didn't put up any kind of resistance at all, and he was thinking that, if this was her response, that was another reason to spank her like this on a regular basis. He didn't adjust her much, though, just enough to make her straddle him, so that he could take hold of her hips and bring her down onto him.

  It was an interesting position—he could see her face much more clearly, and watching her reactions to what he was doing to her nearly made him unman himself right then and there. At first, she seemed okay with it—she was even clinging to him slightly, curled up on his chest like a feisty kitten who's worn out, but then, when he knew he was as far into her as he was going to get, he lifted her and set her down again, and she hadn't been anticipating that horribly familiar pricking.

  She tried to push herself away from him, those small hands on his lightly hairy chest, making a pest of herself and trying to get down, even though she still couldn't touch the floor, so he gathered her wrists behind her back, using them as leverage to keep himself seated to the fullest extent possible within her while he swelled to enormous proportions, using his free hand to tweak each nipple, making her catch her breath each time, interrupting the moans the imposing presence of his knot was causing her to make.

  "Keep your hands behind you, or I'll wear out the strap on your bottom," he warned as he let her wrists go to grab her hips, fingers digging into the stinging flesh of her buttocks as he did so, lifting her up and down on him and watching the ecstasy he was creating for her overtake her expression until she was trapped in that potent web of sensuality that he was just as fully ensnared in.

  "Please!" he heard her groan.

  "Please what?"

  "Can—may I move my hands?" Each word was interrupted by a gasp or a groan as he jerked her down onto him. "I-I, uh, need b-better balance."

  He considered her request carefully, because he did love it when she touched him. But he said, on impulse, "No, you may not."

  He groaned himself when he felt her body squeeze him tightly at that.

  "You leave your naughty hands where I told you to put them." Another, stronger contraction. "I'll keep you from falling."

  And he did—although he had to reign himself in a bit in order to make certain that she—who was completely absorbed in and awash with her climax and not paying any attention to where she was perched—remained safe.

  But it was so completely worth it to see her unraveled like that, knowing that he was the cause.

  Chapter 5

  "But I want to see her again—see how she's doing!" Emmy pouted.

  Vaudt leaned towards her and said in a no-nonsense tone, "Eat your breakfast. And, no, you are not going to see Kosh's mate."

  "Tura. Her name is Tura."

  "I know what her name is. But you are not going to visit her."

  "But why not?"

  She knew she was pushing her luck with him, but she also knew that, in her condition, he would never discipline her. She might get another tick on his list of punishments—and she had a horrible feeling that she was going to be quite miserable once she'd recovered from the birth of their child. Or he might take away things she liked, but even then, he wanted to keep her happy, so if he did something like that, she knew that it wouldn't be for very long.

  Her mate sighed as if she was stepping on his very last nerve. "I told you. I highly doubt Kosh would permit it, anyway, and it's not something I can require him to do—she's his, to do with as he pleases. It's a new bond, and even though he took some time to solidify it, I understand from him that she's still very defiant—like someone I know was for quite some time."

  Emmy had the grace to blush.

  "So he has a lot of on his plate at the moment. To say nothing of the fact that I don't necessarily think you would be the best of influences."

  Under normal circumstances, she might have let that remark roll off her back, but hormones wouldn't let her do that at the moment. When she spoke, her voice was choked with tears and she was no longer looking at him, her head down as she slumped in the chair. "That's not a very nice thing to say about me."

  Suddenly, she found herself lifted onto his lap, held tightly against that massive chest. He pressed his lips to her forehead, cradling her as gently as he could possibly manage. Being married to a pregnant Omega was teaching him things he never thought to learn or hadn't bothered to learn very well—patience, gentleness, and to be very mindful of what he said to her, because there was no way to tell how she was going to take some things, even though he never meant them to be nasty. Seeing her cry when she was pregnant was a horrifying thing. If she'd asked him for the moon, he would have gotten it for her, or died trying, if she was crying when she asked for it.

  Overall, she hadn't had too many adverse symptoms, although she had been very sick in the beginning, to the point that he had been terrified he might even lose her. Now she was much bigger than the breeding doctors thought she ought to be, and he wanted to confine her to bed, but he couldn't bear to see her miserable. It didn't help that their coupling was so rare that few people had any experience of it, even the doctors, so they were kind of guessing, too, which she was only too eager to remind him of.

  "Emmy, you know what I meant," he cajoled, with just enough of a touch of sternness in his tone to make her tingle.

  He felt her shift restlessly where she was perched on him and knew he had hit his mark. "Yeah, you meant that I might encourage her to get into trouble," she sniffed.

  "And who was it who spent so much time in trouble when we first bonded? I almost wore out your bottom." He reached past her for a piece of his breakfast, bringing it to her and saying gently, "Open, little bird."

  She obeyed him instantly, which was something he still marveled over, continuing to hand feed her so that he knew that she had something in her, not minding in the least that he was sacrificing his meal for her.

  Her tears had dried suspiciously quickly, he noticed, and then she leaned herself against him, taking his hand and putting it on her distended tummy. "Would you please ask him if I could, my lord? Please?"

  Vaudt knew he was being manipulated by a master—or rather, mistress—but, even if she wasn't carrying his child, he would have been hard pressed to turn her request down because of the rarity of her asking him for something that wasn't for someone else or the library. Or the clinic.

  He took her chin in his fingers and made her look at him. "I will, but I don't want you to get your hopes up, do you understand me, little girl?"

  She threw her arms around his neck, bestowing soft kisses on his cheek. "Thank you! I understand!"

  He hoped she did, because he had a feeling he was not going to be getting the answer from Kosh that she wanted to hear. But he was wrong.

  "I think that might be a good idea."

  "Really?"

  His startled response made Kosh rethink his own. "Do you not agree?"

  "Well, frankly, to be candid with you, Emily took quite a while to come around, and I'm not sure that letting her talk to Tura would be the best thing to do to help your mate adjust to her new circumstances."

  "I thought it might help for her to have a friend, of a sort, and that it might even be nice for Emmy."

  Vaudt had not considered that aspect of it, even though he knew that she drew a lot of fulfillment from her work, and although he knew that her pr
egnancy—and the restrictions he imposed on her because of it hampered her quite a bit—he had considered that he was more than enough of a companion for her, but perhaps she might like to have another female friend, especially one who was as special as she was.

  "You might be right. But I would say they shouldn't be alone. And with two Omegas in one place, I think we should double the security around my room."

  "No, mine." Kosh colored. "I wouldn't trust her outside of my apartment yet."

  Vaudt snorted. "How well I remember those days! But she will come around. She can't fight her own nature for long."

  Kosh was careful not to bring up the subject of a visit from Emmy until after he had sated the both of them several times, when she was in that much more malleable state where she was actually beginning to turn to him for comfort and soothing afterwards.

  "Emmy would like to see how you're getting along."

  He could feel her tense against him, but she didn't say anything.

  "Would you like her to visit?"

  Her, "yes," was quiet, almost shy.

  She chattered much less than she used to, and he almost missed it. Not because of its annoying sound, but because it revealed quite a bit about her and how she was feeling to him without him having to ask.

  "Seeing her is conditional, however, on your good behavior. If you're naughty, I will tell Vaudt that you are not allowed to have visitors and exactly why you can't, and he will tell Emmy."

  Her face turning a pretty, dusky rose, she answered, "I understand."

  As it happened, she got herself in trouble the night before Emily was supposed to arrive by fighting him tooth and nail when he wanted to mount her from behind. Apparently, that position didn't appeal to her. He subdued her quickly and easily and took her in that way, anyway, holding her head pressed down into the mattress with a hand on her neck as he brought her off multiple times. Then, when her entire body had been made even more extremely sensitive by climaxing, he pulled her over his lap and gave her a thorough spanking, not stopping until she was crying so hard, she had been made one thoroughly repentant Omega.