by Renee Rose
When he plowed in deep and came a second time, she burst into tears.
Seke froze, and his eyes flew open. Horror scrawled across his face, and he pulled out of her, rearing back on his knees. “Oh veck. Veck... Did I hurt you?” He scooped her into his arms and crossed the chamber in two strides, heading for the door. “What have I done?”
He opened the door as if he intended to carry her out, both of them stark naked. She threw her arm out to catch the doorframe. “No. Stop. Where are you going?”
“To Daneth.”
“Stop. I'm not hurt. Close the door.” She wriggled in his arms, and he seemed to come back to his senses, realizing their state of undress.
He shut the door. Misery blared from his eyes. “What is it then?”
She dashed at her tears. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”
He gripped her shoulders and shook her, a male clearly at the edge of his sanity. “Don’t tell me nothing. What have I done to you? Speak the truth, Leora.”
“You’re frightening me,” she whispered.
He set her down, slowly composing his face. “You're not hurt?”
She shook her head. “A little bruised. A little sore. But, no, not hurt.”
In a flash of relief, he yanked her into his arms, cradling her head against his massive chest with one huge palm, his other arm snaked around her back to her hip. His face dropped into her hair. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. Or scare you.” The rise and fall of his chest was uneven, his breath erratic. He shifted to cup her face with both hands. “But I am angry with you.”
She drew a sharp breath. His anger was what had made her cry—even though she wouldn’t change a thing if she had it to do over. She wasn’t sorry. Seke deserved to seek pleasure, and she wanted to give it to him.
With a hard swallow, she lifted her wet lashes and met his azure stare. “So punish me.”
It was his turn for an intake of breath. His irises changed to violet, horns thickened. It was hard to imagine after two orgasms he might be aroused again, but the evidence was irrefutable.
With a swift, sure movement, he looped an arm around her waist and carried her to the sleepdisk where he arranged her facedown over his lap. Without preamble, he started to spank her, fast and hard. He’d recovered his normal control, because there was precision to the assault. He struck one cheek, then the other, then right in the middle, over her sex, over and over again.
She worked hard to submit, despite her body’s intense desire to fly off his lap and find someplace to hide. Her breath jackknifed in her throat, caught there, straining, as if it might somehow buffer the explosion of pain Seke inflicted. She now knew he’d held back before—the other times he’d spanked her with his hand.
His free hand tangled in her hair, not pulling but holding her head still while her bottom bounced and jerked on his lap. To keep her hands from flying back and covering, she clawed at the coverlet, wrapping the silk fabric in her fists.
“You’re not breathing, Leora.” Ever the teacher, her Seke. “Is this more than you can take? You asked for this, didn’t you?”
Fresh tears smarted her eyes. “Yes, master.”
He stopped abruptly, and the sound he made almost reminded her of a sob.
“Leora,” he rasped, the word like an entreaty. “Veck, Leora.”
But the spanking began anew, this time with additional swats on the backs of her thighs.
“You knew I did not want to break my vow.” He kept slapping her bottom, so very hard.
She squirmed and panted, tears wetting her lashes.
“You knew I had been struggling to withhold my desire for you. This is not what I wanted.” He continued to spank her with steady hard slaps.
“I’m not sorry!” she cried out, wincing at the way her hair pulled when she tried to move her head.
Seke’s breath drew in with a quick stutter and, mercifully, he paused, resting his hot palm on her even hotter flesh. He rubbed it up and down, stroking down the backs of her legs and up to her bottom, first on one side then the other.
“You’re not sorry,” he muttered, sounding bitter. “But I am. Does that count for anything, Leora?”
“Yes,” she whispered. And then the words “I’m sorry,” rose to her lips, even though she’d just sworn them untrue. She tried, “Forgive me,” instead. A better sentiment.
Seke’s lips pressed against her shoulder blade, but he didn’t speak. Didn’t say whether he forgave her or not. “Facedown. On the middle of the sleepdisk.” The command sounded both soft and gruff.
For more punishment? Or sex? Though her body already pulsed with pain, and her pussy ached, she’d willingly offer her body for whatever he needed to give her. Because she needed it, too. Anything to bring them back into balance—whatever he saw fit.
She crawled up onto the sleepdisk and arranged herself in the middle, on her belly.
“Spread your legs.”
She slid her thighs apart, her pussy pulsing in rhythm with the throb of her ass.
Seke climbed over her, hooked both his thumbs at the apex of her thighs, and parted her. She glanced over her shoulder to see him doing nothing more than staring at the vulnerable pink heart of her sex, still wet with his rainbow-colored seed. He moved his thumbs lightly in the slightest caress against her bottom.
“Beautiful girl.” His voice sounded gravelly. “Your pussy was made for me, wasn’t it?”
She’d loved Johan very much, but yes—in this moment, it seemed her pussy, her body—veck, her entire soul—had been made entirely for Seke. “Yes.”
Satisfaction flared in the gleam in his eyes, the surge of intent behind his movement evident as he climbed over her, cock stiff for her once more.
He entered easily this time; she’d been made ready by the spanking and their previous coupling. With his weight braced on his hands beside her head, he rocked into her.
She moaned, renewed pleasure spearing through her. He eased in and out, far more gentle this time. She lifted her ass to meet his thrusts, to take him deeper and bring the angle of his cock against the most sensitive part of her inner walls. Her core quaked, tightening around his cock.
“Stars, Leora, the way you squeeze my cock like a tight little glove...”
He shifted to one hand and used the other to pin her down at the nape, imprisoning her for his assault.
As always, his show of dominance made her go limp with submission, wet with arousal. His cock slid in and out gently, lovingly stroking her insides, turning the fire to molten lava.
“I should veck you all night as punishment,” he growled, but his tempo had increased, breath sounded strangled. He needed to come as badly as she did. “Do you like to see me lose control, little slave? Does it give you power to know I broke a life vow for this?” He slammed in deeper, harder. “Just for this?”
Yes.
It did give her power, but the bitterness and anger in his voice diminished the glow.
“Forgive me,” she gasped again.
Again, he didn’t answer, except by vecking her so deep and hard it seemed he’d split her in two.
The hand at her nape slid around the front of her throat, cradling her neck. Without squeezing or cutting off her breath, he lifted, forcing her upper back into an arch and reminding her how easily he could end her life with just one squeeze or twist of his hand. It produced only excitement—she trusted Seke with her welfare. He wouldn’t allow harm to come to her.
“So. Vecking. Beautiful.” Seke growled the words on each violent thrust then buried himself deep and came a third time.
She mewled and flexed her toes, thighs thrusting out straight beneath him, pussy clamping down in spasms of pleasure. She lost track of time as the room spun and dipped and her body went languid and limp.
Distantly, she registered Seke pulling out of her, dropping beside her on the sleepdisk. His heavy arm curled around her waist and pulled her up onto her side, her back against his front.
His body trembled as much as he
rs as he held her.
He hadn’t forgiven her, but he still took care with her.
Always.
~.~
Because he knew he’d never sleep—perhaps never again—he didn’t let his little human sleep, either.
He shouldn’t have punished her. It certainly wasn’t her fault he’d broken his vow.
She’d never asked to be brought into his chamber, stripped, and given intimate punishments that drove them both mad with desire. Just because she’d wanted satisfaction as badly as he, didn’t make her the culprit.
“Tell me about your other masters,” he said. He’d voice-commanded the lights off, so they lay in darkness, her small body nested into his larger one, her scent filling him, surrounding him. He didn’t want to admit how right it felt to hold her. Post-coitally.
He didn’t even want to think about the implications of his actions. Couldn’t think of them. How would he face himself the following planet rotation, knowing he’d sacrificed all his honor for a rough veck with a human female?
A veck that had been out of this galaxy. Better than any he’d had with Becka, his one true mate. Why was that?
He didn’t want to think about that, either.
So he questioned his little slave, who had stiffened.
“What do you mean?”
“Daneth found you on an agrifarm. Who was your master there?”
“We didn’t have one master. There were guards and directors. We were lucky because they mostly left us alone if we did our work.”
“And if you didn’t?” He didn’t know why he needed to know all this. It was like picking a scab—a morbid fascination with what hurt him most—the idea of some other being in charge of his little human.
“Mostly they used shock-sticks for punishments. Occasionally there was flogging, usually on the bare back.” Her voice took on a hollow, empty quality that made him want to take back his questions.
“I’m sorry.” He stroked a hand down her arm. “What I really want to know…” His sword hand itched. “Give me names—anyone who hurt you. Ever. I will avenge you.”
She gave a short bark of surprised laughter and turned in his arms. Her human eyes didn’t see in the dark as well as his, and she searched for his face with her hand. Her fingertips found his cheek, and she traced the line of his jaw. “The return of my daughter was all I ever longed for.”
“You will see her soon.” He covered her hand with his, pressing her smooth palm against his cheek. “I’m sorry to have kept her from you, even for a few planet rotations.”
Pain flitted across her face, and regret washed over him.
“What if she...doesn’t like us?”
He pulled her fingers toward his mouth and kissed them. “How could she not like you? You’re her mother, who never stopped longing for her.”
“She’s so different from us. What if she resents that her life was worse than ours? What if she blames me for not protecting her?”
He pulled her hand to his heart. How he wished he’d let them reunite when Rok had asked. That these worries had remained, even a few extra planet rotations, slayed him. “Stop. You cannot think that. She didn’t want to come immediately because her place is with Rok. That doesn’t mean she harbors ill will toward you.” Leora nodded and snuggled in against his chest. The action touched him. His fragile little human—so trusting, despite his rough treatment.
He pulled her tight against him and buried his face in her hair.
“Do you forgive me, Seke?”
Something lurched and caught in his solar plexus. The tangled bundle of guilt he’d been trying to keep at bay. “You, yes. It’s myself I can’t forgive.”
6
Seke dragged his body from the sleepdisk. He’d never felt so heavy in his life. Grief over breaking his vow to Becka brought back the guilt of her death, as strongly as if it had just happened.
He wasn’t sure if the fact that vecking Leora had been the most satisfying experience of his life made it better or worse.
Worse. Because knowing that having her had been better than Becka—more satisfying on every level—not just the physical one—only increased his guilt.
Worse—because he didn’t know how to keep it from happening again. How to get her out of his mind and heart. How to save himself from the crushing shame.
It was early—still dark on Ocretia—but Zandians didn’t require as much sleep as humans. He stepped into the washtube to clean up then dressed and left the chamber. Stars knew if he stayed, he’d be waking Leora up to round four. Just sleeping next to her had been torture, even with the many orgasms he’d had.
Somehow she both satisfied him and left him craving more. He’d hoped giving in this one time would get her out of his system, but it seemed that was impossible. He needed her again. In every position. All vecking planet rotation.
He found Zander in the Great Hall, pacing along the long table. Though the prince did not turn, he knew Zander had heard him enter.
“Free Leora.” Zander’s voice sounded scratchy. “She is no longer a slave. She and Lamira may come and go as they please.”
In actuality, that was impossible. As humans, they couldn’t go free anywhere in Ocretia without being seized. If picked up without a master, they’d certainly be sent to a death pod of their own. Lamira and Leora were stuck with their Zandian masters, whether they called them master or not. But it was the principle that mattered. Zander had seen what Seke had hoped he would see—freedom had to be offered.
“I will tell her, my lord. It is the right decision.”
Zander turned and, in the pale light of the Ocretion moons shining through the windows, he appeared blanched with apprehension. “I cannot allow Lamira to take the young, though.” His voice sounded choked.
Seke’s brows drew together. Did Zander really think Lamira would leave? His beautiful human mate loved him as deeply as he loved her. Not to mention she had no other place to go besides the hijacked death pod.
“She will not leave you, Zander. Is that your fear?”
Zander drew in a long breath. “Yes. But I’m mastering it.”
“Good.” He left the struggling prince to his thoughts, before his own yanked him under.
Leora, free.
Out of his chamber. Out of his life.
Yes, this was for the best. Why, then, did his chest feel like it would explode? He walked swiftly toward the battle arts studio. He needed to move his body, free his mind. He stepped into the quiet studio and lit a flame behind a Zandian crystal, sending the flicker and glow of amber crystal-amplified light through the room. Pressing his palms together at his forehead, he drew his unruly thoughts into the center of his head and contained them.
Blessed quiet expanded out, matching the silence of the room. He rotated slowly, stretching his toes to grip the floor, grounding him. With a sudden, percussive movement, he drew his palms apart and lunged to the side, one palm flexed.
In a silent solo dance, he continued, moving energy through his body and out into space, aligning his body with his mind and spirit. His muscles relished the familiar movement, especially after the tension they’d been carrying since...no. He called his thoughts back to the center of his head.
No thought. Especially not about her.
Rotating slowly, he jabbed and kicked, breathed and aligned. He stayed for hours, not wanting it to end. Not wanting to think.
But Ocretion sunlight filled the studio, and sounds of full activity in the pod came through the walls.
As he ended his practice, he expected clarity of mind. A clear, easy decision. But he hadn’t been able to clear his mind of the presence, the essence of Leora. She filled his senses, even when she wasn’t there.
He shook his head, as if the movement might dislodge her from his brain. He was a warrior. Master of arms. He upheld the code of honor Zandian warriors had followed for thousands of solar cycles. When he made a vow, he kept it.
Breaking his vow to Becka’s memory had shown a weakness
in his psyche—one he now had the opportunity to correct. With a little space from Leora—some distance, he’d be able to master his weakness.
When he gave Leora her freedom, he’d be free of the constant torment of being near her. He could go to the death pod to train the human troops and not have to suffer seeing her in the corridors or wondering what she was doing.
Resolved, he squared his shoulders and marched back to his chamber.
~.~
Lamira lay curled on the sleepdisk, watching an entertainment hologram. Zander had given her a communication device as a gift after they mated and loaded it with things he thought she’d find interesting—particularly, ancient movies and books from Earth. He’d been delighted when she asked for all the Zandian media he could provide, as well. She wanted to understand the planet and species she’d joined.
The door to their chamber whooshed open, and Zander entered, his muscled warrior’s body graceful for someone so large. For the first time since they’d returned to the palatial pod, he gazed directly at her.
Her heart stuttered. She knew that look, and she didn’t like it. His eyes were shadowed with grief; the set of his mouth said he was deeply troubled. The last time she’d seen that face had been when he’d moved her out of his chamber, believing she was a danger to him because she’d refused to tell him how she knew his life would be in danger.
She scrambled off the sleepdisk and stood, one hand dropping protectively to her thickened belly. “Zander?”
“Lamira.” His voice sounded heavy. Defeated, even.
A tap sounded on the door, and Zander hit the panel to open it, as if expecting visitors. Several pod workers came in carrying tools.
Zander pointed toward the cage he sometimes used to keep her, which hovered a few inches from the ceiling. “Dismantle it and place it in storage.”
